Archive for the ‘Mystery’ Category

Scattered Legacy by Marlene M. Bell ~ Guest Post and Giveaway

Posted: January 21, 2022 in giveaways, Mystery
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On Tour with Prism Book Tours
 
We’re celebrating the release of the third book in the Annalisse series, Scattered Legacy!
Today, we learn author Marlene M Bell’s Top Ten activities for winter.  If you missed her author interview, you can read that HERE. She also shared an excerpt from the book HERE. Plus, there’s an awesome 3-winner
giveaway to enter below. Enjoy!

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Scattered Legacy

 

(Annalissa Series #3)

 

By Marlene M Bell
Mystery, Christian Fiction
Paperback & ebook, 352 Pages
October 6, 2021 by Ewephoric Publishing

To outsiders, the relationship between Manhattan antiquities assessor Annalisse Drury and sports car magnate Alec Zavos must look carefree and glamorous. In reality, it’s a love affair regularly punctuated by treasure hunting, action-packed adventure, and the occasional dead body.

When Alec schedules an overseas trip to show Annalisse his mother’s birthplace in Bari, Italy, he squeezes in the high-stakes business of divesting his family’s international corporation. But things go terribly wrong as murder makes its familiar reappearance in their lives – and this time it’s Alec’s disgraced former CFO who’s the main suspect.

Accompanied by friend and detective Bill Drake, Annalisse and Alec find themselves embroiled in a behind-closed-doors conspiracy that threatens the reputation and legacy of Alec’s late father – linking him to embezzlement, extortion, and the dirty business of the Sicilian Mafia. The search for the truth sends the trio straight into riddles, secrets, and an historic set of rosary beads. Annalisse leads Alec toward a discovery that is unthinkable, and events that will change their futures forever.

(Affiliate links included.)
Scattered Legacy Book Trailer
 

Other Books in the Series

Stolen Obsession

 

(Annalissa Series #1)

 

By Marlene M Bell
Mystery
Paperback, Audiobook & ebook, 294 Pages
January 12, 2018 by Ewephoric Publishing

People die, but legends live on.

New York antiquities appraiser Annalisse Drury recently lost her best friend to murder. The killer’s identity may be linked to her friend’s expensive missing bracelet—a 500-year-old artifact that carries an ancient curse, one that unleashes evil upon any who dare wear the jewelry created for the Persian royal family.

Weeks later, Annalisse sees a matching necklace at a Manhattan gallery opening. She begs the owner to destroy the cursed piece, but her pleas fall on deaf ears—despite the unnatural death that occurs during the opening. With two victims linked to the jewelry, Annalisse is certain she must act.

Desperate, Annalisse enlists the gallery owner’s son to help—even though she’s afraid he’ll break her heart. Wealthy and devastatingly handsome, with a string of bereft women in his wake, Greek playboy Alec Zavos dismisses Annalisse’s concerns—until his parents are ripped from the Zavos family yacht during their ocean voyage near Crete.

Annalisse and Alec race across two oceans to save his mother, feared dead or kidnapped. When the killer changes tactics and goes after Alec behind Annalisse’s back, can her plan to rescue Alec’s mother save them all?

(Affiliate links included.)
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Spent Identity

 

(Annalissa Series #2)

 

By Marlene M Bell
Mystery
Paperback, Audiobook & ebook, 378 Pages

November 18, 2019 by Ewephoric Publishing

To find her missing aunt, she has to unearth the secrets of the past. But lies and deceit run through the very heart of their town…

What started out as a promising relationship with adventurer and tycoon Alec Zavos has fizzled into an uncertain future for antiquities expert Annalisse Drury. Returning to Walker Farm in Upstate New York to see her Aunt Kate should have been a welcome homecoming and distraction. Instead, she finds the childhood home she expected to inherit is for sale, without her permission. What’s worse, Kate’s ranch manager makes a gruesome discovery in the barn: the body of a man, dead by foul play.

Annalisse turns to Alec for help. She and her aunt shelter on his estate in the Catskills while the authorities canvass the scene. But when Kate herself disappears without a trace, Annalisse fears the worst: that one of the many secrets of her hometown has ensnared her family—a secret someone is willing to kill for to keep hidden.

(Affiliate links included.)

Marlene M Bell’s Top 10 Favorite Things to Do in Winter

· Sit in front of a fire in our new library and read mysteries with Leo.

· Binge shop on the Etsy website to help other entrepreneurs.

· Take photographs of our Horned Dorset sheep and surrounding landscape.

· Sit in front of my personal computer and write when it’s raining.

· Set up giveaways for my Facebook friends who read, write and raise sheep.

· Watch feel-good movies on the Hallmark channels with my husband.

· Buy research books for novels to write, new characters, scenes and plots.

· Design punch hook rug patterns for my huge yarn collection

· Browse my cookbook collection and cook a gourmet meal for my husband.

· Photograph nature and wildlife while my husband fishes for bass in the pond. No too far out, though. We have wild hogs about that think nothing of coming after people who venture where they’re rooting.

This is just a list in no particular order. All ten situations are my favorite things do in the winter during downtime when the trees lose their leaves and the air turns crisp. We raise sheep, so this involves a certain amount of outdoor activity when the animals are fed twice a day. I’m a photographer and artist seeking out beautiful sunsets and cloudy skies to use in my catalog business. Many of the pictures taken contribute to the merchandise offered to our sheep clients and collectors of everything sheep and lamb.

I’m also a catalog shopping maniac. Back in the 1980’s when eBay began as a marketplace, I purchased sheep related gifts and eventually sold my own work there. I hoard mail order catalogs and frequently purchase all over the world for our home. Vintage or new products eventually land in our home, especially if they involve a sheep. As my business and publishing company says, I am Ewephoric about sheep and writing. https://www.ewephoric.us It’s all about hobbies and the outdoors for me. In a time when we are stuck inside our homes, I’m fortunate to roam our fifty acres and spend time with the wildlife. Because we raise animals as part of the food chain, I’m able to travel as needed. The cats, Leo and Hollywood make sure that I’m not gone from the house too long!

About the Author

Marlene M. Bell is an award-winning writer and acclaimed artist as well as a photographer. Her sheep landscapes grace the covers of livestock magazines such as, The Shepherd, Ranch & Rural Living, and Sheep Industry News. She has a mystery series available as well as a children’s book featuring their bottle lamb, Natalie. Marlene and her husband, Gregg, reside in beautiful East Texas on a wooded ranch with their horned Dorset sheep, a large Maremma guard dog named Tia, along with Hollywood, Leo, and Squeaks, the cats that believe they rule the household—and do.

 

Tour Giveaway

GRAND PRIZE
A Nicole Miller 50 x 60 inch ultra-soft throw in neutral colors
A signed copy of Scattered Legacy by Marlene M Bell
Two (2) 18 oz. mugs. One says: GRATEFUL the other, BLESSED
Box of 15 Ghirardelli Hot Chocolate Mix

2nd place winner: A signed copy of Scattered Legacy by Marlene M Bell
3rd place winner: A signed copy of Scattered Legacy by Marlene M Bell

US Only

Ends January 22, 2022


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Holiday Haunting At The Biltmore by Eva Pohler

Posted: January 8, 2022 in giveaways, horror, Mystery
Tags: , ,
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A Holiday Haunting at the Biltmore
Eva Pohler
(The Mystery House Series, #8)
Publication date: January 1st 2022
Genres: Adult, Horror, Mystery

Ellen should have known that a gathering in America’s last castle would entail a few uninvited guests.

During a Christmas eve wedding at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina, Ellen and her friends are visited by multiple ghosts. The spirits have come to tell their stories, to right the wrongs that history has done to their memories. Each of them died in Asheville with their voices stifled. One spirit is particularly adamant and threatening, despite her small size, and her mood fluctuates like the mountain winds surrounding the great estate. She claims to be the ghost of Zelda Fitzgerald, and she wants her story told, even if she has to kill to make it happen.

*Although this is book eight in The Mystery House Series, these books can be read in any order.

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

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Chapter One: Hot Tub Musings

Ellen clung to the handrail as she eased down the steps into the hot, bubbling water. She adjusted her black one-piece bathing suit, making sure she was still covered. The aquafit class had rearranged everything.

From behind her, Sue said, “I can’t believe I let you guys talk me into this.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Tanya said from where she was already resting in the tub.

Ellen sat across from her. “Speak for yourself. I could barely breathe.”

Sue followed Ellen through the water, the ruffles of her polka dotted bathing suit dancing on the surface. “I may have even died for a few minutes. I thought I saw a light at the end of a tunnel and my mother waving to me.”

“That was probably just the Nazi instructor on deck telling you to lift your knees higher,” Ellen teased.

Two other women from the aquafit class, both in their early seventies, joined Ellen and her friends.

“That instructor isn’t as good as the one on Tuesdays,” one of them, a petite woman with white hair, said. She was nearly as thin as Tanya.

The other woman, rounder than Ellen but not as round as Sue, nodded. “The one on Tuesday really works you.”

“Oh, Lord.” Sue pushed her dark brown bangs from her eyes. “Let’s not come on Tuesday.”

“We already agreed that we would,” Tanya pointed out. “At least until the wedding.”

Ellen tugged at her shoulder straps, trying to keep everything in the right place. “You can count on me. I’m determined to lose twenty pounds or die trying.”

Sue scoffed. “Well, maybe I love life more than you.”

“If that were true,” the petite woman with the white hair began, “you’d keep coming. I’ve been doing this for over thirty years. I used to be bigger than both of you combined.”

The woman pointed at Ellen and Sue. Ellen tried not to be offended. The audacity of some people, she thought.

“I’m sold!” Sue said comedically, lifting her finger high in the air. “Sign me up! Oh, that’s right. Tanya already did.”

The other women laughed, and Ellen’s mood lightened.

“Did I hear you say that you have a wedding coming up?” the rounder woman asked Tanya.

“Not my wedding,” Tanya said as her blue eyes widened. “It’s Ellen’s son. He’s getting married on Christmas eve at the Biltmore Estate.”

“Oh, how nice,” the petite woman said. “That’s the most beautiful house in the country.”

Ellen leaned against the lip of the tub and breathed in the smell of lavender and musk. “That’s what my son’s future in-laws say, too. They’ve been planning this wedding since their daughter was a baby, I think.”

“Are they from Asheville then?” the petite one asked.

“They live there,” Sue said. Then, turning to Ellen, she asked, “Is it the mother that’s related to the Vanderbilts?”

“Yes,” Ellen said.

“Which means they’re getting the works,” Sue gloated. “The entire wedding party and their guests will be staying at the Biltmore House, which is never done anymore.”

Ellen gave Sue her keep-your-mouth-shut look. Maya’s parents had asked them not to talk about the event with others. They wanted to avoid a media circus.

“How wonderful,” the petite woman said. “You sure you don’t need another grandmother to come?”

Ellen smiled but said nothing in reply.

“That sounds like a once in a lifetime experience.” The round woman climbed from the tub. “I hope you enjoy it, and have a nice weekend, ladies.”

“You, too,” Ellen said as Sue and Tanya waved.

“I should go, too,” the petite woman said. “Will I see you all on Tuesday?”

“We’ll be here.” Tanya turned to Sue. “Right?”

Sue shrugged. “We shall see.”

After the two women left, and she and her friends were alone in the hot tub, Ellen said, “Poor Lane is so stressed over this wedding.”

“I thought that was the job of the bride,” Sue said.

Tanya stood up. “It can be hard on the groom, too. Poor thing. What’s been the most stressful for him?”

Ellen sighed. “Maya’s grandparents. Both sets are still alive, and, apparently, one set can’t stand the other, and vice versa.”

Sue furrowed her brows. “Do you know why?”

“Lane doesn’t know the whole story. The grandfathers were friends long before Maya’s parents were born. According to Maya, they can be really nasty when forced to be in the same room.”

“That’s too bad,” Tanya said as she took her damp blonde hair from its ponytail, and then remade it higher on her head. “I hope they won’t ruin the wedding.”

Ellen’s stomach clenched. She wanted Lane’s wedding day to be perfect for him so that only happy memories would be made.

“I would think the setting alone would be enough to sweeten even the sourest grapes of the bunch,” Sue said reassuringly.

Ellen lifted her brows. “I hope you’re right.”

“Is it Maya’s maternal grandfather or grandmother that’s related to the Vanderbilts?” Tanya asked.

Ellen submerged to her neck. She let out a small gasp of pleasure as the hot water relaxed her muscles, tight from the workout. Then she said, “Grandmother. Melissa Dresden—used to be Brown. She’s the daughter to a cousin of George Vanderbilt, the one who made it all happen. I just read a book about it called The Last Castle by Denise Kiernan. It was interesting to read about the estate’s history. George fell in love with Asheville when he took his ailing mother there to breathe.”

“To what?” Tanya asked.

“To breathe,” Ellen repeated. “Back then, they believed fresh air was the cure for almost everything—especially tuberculosis—and Asheville had become known for its breathing porches that overlooked the beautiful Blue Ridge and Smoky Mountains.”

“George’s mother had tuberculosis?” Sue asked. “Most people didn’t survive it.”

“No, she had malaria, and she recovered from it, but not before George fell in love with the area and began buying up all the land.”

“What year was this?” Tanya asked.

“Late 1800s,” Ellen said. “According to the book, George wasn’t interested in the family business like his two older brothers, who took over various railroad companies when their father died. George was more of a scholar. He loved to read and to collect art, and he wanted something different for himself. So, he decided to outdo his siblings by building the largest private home in America.”

Sue nodded. “That he did.”

“It was more than that, though, wasn’t it?” Tanya asked. “Didn’t he build a famous dairy?”

“Yes—though now it’s a winery. He also hired the best forester and horticulturalist and created a forest preserve and foresters’ school. Later, his wife Edith, who outlived him by many years, created a school for the villagers that focused on textiles and crafts, I believe. Apparently, Edith did a lot for Asheville. I think she was the real heart of Biltmore, only because George died young. They had a daughter named Cornelia, but, according to the book, she was never as devoted to Biltmore as her mother.”

“How old was George when he died?” Sue asked.

“Early fifties, I think. Younger than us.”

“Can you believe I turn sixty next year?” Tanya asked.

“Already?” Sue covered her face with her hands. “I’m right behind you.”

“Brian’s sixty-two, and he’s fine,” Ellen pointed out. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Sue said.

“That’s too bad about Maya’s grandparents,” Tanya said. “I really hope they behave themselves at the wedding.”

“Me, too.” Ellen sighed and leaned back on the lip of the tub. “Lane says that Maya’s Vanderbilt grandmother was originally engaged to Maya’s other grandfather, and that’s why the two sets of grandparents don’t get along. One man stole the Vanderbilt bride from the other.”

“Must be hard for the grandmother who isn’t a Vanderbilt,” Sue pointed out. “She might feel like chopped liver. Don’t you think?”

“I know I would, in her situation,” Tanya said. “How selfish of her husband that he can’t let it go.”

“Lane doesn’t think that’s the whole story,” Ellen said. “I just hope they can be civil for the sake of their granddaughter.”

“And for the rest of us,” Tanya added.

Sue shrugged. “I don’t know. Drama at the Biltmore might be fun.”

“Don’t say that,” Ellen insisted. “I’m worried enough about the other encounters we may have while we’re there.”

“Did the book say the house is haunted?” Tanya asked.

“No, and when I asked the Biltmore wedding coordinator about it, she said that they weren’t allowed to discuss it.”

“It’s rumored to be.” Sue furrowed her brows again. “And if Biltmore employees have been warned against talking about it, then you know what that means.”

Tanya stretched her arms. “It’s a good thing we’re taking along some of our equipment.”

“I’m afraid not to,” Ellen said. “Ghosts have a way of finding us, and I don’t want to be caught unprepared.”

“They find us because we have the gift, and they can sense it,” Sue said.

“What do Lane and Maya think about it?” Tanya climbed up and sat on the edge of the tub with her legs in the water.

“I haven’t mentioned it to them,” Ellen admitted. “I’d like to keep any ghostly happenings away from the wedding, as much as possible.”

“Have you done any research, to learn if anyone has written about hauntings there?” Sue asked.

Ellen combed her fingers through her short, damp hair. “I’ve read about ghosts in Asheville, but very little is said about hauntings at the Biltmore. One book claimed that George Vanderbilt’s ghost is there.”

“I wonder what unfinished business a billionaire would have, that would keep him from moving on,” Tanya said.

Ellen climbed up and sat beside Tanya. “Hopefully, it’s only a rumor, and the wedding will go off without a hitch—worldly or otherwise.”

“I’m sure it will,” Tanya reassured her.

“We’ll find out in two months’ time,” Sue said. “That is, if we survive Aquafit.”

Ellen and Tanya looked at each other and grinned.

Author Eva Pohler:

After earning her Ph.D. in English and teaching writing and literature for over twenty years, Eva Pohler became a USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels in multiple genres, including mysteries, thrillers, and young adult paranormal romance based on Greek mythology. Her books have been described as “addictive” and “sure to thrill”–Kirkus Reviews.

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The Little Town Of Summerville by Robert Douglas

Posted: December 26, 2021 in Excerpt, Mystery
Tags:
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The Little Town of Summerville

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A Dog Named Chubby

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by Robert Douglass

The Little Town of Summerville by Robert Douglass

December 1-31, 2021 Virtual Book Tour
 

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Jack Wellington moves from the big city to make a new start. He jumps at the opportunity to become a detective in Summerville.

A peculiar case is assigned to him as artwork has been stolen and a dog is missing. Fellow detective Charlie Finch, a man adorned with decades of service, uncovers clues with Jack. They become intrigued by the words and actions of a neighborhood boy and wonder how much he might know.

Clues are followed but it’s the kids in the neighborhood who provide the most relevant clues. As the detectives get closer to them with their questions, the pressure of the kids struggle unfolds.

Kids, dogs, thieves, and a detective who meets a gal named Sally in the little town of Summerville.

Genre: Mystery

Published by: Amazon Publication Date: November 1, 2021 Number of Pages: 200 ISBN: 979-8677929410 Series: The Little Town of Summerville, 1

Purchase Links: Amazon

Enjoy this peek inside:

Jack poured a coffee and reached the back door with mug in hand. He stepped onto the screened-in porch as the twilight of morning brightened the yard. He enjoyed the peaceful surroundings of the porch. It was completely different from the small apartment he left behind a few months ago. He had worked in the Saint Louis police department for five years and jumped at the opportunity to work in Summerville. He settled into an old wicker chair he’d found at a garage sale and grabbed the tablet lying next to it to get caught up on sports and local news. He was on his second mug when the phone hummed away on the table. He noticed the number was from the police station. “Hello, this is Jack.” “Hi Jack, this is Captain Ottoman. I need you to get over to 28 Little Creek Lane. Someone was in the house during the night and the homeowner is very upset.” The captain sounded tired and cranky with no patience for conversation, so Jack didn’t bother explaining it was supposed to be his day off. “Yes sir. I can get over there right away.” “Thank you,” and the captain ended the call. Jack got back inside, buzzed the electric shaver over his face, jumped into some clean clothes, and was out the door quickly. He thought about the history of the town as he drove to the location. Summerville had been founded during the railroad days of long ago. It was a crossroads of railway tracks built by the Summers Rail & Cargo Company. John Summers became so impressed with the area he established the town and moved his family to the beautiful location with its wide valley and soft hills. Blueprints were drawn for the town which included shops, neighborhoods, and parks, which would enjoy the modern luxuries of the era, and of course, the ability to travel by railway. Today Summerville still enjoyed the shops of the downtown area, its many parks, and the atmosphere of its small college. A group of businessmen and a strong town council maintained the town with its modest Midwest economy. At times, a getaway for some of the city dwellers to get refreshed by the small-town charm. It was a pretty town, safe and friendly, and Jack Wellington intended to keep it that way. Jack pulled up to 28 Little Creek Lane as the sun cast its long early morning shadows. Each lawn had its own style, with a tree or two in the front yard and shrubs along the side that acted like a fence. There were sidewalks on the narrow residential street which had gas streetlamps that would shine day and night. He got out of the car and checked his dark hair in the reflection of the car window. He was above average height with a lean and strong build for a mid-twenties guy, but his collar was crooked. He shook his head, rebuttoned his shirt, and hoped no one was watching as he tucked it back into his pants. A quick check to make sure he had pen and notepad in his back pocket, and he took the walkway across the yard to the front porch entrance. Up the stairs, across the porch, and a few taps on the door. The homeowner opened the door. “Hello. I’m Jack Wellington from the Summerville police department. Captain Ottoman asked me to come over this morning.” The homeowner tried to smile, but her eyes were swollen with a sunken tainted darkness around them. Her sterling gray hair looked a bit out of place with a sadness upon her face. “So, you’re a policeman?” “Yes, I’m a detective,” and Jack showed her his credentials. She gave a soft grasp of Jack’s hand, “I’m Elizabeth Ashley,” and she invited him into her home. They walked down the entrance hallway and dropped into the living room. Two couches and a couple of chairs formed a horseshoe with a coffee table in the center. The couches faced each other, and the chairs sat on the end with a straight view to a fireplace. She sat on the couch and Jack took a chair. *** Excerpt from The Little Town of Summerville – A Dog Named Chubby by Robert Douglass. Copyright 2021 by Robert Douglass. Reproduced with permission from Robert Douglass. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Robert Douglass:
Robert Douglass

Robert has an AAS in Microsoft Networking Technology from Glendale Community College and is a Microsoft Certified Professional. He likes reading, writing, and exploring natural wonders. His favorite pastime is telling tall stories around the campfire.

Catch Up With Robert Douglass: RTDouglass.com Twitter – @RTDouglassLit Facebook – @RTDouglassAuthor

 

 

 

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There’s A Dead Girl In My Yard ~ Excerpt and Giveaway

Posted: December 20, 2021 in comedy, giveaways, Mystery
Tags: , ,
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There’s A Dead Girl In My Yard
Angela Page & Mia Altieri
Publication date: December 1st 2021
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Crime

Inspired by true events!

The life of Poppy, a struggling actress, is turned upside down when she witnesses the burial of an urn in her yard. Poppy gets entangled with the “dead girl,” Dalia, a Latina health guru, whose mourners show up in the yard, and whose criminal antics, ranging from Miami to New York to L.A., sent her into a witness protection program.

Why does Poppy agree to mourner manage Dalia’s burial site?

Dead Dalia’s fan club overwhelm Poppy with their visits, as do the dangerous signs of Dalia’s former life as healer and thief. Still, Poppy finds that wearing Dalia’s clothes bring her good luck in auditions and that Dalia’s luscious, Latin lovers are irresistible. Is Dalia really dead? Once Poppy is accused of complicity with Dalia’s crimes, she wants everything Dalia out of her life.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this glimpse inside:

Just after I moved into the guesthouse, they buried a dead girl in my yard. That’s when my life turned upside down and inside out for the second time. The first time was when the doctors rearranged my colon.

I was thrilled to move into the Topanga Canyon guesthouse, a boho-chic area north of Los Angeles. I knew about Topanga from growing up in the nearby San Fernando Valley. Now, as a struggling, mostly unemployed actress, I was living in a shitty, Hollywood neighborhood. Although it was a cute, little bungalow, the environment was killing me—dirty, filthy, hot, too much traffic, zero fresh air, noisy and people living on the edge. Hollywood was no longer glamorous. And parking was a son of a bitch. Also, at age forty-six, I was done stepping over homeless people. Sorry-not-sorry, and I deserved different and better. Even though many times, I had been close to homeless myself.

The universe spoke when I met Lily Jin at a Hollywood acting workshop. She was an exotic-looking and a mixed something. A twenty-two-year-old gal, and a lite-Buddhist, like me. I usually do just enough chanting to keep the demons and gremlins away for the day.

Lily was wearing torn jeans over her long, model-like legs and a midriff exposing a flat, firm tummy. There was not an ounce of fat anywhere.

Oh, to be twenty again and be able to eat, drink, smoke and snort anything. That was several decades behind me. My five-six, lanky frame was getting flabby. Yes, even skinny people can get flabby. I was now in yucky perimenopause, with the last of my overcooked eggs dropping into withering fallopian tubes and heading down through my dried-up hoo-ha. Luckily, at first glance, you can’t tell this is happening unless you’re airport security staff.

My dirty blonde shoulder length hair only needed a bit of henna to hide the grey and my brown eyes were still bright and youthful. This helped my agent place me in the thirty-five-to-forty-five roles, despite being in my mid-forties.

To date, no surgery, minimal fillers and injectables. However, as I headed towards the half-century mark, I would revisit. In the meantime, I strove to sharpen my acting skills, and let gravity have its way with me.

While in the workshop, Lily and I tried following the acting exercise. As we were pretending to be wounded sheep during an alien invasion, Lily whispered to me, asking if I knew of anyone who wanted to rent her guesthouse. After the workshop, we went to the El Compadre on Sunset to discuss the details. We were served frozen skinny margs, then toasted each other and became besties in an instant. When Lily told me that the guesthouse was in Topanga Canyon, I shouted over the mariachi band, “I’ll take it, I’ll take it, I’ll take it!” Even sight unseen and not knowing the price, she had me at “Topanga Canyon.”

I had heard about Topanga. It was crawling with the famous and the has-beens who never were. The town was known for its eclectic artists and colorful history, including one of the Manson family murders. During the Hollywood golden age, it was the weekend getaway hotspot for the now-dead stars you can see on the Turner Classic Movie channel. It had changed, but still had some leftover glamour and pricey homes. I was already fantasizing about living among the stars, wearing designer sunglasses and sipping champagne.

Before Lily would show me the property, we had to chant together while we were still drinking at El Compadre. The place was crowded, and the mariachi band was still in high gear. I knew I looked skeptical about chanting.

“Come on, we can do it. Tune the Mexicans out,” Lily said as she closed her eyes and chanted.

The waiter came by and made a comment. But I only caught, “Locas.” I kept one eye open and one closed while I chanted with Lily. It felt like a minute, and then she paused. We both instinctually did a pinkie swear. As we exhaled, we vowed to make this living situation work. I was cleared to visit the digs. But the rent Lily was going to charge was under market. So, was there a catch: leaking roof, Peeping Toms, bad plumbing, crawling with critters?

 

Author Angela Page:

Angela Page is a writer, film producer, and graduate of The London School of Economics and New York University.

“THERE’S A DEAD GIRL IN MY YARD” is her latest co-authored released inspired by real events!

“SUDDENLY SINGLE SYLVIA,” a novella and dating guide and the basis for the award-winning short film “SYLVIA.”

“MATCHED IN HEAVEN,” a comic fantasy romance, was the winner of the 2015 New Apple humor category and 2015/16 Readers’ Views award winner in romance.

Her short stories have been published in a variety of magazines and anthologies. She wrote and produced the multi award-winning comedy short, “Unplugging Aunt Vera” which is featured on the SHORTS TV channel. Her other short works can be seen on IndiPix Unlimited and FunnyorDie

Website / Goodreads / Instagram

 

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Lethal Assumptions ~ A C.O.P. On The Scene Mystery by Kassandra Lamb

Posted: December 17, 2021 in giveaways, Interview, Mystery
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Lethal Assumptions

The C.o.P. on the Scene Mysteries Book 1

by Kassandra Lamb

Genre: Crime Mystery

Judith Anderson’s no-nonsense attitude and confidence served her well in her climb to homicide lieutenant in the Baltimore County PD, but that confidence is shaken when she finds herself one step behind a serial killer—just eight days into her new job as Chief of Police in a small Florida city.

The first victim, a female college student, may be a case of wrong place, wrong time. But the bodies keep coming, with a mishmash of MOs, and the murders may be linked to various cases in nearby Jacksonville.

While Judith assumed the CoP job would be challenging, she’s finding it harder than she imagined to establish her authority without alienating and be more hands-on without micro-managing. Plus, evidence is stacking up that there’s a leak in her department.

Who can she trust? If she makes the wrong assumption, the wrong decision, it may be her last. In a race to save lives, she’ll draw on every talent and instinct that made her a star in Baltimore. But will it be enough this time?

Fans of JA Jance’s Sheriff Joanna Brady and JD Robb’s Eve Dallas will love this new female cop on the scene!

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Check out the related series here where Judith from Lethal Assumptions makes her first appearance in Police Protection!

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An Interview with Kassandra Lamb, Author of the New Series, A C.o.P. on the Scene Mysteries

 

Welcome, Kassandra! First I’ve got to ask, what does the name of the series mean?

 

I debated long and hard about that, and asked for input from the other authors at misterio press.

 

I very much wanted to convey that this was a police procedural series. At first, I’d considered calling them police thrillers, but that implies a really, really rapid pace. The stories are definitely fast-paced, but they are also character-driven, so maybe not quite thriller pace.

 

The protagonist is a homicide lieutenant from Baltimore who takes a job as Chief of Police in a small Florida city. One of her reasons for making the move is that she’s tired of riding a desk. She figures that, in a small department, she can be more hands-on, i.e., go to the scenes of major crimes.

 

So C.o.P. means Chief of Police, but actually spells out the word cop. That, plus “on the Scene” seemed to best convey the theme of the series.

 

What inspired you to write this particular series?

 

Bottom line, I bore easily. I like a lot of variety in my life and in my writing.

 

Well, except for men… let me take a moment to reassure my husband of 45 years about that exception.

 

But in most things, I like variety. I’m an avid mystery reader, as well as a writer in that genre. So I love to explore the various subgenres of mysteries.

 

My first series, the Kate Huntington Mysteries, were traditional whodunnits with an amateur sleuth. But I had one book in that series that was more like a cozy and one that was definitely a thriller, complete with a ticking clock.

 

My second series, the Marcia Banks and Buddy Mysteries, are cozies (not quite finished that series).

 

So I felt the urge to try something different—police procedurals!

 

Tell us more about your main character in this series. Is she at all like you?

 

Heavens no! The main character that is most like me is Kate Huntington, in the first series. But even she is more patient and more consistently caring than I am. I like to think of her as my better self.

 

The protagonist in this new series, Judith Anderson, was a secondary character in the Kate books. She was the police detective who sometimes helped amateur sleuth Kate and sometimes was at odds with her.

 

Also, Kate is a psychotherapist, so at times Judith called on her as a consultant.

 

And in the new series, Judith occasionally calls Kate up from Florida, to pick her brain about cases.

 

Why is your first series set in Maryland, and the other two in Florida?

 

When I started writing the Kate Huntington Mysteries, I still lived in Maryland, where I grew up. But it wasn’t until my husband and I retired to Florida that I really had time to complete and polish the first few books in that series. So I set the rest of the series in Towson, Maryland as well, the county seat of Baltimore County, the county where I lived as a child and young adult.

 

Towson holds a special place in my heart because that is where I first taught psychology, at Towson University. That was my all-time favorite job. I loved the folks in the psych department, and I loved teaching there.

 

But I love living in Florida now. I started the second series after we moved there, so it seemed natural to set it in Florida. Also, it’s a lot easier to explore places where I want to have certain events happen when I live close by.

 

As for this new series, in Police Protection, the last book in the Kate series, Judith Anderson plays a key role, and she is getting a little fed up with the bureaucracy and politics of a big police department.

 

So I decided to move her to Florida, to a small force where she’s in charge. And after living in north central Florida for 17 years, I now know that area as well as I once knew Towson.

 

What are your plans for this new series?

 

With my first two series, with amateur sleuths, it was challenging to come up with plausible reasons why they would keep getting involved in murder investigations.

 

Well, the really cool thing about a police procedural series is that you don’t have to explain why the protagonist keeps tripping over dead bodies. So Judith will have a major homicide case every few months—as fast as I can write the stories!

 

Thanks, Kassandra, for meeting with me today. Best of luck with your new series.

 

Thank you for having me!

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The Kate Huntington Mystery Series

Start reading the series for FREE!

Amazon Series Page

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In her youth, Kassandra Lamb had two great passions—psychology and writing. Advised that writers need day jobs—and being partial to eating—she studied psychology. Her career as a psychotherapist and college professor taught her much about the dark side of human nature, but also much about resilience, perseverance, and the healing power of laughter. Now retired, she spends most of her time in an alternate universe populated by her fictional characters. The portal to this universe (aka her computer) is located in North Central Florida where her husband and dog catch occasional glimpses of her.

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Haunted Water ~ A McLaren Mystery by Jo A. Hiestand

Posted: December 13, 2021 in giveaways, Mystery
Tags: ,
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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for The Haunted Water organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Jo A. Hiestand will be giving away a $25 Amazon or B&N Gift Card. Don’t forget to enter!

And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour and for more chances to win.

Haunted Water

by Jo A. Hiestand

 

 

GENRE: British mystery

Synopsis:

Cameron Rutter drowned two months ago in a lake on a Cheshire moor. Some say a morgen—a spirit who drags men to a watery grave—was responsible. Others say it was the phantom Grey Lady. The police say Gareth Gynne was the guilty one. Whoever—or whatever—killed Cameron needs to be sorted out. And ex-police detective Michael McLaren is asked to do just that.

McLaren’s not keen on delving into the mystery. The accused is the nephew of McLaren’s nemesis, Charlie Harvester. And if there’s one thing McLaren doesn’t want to do is to associate with another Harvester, no matter what generation he is.

Suspects and motives are as tangled as the mere grass. Did a villager kill Cameron, opposed to his crusade to keep the moor in its pristine state? Or did someone previously arrested by Cameron kill him in revenge?

Or was the morgen really responsible?

Can McLaren discover the killer, or will he too become a victim of the haunted water?

 

NOTE: The book is on sale for $0.99.

Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

McLaren glanced through the large windows consuming the front wall of the shop. “The mere’s where Cameron was found, correct?”

“Yes. Dwfn Mere.” He angled his head slightly, his eyebrow raised. “How’s your Welsh? You know what dwfn mere means?”

“Mere is pool or lake. Well, some small body of water like that. Dwfn throws me, I’ll admit.”

“Dwfn means deep.”

McLaren nodded. “Sounds intimidating. Deep pool.”

“At least the early residents thought so. But even if it’s not deep, it’s supposed to be haunted, which might be worse.”

“It does change the feelings, I agree. Haunted water versus deep water.” He eyed Gareth and his forehead wrinkled slightly. “Haunted by what?”

“A morgen.” Gareth screwed up the corner of his mouth, frowning. “I’ve always wondered if the villagers named the water first and then the morgen came along to live there, or if they encountered the morgen first and then figured she had to live in a deep lake to avoid scrutiny.” He seemed to force a smile, but McLaren detected a serious look in Gareth’s eyes.

“This is the first I’ve heard of the morgen. I didn’t know Heywood Heath was thought to have one.”

“Your knowledge of Welsh extends to morgens, then.”

“The female water spirit who drowns men.”

Gareth nodded. “I know how it sounds, but there are many people around here who swear the water is haunted. They won’t go near it.” The little remaining humor had gone from his face and voice. “Sometimes I think they’re right. I could almost swear she killed Cameron because I sure as hell didn’t.”

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Author Jo A. Hiestand:

Jo A. Hiestand grew up on regular doses of music, books, and Girl Scout camping. She gravitated toward writing in her post-high school years and finally did something sensible about it, graduating from Webster University with a BA degree in English and departmental honors. She writes two British mystery series—of which two books have garnered the prestigious N.N. Light’s Book Heaven ‘Best Mystery Novel’ two years straight. She also writes two Missouri-based mystery series that are grounded in places associated with her camping haunts. The camping is a thing of the past, for the most part, but the music stayed with her in the form of playing guitar and harpsichord, and singing in a folk group. Jo carves jack o’ lanterns badly; sings loudly; and loves barbecue sauce and ice cream (separately, not together), kilts (especially if men wear them), clouds and stormy skies, and the music of G.F. Handel. You can usually find her pulling mystery plots out of scenery—whether from photographs or the real thing.

Website / Amazon / B&N 

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Deadly Target by Elizabeth Goddard

Posted: November 21, 2021 in giveaways, Mystery, suspense
Tags: , ,
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Deadly Target

by Elizabeth Goddard

November 1-30, 2021 Virtual Book Tour

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Synopsis:
Deadly Target by Elizabeth Goddard

Criminal psychologist Erin Larson’s dreams of a successful career come to a screeching halt when she nearly loses her own life in a boating accident on Puget Sound and then learns that her mother tried to commit suicide. She leaves her job as a criminal psychologist to care for her mother in Montana. At least she is able to produce her podcast, which focuses on solving missing persons cold cases.

Nathan Campbell’s father was investigating such a case when he was shot, and now Nathan needs to enlist Erin’s help to solve the case. She’s good at what she does. The only problem? She’s his ex.

As the two dig deeper, it becomes clear that they, too, are being targeted–and that the answers to their questions are buried deep within the past Erin struggles to explain and longs to forget.

The race is on for the truth in this gripping and complex tale of suspense, intrigue, and murder from USA Today bestselling author Elizabeth Goddard.

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Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Suspense

Published by: Revell Publication Date: November 2nd 2021 Number of Pages: 336 ISBN: 0800737997 (ISBN13: 9780800737993) Series: Rocky Mountain Courage #2 || This is a Stand-Alone Novel

Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | ChristianBook.com | IndieBound.Org

Read an excerpt:
1 Puget Sound For a few hours every Saturday morning, Erin Larson could forget that evil existed. And usually, only on the water. She dipped the double-bladed paddle into the sea, then again on the other side—left, right, left, right, left, right—alternating strokes in a fluid motion to propel her kayak across the blue depths. Her friend Carissa Edwards paddled close behind. Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. On the water she was close to nature and far from the chaos and noise of the city even though she and Carissa paddled along the shoreline and could see the cityscape in the distance. The quiet calmed her mind and heart. The rhythmic paddling mesmerized her. The exertion exhilarated her. Cleansed her of the stress and anxiety acquired after a week of forced labor. Okay, that wasn’t fair. Her suffering certainly wasn’t physical in nature. Water. Mountains. Sky. She took in the sights and once again . . . forgot. Beautiful snowcapped Mount Baker—the Great White Watcher—loomed large in the distance to the east. Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. The slosh of paddles along with the small waves lapping against her boat soothed her and were the only sounds except for seagulls laughing above her—ha, ha, ha. To the west, the impressive Olympic Mountains begged for attention. Erin couldn’t wait for Mom to join her out here, when she finally convinced her to move. A salty ocean breeze wafted over her as peace and beauty surrounded her. She couldn’t ask for more. She shouldn’t ask for more. But God . . . I need answers. Carissa caught up with Erin and paddled next to her kayak. “Thanks for coming with me today. I needed this.” “The exercise or the scenery?” Erin had just broken a sweat despite the early morning cool. “How about a little of both. And the company makes all the difference, I’m not going to lie.” “Yeah,” Erin answered with reluctance. She and Carissa had an understanding between them. On their kayaking excursions, peace and quiet were supposed to reign. “By the way, I listened to your podcast last night,” Carissa said. Maybe she’d forgotten their unspoken pact. “Oh?” Erin wanted to know Carissa’s thoughts, but at the same time, she didn’t want to hear the criticism. Nor would she trust any praise. “Why keep it anonymous?” “It could get complicated.” Carissa’s laugh echoed across the water. “In my case, I’d probably want the dean of the college and my students to know. But then again, I wouldn’t be talking about crime or missing people. I’d be talking about history. So, what took you so long to tell me?” Erin lifted a shoulder, opting for silence. Maybe it would be contagious. Now she wished she hadn’t told Carissa, but letting her friend in on her secret was a step toward opening up. She kept too much hidden inside. Erin had never been good at letting others in. Although as a psychologist, she was all about learning what made people tick on the inside. Erin breathed in the fresh air, listened to the mesmerizing ripple of the water, felt the warm sun against her cheeks, and chased away thoughts of crime and work. “Cold cases. Do they ever get solved?” Carissa asked. Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. “Some do.” Few. “Why do you do it?” “I need a hobby, I guess.” Erin couldn’t begin to explain the complex events that drove her to talk about missing person cold cases in hopes that answers could still be found. “I’ve been thinking.” Carissa’s kayak inched ahead. Erin remained silent. “We do this every Saturday,” Carissa continued. Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. “It’s been a lifesaver,” Erin said. “Thanks for inviting me along.” After a week working for the State of Washington, the endless hours spent researching and writing reports for forensic evaluations, she needed the break. The job wasn’t what she had dreamed about when she’d become a criminal psychologist. Still, she hoped it was a means to an end. In the meantime, she’d started the cold case crime podcast. “How about we switch it up? Go hiking. Mountain trails and lush forests all around us.” “This is close. We don’t have to drive far. Plus, I really love the water.” And have an aversion to dense forests. Carissa didn’t need to know that, as a psychologist, Erin was a walking oxymoron. “I thought you might enjoy a change.” “No, I’m good with this.” Erin’s shoulders and biceps started burning. She was relieved they would soon turn around and head back. “I hope you’ll think about it. I’d love for you to join me next weekend. I’m hiking in Mount Baker National Forest, and I’m inviting you to join the group.” “What? You’re ditching me to go hiking?” “Um . . . Is it just me, or is that boat heading directly for us?” Panic edged Carissa’s voice. Erin glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Carissa’s wide-eyed stare. A thirty-foot cruiser sped toward them. She and Carissa had strayed a bit from the shoreline. Regardless, that boat shouldn’t be approaching them in this area or at that speed. “Hurry.” Erin quickened her pace. “We can get out of its path.” “We won’t make it.” Carissa stopped and raised her paddle, waving to get the boater’s attention. “Hey, watch where you’re going! Kayakers on the water!” Arms straining, Erin paddled faster and propelled the kayak forward. Her friend hadn’t kept up. “Carissa, let’s go! Just angle out of the path.” Carissa renewed her efforts and joined Erin. Together they paddled toward the shoreline that had seemed so much closer moments before. Carissa screamed. Heart pounding, Erin glanced over her shoulder. The boat had changed course and was once again headed straight for them. Fear stole her breath. “Jump! Get out of the boat and dive!” It was all she could think to do. “Now, now, now!” She sucked in a breath and leaned forward to flip the kayak until she was upside down in the water for a wet exit. Holding her breath, she found the grab loop and peeled off the skirt. Then she gripped the sides and pushed the kayak away from her body as she slid out. Instead of heading for the surface, she kicked and dove deeper. She was grateful she was wearing a manually inflatable life vest over her wetsuit or it would drag her back to the surface, which was normally a good thing. But today that could get her killed. She pushed deeper, deeper, deeper . . . away from the surface. We’re going to make it. Erin twisted around to glance upward. The water was murky and visibility was only about ten feet, but she could still see her friend struggling to get free of her kayak. Terror stabbed through her. Erin swam back to Carissa to help her, even as the boat raced toward the kayaks and was almost on them. Her eyes wide, Carissa pushed forward, freeing herself. The hull of the speeding boat sped right over the top of the kayaks, breaking Carissa’s in half—the stern of her broken kayak propelled toward Carissa. Her head jerked forward. All the bubbles of air burst from her lungs, then her form floated—unmoving. Unconscious? Or was she lifeless? Her pulse thundering in her ears, Erin swam toward Carissa, grabbed her, and inflated their life vests. They rose quickly to the surface. Erin broke the water and gasped for breath as she held Carissa. The water remained disturbed from the speeding boat’s wake and crashed over them. Erin confirmed what she already feared. Carissa wasn’t breathing. Adrenaline surged through her. She had to keep moving. Holding on to Carissa, Erin started swimming them back to shore. She spotted the errant boat making a big circle. Coming back? Had someone lost control? She had to make it to shore to give Carissa CPR. And maybe even to save them both. Stay calm. Panic wouldn’t help either of them. The water was cold, but not so cold that she needed to worry about hypothermia. At least not yet. The whir of a boat from her left drew her attention, kicking up her already rapid heartbeat. As she took in the slowly approaching trawler—a far different boat from the speeding cruiser—relief eased the tension in her shoulders. Three men and a couple of women waved. A silver-haired man in a Seahawks cap shouted, “Do you need help?” “Yes! Hurry!” The boat edged slowly toward her, and she swam to meet it. The men reached down and pulled Carissa up into the boat. Erin used the ladder on the side. “She needs CPR. She’s not breathing!” When she hopped onto the deck, she saw that one of the men had started administering CPR. A redheaded woman wrapped a blanket around Erin. “Oh, honey, are you okay?” Hot tears burned down her cold, wet cheeks. “No . . . no, I’m not okay.” She dropped to her knees next to her friend. Carissa coughed up water and rolled onto her side. When she’d finished expelling seawater, she sat up and looked around. Erin hugged her and spoke against her short, wet hair. “I thought you were done for.” Carissa held on to Erin tightly, then released her to cough more. Erin took in the group standing around them, their watchful eyes filled with concern. “I’m Vince. And this is my wife, Jessie.” The man with the Seahawks cap gestured to the redhead, then made introductions. John, his son, and Terry, John’s friend, and Mavis, John’s girlfriend. A family affair. “I’m Erin, and this is Carissa.” Jessie placed a blanket around Carissa. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll get you something warm to drink.” “Thank you.” Erin sat with Carissa on the cushioned bench and took in her friend. She looked shell-shocked, and why shouldn’t she? Was she going to be okay? Carissa closed her eyes. Was she in pain or thinking back to what happened? Jessie had disappeared below deck to grab warm drinks. Mavis, Terry, and John were trying to recover the kayaks and bring them onto the trawler. Vince remained standing, his arms crossed as if he were a sentinel sent to protect them. And at this moment, Erin needed that reassurance. “If you hadn’t come when you did,” she said, “I don’t know what would have happened. I can’t thank you enough.” She searched the waters around them. “Is that boat . . . Is it gone?” “What boat?” Mavis approached and glanced at Vince. “You didn’t see that?” Erin got to her feet and pulled Carissa with her. She searched the waters. “A boat came right for us. Ran over our kayaks and almost killed us. They must have lost control. Maybe they were drunk or something.” “I saw a boat heading west,” Vince said, “but I didn’t connect that to seeing you in the water swimming to shore. Kayaks and canoes are hard to spot sometimes. I’m sorry that happened. But I’ll contact the Seattle Police Harbor Patrol and let them know. In the meantime, is there somewhere we can take you?” “Back to the marina at Port of Edmonds. We could talk to the police there and tell them what happened,” Erin said. Vince eyed Carissa. “I’ll let SPHP know we’re on the way and to meet us there. Should we get you to the hospital?” Erin shared a look with her friend. “She sustained a hit to the head. Maybe an ambulance could be waiting for us when we get to the harbor.” Carissa nodded but said nothing. Erin ached inside. She’d almost lost Carissa. She was grateful that her friend had survived. They had both survived. Erin replayed the events in her mind. Had the boat deliberately veered toward them or had she imagined it? These boaters who’d helped them had simply been out enjoying the day when they spotted Erin and Carissa in the water, their kayaks floating, Carissa’s in two pieces. I can’t believe this happened. The water had been her place of peace and tranquility. But no more. Erin pulled her ringing cell from the plastic bag tucked in a pocket on her suit. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was a Montana prefix. Her heart jackhammered as she answered, “Erin.” “Dr. Larson . . . Erin.” The familiar male voice hesitated. “This is Detective Nathan Campbell.” Dread crawled up her spine. Nathan would never call her without a good reason. “Nathan . . . what’s going on?” “It’s . . . your mom. She’s okay. But she tried to commit suicide. I’m so sorry.” A few heartbeats passed before she could answer. “Wha . . . What?” Nathan apologized again and repeated the words. The air rushed from Erin. She couldn’t breathe and stood. She headed for the rail and hung her head over the water, gasping for breath. “Erin! Erin, are you there?” Nathan’s concerned voice shouted over the cell loud enough she could hear him despite the boat’s rumbling engine and rushing water. Carissa joined her at the rail. “Erin, what’s happened?” The darkness closed in on her all over again, but this was different from before. Why hadn’t she seen the warning signs? She had to fix this. Squeezing her eyes shut, she lifted the cell to her ear again. “I need details.” Nathan relayed that her mother was in the hospital and in stable condition. Ending the call, she stared at the cell. Mom was in trouble. The fact that the awful news had come from the man she’d left behind compounded the pain in her chest. This, after she and Carissa had barely survived a boating accident. Evil wouldn’t let her forget that it existed, even for a few hours. *** Excerpt from Deadly Target by Elizabeth Goddard. Copyright 2021 by Elizabeth Goddard. Reproduced with permission from Baker Publishing Group. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Elizabeth Goddard:
Elizabeth Goddard

Elizabeth Goddard is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of more than fifty novels, including Present Danger and the Uncommon Justice series. Her books have sold over one million copies. She is a Carol Award winner and a Daphne du Maurier Award finalist. When she’s not writing, she loves spending time with her family, traveling to find inspiration for her next book, and serving with her husband in ministry.

For more information about Elizabeth Goddard, visit her website at: www.ElizabethGoddard.com Goodreads BookBub – @ElizabethGoddard Instagram – @elizabethgoddardauthor Twitter – @bethgoddard Facebook – @ElizabethGoddardAuthor

 

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Haunted Ends: Dead In The Water by Elizabeth Price

Posted: November 9, 2021 in Excerpt, giveaways, horror, Mystery, Paranormal or fantasy
Tags: , , ,
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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Haunted Ends: Dead In The Water organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Elizabeth Price will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Don’t forget to enter!

And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour and more chances to win.

Haunted Ends: Dead In The Water

by Elizabeth Price

Genre: Paranormal Mystery / Horror

Synopsis

The crew of Haunted Ends is diverted from filming their show when a cursed and extremely haunted pirate ship, the Serpents Cross, docks off the coast of San Francisco. After repeated attempts by the Coast Guard to tow the pirate ship back to the sea have left many hospitalized, they call Rocky and Sam to help. The paranormal duo must persuade the Serpents Cross’ phantom captain to leave San Francisco Bay peacefully. However, if the Captain’s requests are not satisfied, he has deadly plans for the citizens of San Francisco.

Amazon

Enjoy this peek inside:

Rocky said then tapped his phone. “Rose, would you believe I was just about to call you. Sam—“

 

He paused, listening to Rose on the phone. “The news? Yes, it’s on in the bar. I was wondering why all the residents were watching. Hold on.” He waved for Sam to follow him into the bar.

 

At the doorway of the bar, he watched one of the televisions. The news was featuring a rather peculiar ship that resembled the Flying Dutchmen.  For some unknown reason the ship had floated into San Francisco Bay.

 

Sam pointed to the television. “That’s what I wanted to call her about. I watched that ship float into the bay around sunrise. I was with Arthur when he saw it and he completely freaked out,” he said, excitement ringing in his voice.

 

“Wait,” Rocky held his hand over the phone’s receiver. “You were with Arthur? That low-unlife? Seriously, Sam, he’s a bad influence. You don’t need to be hanging around that—!”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “The point is that Arthur knew that ship. He called it the… the…” he smacked his forehead to think, “…the Serpent’s Cross. That’s it!” he exclaimed. “He took off as soon as he saw it, leaving Alexis and me behind. He looked like he had seen the devil,” he added.

 

“Alexis too?” Rocky huffed. “Come on, Sam. You’re floating with the wrong crowd. You’re going to get yourself in trouble,” he groaned.

 

Sam waved him on. “Yes, mom. I’m dead. I could hang out with Al Capone if I wanted. It’s not like I couldn’t get any deader than I already am,” he mentioned. He pointed to the television again. “How about focusing on the real problem. That ship shouldn’t be here let alone be seen by the living.”

 

“Rocky!” Rose screamed through the phone.

 

Rocky placed the phone back to his ear. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. No, it’s Sam jabbering on about this ship.”

 

“Jabbering? Do I look like a jabberer to you?” Sam asked a passing spirit. The spirit turned to him, looked him up and down, then continued into the bar to watch the television.

 

 “Sam says that a friend,” Rocky sneered in disgust, “told him that the ship’s name was the Serpent’s Cross. This friend is an old ghost, so I can only assume it’s a really old ship. What was that? Oh, is it Haunted?” He glanced at Sam, who shrugged.

 

“Skeletons were hanging out on the deck, you tell me,” Sam spoke condescendingly back.

 

 Rocky held his hand over the receiver. “Skeletons?” he asked. Sam nodded. “Yeah, we’re not sure. Assume it is. Oh, okay. We can do that. I’ll let you know what we find.” He hung up the phone.

 

“What did she say?” Sam asked.

 

“She wants us to grab Marcus and check it out,” he said, walking back to his room to grab his Haunted Ends gear, T-shirt, and baseball cap.

 

Sam followed Rocky back into the lobby. “Investigate an ancient ship filled with walking skeletons? Is she crazy?”

 

“You already know that answer,” Rocky jabbed back.

 

“Okay, okay, no, seriously, that ship has to be crawling with police and the Coast Guard. How are we going to get on board?” Sam questioned.

 

“Apparently,” Rocky glanced to his left thigh were Sam hovered, “they asked for us by name.”

 

“Of course they would.” Sam paused in the hall while Rocky went inside his room to change. His eyes grew wide and he began to nod slowly as he thought. “What could possibly go wrong talking to a ship full of skeletons?”

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Author Elizabeth Price

Elizabeth Price is best known for her Paranormal Mystery series Haunted Ends, which makes light of the dark side of death. Born in Southern California, Elizabeth has always been drawn to Science Fiction and fantasy stories. Having also lived and worked in haunted buildings for many years, she has a deep interest in the paranormal and anything that goes “BOO!” in the night – with the exception of critics that is.

 

You can connect with Elizabeth on Facebook at facebook.com/authorelizabethprice or on Twitter @Chaosonpaper. You can also visit her website, espwriter.com, to sign up for emails about new releases.

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Mercy Creek ~ A Jo Wyatt Mystery by M. E. Browning

Posted: October 31, 2021 in giveaways, Mystery
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Mercy Creek
by M.E. Browning
October 11 – November 5, 2021 Tour

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Mercy Creek by M.E. Browning

Synopsis:
In an idyllic Colorado town, a young girl goes missing—and the trail leads into the heart and mind of a remorseless killer.

The late summer heat in Echo Valley, Colorado turns lush greenery into a tinder dry landscape. When a young girl mysteriously disappears, long buried grudges rekindle. Of the two Flores girls, Marisa was the one people pegged for trouble. Her younger sister, Lena, was the quiet daughter, dutiful and diligent—right until the moment she vanished.

Detective Jo Wyatt is convinced the eleven-year-old girl didn’t run away and that a more sinister reason lurks behind her disappearance. For Jo, the case is personal, reaching far back into her past. But as she mines Lena’s fractured family life, she unearths a cache of secrets and half-lies that paints a darker picture.

As the evidence mounts, so do the suspects, and when a witness steps forward with a shocking new revelation, Jo is forced to confront her doubts, and her worst fears. Now, it’s just a matter of time before the truth is revealed—or the killer makes another deadly move.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery

Published by: Crooked Lane Books Publication Date: October 12th 2021 Number of Pages: 288 ISBN: 1643857622 (ISBN13: 9781643857626)

Series: A Jo Wyatt Mystery, Book 2 || Each mystery in the A Jo Wyatt Mystery series is a stand alone novel.

Purchase Links: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

Everyone had a story from that night. Some saw a man, others saw a girl, still others saw nothing at all but didn’t want to squander the opportunity to be part of something larger than themselves. To varying degrees, they were all wrong. Only two people knew the full truth. That Saturday, visitors to the county fair clustered in the dappled shade cast by carnival rides and rested on hay bales scattered like afterthoughts between games of chance and food booths, the soles of their shoes sticky with ice cream drips and spilled sodas. Detective Jo Wyatt stepped into the shadow of the Hall of Mirrors to watch the crowd. She grabbed the collar of her uniform and pumped it a few times in a futile attempt to push cooler air between her ballistic vest and sweat-sodden T-shirt. The Echo Valley Fair marked the end of summer, but even now, as the relentless Colorado sun dipped, heat rose in waves around bare ankles and stroller wheels as families retreated toward the parking lots. An older crowd began to creep in, prowling the midway. The beer garden overflowed. Within minutes the sun dropped behind the valley walls and the fairground lights flickered to life, their wan orange glow a beacon to moths confused by the strobing brightness of rides and games. Calliope music and the midway’s technopop collided in a crazed mishmash of notes so loud they echoed in Jo’s chest. She raised the volume of her radio. The day shift officers had clocked out having handled nothing more pressing than a man locked out of his car and an allegation of unfair judging flung by the second-place winner of the bake-off. Jo gauged the teeming crowd of unfamiliar faces. Tonight would be different. # Carnival music was creepy, Lena decided. Each ride had its own weird tune and it all seemed to crash against her with equal force, following her no matter where she went. The guys in the booths were louder than they had been earlier, more aggressive, calling out, trying to get her to part with her tickets. Some of the guys roamed, jumping out at people, flicking cards and making jokes she didn’t understand while smiling at her older sister. Marisa tossed her hair. Smiled back. Sometimes they let her play for free. “Let’s go back to the livestock pavilion,” Lena said. “Quit being such a baby.” Marisa glanced over her shoulder at the guy running the shooting gallery booth and tossed her hair. Again. Lena rolled her eyes and wondered how long it would be before her sister ditched her. “Hold up a sec.” Marisa tugged at the hem of her skintight skirt and flopped down on a hay bale. She’d been wearing pants when they’d left the house. The big purse she always carried probably hid an entire wardrobe Momma knew nothing about. Lena wondered if the missing key to grandma’s car was tucked in there too. Marisa unzipped one of her boots and pulled up her thin sock. Lena pointed. “What happened to the bottom of your boot?” Her sister ran her finger along the arch. “I painted it red.” “Why?” “It makes them more valuable.” “Since when does coloring the bottom of your shoes make them more valuable?” Marisa’s eyes lit up in a way that happened whenever she spoke about clothes or how she was going to hit it big in Hollywood someday. “In Paris there’s this guy who designs shoes and all of them have red soles. He’s the only one allowed to do that. It’s his thing.” “But he didn’t make those boots.” “All the famous women wear his shoes.” She waved to someone in the crowd. “You’re not famous and you bought them at Payless.” “What do you know about fashion?” “I know enough not to paint the bottom of my boots to make them look like someone else made them.” Marisa shoved her foot into her boot and yanked the zipper closed. “You bought your boots from the co-op.” She handed Lena her cell phone. “You should have bought yours there, too.” Lena dutifully pointed the lens at her sister. “Take a couple this time.” Marisa leaned back on her hands and arched her back, her hair nearly brushing the hay bale, and the expression on her face pouty like the girls in the magazines she was always looking at. Lena snapped several photos and held out the phone. “All those high heels are good for is punching holes in the ground.” “Oh, Lena.” Marisa’s voice dropped as if she was sharing a secret. “If you ever looked up from your animals long enough, you’d see there’s so much more to the world.” Her thumbs rapidly tapped the tiny keyboard of her phone. In the center of the midway, a carnival guy held a long-handled mallet and called out to people as they passed by. He was older—somewhere in his twenties—and wore a tank top. Green and blue tattoos covered his arms and his biceps bulged as he pointed the oversized hammer at the tower behind him. It looked like a giant thermometer with numbers running along one edge, and High Striker spelled out on the other. “Come on, men. There’s no easier way to impress the ladies.” He grabbed the mallet and tapped the plate. “You just have to find the proper motivation if you want to get it up…” He pointed with his chin to the top of the game and paused dramatically. “There.” He craned his neck and leered at Marisa. Lena wondered if he was looking up her sister’s skirt. “What happens later is up to you.” Never breaking eye contact, he took a mighty swing. The puck raced up the tower, setting off a rainbow of lights and whistles before it smashed into the bell at the top. He winked in their direction. “Score.” Twenty minutes later, Marisa was gone. # Lena gave up looking for her sister and returned to the livestock pavilion. Marisa could keep her music and crowds and stupid friends. Only a few people still wandered around the dimly lit livestock pavilion. The fireworks would start soon and most people headed for the excitement outside, a world away from the comforting sound of animals snuffling and pawing at their bedding. Marisa was probably hanging out near the river with her friends, drinking beer. Maybe smoking a cigarette or even a joint. Doing things she didn’t think her baby sister knew about. Lena walked through an aisle stacked with poultry and rabbit cages. The pens holding goats, swine, and sheep took up the middle. At the back of the pavilion stretched a long row of three-sided cattle stalls. The smells of straw, grain, and animals replaced the gross smell of deep-fried candy bars and churros that had clogged her throat on the midway. Near the end of the row, Lena stopped. “Hey there, Bluebell.” Technically, he was number twenty-four, like his ear tag said. Her father didn’t believe in naming livestock, but to her, he’d always be Bluebell—even after she sold him at the auction to be slaughtered. Just because that was his fate didn’t mean he shouldn’t have a name to be remembered by. She remembered them all. She patted his hip and slid her hand along his spine so he wouldn’t shy as she moved into the stall. She double-checked the halter, pausing to scratch his forehead. A piece of straw swirled in his water bucket and she fished it out. The cold water cooled her hot skin. “You did good today. Sorry I won’t be spending the night with you, but Papa got called out to Dawson’s ranch to stitch up some mare.” He swished his tail and it struck the rail with a metallic ring. “Don’t get yourself all riled. I’ll be back tomorrow before you know it.” If she hadn’t been showing Bluebell this afternoon, she’d have gone with her father. Her sutures had really improved this summer and were almost as neat as his. No one would guess they’d been made by an eleven-year-old. If nothing else, she could have helped keep the horse calm. Instead, she’d go home with Marisa and spend the night at Momma’s. She wondered if Marisa would show up before the 4-H leader called lights out in the pavilion or if Lena would have to walk to her mom’s house by herself in the dark. She reached down and jiggled the feed pan to smooth out the grain that Bluebell had pushed to the edges. “That’s some cow.” The male voice startled them both and Bluebell stomped his rear hoof. Lena peered over the Hereford’s withers. At first all she saw were the tattoos. An ugly monster head with a gaping mouth and snake tongue seem to snap at her. It was the carny from the High Striker standing at the edge of the stall. “It’s a steer,” she stuttered. “And my sister isn’t here.” “Not your sister I wanted to talk to.” He swayed a bit as he moved into the stall, like when her mother drank too much wine and tried to hide it. Lena ducked under Bluebell’s throat and came up on the other side. She looked around the pavilion, now empty of people. “Suspect they’re all out waiting on the fireworks,” he said. The first boom echoed through the space. Several sheep bleated their disapproval and Bluebell jerked against his halter. “Shhhh, now.” Lena reached her hand down and scratched his chest. “All that racket’s just some stupid fireworks.” “Nothing to worry about,” the man added. He had the same look in his eyes that Papa’s border collie got right before he cut off the escape route of a runaway cow. A bigger boom thundered through the pavilion. Halter clips clanged against the rails as uneasy cattle shuffled in their stalls. Her own legs shook as she sidled toward Bluebell’s rear. He matched her steps. “What’s a little thing like you doing in here all by yourself?” “My father will be back any minute.” Her voice shook. He smiled, baring his teeth. “I’ll be sure to introduce myself when he arrives.” A series of explosions, sharp as gunfire, erupted outside. Somewhere a cow lowed. Several more joined in, their voices pitiful with fear. “You’re upsetting my steer. You need to leave.” “Oh, your cow’s just fine. I think it’s you that’s scared.” He spoke with the same low voice that Lena used with injured animals. The one she used right before she did something she knew would hurt but had to be done. “You’re a pretty little thing,” he crooned. “Nice and quiet.” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She stood frozen. A warm trickle started down her leg, and the wet spot expanded on her jeans. He edged closer. “I like them quiet.” # Jo ran. The suspect veered off the sidewalk and slid down the hillside toward the creek. She plunged off the side of the embankment, sliding through dirt and duff, closing the distance. She keyed her shoulder mic. “Entering the creek, heading west toward the Animas. I need someone on the River Trail.” Narrow-leaf cottonwood and willows shimmered silver in the moonlight and wove a thicket of branches along the water, herding the suspect toward the cobbled stream bed. Jo splashed into the ankle-deep water. Close enough now to almost touch. Her lungs burned. With a final burst of speed, she lunged. Shoved his shoulder while he was mid-stride. The man sprawled into the creek. Rolled onto his feet with a bellow. A knife in his hand. Without thinking, she’d drawn her gun. “Drop it!” Flashlight beams sliced the foliage. Snapping branches and crashing footsteps marked the other officers’ progress as they neared. Estes shouted Jo’s name. Her eyes never left the man standing just feet away. “Over here!” She focused on the man’s shoulder, watching for the twitch that would telegraph his intentions. “You need to drop the knife. Now.” Her voice rose above the burble of the stream. “Or things are going to get a whole lot worse for you tonight.” She shifted her weight to her front leg and carefully shuffled her rear foot until she found firmer footing and settled into a more stable shooting stance. “Drop the knife.” She aimed center mass. Drew a deep breath, willed her heart to slow. The knife splashed into the creek near the bank. “On your right.” Estes broke through the brush beside her. “Get down on your knees,” Jo ordered. “Hands behind your head.” “It’s my friend’s truck,” the man said. Jo holstered her gun and moved forward while Estes covered her. She gripped his fingers and bowed the suspect backward, keeping him off balance while she searched him for weapons, then cuffed him. “Not according to the owner.” She double-locked the cuffs while Estes radioed dispatch they had one in custody. An explosion above the treetops made Jo flinch. Fireworks slashed the darkness and burst into balls of purple and green and dazzling white that sparkled briefly, then disappeared. *** Excerpt from Mercy Creek by M.E. Browning. Copyright 2021 by M.E. Browning. Reproduced with permission from M.E. Browning. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author M.E. Browning:

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M.E. Browning

M.E. Browning writes the Colorado Book Award-winning Jo Wyatt Mysteries and the Agatha-nominated and award-winning Mer Cavallo Mysteries (as Micki Browning). Micki also writes short stories and nonfiction. Her work has appeared in dive magazines, anthologies, mystery magazines, and textbooks. An FBI National Academy graduate, Micki worked in municipal law enforcement for more than two decades and retired as a captain before turning to a life of crime… fiction.

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Catch Up With M.E. Browning: MEBrowning.com Goodreads BookBub Instagram – @mickibrowning Twitter – @MickiBrowning Facebook – @MickiBrowningAuthor

 

 

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Death Rang The Bell by Carol Pouliot ~ Review and Giveaway

Posted: October 26, 2021 in giveaways, Mystery, reviews
Tags: , ,
5

Death Rang The Bell by Carol Pouliot Banner

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Death Rang The Bell

by Carol Pouliot

October 1-31, 2021 Book Tour

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Death Rang The Bell by Carol Pouliot

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MY REVIEW

While this is the third book in the series, I had no problems jumping in and following the characters, getting familiar with who they were and how the plot worked.

Olivia works as a journalist and lives in the present. The man she’s attracted to, Steven, is a detective living in the 30’s. How they met and how Olivia and Steven came to travel through time was fun and creative. And I loved their shy, budding romance and hoped they’d figure out how to make it work.

While visiting Steven, Olivia witnesses a crime and is quickly caught up in it, eager to solve it and remove herself as a potential target.

These two characters have a lot to sort out and that kept me turning the pages, hoping for the best. A fast read for me and now I’m wanting to go back and start this exciting series at the beginning.

4 STARS

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Synopsis:

21st-century journalist Olivia Watson thinks traveling back in time to 1934 to attend a Halloween party with her friend Detective Steven Blackwell will be a lot of fun. And it is…until she witnesses the head of the Shipley Five-and-Dime empire murdered, and fears the killer saw her face.

The smart move is to return to the safety of the present, but Olivia possesses a secret and is about to defy the unwritten rules of time-travel. She convinces Steven to let her stay in his time and help unravel the motives behind the murder, even if it means risking her own life to save another.

When Steven delves into the investigation, he discovers how a bitter relationship, a chance encounter, and a fateful decision converged to set the stage for murder. In a maze full of unreliable clues and misdirection, dark secrets refuse to stay buried and forgotten ghosts won’t fade away. Steven is reminded that old sins cast long shadows.

Can Steven catch the killer before time runs out for Olivia?

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Praise for Death Rang the Bell:

“This highly inventive series serves up a real treat–a perfect combination of mystery, time travel, and romance.” ~~ Deborah Crombie, New York Times Bestselling author of the Duncan Kincaid/Gemma James novels

“Pouliot has the period details mastered, adding realism and depth to this wholly satisfying read.” ~~ Marni Graff, author of The Nora Tierney English Mysteries

“With engaging characters, a murder mystery, and a trip back in time, Carol Pouliot’s Death Rang the Bell will keep you turning the pages all night!” ~~ Nancy Allen, New York Times Bestselling Author

“A Halloween setting, a house where time folds back on itself, and a crime with deep roots in the past make Carol Pouliot’s Death Rang the Bell a joy for fans of crisp writing and twisty, character-driven plots.” ~~ Connie Berry, Agatha-nominated author of the Kate Hamilton Mysteries

“A delightfully immersive story, filled with surprising twists and turns, a touch of romance — plus a heroine you will happily follow as she jumps between decades, Death Rang the Bell is a truly great escape.” ~~ Alison Gaylin, USA Today and international bestselling author

“This intriguing and beautifully written series will draw you in and make you feel right at home in a time period you’ll wish you could visit.” ~~ Grace Topping, USA Today bestselling author of the Laura Bishop Mystery Series.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery (Traditional Police Procedural with a Time-Travel Twist)

Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: September 21, 2021 Number of Pages: 311 ISBN: 978-1-68512-000-9 Series: The Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries, #3 || Each is a Stand-Alone Mystery

Purchase Links: Amazon | BN.com | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

NOVEMBER 1916 − SYRACUSE, NEW YORK

Chapter 1
Hot coffee spilled over the rim and burned her hand. Lillian wanted to cry. At nine in the morning, she’d been on her feet since six and had seven long hours to go. She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to keep it up. She was constantly exhausted and the struggle to breathe was worsening; some days it was nearly unbearable. She knew the disease was going to overpower her, and that moment was coming soon. Lillian slid around some tables and set a heaping plate of eggs and bacon, potatoes, and toast in front of Arnie McCormack, then topped off his cup from the pot in her other hand. McCormack lowered his newspaper and leered, pinching her behind as she stepped away. Rude bastard. She’d like to pour the scalding coffee over his head and dump his breakfast right in his lap. The only thing that kept her going every day was the thought of her beautiful little boy. Well, not so little anymore. He was growing up fast, nine years old in January. She managed a smile and wiped away a tear before it became a flood. Best not to think too much about things. Especially money. Lillian knew if she didn’t get the money somehow, she’d never see her son grow into a man. And what about her letter? It had been four weeks since she’d mailed it. Surely he should have written back by now. She hadn’t been unreasonable, hadn’t asked for much, only enough to pay for treatment at the Little Red Cottage in Saranac Lake. Dr. Trudeau’s Little Red Cottage. It sounded like heaven. Lillian had heard wonderful things about people being cured there. Imagine, cured! The thought made her dizzy. Lillian returned to the lunch counter, using the backs of chairs for support. When she arrived at the griddle, she was breathing hard. Tomorrow, she thought, if I don’t get an answer tomorrow, I’ll send another letter.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1934

Chapter 2
The Three Witches of Macbeth were doing a swell job. Annie, Molly, and Lilly led the parade of pirates, sailors, and fairy princesses through Knightsbridge, picking up ghosts, goblins, and a mummy along the way. Crowds of families followed the costumed children down Victoria Avenue to the entrance of The Elks Club, where, from the top of the staircase, The Three Witches hissed, “Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn and caldron bubble.” Molly cried out, “Beware, all ye who enter here.” Then she thumped a tall gnarled staff on the stone step, and Annie and Lilly grasped the thick iron rings with both hands and heaved. As the massive oak doors creaked open, the masquerading children flew up the stairs and into the community room, awash with the scents of apples and cinnamon. Carved pumpkins flickered in the semi-darkened room, revealing white cobweb-filled corners and big black spiders and bats hanging so low that adults had to duck. Seeing colorful bags piled on black-draped tables, one little boy jumped up and down, clapping his hands in glee. A girl grabbed her friend’s hand, and they did a little dance, and three teenagers slapped each other on the back. A Halloween treat awaited each of them. Eager to explore, the kids fanned out. “Ooh! I feel like I’m ten again,” said Olivia, shaking the black-and-orange tin noise maker. “Why didn’t we wear costumes?” Steven gave her a look. “What if I had to rush out for an emergency?” he asked. “You could’ve dressed like a cop.” She smirked. “Hi, Steven.” Decked out in an eye patch and pirate gear, Jimmy Bourgogne appeared from behind Olivia, swept off his hat, and gave a courtly bow, bending low to the floor. “Miss Watson.” “Jimmy, you look fantastic,” exclaimed Olivia. “I didn’t recognize you with that mustache and goatee.” “Congratulations, Jimmy. You fellas did a swell job,” Steven said. “Thanks, but the credit really goes to Leon here.” A slender young man with light brown hair joined them. He sported a plaid shirt with a tin sheriff’s badge pinned over his heart, red kerchief around his neck, and holster holding a toy gun attached to a leather belt. “Hi, Leon.” Steven extended his hand. “This is my friend Olivia Watson. Olivia, Leon Quigg is my mailman.” “Nice to meet you, Miss Watson.” Leon said, nodding as he doffed his cowboy hat. “I’m glad to meet you, too. This is a wonderful party.” Jean Bigelow sidled up to Olivia, yelling amidst the racket. “You made it!” “Jean! Isn’t this swell?” Olivia chuckled to herself. Liz and Sophie would crack up hearing her talk like a real 1934 person. After several months, acting like she belonged here had become second nature, but Olivia Watson didn’t belong here. She lived in 2014 and only visited 1934 from time to time. This week Olivia was spending several days in Steven’s time. No passport, no suitcase, no plane ticket required. All it took was a simple step across the threshold of her bedroom door into Steven’s Depression-era house−simple but the key to her recently discovered ability to time travel. “What are you reading tonight?” Olivia asked the librarian. “Edgar Allan Poe. ‘The Cask of Amontillado.’” “That’s the one where the guy gets walled up, isn’t it?” Jean nodded. “I’ve been practicing creepy voices for days.” “Well, you look the part. I love your cape, very 19th-century.” Olivia touched a fold of Jean’s costume. “Ooh, velvet. I wish I’d worn that.” The organizers had packed the evening full of entertainment. Steven and Olivia watched a magician pull pennies out of children’s ears and a rabbit out of his top hat, and wondered how he made the mayor’s watch disappear. The kids bobbed for apples, the water sloshing out of the metal washtub soaking the floor. The younger children played Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey and Drop-the-Handkerchief, while the older ones played charades and told ghost stories. At seven thirty, the kids crowded along the row of tables where members of the Elks handed out treats. Noses in their black-and-orange bags exploring the treasures within, they moved to the far end to select their favorite soda, handing the tall glass bottles of Hires Root Beer, Orange Crush, and Coca-Cola to Jimmy Bou and Leon Quigg, who were armed with metal bottle openers. The evening culminated with story telling. The village librarian led the young children into a side room, spooky picture books in hand. The older ones gathered behind the curtain on the shadow-filled stage where Jean Bigelow waited in flickering candlelight. When they’d settled in a circle on the floor, Olivia among them, the librarian cleared her throat and began. “The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge….” *** Excerpt from Death Rang the Bell by Carol Pouliot. Copyright 2021 by Carol Pouliot. Reproduced with permission from Carol Pouliot. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Carol Pouliot

Carol Pouliot holds a BA in French and Spanish and an MA in French. She has taught French, Spanish, German, and English. She owned and operated a translating agency for 20 years. Her work has been published in Victoria magazine. Carol is the author of The Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries, which includes Doorway to Murder (book 1), Threshold of Deceit (book 2), and Death Rang the Bell (book 3). Carol is passionate about the world and other cultures. She has visited 5 continents thus far and always has her passport and suitcase at the ready.

Catch Up With Carol Pouliot: www.CarolPouliot.com SleuthsAndSidekicks.com BookBub – @cpouliot13 Goodreads Instagram – @carolpouliotmysterywriter Facebook – @WriterCarolPouliot

 

 

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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.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

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