Archive for the ‘Mystery’ Category

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The Secret In The Wall

A Silver Rush Mystery

by Ann Parker

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The Secret in the Wall: A Novel (Silver Rush Mysteries)
Historical Mystery
8th in Series
Poisoned Pen Press (February 15, 2022)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 400 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1464214948
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1464214943
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B096L9XZ73


Sometimes you can’t keep your gown out of the gutter…

 

Inez Stannert has reinvented herself—again. Fleeing the comfort and wealth of her East Coast upbringing, she became a saloon owner and card sharp in the rough silver boomtown of Leadville, Colorado, always favoring the unconventional path—a difficult road for a woman in the late 1800s.

 

Then the teenaged daughter of a local prostitute is orphaned by her mother’s murder, and Inez steps up to raise the troubled girl as her own. Inez works hard to keep a respectable, loving home for Antonia, carefully crafting their new life in San Francisco. But risk is a seductive friend, difficult to resist. When a skeleton tumbles from the wall of her latest business investment, the police only seem interested in the bag of Civil War-era gold coins that fell out with it. With her trusty derringer tucked in the folds of her gown, Inez uses her street smarts and sheer will to unearth a secret that someone has already killed to keep buried. The more she digs, the muddier and more dangerous things become.

 

She enlists the help of Walter de Brujin, a local private investigator with whom she shares some history. Though she wants to trust him, she fears that his knowledge of her past, along with her growing attraction to him, may well blow her veneer of respectability to bits—that is, if her dogged pursuit of the truth doesn’t kill her first . . .

 

About Ann Parker

Ann Parker is a science writer by day and fiction writer by night. Her award-winning Silver Rush Mysteries series, published by Poisoned Pen Press, a Sourcebooks imprint, is set primarily in 1880s Leadville, Colorado, and more recently in San Francisco, California, the “Paris of the West.” The series was named a Booksellers Favorite by the Mountains and Plains Independent Booksellers Association, and Ann is listed in the Colorado Authors’ Hall of Fame. The Secret in the Wall is the eighth and newest entry in the series.

Author Links: Website / Blog / Facebook / Goodreads / Pinterest

Purchase Links – AmazonIndieBound – Barnes & Noble – Books-A-Million – Nook – Kobo – 

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Trust Me

by Kelly Irvin

February 7 – March 4, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

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Synopsis:
Trust Me by Kelly Irvin
When her best friend is murdered the same way her brother was, who can she possibly trust?

A decade ago, Delaney Broward discovered her brother’s murdered body at the San Antonio art co-op he founded with friends. Her artist boyfriend, Hunter Nash, went to prison for the murder, despite his not-guilty plea.

This morning, Hunter walks out of prison a free man, having served his sentence.

This afternoon, Delaney finds her best friend dead, murdered in the same fashion as her brother.

Stay out of it or you’re next, the killer warns.

Hunter never stopped loving Delaney, though he can’t blame her for not forgiving her. He knows he’ll get his life back one day at a time, one step at a time. But he’s blindsided to realize he’s a murder suspect. Again.

When Hunter shows up on her doorstep asking her to help him find the real killer, Delaney’s head says to run away, yet her heart tells her there’s more to his story than what came out in the trial. An uneasy truce leads to their probe into a dark past that shatters Delaney’s image of her brother. She can’t stop and neither can Hunter—which lands them both in the crosshairs of a murderer growing more desperate by the hour.

In this gripping romantic suspense, Kelly Irvin plumbs the complexity of broken trust in the people we love—and in God—and whether either can be mended.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Suspense

Published by: Thomas Nelson Publication Date: February 8th 2022 Number of Pages: 384 ISBN: 0785231935 (ISBN13: 9780785231936)

Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Christianbook.com | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER 1

APRIL 22, 2010 SAN ANTONIO ART CO-OP SOUTHTOWN, SAN ANTONIO

The cloying stench of pot told the same old story. With an irritated sigh Delaney Broward quickened her pace through the warehouse-turned-art-co-op toward her brother’s studio at the far end of the cavernous hall. On his best days Corey had little sense of time. Add a joint to the mix and he lost his sense not only of time but of responsibility. It also explained why he didn’t answer his phone. When he got high and started painting, he wanted no interruptions. His lime-green VW van was parked cattywampus across two spaces in the lot that faced Alamo Street just south of downtown San Antonio. He might be physically present, but his THC-soaked mind had escaped its cell. Marijuana served as his muse and taskmaster. Or so he’d said. The soles of her huarache sandals clacking on the concrete floor sounded loud in Delaney’s ears. “Corey? Corey! You were supposed to pick us up at Ellie’s. Come on, dude. She’s waiting.” No answer. At this rate Delaney would never get to Night in Old San Antonio, affectionately known to most local folks as NIOSA. Everyone who was anyone knew it was pronounced NI-O-SA, long I and long O, the best party-slash-fundraiser during the mother of all parties where her boyfriend would be waiting for her. “Hey, bro, I’m starving. Let’s go.” Delaney’s phone rang. She slowed and dug it from the pocket of her stonewashed jeans. Speaking of Ellie. “I’m at the co-op now. He’s here.” Share as little info as possible. “He’s stoned again, isn’t he? I’m sick of this.” Ellie’s shrill voice rose even higher. “I swear if he stands me up again— ” “Us. Stands us up.” “Stood us up again. That will be it. I’m done. I’m done waiting around for him. I’m done playing second fiddle to his self-destructive habits. I’m done with his starving-artist, free-spirit, pothead schtick. The man is a walking stereotype. I’m done with him, period.” Delaney mouthed the words along with her friend. She knew the lyrics of this lovesick song by heart. The childish rejoinder “It takes one to know one” stuck in her throat. “We’ll be there in twenty. You can tell him yourself.” Ellie would and then Corey would kiss her until she took it all back. With a final huff Ellie hung up. The door to his studio— the largest and with the best light because the co-op was Corey’s dream child— stood open. “Seriously, Corey. Think of someone besides yourself once in a while, please.” Delaney strode through the door, ready to ream her brother up one side and down the other. “You are so selfish.” Delaney halted. At first blush it didn’t make sense. Twisted and smashed canvases littered the floor. Along with paints, brushes, beer bottles, and Thai food take-out cartons. Wooden easels were broken like toothpicks and scattered on top of the canvases. Someone had splattered red paint over another finished piece— a woman eating a raspa in front of a vendor’s mobile cart, the Alamo in the background. Delaney’s hands went to her throat. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the odor of human waste gagged her. A fiery shiver started at her toes and raced like a lit fuse to her brain. Her mind took in detail after detail. That way she didn’t have to face the bigger picture staring her in the face. “Please, God, no.” Even He couldn’t fix this. She shot forward, stumbled, and fell to her knees. Her legs refused to work. She crawled the remainder of the distance to Corey across a floor marred by still-wet oil paint, beer, and other liquids she couldn’t bear to identify. He sat with his back against the wall. His long legs clad in paint-splattered jeans sprawled in front of him. His feet were bare. His hands with those thin, expressive fingers lay in his lap. Deep lacerations scored his palms and fingers. Her throat aching with the effort not to vomit, Delaney forced her gaze to move upward. His T-shirt, once white, now shone scarlet with blood. His blood. Rips in the shirt left his chest exposed, revealing stab wounds— too many to count. Delaney opened her mouth. Scream. Just scream. Let it out. No sound emerged. She crawled alongside her big brother until she could lean her shoulder and head against the wall. “Corey?” she whispered. His green eyes, fringed by thick, dark lashes that were the envy of every woman he’d ever dated, were open and startled. His skin, always pale and ethereal, had a blue tinge to it. Delaney drowned in a tsunami of nausea. “Come on, Corey, this isn’t funny. I need you.” Her teeth chattered. Hands shaking, she touched his throat. His skin was cold. So cold. Too late, too late, too late. The words screamed in her head. Stop it. Just stop it. “You can’t be dead. You’re not allowed to die.” Mom and Dad had died in a car wreck a week past her eighth birthday. Nana and Pops had taken their turns the year Delaney turned eighteen. Everybody she cared about died. Not Corey. Delaney punched in 9–1–1. The operator’s assurance that help was on the way did nothing to soothe Delaney. She sat cross-legged and dragged Corey’s shoulders and head into her lap. She had to warm him up. “Tell them to hurry. Tell them my brother needs help.” “Yes, ma’am. They’re en route.” “Tell them he’s all I’ve got.”

CHAPTER 2

TEN YEARS LATER NASH RESIDENCE, SAN ANTONIO

Real men didn’t cry. Not even during a reunion with a beloved truck. Swallowing hard, Hunter Nash wrapped his fingers around the keys, concentrating on the feel of the metal pressing into his skin. He cleared his throat. “Thanks, Mom. For keeping it all these years.” His mom didn’t bother to try to hide her tears. She wiped her plump cheeks on a faded dish towel, offered him a tremulous smile, and bustled down the sidewalk that led from the house on San Antonio’s near west side where Hunter had grown up to the detached two-car garage in the back. It had housed his truck for the past eight years. Almost ten if he counted the two years it took for his case to go to trial. He had no place to go in those years when he’d allegedly been innocent until proven guilty. His friends no longer friends and his job gone, he had no need for transportation. The door to the garage was padlocked. Mom handed him the key. “My hands are shaking. You’d better do the honors.” She stepped back. “I still can’t believe you’re here.” “I did my time, Ma.” As a model prisoner he’d earned time off for good behavior. It was easy for a guy to behave when he spent his days and nights scared spitless. “I know. All those nights I’ve lain in bed worrying about you in that place, whether you were safe, if you were hurt, if you were sick.” Her voice broke. “I can’t believe it’s over.” “Me neither.” It wasn’t over. In fact, it was just beginning, but she didn’t need to know that. His determination to prove his innocence would only worry her more. A divorced mother of four, she’d raised her kids on a teacher’s salary and an occasional child support check from the crud-for-brains ex-husband who showed up once every couple of years in an attempt to make nice with his kids. She deserved a break. The aging manual garage door squeaked and protested when Hunter yanked on the handle. He needed to do some work around here, starting with applying some WD-40. The smell of mold and old motor oil wafted from the dark interior. Hunter slipped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust. A layer of dust covered the 2002 midnight-blue Dodge RAM 1500, but otherwise it remained in the pristine condition in which he’d left it the night he said goodbye and promised he’d be back. “My baby.” More tears trickling down her face, Mom chuckled softly. “After you finish reintroducing yourself, come back inside. I’m making your favorite chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, pineapple coleslaw, and creamed corn. Your brother and sisters are coming over after work. Shawna’s bringing a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. Melissa’s contribution is three kinds of ice cream, including rocky road. She said it seemed appropriate. I hope you haven’t lost your sense of humor. And you know Curtis. He’s all about the beer.” The last thing Hunter wanted to do was celebrate with his sibs. Mel and Shawna had visited faithfully at first, but less as the years rolled by. Curtis never showed, even though Fabian Dominguez State Jail was only a few miles down the road from San Antonio. Nor did Hunter want to explain why he’d sworn off alcohol. The conditions of his parole included monthly pee tests— no alcohol or drugs, but that part of his life was over anyway. It had been easy to comply in prison, obviously. Whether he could maintain his sobriety in the beer drinking capital of the country remained to be seen. He’d do AA if necessary. “Mom— ” “No buts. They’re family. They love you. You need to live life, enjoy life, make up for all you’ve missed. You haven’t even met most of your nieces and nephews. Did you know Mel is expecting another baby in August?” “Yes, I— ” “Today we celebrate your new job and your new life.” His bachelor of fine arts with an emphasis in drawing and painting from Southwest School of Art might once have allowed him to teach art in one of the school districts, but not anymore. It didn’t matter. The prison chaplain had hooked him up with Pastor James. The preacher ran a faith-based community center that served at-risk youth. He’d hired Hunter to teach art to those who’d already had their first brush with the law. He figured Hunter could teach life lessons at the same time he introduced them to art as a way to channel their anger at the hand life had dealt them. Learning what happened when a guy got off track would be the lesson. Even though Hunter hadn’t gotten off the track. He’d been shoved off it. By an eager-beaver, newbie detective; a green-as-a-Granny-Smith-apple public defender; and an assembly-line justice system. He would get by in this world that had hung him out to dry. Especially knowing Mom had his back. She had that don’t-mess-with-me teacher look in her burnt-amber eyes. Like her sixth graders, Hunter knew better than to argue. It felt good to know she remained in his corner. When everyone else had hit the ground, scattering in opposite directions, she never budged in her belief that son number two could not be a murderer. She’d brought him up better than that. “You’re right. Give me a few minutes.” She patted his chest and stretched on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Her lips were chapped, and the wrinkles had deepened around her mouth and eyes. Her long hair had gone pure white during his years away. “Take your time, sweetheart.” Hunter gritted his teeth. After years of looking over his shoulder, bobbing and weaving around hard-core convicts who’d as soon shank a guy in the shower as look at him, he didn’t know how to cope with nice. With sweet. With love tempered with wisdom and a hard life. “One day at a time.” That’s what the prison chaplain had told him. “Get through the next minute, the next hour, the next day.” That’s how he did eight years at Dominguez. This couldn’t be any harder. He opened the truck’s door and slid into the driver’s seat. The faint odor of pine air freshener greeted him. And citrus. More likely that was his imagination. Delaney’s perfume simply could not linger that long. Move on. She has. She did. To her credit Delaney held on as long as she could— until the guilty verdict. Then she was forced to move on. She couldn’t be blamed for that. Hunter picked up the sketch pad on the passenger seat. In those days he kept one everywhere. Just in case. The first page. The second. The third. All drawings of Delaney. Sweet Laney eating a slice of watermelon at a Fourth of July celebration. Laney rocking Hunter’s newborn nephew in a hickory rocker on the front porch. Laney in a bathing suit sitting on the dock at Medina Lake. Laney with her soulful eyes, long sandy-brown hair, and air of sad vulnerability worn like a pair of old jeans that fit perfectly. That too-big nose, wide mouth, and pointed chin. Corey might have been the angelic beauty— totally unfair— but Delaney’s face had character. She had a face Hunter never ceased to want to draw and paint. And kiss. He turned the pages slowly, allowing the memories to have their way with him. Meeting at a party Corey had thrown when Delaney was a senior in high school. Their first date, ribs and smoked chicken with heart-stopping creamed corn, potato salad, coleslaw, and jalapeños at Rudy’s Country Store and Bar-B-Q followed by dancing at Leon Springs Dance Hall. She had danced with the abandon of a small child. As if she didn’t care who watched. Her face glowed with perspiration. Her green eyes sparkled with happiness. His two left feet couldn’t keep up, but she didn’t mind. She twirled her peasant skirt as she flew around him, her hands in the air, her curves beckoning. Hunter closed his eyes. Her softness enveloped him. Her sweetness surrounded him. He needed to see her again. He needed to talk to her. Somehow he had to prove to her that she was wrong about him. Whatever it took. He laid the sketchbook aside. “Come on, dude, let’s take a ride.” He stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing. Not even a tick-tick-tick. He tried a second time. Nada. “I’m an idiot.” He patted the steering wheel. “Not your fault, man.” The truck hadn’t been driven in years. The battery was dead. He might be able to jump it, but more likely he’d need a new one. Batteries cost money. One thing at a time. He’d waited this long. Hunter slid from the truck and eased the door closed. “I’ll be back when I get my act together.” In the kitchen Hunter found his mom peeling potatoes. She pointed the peeler at him. “You can’t imagine how good it feels to have you home.” “You can’t imagine how good it feels to be here.” He landed a kiss on her soft hair. She smelled of Pond’s cold cream. The same old comforting scent. Life had changed but not her. “I’m gonna take a walk. I need to blow the prison stink off.” “Enjoy. They redid the walking trail at the lake and installed new outdoor fitness equipment.” She waved the paring knife in the air. “But don’t stay too long. You have company coming.” “Yes, ma’am.” He pantomimed a mock salute and headed for the front door. One thing at a time. One step at a time. That’s how he’d get his life back. *** Excerpt from Trust Me by Kelly Irvin. Copyright 2022 by Kelly Irvin. Reproduced with permission from Thomas Nelson. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:
Kelly Irvin

Kelly Irvin is a bestselling, award-winning author of over twenty novels and stories. A retired public relations professional, Kelly lives with her husband, Tim, in San Antonio. They have two children, three grandchildren, and two ornery cats.

Visit her online at: www.KellyIrvin.com Goodreads BookBub – @KellyIrvin Instagram – @kelly_irvin Twitter – @Kelly_TrustMe Facebook – @Kelly.Irvin.Author

 

 

 

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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

Author Terry Korth Fischer will be awarding a $50 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.

Gone Before

by Terry Korth Fischer

Genre: Mystery

Synopsis

Small-town detective, Rory Naysmith, thought he’d seen it all, but a young woman’s brutal murder is especially hard to stomach. Doubly so, when he recognizes the murder’s MO is identical to that of Tobias Snearl—the killer he put behind bars a decade before. His frustration grows after a series of senseless accidents plague those dearest to him, and a second woman dies—this one too close to home. Searching for answers, Rory races against time, plunging deep into the murder investigations, drawing ever closer to becoming a casualty of the dark, angry deeds himself, until he finds no one is who they pretend to be—and none are beyond evil’s reach.

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Guest Post

Behind The Writer: A Day With Terry Korsh Fischer

I try to write every day, usually early before the day’s distractions have a chance to intrude. I love the predawn hours when no one is around, and the world starts to stir. If I’m up at four or five, I can put in a full eight-hour day before lunch and have the balance of the day for family, friends, and other activities.

 

It takes two cups of coffee to hit my creative stride. During my wakeup-warmup period, I check social media, read and answer emails, and tend to author chores. The caffeine and the connections usually limber my writing muscles. One or two hours is a good productive stretch, then a break. I enjoy the yard and sunshine, and fresh air. And even in less than idyllic conditions, I can be found under the patio cover getting an outdoor fix. Then it’s back to the keyboard for as long as I can stay productive—on a good day, accomplishing one or two more sprints.

 

I rarely return to writing after noon. Instead, I prefer to meet with friends, try a new restaurant, or indulge in a movie matinée. In addition, I volunteer at my church, regularly visit the county library, and am a thrift store junky. Those activities, plus cooking, occasionally baking, rarely cleaning, fill my afternoons.

 

In the evenings, I read. I love a good mystery and have a daunting TBR pile. Debut authors and old classics are among my favorites. Watching prime-time television isn’t essential to me, but now that streaming apps and on-demand movies are readily available, I might watch a crime or a mystery show before picking up a book. It is fair to say, I end every day by climbing inside a story.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“I think my guardian angel is off for the Fourth.” The detective studied the cloudless sky and tried not to think about his foot. It didn’t work. “Just use the crowbar to break one of these frickin’ stones loose.”

The jack handle didn’t do the trick. Opening the trenching tool and using the pick end, Thacker swung it against the largest stone. It bounced off the surface.

Rory suppressed a scream as pain shot from his knee down his encased leg. “Easy!”

“Sorry, boss.”

“Try removing one of the outer stones. Loosen them, and maybe we’ll be able to budge these. I’ll hold the light, and you make room for these damn jaws to unclasp. Try finding the cornerstone.”

A fine layer of perspiration covered Rory’s face. He felt defeated and a little nauseous. He leaned back on his elbows and looked at the sky. “Thacker,” he said, “this is damn unlucky.”

The rookie moved down the mound to the edge of the pile. Using the crowbar and a lot of muscle, he attacked. Finally, he was able to roll one stone out of position. Then another. He was still three feet from Rory’s crevice, working his way toward the more enormous boulders and Rory’s ultimate freedom, when the rock he was prying loose rolled out of place. He hesitated. “There is something funny here, boss.”

“I could use a good laugh.”

“Not ha-ha funny, peculiar funny.” “Tell me anyway.”

“There’s someone else in this rock pile.”

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Author Terry Korth Fischer

Terry Korth Fischer writes mystery and memoir. Her memoir, Omaha to Ogallala, was released in 2019. Her short stories have appeared in numerous anthologies in print and online. Terry is a member of Sisters in Crime, Pennwriters, Inc, and Clear Lake Area Writers. Transplanted from the Midwest, Terry lives in Houston with her husband and their two guard cats. She enjoys a good mystery, heat and humidity, and long summer days. Visit her website at https://terrykorthfischer.com

   

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a Rafflecopter 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.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

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Rabbit Shine

Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery Series Book 1

by Cliff Yeargin

Genre: Southern Fried Humorous Mystery

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RABBIT SHINE A Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery

Book # 1 in the Award Winning Southern Fried Mystery Series

Jake Eliam spent a lifetime in baseball, until a chance turn that led him into the Atlanta neighborhood known as ChickenBone, where he ended up a part time private investigator thanks to a timely meeting with the man everybody called Catfish, the owner of the legendary 3 Pigs BBQ. When the top big league prospect for the Atlanta Peaches is killed in a car accident, the city mourns”. But was it an accident? So in between his part time job of making custom baseball bats in his shop in ChickenBone, Eliam is hired to find out the truth. Along the way he runs into a wealthy former member of Congress with a penchant for quoting scriptures, two rednecks named Tater and Booger, an ex-con hired killer who scrapes up dead chickens for a living, a tattooed stripper, a flop eared dog named Chance, and a former sheriff turned moonshiner. And the truth gets lost in a mix of greed, ambition, jealousy, regret, and murder.

˃˃˃ And follow the series in book #2 HOOCHY KOOCHY Awarded The 1st Finalist Silver Medal for GEORGIA AUTHOR OF THE YEAR

Jake goes deep into the world of snake handlers and snake farms of the south to track down a guitar player missing for 20 years

DISCOVER JAKE ELIAM TODAY AND GRAB YOUR COPY

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

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Hoochy Koochy

Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery Series Book 2

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HOOCHY KOOCHY A Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery NAMED 1ST FINALIST IN THE 52ND ANNUAL GEORGIA AUTHOR OF THE YEAR AWARDS FOR MYSTERY/DETECTIVE NOVELS After a long season of making baseball bats all Jake Eliam wants to do is relax and watch the World Series. But when his friend Catfish calls with what he says is easy money, his other job as a Private Investigator intervenes. Catfish’s former fraternity brother is looking for his own payday if can reunite all the original players in his “One Hit Wonder”college band and is willing to pay big bucks to track down the one missing member, the lead guitar player. The only lead, his classic Fender that went missing at the same time. The trail meets up with a late night DJ, a beautiful hippie turned wealthy housewife, a stoned drummer with a shaky trigger finger, a mysterious son of the Dixie Mafia and a church where snakes are served up along side apple pie. The search ends up on a snake farm run by a fellow named Sweet Thang who has a penchant for old TV shows and speaking in rhymes. As secrets come crawling out like copperheads, Jake Eliam begins to think he just might end up a “One Hit Wonder” himself.

˃˃˃ AWARD WINNING SOUTHERN FRIED MYSTERY SERIES

Begin your time with Jake Eliam with Book #1 in the series RABBIT SHINE

Reviewers rave about the characters and places in this entertaining new mystery series:

“Every page seems to breathe with life and atmosphere. The inside of Jake’s head is a wonderful place to be.”

DISCOVER JAKE ELIAM TODAY AND GRAB YOUR COPY

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

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MudCat Moon

Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery Series Book 3

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Billy Ray Kincaid is in the catbird seat. He owns a TV Sports Network that showcases Cissy, a sexy young sideline reporter and televises the top college football game each week. But the self proclaimed turnaround artist went cheap and now BTSN is about to go bust. Enter Jake Eliam, a lifetime baseball man, who scrapes by making baseball bats on the edge of a train yard known as ChickenBone. When cash runs low his best friend Catfish, the owner of the 3 PIGS BBQ, steps in with hot pulled pork, cold cash and work as a private investigator. When Alabama faces Georgia in the biggest game of the year, Catfish wrangles Jake to play bodyguard to Cissy who is the subject of an unusual stalker. The easy payday soon turns into a blocked punt of greed and deception. As the trail winds to the old Dixie Dew Pickle Factory in the North Georgia mountains, Jake rounds up his friends and a team of misfits including a drunken former Bulldog they call Dumptruck and a reclusive ex-con named Boobytrap. His ragtag team has time to run one last play on 4th and long or end up permanently benched.
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From the author of HOOCHY KOOCHY The 2016 Georgia Author of the Year Silver Medalist Finalist comes another SOUTHERN FRIED MYSTERY

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

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BirdDog Boogie

Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery Series Book 4

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The latest in the Award Winning ChickenBone Mystery Series

Sammy ‘Shoestring’ Stubbs wasn’t a very good Major League ballplayer, but he was a Hall of Fame thief. During his short time in the big leagues, Shoestring stole every piece of baseball memorabilia from teammates and opponents that he could get his greedy hands on. Back home in Georgia, a nasty poker game turned into a double murder and Shoestring and his loot disappeared. Decades later, the scout who signed him has a lead on where it all might be hidden. Enter Jake Eliam, a former player turned PI, who teams up with an odd cast of characters that would rival any baseball team to track down the treasure. The cast includes his best friend Catfish, a wise worm farmer, a nosy reporter who dresses like a surfer, a bounty hunter named after Jerry Lee Lewis, a strip club owner that resembles the Fat Elvis and a guide famous for burning down a burger joint. Toss in a 150 year old ghost along with deep secrets hidden beneath a mysterious and dangerous shoals and you have got yourself one Southern Fried BirdDog Boogie.

If you’re a Southern guy, the kind that loves MLB, College Football, and food from the Varsity, you’re going to love Yeargin’s books. Think Lewis Grizzard, okay.”

Shelton Stevens, Atlanta, Georgia

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

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Goodreads * Amazon

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SweetTater Tango

Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery Series Book 5

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Catfish Wilson is a football man, Jake Eliam a baseball man. But when the Southern Nights Baseball League needs investors, Catfish switches sports to become part owner of the Tully City TaterHeads. Despite sensing a bad mojo, Jake signs on as Manager for a fat paycheck. The brains behind the league, Billy Bonz, cares more about pig races and ticket gate monkeys than baseball. During the season’s biggest promotion, a legendary car from a famous TV show barrels through the outfield fence and disappears into the night. Jake is forced to form a new team to find the car or everybody goes home broke. The lineup includes Sugar, a Smokey & The Bandit wannabe. BoDilly, an ex-con who hangs out with a beer-drinking hog, and his pals, Polecat and RoadKill. This team of misfits faces some high heat from a mean backwoods clan, a corrupt sheriff, and the Tully City Peanut King. With two out in the ninth, they have one last chance to steal a win or end up on the wrong end of a suicide squeeze.

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

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Goodreads * Amazon

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The first question I usually get when a reader picks up one of my books is “What exactly is a ChickenBone?” Well, ChickenBone is not a what, it is a where. It is a fictional neighborhood near downtown Atlanta filled with old rundown buildings, a working trainyard and the setting for my series.

 

The books are mysteries, but it’s not your Mamas’ mystery. When the last word in the Sub-Title is MYSTERY, folks immediately think about the ‘traditional’ mystery. You know the kind. Page one, somebody is whacked, a murder, a body and in comes a slick investigator and for the next 300 pages, readers are taken on a wild ride of twist, turns, thrills and clues and then on page 299, you are STUNNED at the surprise twist at the end. Well, if you picked up one of my books expecting this…you have made a serious purchasing error…The ChickenBone Series is more about the JOURNEY. Jake may have a little problem getting the truck started, but once it is rolling down some backwoods dirt road, it will eventually get you to where you’re going, and you will meet some dang interesting and odd folks along the way.

 

You see, if you pick up a ChickenBone book, you’re just picking up a dang good STORY. It’s more like a bunch of friends sitting around a fire and one guy starts telling a tale. He’s Rambling, running off into the ditch, the beer is getting warm and you’re saying to yourself…when the heck is this fool ever going to get around to telling us what happened.

Then an hour, two beers and a few logs later, you are leaning into the fire, hanging on for the ride to the finish. You just have to empty the cooler and burn through a pile of good oak to get there.

 

It’s real simple. The folks that end up reading the entire ChickenBone Series is the same person who would have absolutely no guilt or remorse when it comes to plopping down in a recliner with a bucket of fried chicken and watching a ballgame from start to finish without moving an inch.

 

So, I feel like I need to add a DISCLAIMER of sorts. Everything has got a disclaimer on it these days. Toothpaste has one, eggs have two and whiskey, oh boy, whiskey has a long list in small print to avoid any legal or personal repercussions. So, on the advice of my semi-licensed lawyer, Rufus B Bailey, a proud graduate of The Gilly Gilbert School of Law and Muffler Repair, I am officially posting this disclaimer just in case you grab a ChickenBone Mystery and go looking to

find some CIA guy chasing a Russian spy. That ain’t gonna happen. Disclaimer…Said and done.

All correspondence and complaints should be forwarded to Rufus. If you find him, let me know…he owes me money.

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Cliff Yeargin has spent his life as a ‘Storyteller, traveling the U.S. as a Writer/Producer/Photographer and Editor in Broadcast journalism.

He began his career in the mountains of Western North Carolina where he worked with two college buddies, both who went on to become Sports Broadcasting Legends. Yeargin did not, but he did shoot the only video of the first 3-Point goal in the history of NCAA College Basketball. This is NOT fiction…you can look it up!

His travels as a broadcaster have taken him to dozens of Major League ballparks, World Series, Super Bowls, Final Fours, NASCAR, National Championships and he managed to convince his bosses for many, many years that staying at a Baseball Spring Training camp for two months involved hard work and sacrifice.

He has written stories in more places than you can count. In dugouts with rats under his feet, smelly locker rooms, planes, trains, hotel bars, buses at 4AM outside Detroit. All while submitting a staggering number of falsified expense reports.

He grew up on a rural cattle farm in Georgia, which taught him many valuable life lessons, such as never poke a big bull in the rear with a big stick.

A proud Bulldog graduate of the University of Georgia, he has now returned to his native state and lives in a downtown Atlanta neighborhood.

There is no Atlanta neighborhood known as ChickenBone…but there should be.

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

 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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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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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

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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
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

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

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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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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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.