Archive for the ‘Historical’ Category

 

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Outlander meets Black Mirror in this sizzling dark time travel romance!

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A Code of Knights and Deception

Swords of Time Book 1

by Eliza Hampstead

Genre: Dark Time Travel Historical Romantasy

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Outlander
meets Black Mirror in this sizzling dark time travel romance!

Sophia

I thought I was trapped in history. Turns out, it’s far worse than I imagined.

I woke up in
15th-century England, a brutal world where women are silenced, superstition
rules, and survival depends on obedience. Trapped far from my husband and son,
nothing makes sense. I’m a scientist, not a damsel in distress, so I did what I
had to—I disguised myself as a man and trained with Henry, the castle’s
master-at-arms, learning to wield a sword to defend myself.

But as I
carve my place in this world, my forbidden love for Henry shakes everything I
believed in. Do I fight to return home—or surrender to a future I never
imagined?

Yet, I can’t
shake the feeling that Henry is hiding something—something that could shatter
everything I’ve fought for.

Ethan

What if the woman you’re supposed to observe becomes the one you can’t live
without?
I never meant to fall for her. She’s fearless, brilliant, captivating. Every
lesson, every stolen moment deepens the lie—and my guilt. I’m not the man she
thinks I am. That my name is Ethan, not Henry, is the least of the lies I tell
her.

If she learns the truth, I’ll lose her forever.

And time is running out.

*Warning: strong language, steamy scenes, and graphic violence inside.
Mention/Description of, but not limited to, abduction, blood, death,
amputation, childbirth, death, sexual assault, suicide, violence against
children, rape, and torture.*

The book is
the first in a duology and ends with a cliffhanger.

Amazon * Bookbub * Goodreads

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Sophia wakes up in medieval England

I had the strangest dream. Nothing unusual for me, but this one lingered in vivid detail, as if I’d truly been there—in a medieval castle, smoke and burning wood perfuming the air, stone walls looming around me. Azure blue eyes. I smiled at the memory, then made the mistake of swallowing and winced at the sharp, scratchy sensation in my throat. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, seeking comfort in the familiar routine of checking the time, but my hand met only empty space.

Confused, I squinted into the darkness. My surroundings looked much as it had last night: thick red bed curtains drawn nearly shut, letting in only a small beam. I shifted under the heavy covers, my feet touching the icy stone floor and sending shivers up my legs as I sat up in my underdress. A faint shaft of light crept in from a small window, softly hinting at dawn. It might have been around six.

Breathing out a small cloud, I rubbed my arms to coax some warmth back into them and took in the room’s strangeness, feeling how truly alien this place was.

“Good mornin’, my lady! How be ye feelin’ today?” she chirped, her voice motherly and comforting in my panic. Her plain brown dress rustled as she moved about the room, efficient and unfazed.

“Toilet?” I croaked, my voice strained and hoarse from my sore throat.

Polly looked at me in confusion, observing me standing there with legs crossed.

“Ah, a privy ye seek.” She nodded thoughtfully, then produced a chamber pot from under the bed, holding it out to me.

I reached for it, mortified. What was I supposed to do now?

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Eliza
Hampstead, a scientist by training, lives with her family in the UK. When she’s
not writing, she spends her time as a geek. Playing all sorts of games (board
games, video games, RPGs) and being a big fan of medieval history are only a
few of the many hobbies she has. Passionate about fantasy, she’s always
planning her next adventure.

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Murder on Oak Street (A South Shore Mystery)
by I. M. Foster


Murder on Oak Street (A South Shore Mystery)
Historical Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Setting – New York
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Inez M. Foster (November 12, 2022)
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 503 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 173333758X
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1733337588
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 503 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1733337571
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1733337571
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0BFMT4WL2

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New York, 1904. After two years as a coroner’s physician for the city of New York, Daniel O’Halleran is more frustrated than ever. What’s the point when the authorities consistently brush aside his findings for the sake of expediency? So when his fiancée leaves him standing at the altar on their wedding day, he takes it as a sign that it’s time to move on and eagerly accepts an offer to assist the local coroner in the small Long Island village of Patchogue.

Though the coroner advises him that life on Long Island is far more subdued than that of the city, Daniel hasn’t been there a month when the pretty librarian, Kathleen Brissedon, asks him to look into a two-year-old murder case that took place in the city. Oddly enough, the case she’s referring to was the first one he ever worked on, and the verdict never sat right with him.

Eager for the chance to investigate it anew, Daniel agrees to look into it in his spare time, but when a fresh murder occurs in his own backyard, he can’t shake his gut feeling that the two cases are connected. Can he discover the link before another life is taken, or will murder shake the peaceful South Shore village once again?

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“This is it, sir.” Caleb Croser, the young stable boy, tugged on Daniel’s coat and hopped out of the buggy, leading him up the path to the large house set amongst enormous maple and oak trees. Well kept, it’s blue siding and gray roof stood out against the leafy backdrop that surrounded it. So this was where Kathleen Brissedon lived? It seemed to fit her perfectly, the color almost matching the shade of her eyes.
Letting out a sigh, he knocked on the wooden frame of the etched-glass door. Too bad he had to visit under such sinister circumstances. He would much rather be coming to call with a bouquet of flowers for the lovely librarian. He scrubbed a hand across his face and was just about to knock again when the door opened.
“Good morning, sir.” A tall man wearing a tailored black suit stood gazing at him, clearly distraught and most certainly the butler. “May I help you?”
“He’s Doc Sam’s assistant,” Caleb said, sticking his head out from behind Daniel. “The doc’s out on calls, so he came instead.”
“Thank you, Caleb,” the butler said. “You’d best return to the stables. Mrs. Quinn is too upset for cookies today.”
The boy fiddled with his hat a moment. “I was sorry to hear, sir.” Without another word, he slapped the cap back on his head and ran off toward the stables.
“Thank you for coming, sir,” the butler said. “I do remember seeing you with Doctor Tennyson at Mrs. Brissedon’s funeral. I’m the butler, Forbes. Do come in. The younger Mr. Brissedon is awaiting your arrival. It’s a terrible state of affairs, I’m afraid.”
Daniel followed the butler into a well-appointed parlor, much like his parents’. Whoever had decorated it had impeccable taste, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been Miss Brissedon.
Colin looked up from the sideboard and frowned. “Where is Doctor Tennyson?”
“He’s making his rounds, I’m afraid, but I’m his assistant.”
“Assistant?” Colin looked over to Kathleen. “Perhaps we should wait for the doctor. We need someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“Colin.” Kathleen took a moment to blow her nose before continuing. “Dr. O’Halleran is a physician and more than qualified. He used to work for the coroner’s office in the city before coming to assist Dr. Tennyson.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Colin said. “Yes, I do remember seeing you at the funeral now. Thank you for coming so quickly. My father appears to have been murdered. Cut down in his sleep, it would seem. Why, or by whom, I’m afraid I have no idea.”
“He’s upstairs, then, I gather?” Daniel shot a look at Miss Brissedon, who sat staring at the floor, another, younger man’s arm around her shoulders. Patrick, if he remembered correctly. Her beautiful eyes were puffy and red, and it was all he could do to keep from going to comfort her himself.
Forbes cleared his throat, and Daniel looked over to see the butler standing with Sergeant Owens from the local constabulary.
“Glad you’re here, Doc,” the man said. “I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before.” He tilted his head before adding, “From what Doc Tennyson says, you have, though, right?”
“Sadly, on a number of occasions.”
Colin put his glass down and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Yes, well, if you and the sergeant will follow me, I’ll take you up.” The others remained in the parlor while Colin led the way to his father’s rooms. “In there,” he said, clearing his throat, “just beyond the sitting room. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait out here. It’s quite a gruesome sight.”
Daniel nodded, then suggested Sergeant Owens stay with the man while he went into the bedroom. Colin had been right: the ashen corpse that lay before him was a grisly sight indeed. Rigor mortis had already begun to set in around the neck and jaw muscles, though the rest of the body remained flaccid. His skin, however, was still warm, and his wide eyes had already completely clouded over, telling Daniel that he could not have been dead more than four or five hours at the most.
“Dear God!” Sam Tennyson stopped short as he came to stand beside Daniel. “I got your message and came straightaway.”
“I’m glad you did. This is clearly a murder.” Daniel hesitated for a moment, reluctant to say what was on his mind but feeling he must. “But then I don’t suppose we’ll need to know any more than that.”
“This isn’t the city, Danny. We don’t have many murders out here, but when we do, we find out who’s responsible—rich or poor. I’ve sent word to District Attorney Smith. I told him you were investigating and that we’ll give him a progress report in a few days.”
“Will the sergeant and his men . . . ?”
“I’ve also contacted the new chief. The sergeant and his men are at our disposal. Though from what your uncle Timothy says, you’re quite an investigator yourself.”
“You know Uncle Timothy as well as my father?”
Sam smiled. “One of these days, lad, you’ll learn the world’s a much smaller place than you think it is. Now, tell me how Mr. Brissedon died.”

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Other books in the series.

Murder On West Lake

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Murder On West Main

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About I. M. Foster 

I. M. Foster is the pen name author Inez Foster uses to write her South Shore Mystery series, set on Edwardian Long Island. Inez also writes historical romances under the pseudonym Andrea Matthews, and has so far published two series in that genre: the Thunder on the Moor series, a time-travel romance set on the 16th century Anglo-Scottish Borders, and the Cross of Ciaran series, which follows the adventures of a fifth century Celt who finds himself in love with a twentieth-century archaeologist.

Inez is a historian and librarian, who love to read and write and search around for her roots, genealogically speaking. She has a BA in History and an MLS in Library Science and enjoys the research almost as much as she does writing the story. In fact, many of her ideas come to her while doing casual research or digging into her family history. Inez is a member of the Long Island Romance Writers, the Historical Novel Society, and Sisters in Crime.

Author Links: Facebook / X / Threads

Purchase Link – Amazon 

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After Pearl by Stephen G. Eoannou Banner

AFTER PEARL
by Stephen G. Eoannou
April 14 – May 9, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
A Nicholas Bishop Mystery

 

1942. War rages in Europe. Pearl Harbor still smolders. And alcoholic private eye Nicholas Bishop wakes up on a hotel room floor with two slugs missing from his .38 revolver. The cops think he’s murdered lounge singer Pearl DuGaye, mobsters think he saw something he shouldn’t have, and Bishop remembers nothing…

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Together with his indomitable assistant Gia Alessi, who he may or may not have fired, a WWI vet who often flashes back to 1918, and a one-eyed female dog named Jake, Bishop tries to piece together the events that took place during his disastrous five-day bender. Along the way, he stumbles across a dirty politician, a socialite and her unfaithful husband, and a cabal of American Nazis who are undoubtedly up to no good. Written in the spirit of classic noir, Eoannou adds his own unique voice and flair to the genre in this, the first action-packed outing of the Nicholas Bishop Mysteries…

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Praise for After Pearl:

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“…thanks to Stephen Eoannou, Buffalo has a hard-boiled detective to call its own. Say hello to the irrepressible Nicholas Bishop” ~ Tim Wendel, Author of Rebel FallsAfter Pearl is a wonderfully rendered hard-boiled historical mystery reminiscent of Chandler’s Marlowe novels.” ~ Bruce Robert Coffin, International Bestselling author of The Turner and Mosley Files “Mickey Spillane and Dashiell Hammett would be proud of this next generation author who takes their styles and not only matches them but adds his own unique flair and voice to the genre. This is a novel dying to be made into a movie.” ~ Historical Fiction Company 5 Star Review

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AFTER PEARL Trailer:

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Book Details:

Genre: Historical Noir

Published by: Santa Fe Writers Project Publication Date: May 1, 2025 Number of Pages: 260 ISBN: 9781951631475 (ISBN10: 1951631471) Series: A Nicholas Bishop Mystery, Book 1 

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Talking Leaves Books

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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Chapter 1
Nicholas Bishop named the one-eyed dog Jake even though she was female. Jake seemed like a good name for a pup missing an eye. He couldn’t remember where the mutt had come from. When he awoke on the floor of his room at The Lafayette Hotel, she sat close by, giving him a single eye stare. Strong odds said he stole the dog. She didn’t weigh much, maybe ten pounds, easy enough to scoop under his arm as he staggered home. He struggled to a sitting position and waited for the room to stop teetering. Vertebrae ground together as he rolled his head, hoping that would end the pounding between his ears. It didn’t. He massaged his closed eyelids. The corneas felt swollen beneath his fingertips. Jake watched all this, never once taking her eye off him. Bishop took inventory when the world righted itself. Rubbing his chin, whiskers whispered against palm. He tried to guess how long it’d been since he’d shaved. Two days? Three? His shirt cuff was dirty and frayed. He pushed it higher on his arm. The Bulova was still on his wrist, the crystal cracked, hands frozen at 2:30. His pewter-handled cane was on the floor next to an empty bottle of Four Roses. The pain in his right foot stabbed sharper than usual. He wondered if it would swell when he unlaced his shoe. No memory of reinjuring it came to him. He patted his suitcoat and felt his wallet in the inside pocket and the .38 Detective Special holstered near his heart. The wallet was empty. There were four slugs in the snub nose. Not six. He sniffed. It had been fired. He crawled to bed and pulled himself on the mattress, not bothering with his clothes. Jake hopped up, circled twice, then settled by the footboard, keeping her eye on Bishop as if her doubts about him were increasing now that he was conscious. Memories were slivered as he tried to recall when he had fired the gun: Day drinking at the Kitty Kat. The revolving bar at The Chez Ami. Perfume. A blonde. A car ride. No recollections about a one-eyed dog or gunshots. He checked the .38 again. Who had he fired at? Had he hit them? Killed them? The ringing phone was an ice pick to his ear. The only way to stop the pain was by answering. “Hello,” Bishop said, his voice raspy. “Coppers.” It took a heartbeat for the desk clerk’s voice to register. The line died. When it did, Bishop slammed the receiver into its cradle and swung his legs to the floor. The world again tottered. He swallowed bile until his swollen eyes teared. His damaged foot bore weight but each metatarsal sent ripples of agony with each step. He retrieved his cane and hat from the floor without toppling, something he considered miraculous, and felt grateful to the angel or demon in charge of keeping crippled detectives upright. The hallway was deserted. He limped to the stairwell before the elevator full of cops arrived at his floor. Bishop didn’t mind talking to the police, but he wanted to know what they were after before he did, certain it had nothing to do with a stolen dog but everything to do with two fired slugs. Guilt, thick and dark, oozed through him but he couldn’t tell if it was old remorse or something new, heavier. It was slow going down the stairs. He couldn’t outrace the fattest cop, not with his 4-F foot. He gripped the railing and leaned on the cane as he eased down each step, moving like a man much older than thirty. Jake waited on the landing, tilting her head as if to listen for shouts or thunderous feet descending from the floors above. There were none. Was Buffalo’s Finest tossing his room, rifling through drawers, pulling suits from hangers, checking pockets for…what? His gun? He wished he could walk into The Allendale Theater, buy a nickel bag of popcorn, and watch the last few days of his life projected on the silver screen, certain it would be more informative than any newsreel. When he reached the ground floor, he pushed open the fire exit and was blinded by sunshine reflected off the sidewalk and car fenders. So, it’s afternoon, he thought. But was it Monday or Tuesday? Bishop raised his hand to shield his eyes. He didn’t see his Packard anywhere. Benny The Junk Man stood by the hotel’s dented garbage cans. His cart was loaded with the day’s salvaged items—bundled rags, andirons, dresses, blouses. The clothing looked newer and of better quality than what Benny usually found. Bishop wondered if they’d been pulled from clotheslines. Unlike the mean drunks and meaner children who tormented him, Bishop knew Benny wasn’t stupid. He’d left the best part of himself in the Argonne still fighting that battle two decades later. He spent his days pushing his cart through the streets, crisscrossing Buffalo, searching for discarded treasures. His body passed through alleys rummaging for things to pawn, but what remained of his mind was mired in that burning forest surrounded by the dead and dying. Still, Benny sometimes saw and heard things that were real: A woman got her purse snatched on Genesee Street. There was a new girl, a real doll face, working at the Michigan Avenue brothel. A big card game was going on above The New Genesee Restaurant. He would whisper these truths to Bishop, and the shamus would pay for the information—a quarter, fifty cents, maybe a buck—even if it had nothing to do with the case he was working. Other times Bishop asked him to keep an eye out for a certain car or dame—nobody paid attention to a junk man lingering on a corner, just like no one had paid attention to a fifteen-year-old Bishop when he’d started working the streets. The information that Benny provided that was relevant to Bishop’s investigation was worth a fin or more—a fortune to a rag collector. Benny was still the good soldier, putting the mission first, and most times getting information the gimpy detective needed. Jake sniffed the junk man’s unlaced army boots. “Benny, what do you know? What do you hear?” Benny turned from the garbage pails and squinted as if trying to pick Bishop out of a crowd of gathering ghosts. Recognition registered in stages from the top down—brow wrinkled, eyes widened, mouth curved to a smile. “I didn’t know you had a dog, Bishop.” “You see her, too?” The junk man wasn’t sure how to answer. “Have you seen my car, Benny? The Packard?” “Your car?” “The green convertible.” Benny looked around the hotel alleyway and down Ellicott Street. “There’s no green car here, Bishop.” “Keep your eyes open for it, all right? You know which one it is, don’t you? Let me know if you spot it.” “You think someone stole your green car?” “It’s probably parked in front of The Kitty Kat or The Chez. Hopefully, it’s not in a ditch somewhere.” “Why would you leave your car in a ditch, Bishop?” “For safekeeping,” Bishop said. “Say, you hear anything about a shooting or why the cops are looking for me?” “I haven’t heard about those things.” “Okay, maybe it’s nothing. But if you hear something or find my car, you come tell me. If I’m not here, leave a message with Corbett at the front desk.” Benny saluted, his hand slicing the air as sharp as it had in 1918. “Good man. Carry on,” Bishop said, and the junk man resumed rummaging through the garbage pails. It was a four-block limp to The Kitty Kat to hunt for his car. Bishop wasn’t sure he could make it. He was considering sticking out his thumb when Lieutenant Darcy rounded the corner. His face, flushed pink from the heat, broke into a wide grin when he saw Bishop. “Rats are always in alleys, but I found a weasel. You think you can outrun the law with that crippled foot, Bishop?” “I’m not running, Lieutenant. I’m walking my dog.” “That’s a dog? It’s in worse shape than you.” “Me and Jake aren’t morning people.” “Morning people? The day’s half done, Bishop.” “Time flies.” “Not in prison it don’t. Which is where you’re headed, draft dodger.” Bishop winced and hoped it didn’t show. “Is sleeping late a crime?” “No, but murder is. What do you know about Pearl DuGaye, smart guy?” “Never heard of heard of her. Who is she?” “A singer from The Chez Ami gone missing. We found her purse not far from here. Cleaned out, of course, except for one thing.” “Trolley fare?” “Your business card.” Darcy pulled out the card and read, “Bishop Investigations. Civil. Criminal. Missing Persons Located. Licensed and Bonded. Who the hell would bond a coward like you?” Bishop took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “When did this DuGaye woman go missing?” “Saturday.” “What’s today?” “Thursday.” Jesus. Darcy wiped his face with a handkerchief. “Funny you never heard of her. Not only was your card in her purse, I got a revolving bar full of people at The Chez Ami who saw you two together. They say you weren’t exactly acting like brother and sister.” “You ever seen my sister, Lieutenant? She’s a looker.” “I wouldn’t put it past you. I wouldn’t put anything past a guy who sticks his foot in front of a moving taxi to keep out of the army. Were you working for DuGaye or just working her?” “I honestly can’t say, Lieutenant,” Bishop said, and wondered if she was blonde. “If she hired you to protect her, it looks like you did your usual swell job. Speaking of which, how’s business?” “It pays the light bill.” “Not at your office it don’t. Heard you had to close that down. Got rid of that good-looking secretary, too. Lucky Teddy Thurston must be rolling in his grave.” “I work out of The Lafayette now. Teddy would be fine with that.” “The hell he would. Only whores work out of hotels. Funny how business dried up on you. I guess folks who lost husbands and sons on December seventh and at Bataan don’t want to hire a chicken-shit Jap lover. Makes me wonder why DuGaye hired you. She must be as shady as Fat Ira. I read you work for him these days.” “I hear you work for Joey Bones. Have been for a long time.” Darcy took a step forward and jabbed a finger at Bishop. “Listen, you crippled shit. If this Pearl DuGaye shows up dead, I’m pinning it on you. I got a nice frame already picked out.” “Pleasure talking to you, Lieutenant, but I’m late for an appointment.” “With which bottle?” “Say hello to Joey for me.” “Watch out for taxis, weasel. Wouldn’t want you to have two crippled feet.” Bishop caned his way down Ellicott as Jake trotted ahead. The sun was hot on his neck. He could smell bourbon seeping through his pores. His stomach cramped and he wondered when he’d last eaten, uncertain he could keep anything down if he ate now. Guilt weighed on him, its cause remained unclear. *** Excerpt from After Pearl by Stephen G. Eoannou. Copyright 2025 by Stephen G. Eoannou. Reproduced with permission from Stephen G. Eoannou. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Stephen G. Eoannou:

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Stephen G. Eoannou

Stephen G. Eoannou is the author of the award-winning short story collection Muscle Cars and the novels Rook, Yesteryear, and After Pearl. He holds an MFA from Queens University of Charlotte and an MA from Miami University. He has been awarded an Honor Certificate from The Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and the Best Short Screenplay Award at the 36th Denver Film Festival. His latest novel, Yesteryear, was awarded the 2021 International Eyelands Award for Best Historical Novel, The Firebird Book Award for Biographical Fiction, and Shelf Unbound’s Notable Indy Books of 2023. He lives and writes in his hometown of Buffalo, New York, the setting and inspiration for much of his work.

Catch Up With Stephen G. Eoannou:

www.SGEoannou.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads BookBub – @seoannou YouTube – @stepheneoannou341 X – @StephenGEoannou Facebook – @steve.eoannou

 

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Murder on the Steel Pier: A Tess Mancini Time Travel Mystery
by Rosie Genova


Murder on the Steel Pier: A Tess Mancini Time Travel Mystery
Historical Mystery
1st in Series
Setting -1955 Atlantic City
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Two Roses Books (March 31, 2025)
Print length ‏ : ‎ 321 pages
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0DS934RJL

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Greetings from the Nifty Fifties…

The morning after a blowout birthday celebration in Atlantic City, crime reporter and party girl Tess Mancini wakes up in an unfamiliar place—1955. Bread is eighteen cents a loaf, Ike occupies the White House, and the Boardwalk is crawling with vintage cars and vintage wise guys. A bewildered Tess is sure of only two things: One, she’s not crazy, and two, the clothes are fabulous. Somehow, she’s living the life of her Great-Aunt Theresa, who disappeared decades before Tess’s birth.

In her 1950s existence, Tess is a reporter at the local newspaper, living at a boarding house owned by her Zia Antonetta, an Italian immigrant with a big secret. It turns out Theresa has a kid brother, teenaged troublemaker Val Mancini—aka Tess’s paternal grandfather. Though determined to return to her own time, Tess’s curiosity takes over. What happened to the first Theresa Mancini? And is Tess’s trip through time connected to her aunt’s fate?

But when young Val is accused of murdering a boarding house guest, a Nazi in hiding, Tess ends up with two investigations on her hands—and is now stuck in time until she can prove Val’s innocence. As she searches for answers, she finds allies in a dishy police detective and a suspiciously charming fellow reporter. The clock is ticking for Tess to find a way home, but first, she has to keep her grandfather off Death Row.

Because before Tess can get back to the future … she needs to make sure she has one.

About Rosie Genova

Proud Jersey girl Rosie Genova is a multi-genre author. Her work includes a Jersey shore cozy series, The Italian Kitchen Mysteries, and The Tess Mancini Time Travel Mysteries, set in 1955 Atlantic City. She is also the author of standalone suspense and a couple of rom-coms that presently live in her computer files (but are longing to be released into the wild). A former teacher and journalist, Rosie’s non-fiction has appeared in a variety of publications, including Entrepreneur magazine and The New York Times. The mother of three sons, Rosie still lives in her favorite state with her husband, too many dusty antiques, and a charming mutt named Lucy.

Author Links: Website / Facebook / BookBub

Purchase Links: Books2read

Amazon     B&N    Kobo    Apple Books

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TOUR PARTICIPANTS

April 7 – Frugal Freelancer – CHARACTER INTERVIEW

April 7 – Sapphyria’s Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

April 8 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT

April 8 – Reading Is My SuperPower – REVIEW

April 9 – Jody’s Bookish Haven – SPOTLIGHT

April 9 – Read Your Writes Book Reviews – AUTHOR GUEST POST

April 10 – Boys’ Mom Reads! – REVIEW

April 10 – Christy’s Cozy Corners – SPOTLIGHT

April 10 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – REVIEW

April 11 – Ascroft, eh? – AUTHOR GUEST POST

April 11 – MJB Reviewers – SPOTLIGHT

April 11 – Ruff Drafts – SPOTLIGHT

April 12 – Deal Sharing Aunt – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

April 13 – Elizabeth McKenna – Author – SPOTLIGHT

April 14 – Maureen’s Musings – SPOTLIGHT

April 14 – StoreyBook Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

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Eva is Waiting

by Romola Farr

 

Publication date: February 14th 2025
Genres: Adult, Historical, Thriller

Following the death of her mother, Lily is sent to a remote girls’ boarding school, tearing her away from all the excitement of London in the Swingin’ Sixties. Bereft, she develops a relationship with Rainer, the husband of Sylvia, the headmistress.

One day, Bella, the school Collie, goes missing whilst playing on the shore below sheer cliffs. Despite a rising tide, Lily is determined to find the beautiful dog and discovers her trapped between rocks in a cave. Deepening water swirls around them as her fingertips dig into the sand and touch the smooth surface of what she believes to be an animal skull. From that moment on, she is haunted by a young girl pleading for help.

Lily speaks to her headmistress and learns that eleven years previously a pupil went missing. Eva was a refugee from Hungary, and it was assumed by the police that she had run away.

Forced to stay on at school during the Christmas holiday, Lily is caught between those who know what really happened and wish to silence her, and her determination to end Eva’s wait for justice.

But is history about to repeat itself?

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

‘Don’t you have a heater?’ Lily was lying naked on a worn chaise longue with a gossamer thin veil artistically draped over her.

‘Heat burns out creativity.’ Rainer was sitting on a stool with a large pad on his lap, drawing Lily with a stub of pencil.

‘Am I to freeze my nether regions just for a sketch? I thought I deserved oils.’

‘First, liebling, I make sure I have all the correct proportions in pencil before I commence with charcoal, unless you want to have große Brüste und fette Oberschenkel.’

‘I think I’ve been inoculated against that!’

‘You are very funny.’

‘My mother told me I have a queer sense of humour.’

Rainer got up from the stool and placed the pad and pencil on the seat. He looked at Lily and she felt a surge. Since that amazing night, she had acted upon many urges alone in her room, then had knelt by her bed to pray for forgiveness. In her former school, Miss Rooney had made it clear that self-gratification was against the teachings of Christ.

‘As for adultery and fornication,’ Miss Rooney had said, ‘they are an abomination and will send you straight to hell.’ She had slammed the palm of her hand down on her thigh as she paced about and eyed the young girls seated before her. Young girls who had yet to experience their first period and were still reading books by Enid Blyton.

Well, Lily thought, hell it shall be because she was hooked on the greatest drug of all and despite her belief in God, she would rather face His wrath than become a dried-up old prune like Miss Rooney.

Rainer knelt in front of her, and she felt his warm tobacco breath… so intoxicating. ‘You are beautiful,’ he said.

‘Make love to me,’ she whispered.

‘An artist sleeping with his model is a cliché, is it not?’

‘Call it the Spark effect.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Muriel Spark… she wrote The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. It’s a novella set in a girls’ school. If they ever make it into a film, I want to play Sandy.’

‘Sandy?’

‘She’s the smartest girl in the Brodie set and has an affair with the art master.’

‘Who is very handsome, no doubt.’

‘Of course. Unfortunately, Sandy ends their affair and becomes a Roman Catholic nun.’

He chuckled. ‘Is that your destiny?’

She shrugged. ‘Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be.’ She let the veil slip, exposing a youthful breast. ‘My fate is in your hands.’

He repositioned the veil and stepped back.

She forced a smile. ‘So, it’s a nunnery for me then?’

He looked at her. ‘I cannot imagine loving anyone more than I do you.’

‘What about Sylvia?’

‘She saved my life and has given me a future out of reach of the Russian bear.’

Lily wrapped the gauze tightly around her and stood. ‘I’d better go.’

‘Please stay. I owe Sylvia, but I want you.’ He pushed her gently down onto the chaise longue and knelt before her.

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About Author Romola Farr:

Romola Farr first trod the boards on the West End stage aged sixteen and continued to work for the next eighteen years in theatre, TV and film – and as a photographic model. A trip to Hollywood led to the sale of her first screenplay and a successful change of direction as a screenwriter and playwright. Bridge To Eternity was her debut novel, and Breaking through the Shadows and Where the Water Flows are standalone sequels. All are set in the fictional town of Hawksmead.

Romola Farr is a nom de plume.

Goodreads / Twitter

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

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A not-always-sentimental vacation to the ’50s, ’60s, ‘and
’70s. Bring your swimsuit.

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Downeyoshun

by Art Young

Genre: Recent Historical Family Fiction

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Sally Osterhoff is a
genius. When she grows up, she wants to be a mathematician, a teacher, and a
carpenter; and she plans to swim in the 1968 and 1972 Olympics. 

 

Her mother has other ideas, and will emotionally and
physically abuse Sally to fit them. After all, she only wants what is best for
her child. But between her father trying his best, the family next door who
practically adopts her, and her Aunt & Uncle down in Ocean City where she
spends her summers, Sally just might have the support and love she needs to
make all of her dreams come true.

Set against the backdrop of the Civil Rights struggles, the
Vietnam War, and the early Feminist movement, the story explores the power of
found family, and how unconditional love can come from the least expected
places. Downeyoshun is a not-always-sentimental vacation to the ’50s, ’60s, and
’70s. Bring your swimsuit.

Praise about
the book:

“Arthur Young will introduce you to a special world, East
Baltimore, and its vacation spot, Ocean City, with his
warm Downeyoshun.  Not that life is perfect – not all mothers are
kind, and the VietNam war casts a shadow. But you’ll feel as if you’ve met new
friends as you follow his characters through the challenges of growing up. In
his skillful telling, the fabric of a family and a neighborhood comes to life.
You may even find yourself becoming a Baltimore Hon!”

–Pamela Zerba, Contributor Atheists
in America
, Writer, Creative York Contest Winner

 

“Be prepared to fall in love with one of the most
endearing literary characters of the century thus far. Ultimately, this is a
book about family, the one you’re stuck with and the one you make. By the end,
Sally will feel like part of yours. You will thoroughly enjoy your trip
Downeyoshun.”

-Robert Akridge, Writer

Amazon * B&N * Bookshop.org * Bookbub * Goodreads

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Chapter 2 “Marie”

For the first day of school, Mother laid out the clothes I would wear: a yellow and white dress, black Mary Janes, white anklet socks with tiny flowers, and added what looked like a small briefcase in a gray and white plaid. “What’s that for?” I whispered.

“That”, Mother said, ” is for carrying your schoolbooks and your lunch. It has your name inside here.” She raised the flap. “Do not lose it or let it get it dirty.”

“Yes, Mother”, I whispered.

“Look at me”, she commanded. “You will speak to no one except your teacher. And all that she needs to know is your name. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“You will especially not speak to that child next door if she is there. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mother.”

I really hoped Marie would be there.

After breakfast, Mother pulled me along down several blocks until we got to school. She stopped at the office to get directions to the classroom and marched me past a row of other kids and their mothers and through the door. Marie and her mother were at the front of the line. A smiling woman at a large desk said “We’re not quite ready -”

Mother ignored her. “I am Mrs. Osterhoff. This is Sally Osterhoff. You will see to it that she stays clean and neat and away from the other children, especially that child just outside the door.”

The teacher looked confused and annoyed. “Don’t they get along?”

Mother stared at the teacher. “I do not want them to ‘get along’ at all. Keep them apart. I will return at 3 o’clock.”

“Just a moment, Mrs. …?” The teacher did not look happy.

“Mrs. Osterhoff.”

“Mrs. Osterhoff. All the children in this class will learn together and play together – NO EXCEPTIONS.” She caught Mother in mid-word. “They will also learn common politeness, if they haven’t learned it at home.” Mother’s jaw was clenched. “One last thing, Mrs. Osterhoff: Kindergarten is half-day. You will be here at 11:45 to pick up your daughter.”

I recognized the look Mother was giving the teacher, but the teacher ignored it as if it wasn’t there, and walked past Mother, opened the door, and smiled. “And good morning to you, Mrs. Osterhoff.”

An alarm bell rang and made me jump. The other kids and their mothers came in, and Mother fought against the tide and left. The teacher walked over to Marie and her mother. “Hello, I’m Mrs. Harris, and you are?”

“Carmella Giametti. And this is Marie.” Marie smiled over to me and wiggled her fingers in a wave. I smiled back.

“Well, now, it looks like these two would like to sit together, don’t you think?” asked Mrs. Harris.

Miss Carmella laughed. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.” She patted Marie on the shoulder. “Go say hi to her.”

Marie rushed over, grabbed my hand, and shook it. “Hi Sal!”

“Hi Marie.”

“I got an uncle named Sal”, she told me.

“It’s really Sally. Mother didn’t let me finish.”

Mrs. Harris clapped her hands together and we all looked at her. “Now, everyone choose a desk to sit at, and then it will be time for all the Mommies to go home until lunchtime.” One boy started to cry and grabbed his mother. She turned pink and rolled her eyes.

After the mothers had left, I looked around me. I had never been with other kids before except Billy. Some were neatly dressed; others were a little rumpled. Two of them were very busy picking their noses. We were all quiet, and waiting to see what would happen next.

 

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Art Young is a Baltimore-born U.S. Navy / Vietnam / Agent
Orange veteran and cancer survivor. He was once a carny in a traveling gadget
show, and has worked as a fire-extinguishing-system installer and serviceman, a
brewery’s route delivery salesman, flexographic press operator, licensed
boiler-plant engineer, and a storyteller. He much prefers the last.

Website * Facebook * Instagram * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

Welcome to my stop in the virtual book tour for A Murder Of Convenience organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Kathleen Buckley 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 tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

A Murder Of Convenience

By Kathleen Buckley

 

 

Genre: Historical Mystery

Synopsis

Ellen Cuthbert’s husband, Randolph, is now the Earl of Keswick’s heir. Their marriage is a sham, and Randolph’s mistress, Lydia, is present at the house party. When she is found murdered in a locked room, all the evidence seems to point to Ellen. And how could the murderer have escaped the locked room except by witchcraft? Sir Hugh accompanies his cousin, a magistrate, to the scene of the murder. They investigate, appalled to find their childhood friend Ellen appears to be the chief suspect. Hugh’s lack of prospects years ago prevented their marriage. Now if he cannot find the real murderer, there may be only one final service he can perform for Ellen to spare her a slow death at the end of the hangman’s rope.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

At the inn, they found the doctor had confiscated the landlord’s keys to the unused cellar storeroom “by order of the magistrate.” His sharp eyes twinkled as Seaton had given no such order.

“Otherwise the servants would be taking the customers down for a look at the poor lass at a penny a head, no doubt.” He had sent for his oil lamp to give enough light.

 “I will do surgery by candle if I must, but for something like this, there’s nothing to match whale oil.”

 “Excellent, Doctor, when even a small detail may matter.”

On a long table, wide enough to allow the oil lamp to be moved around Lydia Forsyth’s remains, the body lay curled in the same posture in which she had been found. Hugh and his cousin stood on either side of Lockhart. The woman might have been vivacious in life.

Death had wiped away every sign of intelligence, wit, and kindness.

The doctor ran his fingers over the right side of her skull. He took longer about it than many would have thought necessary, given that the blow had clearly been fatal. Hugh needed no medical training to know that.

 “She was struck at least several times with the candlestick, the blows not having fallen all in the same place. The murderer meant to make sure of her.”

“Do you mean to perform an autopsy?” The foreboding in Wallace’s voice made it plain he hoped the answer would be negative.

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About Author Kathleen Buckley:

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One day after coming home from first grade, Kathleen Buckley set about writing her own dictionary but quickly realized it would take too much time, so she read a book instead. Possibly Space Cat.

After a career which included customer service, light bookkeeping, working as a paralegal, and a stint as a security officer, she began to write as a second career, rather than as a hobby. Her first historical romance was written after re-reading Georgette Heyer’s Georgian/Regency romances for the tenth or twelfth time and wondering if she could do something like that. Apparently she could, as her eleventh will be released on 3/24/2025. As a change of pace, it’s a murder mystery, but still set in the mid-1700s (but still with some romance).

Warning: no bodices are ripped in her romances, which might be described as “powder & patch & peril” rather than Jane Austen drawing room. They contain no explicit sex, but do contain the occasional den of vice and mild bad language, as the situations in which her characters find themselves sometimes call for an oath a little stronger than “Zounds!”

Author Links: Website / Instagram / Facebook / Goodreads / BookBub / Blog / Amazon

Universal Buy Link

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

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Will you defy your past… or be consumed by it?

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Beneath the Shadow of Time

Always and Forever Book 3

by Vera Bell

Genre: Time Travel Romantic Suspense, Historical Mystery

In this riveting
conclusion to the Always and Forever trilogy, Ryan’s
classified new case awakens Siena’s greatest fears. As shadows of the past
deepen and close in, only Ryan’s fulfillment of his ancient sacred vow can
dispel them.

1566, ULSTER, IRELAND. Neave lives in fear as Queen Elizabeth’s
obscene bounty on Aedan’s head turns him into a target. Undeterred, Aedan
enlists his allies, the Antrim Scots, in his relentless fight to free Ireland
from English rule. But when greed and treachery hide in plain sight, nothing is
as it seems. After Aedan’s plans crumble in a shocking twist, he makes a solemn
oath to heartbroken Neave—one he may have to honor in another lifetime.

2013, MIAMI, FL. When Siena discovers the truth about Ryan’s new
case and their tragic past life, she realizes he is in mortal danger.
Tormented, she begs him to quit, but Ryan is determined despite an inner voice
urging him to do right by her. Unwilling to be sidetracked, he resolves to deal
with it later and on his own terms. But when a ruthless cartel takes Ryan
hostage, he just might run out of time.

Will Ryan uphold his vow to Siena, or are they destined for disaster… again?

If you love time travel romance with elements of reincarnation, suspense,
mystery, drama, and a touch of magic, don’t miss the grand finale of the Always
and Forever
 trilogy!

**NEW RELEASE!! Get it On Sale TODAY!**

$0.99 (USA), £0.99 (UK), $1.99 (CA), $1.99 (AUS)

 

Amazon * Bookbub
* Goodreads

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Into the Lure of Time

Always and Forever Book 2

In this
gripping sequel to the award-winning novel, Through the Veneer of Time,
echoes of Siena’s past life lure her into a shocking indiscretion that
threatens to destroy her marriage. She alone can undo the damage, but this
chilling revelation is only the beginning of her battle.

1564, ULSTER, IRELAND. After Aedan’s diplomatic visit to Queen
Elizabeth’s court results in his compulsory divorce and arranged marriage,
Neave’s violent unraveling drives her into another man’s arms. But in seeking
revenge, Neave falls into a perfect trap set by Aedan’s enemy. By the time she
learns the truth, it’s too late to undo the damage to Aedan, herself, and the
hard-won peace in Ulster. When despair makes her reckless, the price will be a
lifetime of infamy, confinement, and isolation from what Neave treasures
most—Aedan and her son.

2011, WASHINGTON D.C./DALLAS, TX. It seems like a reasonable
plan—Siena finishing her final mural in D.C. while Ryan starts his new job in
Dallas. But when Siena meets Ryan’s new FBI partner, an inexplicable fit of
jealousy sends her on a downward spiral. To make matters worse, the present
mirrors the past when her visions take a startling turn. Consumed by
insecurities, Siena takes a drastic step, which proves a catastrophic lapse in
judgment. When her self-fulfilling prophecy unfolds in a devastating inversion
of the past, Siena’s actions could cost her the two people she most fears to
lose—Ryan and their baby.

Will Siena and Ryan beat their disastrous odds, or is their marriage
foredoomed?

If you love time travel romance with dark undertones, as well as elements of
domestic suspense, psychosexual thriller, reincarnation, and a touch of magic,
don’t miss the second installment of the Always and Forever trilogy!

“An achingly beautiful story that lingered in my thoughts long after
I’d finished the last page.”

— Jodi Jensen, Author of Sophie’s Key

“Bell had me feeling ‘all the feels’ as I feverishly turned each
page.”

— Five Star Review from Reader Views

“Vera’s brilliant storytelling comes out in full force again in this
exceptional sequel.”

— The Bookish Historian Book Reviews

“It’s literally taking me a few days to finally come down from the
rollercoaster. (I mean that in the best way).”

— Irish Booklover Book Reviews

“BEWARE… this book will leave you with an awful hangover and thinking
about it for days long after you’ve finished.”

— Kindle Babe Book Reviews

“Bell’s vision is imaginative, sexy, and sweeping. The author offers a
distinctive voice for the two time periods (and) populates the novel with
complex and flawed characters.”

— BookLife Prize by Publishers Weekly

“Not only a satisfying continuation of Siena’s growth process, but a
story that simmers with intrigue, passion, historical insights, and thoroughly
engrossing revelations.”

 D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review

Amazon * Bookbub
* Goodreads

 

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Through the Veneer of Time

Always and Forever Book 1

For fans of
Diana Gabaldon and Susanna Kearsley comes a riveting new tale of time travel
and romantic suspense: A haunted painter’s past life visions are not the
creative inspiration they seemed. They’re a harbinger of her ancient revenge
vow, and her FBI husband won’t find the serial killer until she fulfills it.
But it may already be too late.

1559, ULSTER, IRELAND. When a young noblewoman Neave McConway weds
the newly elected King of Tyrone, Aedan O’Neal, the couple’s rare union of love
and passion becomes the talk of the region. But Aedan’s bold rule and fierce
defiance of the English crown threaten his powerful enemies, and they’ll stop
at nothing to crush his growing influence. After Aedan rides off to fight
against the English occupiers, Neave suffers a shocking attack that will
forever alter both their lives — as well as the lives they have not yet lived.

2009, WASHINGTON, D.C. While mural artist Siena Forte battles a
creative block, her FBI husband Ryan Casey struggles with a serial killer case.
When research leads Siena to the practice of Past Life Regression, she stumbles
upon irresistible inspiration. But after her art exposes her to a vicious
ancient adversary, she discovers the true reason for her past life visions.
They’re a harbinger of her centuries-old revenge vow, and the serial killer
can’t be stopped until she fulfills it. But there is another person from the
past with unfinished business—her husband.

Will Siena and Ryan settle their long-overdue score, or will the past repeat
itself in a chilling parallel?

If you love time travel romance with elements of reincarnation, suspense,
mystery, fantasy, and a touch of magic, don’t miss this thrilling read!

“A true masterpiece. It is a book that once read is impossible to
forget.”

— Highly Recommended Award of Excellence from The Historical Fiction Company

“The intricate and creative plot is one you will not want to miss.
Anxiously awaiting book two.”

— Five Star Review from Reader Views

“Vera Bell’s novel successfully combines historical fiction, romance,
and a contemporary thriller. “

— Historical Novel Society

“Past and present lives collide in Vera Bell’s hauntingly beautiful
debut. A sexy, sensuous tale.”

— Julie McElwain, national award-winning journalist and author of A
Murder in Time

Bell mixes romance, mystery, and history to take the reader on
an adventure across centuries.”

— BookLife Prize by Publishers Weekly

“Against the backdrop of love, hate, and a killer’s threat lies the
attraction of a thriller’s fast pace and heated twists.”

— D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review

Amazon * Bookbub
* Goodreads

 

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Vera Bell is a
Georgia Author of the Year nominee and the award-winning author of the
“Always and Forever” trilogy, set in sixteenth-century Ireland and
present-day United States. Book One, “Through the Veneer of Time,” is her debut
novel. She wrote it after trying past life regression and finding herself
immersed in a world so captivating, she couldn’t let it go. A former commercial
artist, she lives in Atlanta with her husband, two teenagers, and one fur baby.
Her favorite place to write is on her porch, overlooking a pond lined with
river birches and magnolias. The topics she never tires of are bygone eras, our
universal human condition, and love that transcends time and space.

Want to be in the know? Join Vera’s private mailing list to get first dibs on
cover reveals, sneak peeks, new releases, free giveaways, and much more
at https://www.verabellauthor.com.

Website * Facebook * Instagram * TikTok * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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Follow the blitz HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

YOU WILL KNOW ME BY MY DEEDS
by Mike Cobb
February 24 – March 21, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:

Billy Tarwater thought he had left the troubled past behind, until a series of ominous incidents threaten to destroy everything he and his wife hold dear. Someone is out to get them, and he is determined to uncover the truth before it’s too late. But as he delves deeper into the mystery, he realizes that the dark forces at play may be connected to the events of seventeen years ago. And to the Atlanta Child Murders. Join him on a heart-pounding journey of suspense and intrigue as he navigates the dangerous waters of his past and fights to protect the ones he loves. In a race against an unknown enemy, Billy must confront his darkest fears. Will he be able to uncover the truth before it’s too late, or will he and his wife become victims of the sinister forces at play?

Praise for You Will Know Me by My Deeds:

“Mike Cobb’s You Will Know Me by My Deeds is a taut, propulsive tale set against the harrowing backdrop of the 1980’s Atlanta Child Murders. Entertainingly addictive and menacing.” ~ Robert Gwaltney, award-winning author of The Cicada Tree and Georgia Author of the Year “Mike Cobb’s Atlanta-based historical fiction easily holds its place on the bookshelf next to Caleb Carr’s Alienist novels.” ~ Joey Madia, author of Sherlock Holmes and the Mystery of M and the Stanton Chronicles historical fiction series “Mike Cobb’s enthralling and meticulously-researched mystery, You Will Know Me by My Deeds, sets a lofty standard for contemporary thrillers. Set in the heart of the ‘new’ south, Cobb’s vividly-wrought tale propels his readers through the tumult of an era and illuminates race relations at a difficult moment in Atlanta’s modern history. Grab this book for a satisfying and uplifting read.” ~ Steve Klein, Civil Rights Activist “I couldn’t put this book down and had to finish it in one sitting! Once again Mike Cobb has crafted a plausible story with strong characters, a sense of place, and rich historical detail regarding a tragic chapter of my beloved Atlanta’s history – the missing and murdered children from 1979 to 1981.” ~ Lisa Land Cooper, Author and Historian “Mike Cobb’s prose is powerful, and his plot is dark, complex and full of surprises. You will find a rich, earthy view of old Atlanta complete with all its beauty, weaknesses and the diverse attitudes of the Old South.” ~ Jeff Shaw, author of Who I Am; The Man Behind the Badge and Lieutenant Trufant “A bracing historical thriller that further enriches this top-notch series.” ~ Kirkus Reviews “This is an excellent book with an engaging mystery and an intriguing conclusion. It’s clear that research is paramount to Mike Cobb’s writing. I could really identify with how he wove true crimes into this fictional one. I look forward to reading more from him.” ~ Ed Begley Jr., Award-winning actor, producer, environmental activist, and author of To the Temple of Tranquility…and Step On It!: A Memoir

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You Will Know Me by My Deeds Trailer:

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Book Details:

Genre: Historical Crime Fiction 

Published by: Waterside Production Publication Date: January 2025 Number of Pages: 444 ISBN: 978-1962984720 Series: Sequel to The Devil You Knew 

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

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Enjoy this peek inside:
Chapter One
Cynthia Tarwater
Monday, December 14th, 1981 Two blurred headlights, ragged halos in the rearview, broke the Stygian pitch. Cynthia gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles blanched. The rain cascaded down the windshield in gelid sheets. The wiper blades thwacked the edge of the Suburban’s cowl like a metronome. For the past twenty-four hours, Atlanta had been beset by a heavy downfall and scant visibility. She struggled to make out the road ahead. For the first five minutes of the drive, Billy Jr. and Addie had jabbered away in the back seat like sugar-high Energizer Bunnies. Then they sank into oblivion. Just like that, she thought. Nothing like a weekend sleepover at Grandma Alice’s to wear the kids out. She stopped at the intersection of Flat Shoals and Glenwood. The barbershop to her left was long gone, a victim of white flight, its plate glass windows boarded up with fly-posted plywood. She could almost hear the snip snip of Mr. Batson’s clippers beckoning from yore. The snap of Sam Jepperson’s shoeshine cloth beseeching a generous tip. The redolence of Bay Rum and Kiwi polish. Not that she ever got her hair cut—or her shoes shined—there. But her father Cecil dragged her along on more than one occasion with the promise that they’d go next door for a vanilla shake if only she’d sit like a “good girl” and watch him get trimmed. She had often wondered whether he did things like that just to piss her off. His way of controlling. Or did he really want her company? The car that had been following her since she pulled out of Billy’s mother’s driveway lingered half a block behind. When the light changed, she turned left onto Glenwood. She looked in the mirror. The car turned left and kept its distance. Probably nothing. At the Gresham Avenue intersection, she glanced over at what had been Harry’s Army Surplus. Now, like the barbershop, just another padlocked casualty. A long-suppressed memory welled up. Saturday, September 28th, 1963. She was thirteen. So capricious and carefree, like most girls her age. She left the East Atlanta Pharmacy by the front door and headed west toward Moreland Avenue. Just past Harry’s, she looked back and saw a car following her. When she stopped, it stopped. When she went, it went. That had been her last recollection from before the erasure—what she later came to know by its medical name. Localized psychogenic amnesia. For seventeen years, the next thing she had remembered was waking up at Grady Hospital with an officer standing guard outside her door. The nurse had said You’re not Cynthia now. You’re Patti. With an i. Or something to that effect. She would later learn that the police had contrived the alias to protect her from her abductor. It wasn’t until October a year ago that everything began coming back to Cynthia in a torrent. What had been an eradication of five weeks of her past, leaving in its wake a deep, dark abyss, had begun to come back in a matter of days. This wouldn’t have happened without Billy’s help. And his dogged determination. Did she welcome the recovered memory? There were times when she wondered whether knowing was better than incognizance. Closure would feel right. But knowledge alone doesn’t bring closure. And could closure ever come for the families of the girls who didn’t survive? Why had she made it out alive, and the others hadn’t? She inched her way down Glenwood past Moreland Avenue. At the Boulevard intersection, she glanced across the street at Fire Station No. 10. A half dozen firemen were huddled under the overhang in front of the station. For a moment, she thought she saw Billy’s brother Chester standing there smoking a cigarette and chatting up the others. But Chester hadn’t lasted a year as a fireman before bugging out for the merchant marines, thinking he could avoid the draft. He ended up on the SS Mayaguez ferrying supplies through combat zones in Vietnam. Came home intact but with a chip on his shoulder. She turned right. She drove up Boulevard past Memorial Drive, hugging the eastern edge of Oakland Cemetery before assuming a northwesterly course past the shuttered Fulton Cotton Mill and through the railroad underpass. She looked back. The car continued to follow her. That’s when she realized that it wasn’t nothing. Perhaps she should have taken the expressway. But she had chosen not to. Visibility was bad enough on the surface roads. As she neared the intersection with Ponce de Leon, the light turned yellow. She accelerated and took a hard left, hoping the car would stop on red. It didn’t. When she turned right on Peachtree, then left on Fifth, the driver continued to dog her. Cynthia eased into The Belmont courtyard. The other car stopped briefly at the turn-in then crept down Fifth. She craned her neck, trying to get a good look at it. At the driver. But she could see little through the relentless downpour and the fogged windshield. She parked the Suburban at The Belmont entrance. She waited for the rain to abate enough for her to get the kids inside without a drenching. Then she hurried them into the lobby under her flimsy throwaway umbrella made for one. She closed the umbrella and hooked it on her wrist. She held Billy Jr. and Addie’s hands tight, lest they slip on the marble floor. They crossed the threshold into the elevator cab, leaving a trail of dripping water behind. She punched 4. When the doors opened, Billy was standing in the fourth-floor vestibule. He was in his light beige mackintosh and floppy yellow rain hat. “Clairvoyant, are we?” Cynthia said. “I saw you out the window and was on my way down to help. But you beat me to it.” He placed his hand on her upper arm. “Cynthia, you’re trembling.” “It’s just the biting cold. I’m fine. I need to get these rug rats out of their wet clothes and into their PJs. And then sit for a while. You can park the car if you don’t mind.” “Of course I don’t mind. That’s the least I can do.” She held out the umbrella. “Want this?” “No thanks.” He knelt in front of Billy Jr. and Addie. “How’s Grandma?” “Feisty as ever,” Cynthia answered. “She sure knows how to cut a look. But the kids adore her, and that’s what matters most. And compared to my mother…let’s just say you’re the lucky one and leave it at that.” When Billy returned, Cynthia was already curled up in her favorite overstuffed chair with a glass of Merlot. Her socks and Clarks slip-ons lay pell-mell on the floor about her. The open umbrella stood atilt in the corner of the room. “That was quick,” he said. She took a sip. Notes of black cherry, of vanilla and sandalwood, teased her throat. “I’m sure the kids are deep into sugar-plum dreams by now. Grab a pour and join me. There’s something you need to know.” Billy, glass in hand, plopped into the chair beside her. “What is it?” “I need to tell you about a flashback I had. And about a car.” He listened as Cynthia told him about the car that had followed her from his mother’s house. “Could you tell what kind it was?” he asked. “I couldn’t tell a thing, Billy.” She ran her finger along the chair’s piping, tracing in her mind the path she had taken. “All I know is it looked big. Maybe a sedan.” “I don’t think you should be out late at night by yourself, Cynthia. It seems like every day more shit happens. Carjackings. Murders.” “At least Wayne Williams is locked up.” She searched her thoughts. “Those poor children. And their grieving families.” Billy’s hesitation baffled her. He just sat there for a minute without saying a word. He finally spoke. “Tell me about the flashback.” “The whole thing with the kidnapping came rushing back tonight. It hit me hard, just as I passed the old army surplus. I guess it was my being right there where my thirteen-year-old self had been lured away.” She held her glass in the air. “More, please.” He refilled it and topped his off. He set the bottle on the side table, leaned over, and took her hand. “I’m so sorry, Cynthia.” “It wasn’t what I expected. I thought I had finally put it all behind me, with Kilgallon…excuse me, the Reverend Kilgallon…dead and Sam Jepperson exonerated and freed. But now I’m not so certain. Maybe it’ll haunt me forever.” “I hope not. I just wish there was something I could do to make things better.” “I’ll be okay.” “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. Life goes on, doesn’t it? And I don’t believe I have a choice in the matter.” *** Excerpt from You Will Know Me by My Deeds by Mike Cobb. Copyright 2025 by Mike Cobb. Reproduced with permission from Mike Cobb. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Mike Cobb:

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Mike Cobb

Mike’s body of literary work includes both fiction and nonfiction, short-form and long-form, as well as articles and blogs. He is the author of three published novels, Dead Beckoning, The Devil You Knew, and its sequel You Will Know Me by My Deeds. His fourth novel, Muzzle the Black Dog, a novella, is scheduled for release in May 2025. He is also working on Kathleen, a fictionalized account of a cold case murder from 1970. While he is comfortable playing across a broad range of topics, much of his focus is on true crime, crime fiction, and historical fiction. Rigorous research is foundational to his writing. He gets that honestly, having spent much of his professional career as a scientist. A native of Atlanta, Mike splits his time between Midtown Atlanta and Blue Ridge, Georgia.

Catch Up With Mike Cobb: www.MikeCobbWriter.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads BookBub – @cobbmg1 Instagram – @cobbmg YouTube – @mikecobbwriter X – @mgcobb Facebook – @MGCobbWriter LinkedIn – @mgcobb

 

 

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The Case of the Christie Conspiracy

A Detection Club Mystery

by Kelly Oliver

 


The Case of the Christie Conspiracy: A Detection Club Mystery
Historical Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Setting – London, England
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Boldwood Books (February 16, 2025)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 264 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1836175469
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1836175469
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0DFXWPCFP

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Agatha Christie is about to embark on a new, gripping murder case. But this time, she’s not the author – she’s a suspect…

1926 – Christie is a darling of the literary circuit and the most desired guest in London’s glittering social scene. She can often be found at meetings of the Detection Club – where mystery writers come together to share ideas, swap secrets and drink copiously. But then a fellow author’s initiation ceremony takes a gruesome turn, and one of the group ends up dead. Now, Agatha is no longer just the creator of great mystery plots – she’s a player in one.

And when Agatha disappears the day after the murder, she’s widely assumed to be guilty. Only Eliza Baker, assistant to the Club’s enigmatic secretary, Dorothy Sayers, is interested in investigating the case. But in a world where murder is the ultimate plot device, can Eliza piece together the evidence and find the killer before it’s too late?

About Kelly Oliver

Kelly Oliver is the award-winning and bestselling author of four mystery series: The Jessica James Mysteries (7-book contemporary suspense); The Pet Detective Mysteries (3-book middle grade); The Fiona Figg Mysteries (9-book historical cozies).

The Case of the Christie Conspiracy, the first in her new series The Detection Club Mysteries just came out (February 2025).

Kelly is Distinguished Emerita Professor of Philosophy at Vanderbilt University. And currently, she is the Immediate Past President of Sisters in Crime. To learn more about Kelly and her books, go to www.kellyoliverbooks.com.

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