Archive for the ‘Excerpt’ Category

 

The Mist and the Flame

Coral-Li St. Helen

 

(The New Bardiverse, #1)
Publication date: September 15th 2025
Genres: Fantasy, Historical, Young Adult

What’s really behind the story of star-crossed lovers Romeo and Juliet?

Let’s start with the truth about Rosaline—Romeo’s actual first love. Rosaline scorns romance and instead craves magic. To free herself from Romeo’s amorous attention as well as her dull life in Verona, she uses her limited sorcery skills to bring him and Juliet together. Renaming herself Foschia Luminosa, she then gleefully runs off to join a school of magic.

Just when Lumi’s dreams are about to come true, disaster Syra, the intimidating witch who runs the school, denies her entry and demands she return to Verona. She must repair the damage done by her spell or the young couple is doomed and Lumi will be outcast forever.

As tragedy looms ever nearer, Lumi reluctantly teams up with a mysterious, sullen girl calling herself Fiamma Fredda, an orphan of unknown parentage. Freddi is an astonishingly skilled fighter, but who is she, and does she really want to help—or is she using Lumi for her own purposes?

Join Lumi and Freddi in their thrilling quest to save Romeo and Juliet, learn of Freddi’s origins, and grapple with Syra’s own dark past. They—and you—are in for a great many surprises along the way…

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Enjoy this peek inside:

On the particular day that started it all, our tutor, Grigio, gave me something to translate which turned out to be an old recipe for a potion to be used for suppressing painful memories. It called for various common herbs which I knew Friar Lawrence grew in his garden, so I ran to him the first chance I got to ask for the ingredients. That, I found out later, was how the school at La Fortezza became interested in me. Friar Lawrence and, incredibly, my tutor both looked out for potential candidates to recruit for this secret school. Most of the tutor’s pupils, my cousin Juliet included, merely did the translation (perfectly, in her case). The very few with the curiosity to see if it would work, those were the ones that interested them.

But I knew none of that at the time; I was only interested in making the potion work. Initially, it didn’t, and I figured out there had been an ingredient omitted—possibly deliberately, so Grigio’s students wouldn’t have the complete formula. That was laughable—and insulting. I immediately began experimenting on my own, trying to figure out the missing item. (This extra step, apparently, made La Fortezza very interested in me.) My creations, placed discretely in various rooms, made me sneeze (not magical), made the cook giggle (possibly magical, since she generally had a dour disposition), and made my parents look at each other in a way I hadn’t seen in years (which was uncomfortable to witness but also possibly magical). I noted these combinations of ingredients down and, not satisfied, kept trying.

When I couldn’t quite come up with the perfect formula on my own, I sought the friar again. If Grigio was a young man who seemed like an old one, Friar Lawrence was, if not old, then middle-aged at least, but cheerful, jovial, and youthful in every aspect of his demeanor. To put it another way, he was possibly the only priest that people my age actually liked, someone who talked to you like a person and not just a sinner. In his little garden behind the church he welcomed me with delight, a dirt-crusted trowel in one hand and some mysterious wrinkled root in the other, immediately asking how my potion had gone.

“Not well, thank you. It didn’t work, but I think I know how I can fix it—with your help, if you would.”

“I would be most delighted to help,” he said, eager curiosity shining in his eyes. He put down the trowel and root, dusted his cassock off (though his hands were dirty too and he really only ended up shifting the soiling of the garment to different sections), and gestured me toward a bench where we both sat. “Now, how did you know it didn’t work?”

“I tried. A lot. The closest I got was when I tried it on Bruno, but even then it still wasn’t right.”

“Bruno?”

“The old dog I found wandering around outside our gate. I named him Bruno. Poor thing. He had been treated very badly, we think by a man or several of them—he is afraid of men. I wanted to see if I could help him forget his suffering. He seemed to be calmer when I sprinkled one particular herbal powder mix around him, but he still growls and shrinks away when a man goes by, so he hasn’t completely forgotten.”

The friar smiled. “That was kind of you to try, though a human subject might have been more able to communicate what they were experiencing.”

I shrugged. I wanted to try it on the dog because I wanted to alleviate his suffering. His big brown eyes were deep with sorrow. How could I do otherwise? I went on impatiently, “I know why it didn’t work—there’s an ingredient missing, isn’t there?”

Friar Lawrence tilted his head. “Yes and no. Well, yes and yes, I suppose. The recipe as you received it is in fact missing an ingredient, but that ingredient alone—stridolo petals, I believe—will not make this work. The real missing ingredient is you. Bruno calmed down because you were calm. Bruno cannot forget whatever suffering he went through, no matter what herbs you use, because you can’t forget it—because you never remembered it in the first place.”

“Of course not. I wasn’t there.” Now I frowned. Did I, too, have to be beaten and starved by cruel men for both of us to forget? Wasn’t there an easier way to help my poor sad-eyed friend? There was a limit to what even I wished to experience. “How can I make these things work without, well, going through terrible things?”

“It is a long and difficult journey to take, Rosaline. But I can try to show you the first steps.” He shifted a little on the bench so that he was facing me. “Think of a happy memory from your childhood, but don’t tell me about it.”

His simple request startled me. Was he going to read my mind?

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About Author Coral-Li St. Helen:

Coral-Li St. Helen is the pen name of a writer who lived all over the United States before settling down roughly in the middle. She loves reading and writing, hiking and napping, coffee, noodles, her spouse and her dog.

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CIRCLE OF NINE Series by Valerie Biel Banner

CIRCLE OF NINE
by Valerie Biel
October 27 – December 31, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

CIRCLE OF NINE: BELTANY
CIRCLE OF NINE: BELTANY

Brigit Quinn has always felt like an outsider. Growing up in a small town where her mom’s pagan practices are the stuff of local gossip, she’s spent her whole life trying to be normal. On her 15th birthday, Brigit makes the same wish she always has—to just fit in. But the universe has other plans. Instead, Brigit discovers she’s descended from a legendary Celtic tribe—guardians of Ireland’s mystical stone circles. A spellbound book reveals her astonishing family history and the incredible abilities of her ancestors—powers she’ll inherit if she chooses to embrace them. When an ancient evil resurfaces, threatening her family’s legacy, Brigit is forced to quickly make this impossible decision. Will she accept her magical heritage and fight to protect it? Or reject it to live the “normal” life she’s always wanted? This thrilling mix of magic, self-discovery, and Irish mythology will captivate fans of coming-of-age stories with a mystical twist. Lovers of ancient legends, enchanted stone circles, and family secrets will be drawn to Brigit’s journey into a world where her true power could be her greatest strength… or her downfall.

Find CIRCLE OF NINE: BELTANY on Amazon | KindleUnlimited | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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Praise for Circle of Nine: Beltany

“This was a truly beautiful read. Valerie Biel has a captivating, almost lyrical quality to her work that helps the flow and the smoothness of the piece wonderfully. You can just feel the words slide along as you read and it’s a remarkable experience. I enjoyed her storytelling as much as I enjoyed the characters and the plot! Circle of Nine: Beltany is a wonderful blend of present and past, mixed with a healthy dose of Celtic mythology to captivate the brainiacs among us.” ~ FIVE STARS from Readers’ Favorite for CIRCLE OF NINE: BELTANY

 

Series Details:

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy

Published by: Lost Lake Press

Find CIRCLE OF NINE series at Amazon & Lost Lake Press

 

About Author Valerie Biel:

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author

Valerie Biel writes award-winning books for middle grade to adult audiences–stories inspired by her travels and her insatiable curiosity. Her young adult fantasy series, Circle of Nine, was inspired by the myth and magic of Ireland’s ancient stone circles. She’s also the author of HAVEN, a contemporary middle grade novel, and BEYOND THE CEMETERY GATE, a mystery suspense story. She’s a founding member of the Blackbird Writers & a member of Sisters in Crime & the Wisconsin Writers Association. When she’s away from the computer, she’s likely wrangling her overgrown garden, reading multiple books per week, or traveling the world–often on trips for the The World Orphan Fund charity she and her husband run. She calls a (tiny) portion of her family’s century-old Wisconsin farm home, but regularly dreams of finding a cozy cottage on the Irish coast where she can write and write.

Catch Up With Valerie Biel:

ValerieBiel.com Valerie’s Substack Newsletter Amazon Author Profile Goodreads – @valerie_biel BookBub – @ValerieBiel Instagram – @valeriebielauthor Threads – @valeriebielauthor X – @ValerieBiel Facebook – @ValerieBielBooks YouTube – @ValerieBielAuthor Pinterest – @ValerieBiel

 

Tour Participants:

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

 

Join In:

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

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CIRCLE OF NINE Series by Valerie Biel Can’t see the giveaway? Click Here!

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The Boutique Hotel

Melissa D. MacKinnon

 

Publication date: July 29th 2025
Genres: Adult, Mystery

“The Boutique Hotel is a richly absorbing novel. From the opening pages, MacKinnon weaves multiple narrative threads…with nuance, compelling the reader ever forward through its layered and engaging plot.”
—The Seaboard Review of Books

What happened in the days leading to murder at a glamorous destination wedding?

The story is set against the sophisticated backdrop of Nice, France. Evie Hansen, a travel agent determined to prove her worth, attends a destination wedding at the luxurious Negresco Hotel while staying at The Boutique Hotel au Coeur de Nice. She has sworn off dating, having suddenly been dropped by her boyfriend. Enter lawyer Jacob Liszt who is recovering from a stormy relationship and reluctant to start a new one.

Evie’s professional goals are upended by her discovery of a body on the hotel’s terrace. The search for answers leads her to partner with Jacob. Their investigation into the murder reveals disturbing truths about The Boutique Hotel, drawing them into a dangerous web of secrets and lies. They dig deeper, facing mounting peril, while navigating their growing feelings for each other.

Evie is forced to confront not only the dark realities of the case but her own life choices and aspirations.

The book delivers a series of fast-paced twists, culminating in a dramatic resolution.

With its vivid setting, complex characters, and timely themes, the book offers a compelling exploration of justice, self-discovery, and the pursuit of truth in the face of adversity.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

As I’m taking photos of the art on the walls of the huge Reception Room, as per Pinkie’s request, vases of exquisite flowers on pedestals draw my attention. The arrangements of lilies, hydrangeas, white roses and other blossoms beckon. I take in the fresh, sweet, bouquet, redolent of spring days under our magnolia tree. If only I could have taken that tree with me when I sold the house.

Jacob walks toward me. When our eyes meet, he curls his lip in that irresistible way of his. I smile back.

“You’re so lovely. A flower in full bloom. Can I take your picture?” “Yes, please,” I say. I position myself in front of the arrangements.
“I’ll send it to you.”
An older man nearby stops. “I’ll take your picture, if you like.”

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About Author Melissa D. MacKinnon:

Melissa loves reading, writing and travelling. She holds bachelor’s degrees in English and Education. Her first book, The Remarkable Meadow Andrews, was published in 2024. Melissa lives with her husband in Ontario, Canada.

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Behind the Mirror

by Bridget Budd

 

Publication date: July 1st 2025
Genres: Contemporary, Women’s Fiction

Behind the Mirror is a powerful, character-driven novel about emotional healing, generational trauma, and the courage it takes to stop performing and start living your truth.

Sometimes, the hardest person to face is the one behind the mirror…

Julie Sloan was shaped by abandonment early in life—left behind by the people who were supposed to love her first. In the absence of emotional safety, she became what the world rewarded: high-achieving, self-sacrificing, and always performing. Through four marriages, she searched for stability while suppressing her deepest fears—that she was unworthy of lasting love, and too broken to be fully seen.

But when her fourth marriage nearly collapsed, something shifted. It wasn’t betrayal that broke her—it was the quiet realization that she had never truly lived for herself.

What followed was a reckoning: with her past, with the roles she had played to survive, and with the parts of herself she had long silenced.

Now, years later, a Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist named Laura wants to profile Julie’s nonprofit work—an organization devoted to helping women heal from emotional wounds. But what begins as a success story takes a deeper turn as Julie reveals the story behind the story—the one she’s never shared publicly. The one about how she abandoned herself first.

For readers drawn to novels about inner child work, identity, and spiritual awakening, this deeply personal journey will leave you both broken open and quietly restored.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Julie Sloan had everything she thought she wanted—success, love, stability—but beneath the perfection was an exhaustion she couldn’t name. In this scene from Behind the Mirror, she begins to see the quiet cost of performing her way through life.

I had and have everything I had dreamed of. This gorgeous house, an indoor pool, a home gym, a massage room, and a state-of-the-art kitchen. Plus, I drive a super-fun and sporty Porsche 718 Boxster in Carmine Red … Nothing beats the top down on the glorious sunny days we have here.

But I was perpetually unhappy and had no idea why.

Did you notice that all those things I listed as being everything I dreamed of were external? None of them reflected satisfaction from the inside out. I was living from the outside in. Even as recently as ten years ago, I was stuck in that familiar pattern of thinking that I wasn’t worthy whenever someone did something kind for me.

… I was perpetually chasing the next goal, the next fix, the next thing that might finally make me feel whole. What I couldn’t see then was that the exhaustion I felt wasn’t from doing too much—it was from being someone I wasn’t.

I had mastered the art of performing for love, of polishing every rough edge until there was no “me” left underneath. The burnout wasn’t from my schedule; it was from the story I kept trying to live up to.

It’s strange, really, how easy it is to confuse performing with being alive. But when the performance ends—when the lights go down and the applause fades—what’s left is silence. And in that silence, I finally started to hear something truer than all the noise: myself.

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About Author Bridget Budd:

Bridget Budd is the author of Behind the Mirror, a debut novel that blends literary storytelling with therapeutic insight.

After more than twenty-five years in corporate sales, she stepped away to explore the emotional patterns beneath her success—and the cost of always holding it together.

Her work lives at the intersection of fiction and healing, drawing from her background in trauma-informed coaching, somatics, and holistic health. Bridget writes and speaks about identity, self-worth, and the shift from performing to presence.

Often described as “fiction with emotional teeth,” her stories are crafted for deep feelers, recovering perfectionists, and anyone quietly exhausted from chasing “enough.”

She divides her time between Marco Island, Florida, and Marvin, North Carolina, with her husband and two opinionated dogs.

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The Ordinary Bruja: Marisol’s Story

Johanny Ortega

 

(Las Cerradoras, #1)
Publication date: November 1st 2025
Genres: Adult, Horror, Magical Realism, Psychological

The Ordinary Bruja is a haunting and heartfelt coming-of-age novel wrapped in Dominican magical realism and psychological horror.

Marisol Espinal doesn’t believe she’s special. Not when she’s back in her small Ohio hometown, working as a barista, haunted by grief and the girls who once made her life hell. But when mirrors flicker with strange words, cigar smoke curls where no one is smoking, and voices whisper from Hallowthorn Hill, she realizes something darker has always been watching.

The Espinal family magic was buried generations ago-forced into silence by Salvador, the ancestor who bound their power for himself. Now his ghost feeds on fear and doubt, and Marisol is his next target. To survive, she must reclaim her heritage, unearth the truth hidden in her mother’s journal, and face the hill that has been waiting for her all along.

Atmospheric and emotionally charged, The Ordinary Bruja blends generational trauma, identity reclamation, and queer love with a creeping sense of dread. Perfect for fans of The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina and Mexican Gothic, this novel asks: What does it cost to embrace every part of yourself-even the parts the world taught you to bury?

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“Ten months since she had dropped out and came home, to the place she promised herself she’d never return to. She was bad at keeping promises. That was for sure.”

PRAISE for The Ordinary Bruja

“There is spirituality, magic, ghosts, there is plenty of love, there is loss; and above all there is familia, both genetic and of choice.”

“…An impactful horror story that blew me away.”

“This book . . . pushed me to confront my own assumptions about history.”

“You can absolutely feel the anguish Marisol feels at the loss of her mother.”

“I absolutely enjoyed “The Ordinary Bruja”. It was a perfect mix between horror (with a slight humor – thank you early Marisol and her “nope” moments + Kia) and a story that shows you that you need to find your own way, even if everything is pushing you down.”

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Marisol’s ghosts

Marisol Espinal’s name tag glinted under the harsh café lights, a cruel little mirror. The letters wavered, morphing into something off. God, she hated mirrors. The letters twisted like heat waves on pavement. Her stomach squeezed. Does it say “ordinary”? Heat rose to her neck. She blinked, but the word was still there, pulsing as if alive, refusing to prove her sight wrong.

Right then, the faint scent of cigar smoke drifted past her, starkly out of place amid the café’s familiar aroma of espresso and pastries. Marisol glanced around, wondering if someone was smoking inside or lingering too close to the door. She tore her gaze from the nametag. She had always hated mirrors, but this felt different.

Still, she wondered if someone was playing a sick joke on her.

She crossed to the café’s large selfie mirror by the corner booth. Eyes followed her, but she didn’t care.

Who would play with my name tag? ¿Las tres mojonas? They had been cruel enough in school, and she was sure they still were.

She felt a tug on her sleeve and looked behind her. Her jaw clenched, half expecting to see Delgada or one of her cronies, but it was Kia. Tall, calm, and somehow always exactly where Marisol needed her to be. Her hair was in a high puff, the café’s soft light haloing it, and her hoodie hung off one shoulder as if she hadn’t noticed or didn’t care. Kia never tried too hard, and maybe that’s what made her magnetic, steady in a way that made Marisol memorize every line of her face. She smelled faintly of coffee beans and peppermint lotion, always carrying the scent of the café with her, as if it clung to her skin.

“You good, Mari? You’ve got that faraway look again.”

Marisol released a shaky breath. She took a glance at the mirror, just long enough to catch her nametag’s glint. The letters seemed to shift.

That is a “B,” not an “O,” right?

Her stomach twisted again.

“Mari?” Kia called.

Marisol blinked at her reflection. Same old word: Barista. Nothing had changed. It’s just exhaustion. Yet the unease gnawed at her stomach.

She turned away from the mirror, silently promising herself not to look at it for the rest of her shift.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired.”

Kia nodded, but Marisol could tell she wasn’t buying it.

This was why she avoided mirrors. They showed too much.

It had only been ten months since Mami died. The mirror showed that too. Ten months since she had dropped out and come back to the place she promised herself she’d never return to. Gosh. Every time she thought of having come so close only to come home with a diploma-shaped hole filled with student debt, it made her feel like she was walking around with a wet shirt on during winter, and everyone staring at her.

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About Author Johanny Ortega:

Johanny Ortega is a Dominican American author who writes across genres—blending psychological horror, literary fiction, magical realism, and thrillers that punch you right in the gut. Whether writing about haunted hills, generational trauma, or the quiet unraveling of everyday life, her stories center marginalized voices, morally complex women, and the messy truth about survival.

She is the founder of Have a Cup of Johanny, a creative platform where she blogs, podcasts, and advocates for inclusive storytelling. Her award-winning middle-grade and adult fiction has resonated with readers who crave depth, grit, and emotional honesty.

When she’s not writing, she’s raising kids in a blended military family, reading books that wreck her soul in the best way, and saying what others are afraid to.

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The Bridge

by Shanna Hatfield

 

Publication date: October 7th 2025
Genres: Adult, Holiday, Women’s Fiction

One Bridge. Five Strangers. A Christmas Eve That Changes Everything.

On a bridge suspended above the Willamette River, five lives collide for a journey through hope and hardship in a suspenseful, heartwarming tale of courage, connection, and the magic of second chances.

Sergeant Archer Raines has worked every holiday all year for one reason: to finally spend Christmas with his wife. But when a desperate man threatens to jump from Portland’s St. Johns Bridge, Archer’s expert negotiation skills are required to defuse the situation.

Rosalee, a high-powered accountant and mom-to-be, only meant to swing by home for a forgotten phone and client file. Then her car is caught in the chaos on the bridge, she unexpectedly goes into labor, and her carefully planned world begins to unravel amidst the unfolding drama.

Exhausted nurse Nova just wants to make it home for Christmas after too many night shifts. When the pileup halts traffic and Rosalee’s baby is on the way, Nova puts her own plans on hold to help a stranger in need.

Carter, the owner of a busy tow truck business, regrets taking the call to clear the multi-car collision off the bridge. He’d intended to spend the day tackling last-minute holiday errands. Instead, he’s praying the lunatic pointing a gun at him doesn’t pull the trigger.

Fresh out of college and anxious to kick-start his career, Ian’s running late when his car won’t start the morning of his big interview. His rideshare driver turns out to be a captivating girl with a penchant for aggressive driving that narrowly saves them from being part of the wreck on the bridge, sending Ian on an unexpected path of his own.

The Bridge is the perfect uplifting holiday read and a story of how one frozen moment can thaw even the loneliest of hearts.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Apple Books / Kobo

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Enjoy this peek inside:

He’d just stepped outside when he saw a vehicle roaring up the street. The rideshare logo was clearly visible in the passenger-side corner of the windshield. He hoped the maniac driving the small SUV wouldn’t kill him in a fiery crash before they even made it out of the neighborhood.

He lifted a hand as he stepped out to the curb, and the SUV came to a precise stop beside him. All he had to do was open the door and slide into the back seat.

“You’re the dude heading to Magra? Ian Alexander?” the driver asked, giving him a glimpse over her shoulder.

Ian nodded, then cleared his throat. “Yes. I’m Ian. Do you have the address?”

“Got it right here,” she said, then blew a big pink bubble and popped her gum.

He was in the process of buckling his seat belt when she hit the gas and zipped into the street, barely slowed at the corner, and picked up speed as she headed toward the highway.

Ian prayed he’d survive the trip and wouldn’t be so rattled by the experience he’d mess up his interview. He drew in a long breath and inhaled a fragrance reminiscent of spiced cider and warm fires. He didn’t see an air freshener hanging up and wondered if it was just the driver. If so, she smelled amazing.

Head in the game.

Now was not the time to check out a girl. Besides, this one certainly wasn’t his type even if she appeared to be close to his age. From the quick glance she’d given him, he’d concluded she was into goth with her thick, black eyeliner and dark eye shadow, a nose ring, blood-red lipstick, and a dragon earring that encircled her entire ear. She had on fingerless gloves with leather cuffs and a black leather jacket sporting silver studs around the collar. He had no idea what color her hair might have been because it was all stuffed up under a slouchy black velvet hat.

He wondered what she’d look like if she washed her face and dressed in something less biker chic and more … feminine.

Ian almost face-palmed himself. Good grief! He was starting to sound like his parents. He didn’t care if the woman was dressed as one of Santa’s elves as long as she got him to his interview on time, preferably in one piece.

To distract himself from the fact that goth girl seemed to think she was training for the Indy 500 or perhaps to become a New York City cab driver, he rehearsed what he planned to say at the interview. When it felt as though the SUV went around a corner on two wheels, Ian latched onto the handle above the door and held on for dear life. What kind of crazy person was about to get him killed?

“Ever think about becoming a race car driver?” he asked as she barely slowed at a stop sign and took a right onto the highway.

She glanced back at him and smirked. “Only every other day. Unfortunately for you, today is an even day, and I’m practicing.”

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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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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Extraterrestrial Noir organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Rick Leder will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

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

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Extraterrestrial Noir

By Rich Leder 

 

 

Genre: SciFi

Synopsis

A PSYCHO-CRIMINAL EXTRATERRESTRIAL ON A SUBURBAN CUL-DE-SAC

A FAMILY ON THE BRINK OF ALL-ENCOMPASSING INSOLVENCY

A TWELVE-YEAR-OLD UBER-GENIUS DAUGHTER IN THE LINE OF FIRE

CAN SHE SAVE THE FAMILY, NOT TO MENTION THE PLANET?

 

An extraterrestrial crashes into a suburban cul-de-sac Colonial, absorbs every binary bit of information ever chronicled in all of human history, rearranges its molecules and presents itself as a couple of late and legendary film noir superstars, then immediately displays an appetite for debauchery, depravity, decadence, and destruction, seducing the family into its psychopathic criminal orbit with irresistible Hollywood panache, alluring sexual charisma, and inconceivable intergalactic powers.…all in the name of saving the family from their emotional, marital, and financial ruin.

But uber-genius-daughter Mike Devine figures out fast that the extraterrestrial’s principal plan is to employ its unfathomable interplanetary muscle and implode the planet. Which leaves the fate of her family, not to mention the world, in her twelve-year-old hands.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“Forget the meteor,” Peter said. “Where’s the hole?”

“There it is,” Lazlo said. But he was pointing at the ceiling, at the same size and shaped hole that ran in a line at a forty-five-degree angle through the house. The cul-de-sac husbands all looked up at the hole, through the dining room, the master bedroom, and the attic to the sky. Only Maggie followed the path down to its conclusion.

“What in the world is that?” she said.

And then the room went silent, as if all the air had been sucked out of the house through the succession of small rectangular holes.

Connie and Maggie had decided on white oak floors when they’d finished the basement, and then covered them with colorful Karastan rugs. Lying on a deep-red-and-brown rug, five feet in front of the giant flat-screen television, surrounded by debris from the various ceilings and floors that followed it down as it smashed through the house, was a silver box.

It was, like the holes it created, the size and shape of a Frye cowboy boot box, but smoother along the edges. Perfectly smooth, in fact. It wasn’t particularly polished, more matte finish than shiny, and was completely unmarked. There was simply no evidence whatsoever that it had burned through the atmosphere and smashed through a suburban Colonial at a million miles an hour.

“It’s like somebody bought a pair of boots and left the box on the floor,” Bill said.

“Doesn’t look like it came crashing down,” Peter agreed.

“Looks like it came in for a landing,” Maggie said.

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About Author Rich Leder:

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Rich Leder has been a working writer for more than three decades. His credits include eight novels for Laugh Riot Press and 19 produced movies—television films for CBS, Lifetime, and Hallmark and feature films for Lionsgate, Paramount Pictures, Tri-Star Pictures, Longridge Productions, and Left Bank Films.

He’s been the lead singer in a Detroit rock band, a restaurateur, a Little League coach, an indie film director, a literacy tutor, a magazine editor, a screenwriting coach, a wedding consultant (it’s true), a PTA board member, a HOA president, a commercial real estate agent, and a visiting artist for the UNCW Film Studies Department, all of which, it turns out, was grist for the mill.

 

WEBSITE:

 

BUY LINKS: Amazon / Bookshop.org

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Hooking Up With a Rockstar

By Kitt Henley

 

Publication date: October 28th 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

An opposites-attract friends-to-lovers romance featuring a charming, swoon-worthy rockstar hero who falls first, a fiercely independent club-manager heroine, a hometown show, a secret song, and one very compromising position.

I told him it was just a hookup. I don’t think he bought it.

JUNE: Anthony’s always been a wild good time, but even before his band got famous, I knew better than to let myself bask in the glow of that 1,000-watt smile.

He makes me feel things I don’t ever want to feel. For anyone.

So when his band went on tour halfway across the world, forgetting him was the goal, but his postcards from the road didn’t make it any easier.

And now he’s back. Playing my club, looking every inch the rock god, and reminding me what it feels like to be with him.

Under him.

But I have a club to run, a boss breathing down my neck, and no room for distractions. This is my chance to prove myself, and unlike my mother, I’m not about to let some guy derail my life.

Three nights.
That’s all I have to survive without letting my guard down.
Without losing myself.
Without wanting him.


Soulmates: Two bands. Three shows. Four happily ever afters.
Hooking Up With a Rockstar is a complete romance novella with no cliffhanger. This story can be enjoyed as a standalone or read as the second book in the Soulmates interwoven rockstar romance series.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“How are you doing on your part of the list so far?” I ask, situating myself on the barstool directly across from June.

“Doing good.” Her eyelashes flutter a little. She’s working hard to keep her attention on the bottles she’s probably pretending to count, but her eyes keep darting in my direction. “Everything’s ready to go for ticketing and admission, and the staff are all confirmed for tonight.”

“OK, fabulous. Sounds like the perfect time for the two of us to grab a bite to eat.”

“Oh. Thanks, but I’ll get something later.” She angles her body away even further.

She’s adorable.

June’s making me work for it, that’s for sure. She’s a tough nut to crack, so I wasn’t expecting her to toss her panties at me or anything, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping she’d be a little more receptive. But that’s OK. We’ve got three whole days together, and this time I’m playing the long game.

“My treat.” I slide over one stool and inch myself back into her line of sight. “How about a quick sandwich?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” She finally turns to face me, looking skeptical.

“Come on, Chicago,” I tease, lowering my voice. “What. Are you afraid I’m gonna put the moves on you?”

She rolls her eyes. “I freaking know you will.”

“No. This is a professional lunch outing.”

“Uh-huh. Sure it is.” She shakes her head, smiling. “Yeah, all right. But just a quick bite.”

“Absolutely.”

She reaches for her coat and we step outside. I swear it’s even colder than it was this morning, and it takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the bright sun after spending all day in the club.

“We could grab barbecue sandwiches at that place around the corner,” June says.

“Actually, I heard there’s this great place a couple of blocks down. Follow me.”

The truth is I know exactly where we’re headed. It’s the diner where June and I used to go sometimes after closing up the bar.

The first time she asked if I wanted to get a bite to eat after work, I thought she was asking me out on a real date. We were sitting at that diner, facing each other across the table, when she first started telling me about all the different bands she was into. Eclectic stuff. She could appreciate things in the music that most people never even notice. That was when I realized she was someone special.

As we make our way down the sidewalk, I can’t help but feel giddy. It’s good to be walking through the city side by side with June again.

We round the corner and I slow down as we approach the restaurant.

“Oh, I see what you did here,” she says. “A trip down memory lane, huh? I recall being promised a quick sandwich.”

“But if you’ll remember, June, the service here is incredibly speedy,” I reassure her with a wink, and she rolls her eyes.

We score our usual cozy table by the window and put our sandwich orders in right away to speed things up.

June leans toward me, resting both hands at the edge of the table and giving me a little scowl as the server pours us each a cup of coffee.

“I can’t believe you brought me back here,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re hilarious. You know that?”

“It’s one of the things you love most about me.” I grin.

“That’s debatable.” She’s giving me one of those feisty June expressions that I’ve missed so much.

“Well, you guys sure have been getting around this past year.”

“Oh, you’ve been paying attention?” I wink.

“I did receive thirty-eight postcards.” She gives me a sideways glare, and my heart does a flip-flop. She actually read my cards.

“Ahh, but who’s counting?” I tease.

“Right.” She nods slowly, but her cheeks flush pink.

I pause, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “You know, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this past year.”

“Yeah? About what?” She takes a sip of her coffee.

“About us, actually,” I say softly.

That must’ve caught her off guard because those dark eyes lock right on mine, and her cheeks flush a deep shade of pink.

“Oh.”

“Sorry. Is that weird?”

“No, I mean, it’s fine,” she says, dropping her voice a little. “It’s just—I’m worried we got our wires crossed somewhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last year—when we hooked up—I didn’t mean for it to be anything more than one night.” She’s watching my eyes closely now.

“Yeah, I was wondering about that,” I say.

“I know. I really fucked that up. I should have been clear about what I was looking for from the start. That wasn’t fair to you.”

I shrug. “Nah, you’re OK. We didn’t make any promises that night.”

She gives me a little smile. “Well, thanks for saying that. But I shouldn’t have ghosted you. We’ve been friends a long time, and you deserve better.”

“OK. But I get it. It was intense, what happened between us.”

She stops mid-sip, almost choking on her coffee. “Err, umm—hmm? What do you mean?”

“The two of us. We’re something else together. I know you felt it too.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Her pupils dilate and her lips part a bit, the way they do when she’s turned on.

“It wasn’t just a hookup, June.” I let my tone drop down low, just the way she likes it. “No matter what you want to tell yourself.”

“Um, no, I’m pretty sure that’s what it was,” she tries, but her voice is breathless, and her hands are trembling. “Just…a hookup.”

“If you say so, Chicago,” I tease, giving her a wide smile.

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About Author Kitt Henley:

Kitt Henley writes short, spicy contemporary romance with relatable characters, a touch of humor, and tons of heart. Never one to make it through a good romance (or cookie commercial) with dry eyes, Kitt’s heartstrings are easy to pull on. When she played in rock bands and crunched numbers in the Seattle tech world, those waterworks weren’t an asset, but after a friend suggested she try writing romance, everything clicked into place. From the moment she sat down to write her first novel, she knew she’d found her calling.

When she’s not wrangling words in her tiny bedroom office, Kitt loves to spend time with her high school best friend (a.k.a. her rockstar husband) and their two ridiculously funny boys. She’s still holding out hope for that family band someday, but in the meantime she’ll happily settle for camping trips, board games, long walks with friends, and watching lots and lots of thrillers.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Bookbub

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

The authors 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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Toil And Trouble

 

 

Genre: Romantic Horror Halloween Anthology

Synopsis

The brew is hot and bubbling over with romance and terror in this twistedly beautiful anthology that welcomes the darkness of horror and the temptation of love’s veiled promises. Six remarkable tales from six incredible authors fill this book of dark shadows and ancient whispers.

Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble – by Jennifer Patricia O’Keeffe: Enchanted pastries and spell-brewed coffee make Esmerelda’s sugar-dusted counter the city’s most coveted haunt—until a dangerously charming newcomer slips into her shop, immune to her magic and unraveling her carefully guarded world. As his witch-hunter heritage threatens to burn her legacy to ash, Esmerelda finds herself torn between the threat of revenge from the witch hunter’s ancestors and the intoxicating truth of the connection that they share.

Silverwood – by Lynn Hubbard: A lonely rancher’s daughter finds her isolated Wyoming homestead upended when an amber-eyed stranger ignites a mud-splattered passion that defies reason—until his supernatural secret and the vengeful ranch hands hunting her force her to choose between the man who saves her and the monster who might destroy her. Torn between fierce protectors and forbidden desire, she must trust the very darkness that could shatter her world to survive the wild frontier’s deadliest threats.

Ivy, Lichens and Wallflowers – by James Ryan: Marketing executive Hilda finds solace from her stifling corporate life and overbearing past in the quiet companionship of Miriam, a mysterious 19th-century marble statue in a city micro-park, only to discover their connection transcends stone when Miriam begins answering her handwritten notes through cryptic poetry left in return. As their forbidden connection deepens into an intoxicating dream-bound romance, Hilda uncovers Miriam’s supernatural secret: she’s a cursed thaumaturge sustained by stolen life force, forcing Hilda to confront whether love can survive the devastating cost of keeping her alive.

A Mirror to Die For – by Cindy Lewis Smith: A desperate woman finds solace in an antique mirror that whisks her nightly to 1880s Arizona, where a charming outlaw named Johnny Ringo fulfills every fantasy—until her jealous fiancé shatters the glass and vanishes, leaving her trapped in an asylum screaming that he is the real monster, a man who shouldn’t exist: Dr. John Henry Holliday, the gambler who killed Ringo a century ago. Now, with “MPR” carved into her cell walls and time itself unraveling, she’ll stop at nothing to prove her sanity by proving time travel is real—even if it means unleashing the very darkness that destroyed her.

Flight 1031: Cosmic Turbulence – by Julian Christian: Diplomatic courier Sarah Martinez boards Flight 1031 expecting routine turbulence, not a Halloween dimensional rift that strands her at Germania International Airport—where the Greater German Reich has ruled since 1943 and perfected technology to harvest souls from parallel realities through consciousness-scanning machinery that pulses with seventeen-beat rhythms. Now trapped in a terminal that breathes like a living organism, Sarah must navigate a world where every passenger hides a secret and her resistance could either save her timeline or doom infinite versions of humanity to eternal enslavement in a Reich that spans all dimensions.

Dream a Little Dream – by Jae El Foster: After a near-death car crash rewires her brain, Sarah’s nightmares bleed into reality: sugar on the counter forms glyphs, bats appear out of nowhere in broad daylight, and her own hands betray her—while the velvet-eyed stranger from her dreams appears in her waking hours, his urgency growing as Halloween’s veil thins. Now, with her reality twisting into something surreal and an ancient language hijacking her voice, she must confront a dark truth: her soul isn’t hers to keep, and the man who saved her in death is the very entity hunting her in life.

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Enjoy this Excerpt From ‘Dream a Little Dream’ by Jae El Foster

Sarah didn’t know where to run, where to hide, where to breathe. She drove until the city’s skyline dissolved into cornfields, until the morning thickened with minivans and convertibles carrying families on “ride in the country” escapes. Each passing car—a Jeep with muddy tires, a sedan with bike racks—anchored her to reality, the rubber soles of her sneakers still tingling with the phantom sensation of earth either holding her up or crushing her down.

A flash detonated behind her eyes: the muffled thud of dirt hitting wood, shovel after shovel, sealing her inside a coffin. She couldn’t see it, but she smelled it—the cloying stench of decay merging with rain-damp soil, the suffocating darkness pressing against her eyelids as the weight piled higher. The scent of worms and wet pine needles flooded her throat, thick as grave mold.

The vision snapped just as her car veered toward the shoulder. She wrenched the wheel hard left, tires screeching, a horn blaring from the sedan she’d nearly broadsided. Her hands locked on the steering wheel, knuckles bleaching bone-white, as she fought to drag air into her lungs. Slow. Nervous. Don’t die twice. The wreck’s ghost clawed at her ribs—she wouldn’t invite it back.

Ahead, a billboard loomed: MEMORY LANE. Beneath the town’s name, bold letters promised: Step into Memory Lane, where new memories are made! Sarah’s foot hovered over the brake pedal, ready to U-turn from the omen of that name, but her ankle refused to bend. Cemented. Her other foot slammed toward the brake—stuck. Panic surged as she crossed the town line, tires crunching over the painted border, but then the landscape unfolded: manicured lawns, white picket fences gleaming like fresh bone, and 1950s bungalows painted in cheerful pastels. A sigh escaped her—enchanted.

Chicanery, she thought, scanning the dollhouse-perfect homes. Porches draped in wisteria, hydrangeas bursting from flower beds, rocking chairs swaying in phantom breezes. It felt less like a town and more like a dream staged for tourists—a nostalgia trap with price tags hidden in the shutters. She gripped the wheel tighter, the vinyl seat sticky beneath her sweat-slicked thighs.

The yards deepened in their perfection: hedges trimmed to geometric precision, roses blooming in impossible symmetry, each white picket fence identical down to the last splinter. No cracks. No weeds. No life. The fences stood sentinel around empty yards, guarding homes with spotless windows that reflected nothing but sky.

She passed a brick schoolhouse with a rusted swing set, a park with a merry-go-round frozen mid-spin, a diner with “OPEN” glowing in neon, a barber pole coiled in red-white silence, a post office with mailboxes gleaming under noon sun. No children. No joggers. No bicycles leaning against fences. Since crossing into Memory Lane, she’d seen exactly one living thing: a crow pecking at a roadkill squirrel, its beak crimson.

“Where the hell is everyone?” she muttered, her voice raw as she scanned porches, windows, the empty stretch of road ahead. The only sound was the hum of her engine and the thump-thump-thump of her pulse in her ears.

Sarah’s hands left the steering wheel, fingers trembling as she tried to turn into a driveway for a U-turn. The wheel refused to budge—cemented. She settled back into the seat, watching it steer itself with unnatural precision. Her foot lifted from the accelerator, but the speed held steady, unwavering, until the car slowed on its own for a sharp right-hand turn onto University Boulevard. The road’s grip on her feet had vanished, yet the vehicle moved like a thing alive, hungry for the town square.

To her left, manicured university grounds sprawled beneath flowering trees, grand homes lining the boulevard like stage sets. Roses bloomed in impossible symmetry, hedges trimmed to razor edges. Sarah groaned at the street name—University Boulevard—its banality a slap in the face. Two blocks down, the car turned right onto Main Street, the tires whispering over asphalt that felt less like road and more like skin.

Ahead, the town square unfolded: businesses glowing with “Open” signs, windows spotless, a gazebo planted dead-center like a tombstone. No cars. No pedestrians. Not even a stray cat to break the silence. The air hung thick with the scent of cut grass and something sharper—ozone, like before a storm that never breaks.

Sarah’s car rolled into a parking spot near the gazebo. The seatbelt loosened with a hiss, the engine dying as the driver’s door swung open unbidden. “I don’t like anything about this…” she muttered, stepping onto pavement that felt unnaturally warm beneath her sneakers. The keys stayed in the ignition, but fear of theft never came—who would steal from a town with no one to steal?

The door shut behind her with a soft click, sealing her in the square’s suffocating quiet. She forced her breath slow, scanning the storefronts: two restaurants, a beauty parlor, a bank, antique shops, a used bookstore, and a theater dominating the square. Its marquee blazed in vintage bulbs: DREAM A LITTLE DREAM and SHE RISES AT NIGHT—titles she’d never heard, yet they hummed in her bones like half-remembered screams.

She turned toward the right-hand restaurant, heels clicking on the pavement. Instantly, its “Open” sign flickered and died. She froze, then pivoted toward the left restaurant—same result. The sign went dark as if snuffed by an invisible hand.

Sarah took a step forward, pulse hammering against her ribs. The air grew heavier, pressing into her lungs like wet soil. She didn’t need to test it again. The square wasn’t empty. It was waiting.

“What in the living hell…?”

Every storefront Sarah scanned flickered dark—the “Open” signs dying like snuffed candles—but the theater’s marquee blazed relentless: REEL AFTER REEL. Its sign burned bright despite the empty ticket booth, the glass doors yawning open onto blackness. Sarah’s skin prickled. Memory Lane felt wrong, but the theater pulsed with something hungrier, something that made her stomach drop like a stone in a well.

She stared at the theater, arms crossed tight against the chill. The marquee’s promise—DREAM A LITTLE DREAM / SHE RISES AT NIGHT—curdled in her gut. Of all places, this was where she never wanted to set foot. Yet the longer she stood frozen, the more the building breathed. Orchestra strings swelled—violins sawing a tune from silent-film days—though the theater’s modern facade held no projector room. Then came the chatter: phantom voices lining up for tickets, laughter echoing off empty pavement.

“Nope…” she muttered, squaring her shoulders. “Fuck this.” She bolted for her car, sneakers slapping the pavement. The driver’s door handle wouldn’t budge—locked, keys glinting in the ignition like a taunt.

Buy the Book: Amazon / Smashwords / B&N / Apple / Kobo

 

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Death By Mistake

By Abigail Keam

 

(A Josiah Reynolds Mystery, #22)
Publication date: October 13th 2025
Genres: Adult, Cozy Mystery

In a world of oak-cured bourbon, antebellum mansions, and Thoroughbred farms, secrets buried in the deep earth are never hidden long.
Josiah has resigned herself to being alone. Her boyfriend, Hunter left her for an old flame, and Josiah vows not to interfere in his life. She cares for the man and wants him to be happy. So, it comes as a shock when Detective Drake informs her that Hunter has been arrested for the murder of his wife, Kathy Wickliffe. Josiah simply can’t believe Hunter would harm another human being. She must uncover the truth—and fast. There’s the law, and there is Josiah’s justice!

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

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The Josiah Reynolds Mystery Series
Death By A HoneyBee
Death By Drowning
Death By Bridle
Death By Bourbon
Death By Lotto
Death by Chocolate
Death by Haunting
Death By Derby
Death By Design
Death By Malice
Death By Drama
Death By Stalking
Death By Deceit
Death By Magic
Death By Shock
Death By Chance
Death By Poison
Death By Greed
Death By Theft
Death By Betrayal
Death By Trauma
Death By Mistake
Death By Mail

AWARDS
2010 Gold Medal Award from Readers’ Favorite for Death By A HoneyBee
2011 Gold Medal Award from Readers’ Favorite for Death By Drowning
2011 USA BOOK NEWS-Best Books List of 2011 as a Finalist for Death By Drowning
2011 USA BOOK NEWS-Best Books List of 2011 as a Finalist for Death By A HoneyBee
2017 Finalist from Readers’ Favorite for Death By Design
2019 Honorable Mention from Readers’ Favorite for Death By Stalking
2019 Top 10 Mystery Novels from Kings River Life Magazine for Murder Under A Blue Moon
2020 Imadjinn Award for Best Mystery – Death By Stalking
2022 Finalist in Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Finalist for Best Historical Category – Murder Under A Full Moon
2022 Finalist the Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Best Historical Category – Murder Under A New Moon
2022 Death By Chance: A Josiah Reynolds Mystery Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Finalist for Best Cozy Mystery

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Hunter Wickliffe woke up. Something had sounded in the night and awakened him. Getting out of bed, he went over to the large double-hung sash window, catching sight of a car racing away around the curve of the driveway to Wickliffe Manor. He could hear the car screech to a stop and then turn onto Old Frankfort Pike. He looked at his watch. It was two twenty-three in the morning.

Donning trousers and flip-flops, Hunter trudged down the hallway and opened the door to his wife’s son, Palley’s bedroom. The bed was messy, but no Palley. He then slogged to Kathy’s room, gently knocked, and opened the bedroom door.

The bed was made, showing no one had slept in it. Odd. His wife usually went to bed around midnight.

After checking the upstairs bathrooms and finding them unoccupied, Hunter went down the grand staircase and searched throughout the entire first floor of his 19th-century home. He couldn’t find either Kathy or Palley.

Hunter checked the decorative ceramic bowl by the open back door and saw Kathy’s keys were there. Stepping into the velvet night, he shouted Kathy’s name.

No one returned his call.

Thinking it strange Kathy was not in the house, Hunter went outside to look for her. Discovering Kathy’s Lexus parked in the driveway, he placed his hand on the hood. Hunter found it cold to the touch, so she had to be on the grounds somewhere. He headed to the stables as he heard the boarded horses acting up. That was always a bad sign.

As he walked down the dark gravel path to the horse barn, a Great Horned Owl hooted in the distance, Black Angus cattle snorted in their pasture, and the crunch-crunch of his flip-flops on the gravel were the only sounds to be heard. The otherwise eerie quiet unnerved Hunter. He made a mental note to get some dogs. Dogs were good indicators of people and things not being in place. They were always aware of the unusual. A dog walking beside him in the dark would give him confidence.

Was he frightened?

Hunter was certainly wary.

Something was definitely off.

He picked up a thick fallen branch from a walnut tree and carried it with him. Closer to the barn, he distinctly heard the horses kicking their stalls and neighing occasionally. Not a good sign. Perhaps a coyote had been sniffing around the stable.

Dropping the branch, Hunter stepped through the side door. Searching for the light switch, he found it and turned on the overhead barn lights. The horses immediately quieted down. He first noticed the pedestal fans, which were supposed to circulate the air on warm nights, were turned off. He looked at his watch again. It was two forty-five. As the night cooled, the fans were programmed to switch off at three.

He stepped to the nearest fan and touched the housing. The metal felt wet. Now what would cause water on the fans? Hunter looked up. The roof wasn’t leaking. Besides, it hadn’t rained.

“What’s going on, ladies?” Hunter asked as he opened the stall doors and checked several horses close to the west entrance until he noticed bales of hay lying in disarray on the floor of the barn’s central aisle. Someone or something had also overturned the sweet feed buckets near the storage closet. A sense of dread filled him.

“Kathy? Kathy, are you here?” Hunter called out.

The only responses were horses nickering. Hunter strained to hear his wife’s response or maybe a faint cry for help. Perhaps she went to check on the horses and fell. He wanted to hear something—anything resembling a human voice.

Certain that something was amiss, Hunter went into the first five stalls and opened the back stall doors to a large paddock, letting the pregnant Thoroughbred mares out. He brought them in only at night to keep coyotes and wandering dogs away from them. Free, the horses ambled over to a water trough for a quick sip of cool water.

The last four stalls contained pleasure horses boarded at the Wickliffe Farm. Hunter slid open the stall door and grabbed the skittish Arabian horse by the halter. “Whoa, girl. Whoa. That’s a good girl.” He opened the back exterior door of the stall and pulled the horse toward the outside. She happily joined the other horses now grazing hay left out for them.

Hunter went to the next stall to check on a Quarter horse when he noticed shiny  splotches of a dark substance on the center aisle’s rubber mat. He squatted down and swiped the dark substance with his finger. The substance was gooey, and as he raised his hand to inspect it, the overhead light illuminated the unmistakable red color. Hunter smelled the red substance and rubbed it between his fingers. As a forensic psychiatrist, he had seen enough dead bodies to know this was coagulated blood!

He jumped up and frantically searched the last stalls. “Kathy! Kathy!” There were two remaining horses, which he quickly pulled into the paddock. It wasn’t until Hunter came to the remaining stall that he discovered Kathy lying on her back with unblinking eyes staring at the ceiling. He quickly checked for a pulse, and when he didn’t discover one, Hunter slid down the wall of the stall in disbelief. Shocked, he sat beside his dead wife and put his head between his hands, moaned, “Oh, Kathy. What did you do? What did you do?”

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About Author Abigail Keam:

Abigail Keam is an award-winning and best-selling author who writes the Josiah Reynolds Mystery Series about a Southern female beekeeper turned amateur sleuth living in the glamorous world of oak-cured bourbon, antebellum mansions, and Thoroughbred farms.
Besides loving history, Kentucky bourbon and chocolate, Abigail loves honeybees and for many years made her living by selling honey at a farmers’ market like her protagonist, Josiah Reynolds. She is an award-winning beekeeper who has won many honey awards at the Kentucky State Fair including the Barbara Horn Award, which is given to beekeepers who rate a perfect 100 in a honey competition.
Miss Abigail has taken her knowledge of beekeeping to create a fictional beekeeping protagonist, Josiah Reynolds, who solves murder mysteries in the Bluegrass. While Miss Abigail’s novels are for enjoyment, she discusses the importance of a local sustainable food economy and land management for honeybees and other creatures.
She currently lives on the Kentucky River in a metal house with her husband and various critters.

Website / Facebook / Pinterest / Instagram / Amazon / Bluesky

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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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