Archive for the ‘Mystery’ Category

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Over the Edge: A Novel
by Kathleen Bryant

 


Over the Edge: A Novel
Traditional Mystery
Setting – Sedona, Arizona
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Crooked Lane Books (June 4, 2024)
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 304 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1639107541
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1639107544
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CH9KTJ6C

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In Sedona’s red rock canyons, a former reporter must piece together her shattered memories in time to stop a killer in this cat-and-mouse thriller, perfect for fans of CJ Box and Anne Hillerman.

After a disastrous mistake ended her career as a crime reporter, Del Cooper returns to Sedona and takes a gig with a down-on-its-luck tour company while she rebuilds her life. Her peaceful small-town escape ends when, hiking in a remote red rock canyon, she finds the broken body of a murdered man.

At first, she believes the murder is connected to a proposed land trade that will pave the way for a luxury development on the edge of town, but it seems money isn’t the killer’s only motive. As she digs deeper, she uncovers the small town’s darkest secrets, all leading her to Lee Ranch, a former filming location for Western movies. Two women disappear after Del interviews them, and rumors begin to spin faster than Sedona’s famed energy vortexes. But she knows the truth: Someone is watching her from the shadows.

About Kathleen Bryant

Kathleen Bryant turned her boots-first exploration of the West’s landscapes and cultures into a career as a travel writer and novelist. Her publishing credits include romance novels, travel guides, magazine articles, an award-winning children’s picture book, and a cookbook highlighting National Parks. An avid hiker and history buff, she’s led tours of ancient rock art sites, participated in field school digs, and guided yoga experiences in the red rocks of Sedona. Today, Kathleen lives with her musician husband in California, where she continues to seek out new adventures. When she’s not writing or researching her next book, you might find her on a hiking trail taking photos of wildflowers or driving down a country lane to visit a dairy farm or vineyard.

Author Links: Website / Facebook / Instagram / Bluesky / LinkedIn / Amazon

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Purchase Links

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TOUR PARTICIPANTS

June 4 – Mystery, Thrillers, and Suspense – SPOTLIGHT

June 4 – Elizabeth McKenna – Author – SPOTLIGHT

June 5 – Baroness Book Trove – SPOTLIGHT

June 5 – Christy’s Cozy Corners – REVIEW, AUTHOR GUEST POST

June 6 – Literary Gold – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

June 6 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – REVIEW

June 7 – Celticlady’s Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

June 7 – Sapphyria’s Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

June 8 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

June 8 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT

June 9 – Maureen’s Musings – SPOTLIGHT

June 9 – StoreyBook Reviews – AUTHOR GUEST POST

June 10 – Ruff Drafts – AUTHOR GUEST POST

June 10 – Guatemala Paula Loves to Read! – REVIEW

June 11 – Ascroft, eh? – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

June 11 – Carla Loves To Read – REVIEW

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Murder At The College organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author P.H. Turner will award a $20 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

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

Murder At The College

by P.H. Turner

 

 

Genre: Mystery

Synopsis

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Enjoy this peek inside:

The Starlight bar’s back door was unlocked, and the old door creaked like a rusty garden gate. If Kat was already there, she knew someone had arrived. Quinn ran through the corridor and past Ben’s dark office toward a light burning over the mixologist workstation. Ben was dropping orange peels into a steaming pot of water and wearing earbuds. He was humming softly to himself.

“Ben,” she yelled as she raced up the steps to join him.

He turned around and jerked out the earbuds. “What’s going on?”

Suddenly, the lights went out, plunging the bar into the dark. The only light came from the gas flame flickering under the bubbling pot. “Call the police,” Quinn said.

“It’s okay. It’s the storm. I have a flashlight around here somewhere.” Ben bent over and pulled a light out from under the counter.

Quinn whirled around to stare into the back hall. She’d heard something, but it was black as pitch, and she couldn’t see.

Ben must have heard it, too. He aimed the powerful flashlight into the hallway. “Who’s there?”

The overhead light flickered once and came on, and the hairs on the back of Quinn’s neck rose.

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About Author P.H. Turner:

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P.H. Turner (Pat) writes contemporary mysteries spiked with long-held grudges, secrets, and murder. With roots in a Texas farm homesteaded in the 1850s, she calls Austin home. When she’s not writing, she’s cooking for family, or taking care of a pair of hairy mutts, or in her garden coaxing roses to bloom in the Texas heat.

Pat is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and Romance Writers of America.

Author Links: Amazon / Website / Facebook / Twitter / Pinterest

Purchase Link: Amazon

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 Helena has never dreamt of becoming an amateur detective. But when
she finds the body of a young woman while on a walk, she can’t help
but try and discover who she was and how she got there.

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The Body at Back Beach

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by KJ Sweeney

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Genre: Murder Mystery

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 Helena Statham never imagined herself as a sleuth. But when she
stumbles upon the body of a young woman while on a walk, she can’t
resist the urge to discover who she was and how she got there. Even
if it means upsetting the tight-knit community of the small New
Zealand town she lives in, and uncovering secrets that have long been
buried.

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Thirty years ago, a young woman went missing, but no one
tried to find out what had happened to her. As Helena investigates
deeper, she learns more about what took place back then, putting
herself in danger now.

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Join Helena on her journey as she becomes
an unlikely amateur detective, determined to uncover the truth and
bring justice to the long-forgotten young woman whose story has been
buried in silence for far too long.

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Amazon
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Can you, for those who don’t know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author? 

Like many authors, I’ve always written. In my teenage years it was angsty poetry and a daily diary that I kept for about fifteen years (before I had children and hadn’t got the energy for that anymore!) I’ve also written lots of short stories and started books; I can’t seem to not write really. I’d never actually managed to finish a novel though, that seemed to be the hard bit. A few years back I was getting close to turning forty and I thought that it was about time I actually finished one of my ideas. I didn’t quite complete it by my birthday, but I finished the first draft of The Body at Back Beach about a month or so later. Since then, I’ve actually managed to finish three other books. This is the first one that’s ready for the world to share though!

 

Where were you born/grew up at? 

I was born and grew up in Derbyshire England. I lived in the UK until I was thirty and had my first two babies there. My husband is from New Zealand and we decided to move there with our young family. Fifteen years and two more babies later and we’ve recently moved home to the UK. I loved living in New Zealand and it’s where The Body at Back Beach is set. I’ve tried to capture some of the New Zealand that I loved while I lived there in the pages of the book.

I moved back to Britain to be close to my family. I think that there will always be a part of me that has a connection to New Zealand though. I lived there for fifteen years and the decision to come back home wasn’t an easy one. We have family back in New Zealand so no doubt we’ll be back to visit in the future.

 

What inspired you to write this book? 

The Body at Back Beach was very much inspired by the landscape around the area of New Zealand that I lived. I used to walk around Back Beach in Port Chalmers two or three times a week, much like Helena, the main character does. One day I was walking around there after there had been some really bad storms. The rain had caused some land slips and I started to imagine what I would do if it had uncovered something unexpected, like a body that had been buried years before. The story grew from there.

I’ve always really enjoyed murder mysteries, both in books and on television. This was the first one that I tried to write myself though, the other books that I’ve tried to write before have been different genres. I think that a mystery book fits my style better than other things that I’ve tried.

 

What can we expect from you in the future? 

Helena already has a second adventure lined up. I’ve written the first draft but have some editing to do. I hope to write a whole series following Helena where she’ll find herself solving more mysteries. I’ve also got a couple of other books in the works, one set in medieval times, a half-written mystery in a large Victorian mansion and something completely different set in 1980’s Britain, They’re all quite a way off being ready for the rest of the world to share as yet, but hopefully I’ll have something for you all soon.

I just need to find some time to really get my teeth into things and get things edited and polished first. Hopefully after the launch of The Body at Back Beach I’ll have a bit more time to get on with that.

 

Do you read yourself and if so what is your favorite genre? 

I read lots and lots, I always have done. My perfect idea of some ‘me’ time is peace and quiet, a nice cup of tea and a good book; bliss! I like to read lots of different types of books, I particularly like murder mysteries or romance though. My all-time favourite books tend to be historical murder mysteries and if there’s a little bit of chemistry between the lead characters then all the better. I do really enjoy ‘classic’ murder mysteries too, either older ones by Agatha Christie or Dorothy L. Sayers or modern whodunits that follow the same kind of format. I think that The Body at Back Beach would fit in well with that kind of book and be in good company.

Like many avid readers, I have a shelf and kindle full of more titles than I have time to read. That doesn’t stop me from buying more and I’m always on the lookout for recommendations for new books to check out.

 

Pen or typewriter or computer?

I love writing by hand with a nice pen and brand-new notebook. When it comes to writing a book though, it has to be my laptop. I make far too many mistakes to manage with a typewriter and I find that I can write quicker on keyboard than on paper. I’m dyslexic, so using a keyboard (and spell check) makes the whole process much easier for me. I’ve also managed to reach the point where I can type much faster than I can write by hand, at least with it all being legible at the end! I also like to be able to back everything up on the computer. It makes it easier to edit and make changes when I come back to work on a draft too.

 

Can you tell us a little bit about the characters in The Body at Back Beach? 

My main character is Helena, she’s in her early 50’s and works as a counselor at Otago University in Dunedin New Zealand. She has two grown up sons who have left home in the last few years and she lives with her husband in the family home overlooking Otago Harbour. Until recently, she’s been working full-time, but decided to take a bit of a step back and spend some more time in the local community. She loves where she lives and although she travelled quite a lot in her younger years, she wouldn’t live anywhere else.

The other characters in this book are residents of Port Chalmers and the surrounding area. Helena knows some of them before the book starts, but others are people that she comes across as she starts to investigate the murder. We don’t meet Helena’s sons in this book, but they will appear in future titles.

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 Kelly Jo Sweeney grew up in England before moving to New Zealand
where she lived for 15 years with her kiwi husband and four wonderful
children. An avid reader from an early age, crime novels have long
been a favourite. She always likes to work out whodunnit before the
big reveal and writing her own novels means that there’s at least
one that she’ll always get right. Her debut novel is set in and
inspired by the unique scenery of New Zealand, infusing her stories
with a wonderful sense of place and atmosphere.

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 Nurse Trudy Genova mixes her movie studio consulting work with her
nose for murder!

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Death in the Orchard

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The Trudy Genova
Manhattan Mysteries Book 3

by M.K. Graff

Genre: Mystery,
Police Procedural, Amateur Sleuth

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The
third Trudy Genova mystery from award-winning author M. K. Graff
brings Trudy home, leaving her New York City studio consulting job to
visit her rural hometown of Schoharie, three hours north. NYPD
detective Ned O’Malley accompanies Trudy, primed to meet her family,
but with a secret mission to find out what really happened when her
father died eleven years ago.

Mario Genova’s death was deemed
a tragic accident, but Trudy feels there was more to her beloved
father acting out of character the day before he died. After years of
hard work building a successful apple orchard business with her
mother, Mario cleaned out their bank accounts. No reason-and no
money-was ever found. As Trudy and Ned try to investigate without
informing her family of their actions, a new death occurs on Genova
Orchards property, and once again Trudy’s family is under scrutiny.

“A welcome and forceful
return of MK Graff’s Trudy Genova, Death in the Orchard is a well-
crafted and thought-provoking story of unexplained death and
cold-blooded murder, as Trudy sets out to solve the death of her
father with her NYPD boyfriend Ned O’Malley. The couple return to the
Genova family orchards to dig into the past as the present threatens
to shake the family to their very core.

Graff deals us a cold case of
family intrigue, a small-town conspiracy, and a terrifying leap into
the unknown, as her heroine comes face to face with a secret she
thought would never be told, a case impossible to solve, and a dogged
determination to finally get to the truth.

A masterclass in laying the
threads bare and knitting them together in a satisfying conclusion.”

Mandy Morton, Author of The
No. 2 Feline Detective Agency series.

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Amazon
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Dru Ann Love:              A DAY IN MY LIFE: TRUDY GENOVA                   For April 2024

 

“CUT! That’s a wrap!” With a loud thunk, the Klieg lights dim and I pick my way over heavy cables by the remaining dim light and follow the cast and crew out the studio door., eyes blinking after the darkness inside.

My name is Trudy Genova, RN, and my work as a medical consultant for a New York movie studio is over for this week. I feel like a puppy who’s found the gate left open, freedom beckoning, as I’m cut loose for a week’s vacation with my boyfriend, NYPD detective Ned O’Malley.

This job is any nurse’s dream. I wear jeans to work, no one is puking on my shoes, and best of all, no one is really ill or dying. Of course, there were those murders last spring at the soap opera, but I helped Ned to figure that out, despite his annoyance at me insinuating myself into his investigation. And then there was the case earlier this month at the Dakota building, where we filmed a made-for-TV movie and an actor was killed. By then, Ned was reconsidering my ability to figure out human nature and unravel puzzles as we started our relationship. I guess I do have a nose for murder, but that’s a good thing for someone who has always read and adored crime fiction, and now plans to write her own mystery.

The perks of this job include days when there’s not a medical scene filming, and I can lounge at home in my yoga pants. I may have to correct script pages of medical scenes the studio faxes over, but this schedule gives me plenty of time to work on my NYU course and fledgling writing.

Today is very different, when reality will supplant my fictional world. I run to the production office to pick up my rolling suitcase, backpack, and laptop bag, then rush outside to wait for Ned to pick me up. I have ten days off and we are heading north to my family home in the Catskills on an apple orchard, ostensibly for him to meet my family. My oldest brother and his wife are expecting their first baby, and there will be a shower to attend before Ned and I knuckle down to the bigger reason I’ve asked him to come home with me: I want to finally find out what really happened when my father died eleven years ago.

It was deemed an accident at the time, but there are circumstances around it that have never been explained, including my father draining my parents’ pension fund, with the money never found. I’ve always felt deep down that my father was murdered, but I have no idea if either of my brothers or my mom feel the same way.

All I do know is that it’s time for me to dig deeply into Mario Genova’s death, whether my family is happy about resurrecting the past or not. At least I’ll have Ned and his expertise at my side. What could possibly go wrong?

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Death at the Dakota

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The Trudy Genova
Manhattan Mysteries 2

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 Nurse Trudy Genova is making plans to take her relationship with NYPD
detective Ned O’Malley to the next level when she lands a gig as
medical consultant on a film shoot at the famed Dakota apartment
building in Manhattan, which John Lennon once called home. Then star
Monica Kiley goes missing, a cast member turns up dead, and it
appears Trudy might be next. Meanwhile Ned tackles a mysterious
murder case in which the victim is burned beyond recognition. When
his investigations lead him back to the Dakota, Trudy finds herself
wondering: how can she fall in love if she can’t even
survive?

Readers of Death Unscripted, the first book in
the Trudy Genova Manhattan Mystery series, will find the same
pleasures in this sequel: fast pacing, engaging characters, twists
and turns on the way to a satisfying close. Once again M.K. Graff
reveals her talents in crafting this delightful mix of amateur sleuth
and police procedural.

Part procedural, part cozy, Death
at the Dakota is a well-crafted and highly entertaining mystery.-
Bruce Robert Coffin, #1 bestselling author of the Detective Byron
mysteries.

I fell in love — not only with
co-protagonists, Trudy and Ned, the richly detailed and historic
setting of The Dakota, and the unique cast of characters, but with
the unusual plot of Death at the Dakota. Sherry Harris, Agatha Award
nominated author of the Sarah Winston Garage Sale Mysteries.

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Death Unscripted

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The Trudy Genova
Manhattan Mysteries Book 1

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 Trudy Genova has the best job any nurse could want, working on set as
a medical consultant for a NY movie studio. No more uniforms, bedpans
or emergencies, until at the actor whose overtures she’s refused dies
suddenly while taping a hospital scene–but not before pointing his
finger accusingly at Trudy. When detectives view Trudy as a suspect,
she sets out on an investigation to clear her name. Then a second
death occurs, and Trudy realizes she’s put herself in jeopardy.

A
new mystery from the award-winning author of the Nora Tierney English
Mystery Series, DEATH UNSCRIPTED is based on the authors’ real work
experience during her nursing career and is the mystery series
British Queen of Crime P. D. James insisted she write. A mix of
amateur sleuth and police procedural, the story is told in first
person from Trudy’s point of view, and in third from NYPD Detective
Ned O’Malley

Marilyn Chris, Obie and Drama Desk
Award-winning actor who played Wanda Wolek on ABC’s soap “One
Life to Live” notes: “Graff gets behind the scenes of soaps
just right, as well she should–she was there!”

Edith
Maxell, national bestselling author of multiple mystery series says:
“Your blood pressure will soar during M. K. Graff’s new
Manhattan Mystery, as nurse Trudy Genova takes the pulse of a killer
during a soap opera filming in Death Unscripted. You won’t even think
about changing the channel during this smart, suspenseful
mystery.”

And Triss Stein, author of the Erica Donato
Mysteries, has this to say: “Soap opera drama is as intense on
the set as it is on the screen. Sometimes Trudy Genova, consulting
nurse, feels like the only sane person in the room. Join her as she
copes with huge ego, daily melodrama, an attractive detective, and
life in New York . . . plus murder. The city and the studio provide
intriguing backgrounds for this entertaining mystery.”

Helen
Smith, UK author of the The Emily Castle Mysteries, agrees that Death
Unscripted is “an engaging story featuring a charming amateur
sleuth. A great start to a mystery series.”

Amazon
* BridlePathPress
* Bookbub
* Goodreads

 

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 Marni Graff is the award-winning author of The Nora Tierney
English Mysteries
and The Trudy Genova Manhattan Mysteries.
Her stories are in several anthologies, including the Anthony
Award-winning Malice Domestic’s Murder Most Edible. She is
Managing Editor of Bridle Path Press, a crime book reviewer, and
blogs for Miss Demeanors. Graff is a member of Sisters in Crime,
Mavens of Mayhem SinC, Triangle SinC, Mystery People UK, and the
International Association of Crime Writers. She lives in eastern NC
with her husband and two Aussiedoodles.

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The Twisted Road by A.B. Michaels Banner

The Twisted Road
by A.B. Michaels
May 23 – 29, 2024 Book Blast

 

 

Synopsis:
Barrister Perris Mysteries

 

Jonathan Perris Can’t Save His Clients …Until He Saves Himself

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1907 Rising from the devastation of a massive earthquake and fire, San Francisco is once again on the move. But a strike by streetcar drivers threatens to halt the Golden City in its tracks. Protests turn to violence and violence leads to death. Soon a young guard is convicted of willfully killing a protester and the public is out for blood. Jonathan Perris, an immigrant attorney from England, has opened a law firm with an eye toward righting wrongs, and the guard’s conviction may fall into that category. But the talented barrister soon finds his newfound career shaken by a tragic event: the gruesome homicide of the beautiful and mysterious Lena Mendelssohn—a woman he’s been squiring around town. It’s difficult to run a law firm when you’ve been arrested for murder.

Don’t miss your chance for a limited time sale! Grab The Twisted Road for $1.99!
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

 

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery

Published by: Red Trumpet Press Publication Date: May 21, 2024 Number of Pages: 422 ISBN: 978-1-7337863-4-8 (Paperback) 978-1-7337863-0-0 (ebook) Series: Barrister Perris Mysteries, Book 1

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Goodreads

Enjoy this peek inside:
Chapter One
Bloody Tuesday
San Francisco Turk Street Car Barn May 7,1907 Nineteen years old, with the long, skinny limbs of a colt, Jimmy Walsh crouched behind a lamppost and shivered in the early morning fog. He dropped the brick he’d been clutching and hesitated before picking it up again. “This ain’t right,” he said, just loud enough for his nearest comrade in arms to hear. “It’s like waitin’ for Beelzebub to unleash his hounds of hell.” Several yards away, the wooden barn that housed the city’s electric trolley cars remained shuttered, but the sounds inside, muted through the mist, told him the show was about to begin. Toke Griffin, a rock in one meaty hand, took a drag of his cheroot with the other. The smoke mixed with the fog, obscuring his leathered face. Two decades older than Jimmy, he was a union man from way back. This strike was nothing new. “Yeah, well them mutts are takin’ our jobs and we got to stop ’em any way we can.” He tossed the rock a few times and caught it. “They’re scabs and rotten to the core. We got to let them know it.” The gas-powered streetlight above Jimmy hissed, letting off sparks and a sulfurous belch. Toke barked in appreciation. “Even the damn lamp’s on our side.” “Shut the hell up!” Another hiss—this one from a fellow striker, positioned behind one of the barbed wire barriers the scabs had set up to protect the cars. “You’ll give us away.” Toke continued to grouse but lowered his voice. “Hell, you think they don’t know we’re out here? They’re chompin’ at the bit same as us.” He tossed his rock again. “But we got right on our side, just like old Davey and Goliath. You wait and see.” Jimmy tried to swallow but couldn’t get passed his Adam’s apple. Lord, he wished he had some water or somethin’ else to calm the jitters taking over his body. Even his lucky red flannel shirt was no help. Why didn’t he keep the grub his mother had given him as he’d left that morning? She’d been up before him, knowing he had to go and not even trying to talk him out of it. “You keep your head down,” she warned as she handed him the bag with bread and cheese and a slice of apple cake in it. She’d even put in a mason jar full of cider. “Sure, sure, Ma,” he’d told her, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” Giving her a peck on the cheek, he’d headed out, but once around the corner, he’d ditched the bag, thinking it would look squirrelly bringing a lunch sack to a riot. What a damn fool. It shouldn’t have come to this. It’d been over a year since the earthquake and fire had torn up the city, and the roads were still a tangled, busted-up mess. It was tricky driving the streetcars, and there were fewer drivers to boot. All the union wanted was an eight hour day and three bucks a shift. But United Railroads kept bickering with the city over repairs and used that excuse to refuse the union’s demands. What else could the carmen do but strike? Then the company brought in the Farleymen to drive the cars—four hundred of them! It stunk to high heaven and Toke had the right of it: they had to stop the scabs from taking their jobs. The crowd outside the barricade was growing. Jimmy saw groups of Poles and Italians and Irish, even Chinese. They weren’t members of his union, but they were workingmen all the same, showing their support. That was labor for you, sticking together to get the job done. But there were also women and kids pouring out onto the street, like it was a parade or something! Thank God Ma had stayed home; he hoped his cousin was smart enough to keep her distance, too. This kind of ruckus was no place for females. But damn if there weren’t plenty of ladies mixed in with everybody else, a lot of them young and fired up, itchin’ for a fight just like the men. He’d never admit it, but deep down, part of him admired their courage. Like Toke said, they were sticking up for what was right. He was chewing on those thoughts when the big wooden doors on the barn began to slide open with a screech and the streetcars lumbered out, each driven by a scab, and each protected by several men with clubs and a guard with a rifle. The clock in the tower above the car barn soon started chiming the hour, but it was nearly drowned out by all the people screaming insults as they surged through an opening where the cars were supposed to leave the yard. The strikers rushed by Jimmy, shoving him out of the way and already throwing whatever they’d been carrying—rocks and bricks and bottles—toward the scabs. Some strikers on the roofs pushed iron girders they must have got from construction sites; the beams hit the cars with a sickening clang. Jimmy started to throw his brick, but stopped when he got a look at the second car and who was guarding it. Damnation, it was Emmett Barnes! That sonofabitch used to be a union man—not to mention Jimmy’s best friend—and now he was a hired gun for the Farleymen! He watched Emmett shoot his rifle into the air a few times, and his shots were answered by rooftop union men protecting the strikers on the ground. He couldn’t see Emmett’s face too well, but he bet his ex-friend wasn’t happy, especially since his shots hadn’t stopped the crowd from swarming around his car. Jimmy wasn’t part of that crowd; he couldn’t make himself move—like he was paralyzed or something—as he watched it all unfold. A brick sailed through the air and hit Emmett in the face; he dropped down, and Jimmy couldn’t see him anymore. He glanced to his left and saw a man taking photographs of everybody. “Quit takin’ pictures!” Jimmy yelled at him. “Get out of the way—you’re gonna get hurt!” More and more people began pushing Jimmy from behind, determined to stop the cars from running. He turned back to Emmett’s car and saw … and saw the rifle pointed toward the crowd from another angle. No, pointed right at him. Emmett? It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t do that, would he? He wouldn’t— Jimmy Walsh started to put his head down like his ma had told him, but he wasn’t fast enough. He heard the crack of the rifle and felt the thump of the bullet hitting his skull. Then he felt nothing at all.

Chapter Two

A Tainted Case
San Francisco June 1907 A barrister’s duty is to champion his client and seek justice in a court of law; when the client is guilty as sin, it complicates matters. Jonathan Henry Perris rose to give his closing argument in the matter of the state of California vs. Horace Baxter. He faced the twelve men sitting in judgment before him. “Gentlemen of the jury, you have already heard the facts of the case. My client, unfortunately, did shift money in relatively small amounts, from his firm’s accounts payable to his own savings account, over the course of several months. Those deposits did indeed line up chronologically with the amounts later deemed missing from the company’s ledger. It’s notable that Mr. Baxter, being the mathematical expert that he is, was precise in his recording, which speaks to his intent, as you shall see. “That is the ‘what’ of this case and we shall stipulate that for the record. But the ‘why’ of Mr. Baxter’s actions is crucial and so, if you will indulge me, I would like to frame it within the context of the world in which each of us lives … a world comprised of three lives: one public, one private, and one secret.” The prosecuting attorney looked comically befuddled. “Objection. What relevance does this have to the case before the court, Your Honor? Who cares why the defendant broke the law? The fact is, he broke it.” Judge Cormer cocked his head toward Jonathan. “Mr. Perris?” “I believe motive has much bearing on this case, your Honor. I will make my point as succinctly as possible, but you will see the relevance, I assure you.” The judge scratched his beard. “Overruled, then. Proceed, Mr. Perris but do make it succinct.” Jonathan turned back to his audience. “For example, I have come to know the public lives of many of you sitting here today. You are, generally speaking—” he said this with the hint of a smile, “— a reputable lot: a banker, a woolens merchant, a sheep rancher, to name a few. I too have a public persona. I am an immigrant, of course, but a respectable one, I hope. I am a trial attorney—what we would call a ‘barrister’ in England.” He extended his arms as if to display himself to the jury. He was wearing an impeccably tailored gray wool suit. “I bathe, I shave, and I dress suitably for my profession. “But, like you, I also have a private life. I am not married and those who visit my abode might notice the lack of a woman’s touch.” He kept his rueful smile in place. “I indulge in perhaps more than the occasional whiskey, and I keep erratic hours because, unlike many of you, I have no one waiting for me.” His tone began to harden. “Were I a fly on the wall in your homes, what would I witness, I wonder? Perhaps a perfect illustration of domestic bliss …” He leveled his gaze on specific members as he spoke. “… or perhaps not. My guess is that one or more of you enjoy your own favorite spirits to help you relax after a long day. Perhaps you drink too much, and your better half doesn’t like it. Maybe you get a thrill out of playing the ponies and you become despondent when you lose more money than you can afford. Maybe your temper runs hot, and your colleagues, not to mention your family members, have borne the brunt of it.” Some individuals were becoming restive; a few looked decidedly uncomfortable, no doubt wondering where Jonathan was headed. Certainly, Jonathan’s legal counterpart wondered. “Really, Your Honor? Is any of this relevant in the slightest to the matter at hand?” Jonathan caught Judge Cormer’s warning look and forged ahead. “Ah, but then there is the secret life that many if not all of us lead.” His voice dropped. “Perhaps you find pleasure with those you shouldn’t be seen with … maybe an addiction has you in its grip. Or perhaps you’ve done something so nefarious and so perverse that no one, no one must ever learn about it.” He leaned toward the jury box. “What if I, for example, were a murderer? What if one of you were? None of us would ever know it because it’s a secret.” Jonathan let the last word linger. “My client, Horace Baxter, led three lives, too. To the public he was an experienced adjustor for a respected insurance firm, in charge of determining the amount of payout for a given claim and reimbursing clients for their loss. His private life was relatively tame, with a harried wife and three boisterous young children, whom he adores.” Jonathan now grew animated, as if to let the jurors in on salacious gossip. “But his secret life involved a woman. Not in the sense you would imagine. Not a voluptuous siren who would turn the head of any man. No, gentlemen. She was his much younger sister, a dear sweet girl, naïve in the ways of the world, whom he had protected his entire life. She had been led astray and become, of all things, an opium eater. She was not married and could not hold a job. The only way to pay for her habit was to prostitute herself.” Jonathan glanced at his client. Horace Baxter was a hefty, florid man who was now slumped and staring at the table in front of him: a man mortified beyond the pale. Days before, Jonathan had railed against the man who had lied to him and professed his innocence until discovery had proved him guilty on all counts. Only then had he explained his true reason for “cooking” the company books. Jonathan sorely regretted taking the case, which he had done at the request of a colleague to whom he owed a favor. He wanted to believe he’d ignored his own instincts about the defendant, but in truth, he hadn’t picked up any warning signs until it was too late. He should have known better. “You have ruined any chance for me to establish reasonable doubt,” he’d admonished his client. “For God’s sake, man, with so much on the line, you don’t keep such a secret from your attorney!” Jonathan had advised Baxter to throw himself on the mercy of the court by exposing all, but adhering to such a strategy didn’t make it any easier to stomach. Jonathan now continued his argument. “Imagine yourself in Mr. Baxter’s shoes, gentlemen. Someone immeasurably close to you follows the wrong path and no matter how much you entreat them, harangue them, threaten them, cajole them, you cannot break the chain of dependence, a chain that has brought shame to your family—secretly—but at any moment could become public knowledge and lead to societal rejection and possibly the loss of your employment, resulting in economic ruin for you and your loved ones. It’s a conundrum, is it not?” He singled out the banker, who flinched slightly under Jonathan’s gaze. “You have one recourse left, which is to find a discreet sanitarium where your beloved little sister can get help. Such a place costs money that you do not have. So, you devise a plan to obtain that money knowing in your heart that it’s wrong to embezzle but rationalizing that it’s a small amount compared to the company’s vast book of business, and that you will find a way, somehow, to pay it all back. You are so intent on doing that, moreover, that you keep precise records. Your plan is to, over time, replenish the account, claim a ‘slight miscalculation’ in the monies due and return those amounts to each client. “The time comes when you have enough set aside to pay for the treatment, and you are about to send your sister away when a curious and astute co-worker finds something amiss.” Jonathan shrugged at the end of his tale. “And so you, like Mr. Baxter, might very well find yourself here today. “I humbly ask you to consider the “why” of this case, gentlemen, in light of your own secrets, and show mercy on this man who did the wrong thing for the right reason. That is all.” * * * Ten days later, Jonathan returned to the central jail to have a final word with his client. Although Horace Baxter was found guilty, the jury had taken pity on him and recommended time served, along with a modest fine and of course, the return of the stolen monies. Baxter would have to find a new job, but at least he wouldn’t rot in a prison cell. “You gonna break open the bubbly after getting your man out of jail?” The desk sergeant wanted to chat, but Jonathan was in no mood for it. He had a few parting words for his client and the sooner said the better. “That’s a capital idea, but I’m afraid more mundane duty calls. Have you got Mr. Baxter’s personal effects? I’ll take them to him.” The sergeant handed Jonathan the bag and waved him through. “Well, don’t be modest. The state had him dead to rights, but you got him off light as a feather. You’re a silver-tongued devil, you are.” Jonathan ignored the compliment as he made his way down the hall. “That’s not always a good thing,” he muttered. Horace Baxter was pacing his cell, waiting to be let out, when Jonathan arrived, asking the guard if he could have a few moments of privacy with his client. “Thank God this day has arrived,” Baxter said once the guard left. He donned his coat, buttoning it over his ample girth. “I’m ready.” “Well, I’m not,” Jonathan said. “Sit down.” “What?” Baxter frowned. “Is something wrong?” Jonathan fought to keep his words—and his actions—under control. “You might say that. I’ve been in contact with your so-called sister.” Baxter swallowed. “So … you’ve seen Franny? How … how did you—” “Imagine my surprise when I called on your long-suffering wife to ask about your sister’s welfare, only to find out it’s her sister—sweet, young Francine— who’s taken to a life of prostitution because of her addiction. And when I found that not so sweet young girl, plying her trade on Stockton Street, it turns out she’s disappointed as hell that you aren’t going to get her the help she so desperately needs. So disappointed, in fact, that she let slip who was responsible for her predicament in the first place.” The desperate look on Baxter’s face spoke volumes. “Wh—what did she say?” “You know what she said. And you know the only reason she doesn’t share that information with her sister is that it would destroy your family.” “You don’t understand. I mean … how tempting it was. I … I couldn’t help myself.” He hung his head, apparently bewildered by his own fall from grace. “You couldn’t keep your pants buttoned around your wife’s sister—a member of your own family? And you did nothing when she began to escape her guilt through opiates?” Jonathan’s disgust was palpable. “You are a pathetic excuse for a human being, Mr. Baxter. You are the worst kind of bounder because you’re self-indulgent and you’re weak. The only reason I’m not exposing you is the same reason Francine suffers in silence.” Jonathan leaned in and lowered his voice. “But heed my words: if you go near that young woman again, I will personally see to it that you pay the price—and believe me, that price is much too high, even for a mathematical charlatan like you.” “What’s going to happen to her?” Baxter whispered. Jonathan rose to his full height. “That is no longer your concern. You focus on keeping your family fed, within the boundaries of the law.” The two men said nothing more as Jonathan escorted Baxter out of the jail and into a waiting hansom cab. Good riddance. It was nearly noon and given his frame of mind, returning to his law office held no appeal. Jonathan considered inviting the woman he’d been seeing to an impromptu lunch, but quickly tabled the idea. Not only was Lena difficult to reach, but in truth he was in no mood to be sociable. Instead, he headed to a nearby watering hole and ordered one of the whiskeys he’d told the jury about. He thought about Francine and what she must have been like before she was betrayed by a brother-in-law she had no doubt looked up to and trusted. Tomorrow he’d find a way to help the young prostitute conquer her demons, but right now, more than anything, he needed to mask the bitter taste of setting a guilty man free. *** Excerpt from The Twisted Road by A.B. Michaels. Copyright 2024 by A.B. Michaels. Reproduced with permission from A.B. Michaels. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author A.B. Michaels:

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A.B. Michaels

A native of California, A.B. Michaels holds masters’ degrees in history (UCLA) and broadcasting (San Francisco State University). After working for many years as a promotional writer and editor, she turned to writing the kind of page-turning fiction she loves to read. She writes historical fiction (“The Golden City” series, which takes place in Gilded Age San Francisco) as well as contemporary romantic suspense (“Sinner’s Grove Suspense.”). “Barrister Perris Mysteries” is her latest endeavor, based on characters introduced in “The Golden City.” All of her books are stand-alone reads. Michaels lives in Boise, Idaho with her husband and two elderly, four-legged “sons” (16 and 17!) who don’t seem to know they’re just dogs. She is an avid reader, traveler, quilter and bocce player, as well as a mediocre but enthusiastic golfer.

Catch Up With A.B. Michaels: ABMichaels.com Goodreads BookBub – @ABMichaels Pinterest – @ABMichaelsBooks Twitter/X – @ABMichaelsBooks Facebook – @A.B.MichaelsWriter

 

 

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for One Take Jake: Last Call organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Jay Lang will award a $15 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

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

One Take Jake: Last Call

by Jay Lang

 

 

Genre: Mystery

Synopsis

Avenging the death of his sister, Lance, a once successful musician turned vigilante killer, has never denied his guilt…but knows now he could’ve handled things differently.

With dwindling hope after two years in the joint – and three life sentences ahead of him – Lance seizes his one opportunity for a life out of chains. With the help of loyal friends – straight-laced Reg and ex-druggie Jenny – Lance busts out of prison. He then begins his journey with Jenny to New York, where her street-wise Uncle Dusty will provide a safe hiding place, fake IDs, and a plan to get across the Mexican border.

However, it isn’t long before Jenny’s bad habits resurface, bringing heat on them both. They lose Dusty as an ally after he’s tortured by gangsters over money Jenny had supposedly stolen. In a strange country with Feds and gangsters on his tail, Lance is forced to lead the rapidly deteriorating journey south.

Just above the Mexican border, the two are cornered at a motel, their chances of survival slim. Still, Lance has hope. That is, until he learns the awful truth – a truth that leaves him alone in his final, desperate fight for freedom.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

The warm Pacific wind rushes over my skin, drying beads of sweat formed in the hot Mexican sun. It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since Jenny passed away.

Darlene and I never did find The Pink Bar in Neuvo Laredo. Maybe it didn’t exist. But it all worked out in the end. I bought a little beach business here in Manzanillo, where I rent surf boards to tourists. Last I heard, Darlene hooked up with a Mexican biker and is probably raising hell somewhere south of the border.

In the evenings I pull out my guitar, sit by the Pacific, and play under an endless open sky. Life is good now, though sometimes I wake up breathless with my heart pounding from another bad dream, flashbacks of the horror show I went through while on the road with Jenny.

At times, I think the dreams are payback for the revenge I carried out on my sister’s attackers and the hell ride that followed. Recently, I read a powerful quote that rang true from a famous 17th century writer named Jeremy Taylor. “Revenge is like a rolling stone, which, when a man hath forced up a hill, will return upon him with a greater violence, and break those bones whose sinews gave it motion.”

There are moments when I feel my past will find me and, just like that, my freedom will be snatched away. But then, there are other days, when the winds are calm and the sea is peaceful, and I feel safe and untouchable. Hope is the one thing I hang on to. Hope for my future, and hope that somehow Karma will turn a blind eye and let me live out my days as a free man.

Tomorrow, Reg is coming in from Vancouver, and he’s bringing with him someone very special. Someone I finally got the balls to call. Tessa.

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About Author Jay Lang:

Jay Lang grew up on the ocean, splitting her time between Read Island and Vancouver Island before moving to Vancouver to work as a TV, film and commercial actress. Eventually she left the industry for a quieter life. She fell in love with creative writing and spends her days hiking and drawing inspiration for her writing from nature.

Amazon Author Page / Goodreads

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Conflict Of Interest organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Dean L. Hovey will award a $15 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

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

Conflict Of Interest

by Dean L. Hovey

 

 

Genre: Mystery / Police Procedural

Synopsis

When the body of a missing cheerleader is found in a ditch, the local police turn the investigation over to the Pine County sheriff’s department, fearing that the girl’s relationship with the son of a local politician could compromise their objectivity.

Upon arriving at the scene, Sergeant CJ Jensen quickly finds herself embroiled in the politics of the girl’s murder and kidnapping. Calling in Pam Ryan to assist with the investigation, the two veteran officers dig into the girl’s obvious relationship with the politician’s son. While the boyfriend’s shaky alibi seems paper thin, their interviews with the victim’s friends have them questioning other aspects of her life.

A missing laptop computer piques their interest, making them think the murderer’s motive may be buried in her on-line activities.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

In addition to Floyd’s SUV, two Kanabec County Sheriff’s Department vehicles and an ambulance were parked on the narrow gravel road. The road disappeared into watery ditches on both sides, the washboard gravel surface spotted with mucky frost boils. CJ parked behind Floyd and announced her location to the dispatcher. She walked ahead to join the somber group of people gathered in front of the lead vehicle.

Bathed in headlights and flashing red and blues, an obese man with a gray crew cut waved his arms and swore. CJ found it disconcerting that the person apparently in charge would curse at the others like a madman. As CJ approached, Floyd put his hand on the man’s shoulder and pointed toward her. That ended the tirade.

“CJ, this is Sheriff Tim Sanders. Tim, this is Sergeant Jensen who’ll be taking over the investigation.”

The sheriff glared at CJ, taking her full measure before speaking. “It’s about time you got here. We’ve been standing around with thumbs up our butts for about two hours waiting for you to grace us with your presence.”

CJ froze, trying to frame a response. Floyd grabbed the sheriff by the arm and turned him away from CJ, then steered him to a spot apart from the gathered group. A man who appeared to be the senior deputy on the scene nodded and walked over, offering his hand.

“I’m Teddy and this is our newest deputy, Kayla. Please excuse the sheriff. He’s got a short fuse, especially when he’s been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.”

Although none of Floyd’s words were audible, his demeanor reminded CJ of a terrier growling at an overweight Labrador retriever. They watched as Floyd stuck his finger in the sheriff’s face and hissed something that obviously struck a nerve. The sheriff glanced at CJ, then back to Floyd before saying something that made Floyd nod.

A male and female EMT stood between the lead cruiser and the ambulance. Nodding toward the approaching sheriff, the male EMT whispered. “Uh oh, Teddy. Prepare to have your short hairs singed.”

The sheriff’s face was impassive until he walked up to CJ and extended his hand. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”

Gripping the sheriff’s hand firmly, CJ nodded. “I appreciate your apology.”

The sheriff, whose scalp glistened with sweat despite the cold air, jammed his hands in his pockets. “Tell Teddy and Kayla what you need, and they’ll do whatever they can to assist you. Do you want the ambulance crew to stay, or do you have other plans?”

“Assuming there’s no question the victim is past resuscitation, we’ll keep the ambulance crew to help with the lifting. I called the Duluth Medical Examiner.”

The sheriff’s face started to turn red. “We pay a retainer to the Midwest Medical Examiner’s office.”

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About Author Dean L. Hovey:

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Dean Hovey is a Minnesota-based author with three mystery series. He lives with his wife south of Duluth.

Dean’s award-winning* Pine County series follows sheriff’s deputies Floyd Swenson and Pam Ryan through this police procedural series.

Dean’s Whistling Pines books are humorous cozy mysteries centered on the residents of the Whistling Pines senior residence. The protagonist is Peter Rogers, the Whistling Pines recreation director.

In Dean’s latest series  his protagonist, a retired Minnesota policeman, is drafted into service as a National Park Service Investigator after a murder at a National Monument.

* “Family Trees: A Pine County Mystery” won the 2018 NEMBA award for best fiction.

Website

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Hidden Rooms by Kate Michaelson Banner

Hidden Rooms
by Kate Michaelson
April 22 – May 17, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
When murder hits home.

Long distance runner Riley has been fighting various bewildering symptoms for months, from vertigo to fainting spells. Worse, her doctors can’t tell her what’s wrong, leaving her to wonder if it’s stress or something more threatening. But when her brother’s fiancée is killed—and he becomes the prime suspect—Riley must prove his innocence, despite the toll on her health. As she reacquaints herself with the familiar houses and wild woods of her childhood, the secrets she uncovers take her on a trail to the real killer that leads right back to the very people she knows best and loves most. For readers who enjoy Deer Season by Erin Flanagan, All Good People Here by Ashley Flowers, and A Flicker in the Dark by Stacy Willingham.

Praise for Hidden Rooms:

“With a fresh voice and gorgeous writing, Hidden Rooms by Kate Michaelson is a stunning debut mystery that sweeps the reader along until the surprising conclusion.” ~ Connie Berry, USA Today bestselling author of the Kate Hamilton Mysteries

“This remarkable debut novel expertly combines a compelling mystery with a richly drawn cast of characters and a strong, beautifully portrayed sense of place. An engaging, gripping read.” ~ Andrew Welsh-Huggins, Shamus, Derringer, and International Thriller Writers award-nominated author

“Michaelson’s witty eye, sharp portrayal of illness, and twisty case make for a standout debut!” ~ Erin Flanagan, Edgar-Award winning author of Come with Me

Hidden Rooms is a suspenseful tale full of interesting characters. This well-told story with its unexpected ending will leave the readers begging for more.” ~ L. C. Hayden, award-winning author of the Bronson Thriller Series and the Aimee Brent Mystery Series

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery

Published by: CamCat Books Publication Date: April 30, 2024 Number of Pages: 320 ISBN: 9780744310153 (ISBN10: 0744310156)

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

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MY REVIEW

Small town settings are perfect for a good mystery. It’s hard to keep a secret, but there’s always so many, even though most people have known each other all their lives. That saying comes to mind, “you can’t really ‘know’ someone.” Which proves all too true in Hidden Rooms.

Riley and her brother, Ethan are central to the story. When Beth’s body is discovered, law enforcement naturally looks to those who are closest to her as suspects. Ethan, being Beth’s fiancee, is suspect number one. Riley puts herself in the killer’s crosshairs when she begins her own investigation in hopes of clearing her brother’s name.

I enjoyed how easily the story flowed. How the author ‘showed’ me the town. How she gave me genuine characters. The fact that some struggled with chronic illness and substance abuse made them even more real. And as Riley got closer to figuring out who harmed Beth, the excitement picked up. There were so many suspects. I couldn’t rule anyone out. The reveal was quite a surprise. I really enjoyed this mystery and would happily read more of Kate Michaelson’s stories.

4 STARS

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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I grew up inside a lightning bolt, in a family of pure momentum. My siblings and I were young, stupid, and fearless in our white gingerbread house, surrounded by dark earth, green shoots, and wild woods—untamed beasts running loose from morning to night. We snarled and bucked, more a pack than a family.

Born less than a year apart, my brother Ethan and I spent most of our lives scrapping after the same few things, pinching each other where we knew it would hurt the most. But we also protected each other. When Trevor Paltree shoved Ethan off the tall metal slide the first day of preschool, I kicked Trevor’s little ass, and I’d do it again.

Only, now, I didn’t know what protecting my brother looked like, though I felt fairly certain that kicking his fiancée’s ass was not it. Besides, I couldn’t even say what exactly Beth was up to, which (admittedly) undermined my argument. Putting my head down and going along with the wedding might feel cowardly, but it also seemed like the least destructive path forward. So, that’s how I found myself pulling up to Ethan and Beth’s house to pick up my puce monstrosity of a bridesmaid’s dress with Beth’s recent words still replaying in my mind: Riley, you know I’d never do anything to hurt Ethan. The problem was that she also once said with a wink and a smile that what Ethan didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. I parked in the shade of a lowlimbed oak and got out, lifting my hair off my neck to catch the breeze. The autumn sun had built throughout the afternoon into the kind of fleetingly gorgeous day that makes up for Ohio’s multitude of weather sins: one last warm postscript to summer. Rain loomed in the low shelf of clouds to the north. I crossed my fingers that it would hold off until I could get home to walk Bruno. Maybe I could even get a run in if my energy held out. My phone buzzed, and I knew without looking it would be Audra. She called most days and knew that just the previous night, I’d finally worked up the nerve to have a conversation with Ethan about Beth. She would want the details. I was amazed she had waited this long. “How’d it go with Ethan?” Her melodious voice skipped along briskly. People usually went with what she said simply because they were so swept up with how she said it. As her sister, I was an exception. “Hello to you too.” I continued toward the house but slowed my pace. “I’ll give you one guess how it went.” “Hello, dearest Riley. I guess he got mad.” “Not just mad. He guilt-tripped me. I asked him if he’d noticed anything wrong with Beth, and he acted all injured about it. He told me, ‘She thinks you’re her friend.’” I mimicked Ethan’s self-righteous tone. The jab still stung. “I told him I think of her as a friend too, which is how I know she’s hiding something.” Granted, I couldn’t untangle what it was. It was something I sensed more than saw—a shift in posture or flicker behind an expression. The past few weeks she’d become more self-contained than ever, which was saying something for her. “Yeah, but can you really be friends with someone who has no personality? It’s like being friends with a mannequin. I don’t know how you can tell if she’s hiding something when she never shares anything—” “Look, I can’t talk about it now.” I lowered my voice as I neared the house. “I’m at their place getting my dress. I’ll call you later.” I climbed the porch steps, the front of their house looking so Instagram-perfect that I wondered whether I’d been seeing problems that weren’t there. The afternoon light slanted across the pumpkins and yellow chrysanthemums that Beth had arranged just so. Dried bundles of corn rattled in the breeze. Beneath the pale-blue porch swing, Beth had set out a matching ceramic bowl full of kibble for Bibbs, the half-feral cat that had adopted her and Ethan. The only thing amiss was the open door of the old-fashioned cast-iron mailbox nestled amid the pumpkins and flowers. Beth would kill the mail carrier for ruining the ambiance. I grabbed the few pieces of mail in the box and shut the little door obligingly, like a good future sister-in-law. Careful not to disturb a precarious wreath of orange berries, I knocked on the screen door and tapped my foot, ready to grab my puffy dress and go. I had been a whirl of motion all day, zipping through work and crossing items off my to-do list. I worked for Wicks, an oversized candle company that sold overpriced candles. Today was my last day in the office before a trip to England to set up the IT network at our new British headquarters. For months, I’d been fighting some kind of long-term bug my doctors couldn’t figure out, but today I felt a glimmer of my former self, twitchy with energy and moving at a clip to get everything done. *** Excerpt from Hidden Rooms by Kate Michaelson. Copyright 2024 by Kate Michaelson. Reproduced with permission from CamCat Books. All rights reserved.

 

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About Author Kate Michaelson:

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Kate Michaelson

Growing up in rural Ohio, Kate Michaelson simultaneously developed a love of nature and a strong desire to live closer to a mall. Pursuing the latter, she attended Ohio State, where she studied English and Psychology. After earning her MFA in Creative Writing, Kate worked as a technical writer and taught English at St. Petersburg College in Florida and, later, at the University of Toledo in Ohio. Over the years, she has published academic articles, creative nonfiction, poetry, and short stories. Her debut novel, Hidden Rooms, follows a distance runner who returns to her rural Ohio hometown and must clear her brother of murdering his fiancée while also seeking answers to her own medical mystery. As someone with Lyme disease and dysautonomia, Kate’s writing uses humor and suspense to explore the experience of coping with chronic illness. Ultimately, she wants to portray the reality of the challenges that invisible disabilities pose while also demonstrating that “ability” is not a binary concept—that illness does not equal a loss of self or agency.

Kate enjoys traveling, hiking, and trying (fruitlessly) to tire out her Labrador mix. She works in curriculum design and holds a Ph.D. in Educational Psychology. She lives with her husband and pets in Toledo, Ohio, only ten minutes from a mall she now avoids whenever possible.

Catch Up With Kate Michaelson: www.KateMichaelson.com Goodreads Threads – @katemichaelsonwriter Instagram – @katemichaelsonwriter Twitter/X – @KateMichaelson3 Facebook

 

 

Tour Participants:

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

 

 

 

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for City Of Lies organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author January Bain will award a $25 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

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

City Of Lies

by January Bain

 

 

Genre: Hard Boiled Crime Mystery

Synopsis

A Gripping Tale of Identity, Crime, and Survival… Claire Preston, a script reader for a Hollywood movie studio, has recently lost her mother. Discovering she was adopted as a baby, she goes on a perilous quest for her true identity.

Assisted by her mentor, the seasoned private investigator, Jake Sterling, Claire delves deeper into her past, only to unearth a labyrinth of secrets more daunting than she ever envisioned. Soon, she finds herself in the crosshairs of a ruthless serial killer—an ex-Nazi fugitive evading justice for decades.

As Claire confronts her heritage, grapples with danger, and races against time to evade the clutches of a deadly predator, she finds herself wondering: Is uncovering the truth in a city of lies even possible?

Experience the chilling twists and turns of a tale where identity, mystery, and survival converge in the heart of 1968 Los Angeles.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

The Sounds of Silence

The streets were dark with something more than night.

~Raymond Chandler

Hollywood, April 1968

“Of all the dirty rotten maggoty things to do. That’s my twist. You stole my ending,” Claire Preston hissed at the movie screen.

The story about a woman going missing and the authorities arresting her abusive husband for murder had seemed familiar from the opening credits. His going to prison for life and swearing his innocence, with no one—not even his lawyer—believing him anything but guilty. Then the dramatic twist. Her showing up on screen alive at the end, twenty-five years later, in the visiting room at the prison and driving the knife home. The motive and name of the movie: Retribution. The woman had lost her unborn baby from the ongoing abuse and could never have another, more than enough motive to do the nasty. And all Claire’s idea.

A plot she’d skimmed as a script reader from the seemingly endless slush pile over at New Pictures Studio. Someone had used her notes to save the lame script from the dustbin.

“Is there a problem here?” The usher shone a flashlight directly in her face, giving her a new target.

You bet your sweet ass there’s a problem. “No problem. I was just leaving.” It wasn’t fair to take out her ire on the pimply-faced attendant in his ill-fitting burgundy jacket.

She fumed all the way down the red carpeted aisle to the street exit before shoving the cold metal door open with more force than strictly necessary, more upset with herself for letting it get to her, than by what she’d just witnessed.

The door clanked closed behind her, and the cool, moist air instantly enveloped her like a heavy embrace. An unusual turn of weather for LA in the fall, but welcomed. Maybe it would head off the usual rash of fires? She tugged the collar of her coat closed and yanked the belt tight around her waist. No credit for the idea, okay, she could live with that. But they could have at least said thank you or done something—taken her out for a drink or a decent meal or sent her flowers. Instead, they’re pretending it never happened.

Not cool.

She got into her white Ford Fairlane in front of the Starlight Theatre at the headwaters of the Los Angeles River and headed west toward the Sunset Strip and her small apartment on Sycamore Avenue. Why had she bothered to stop and see the movie her friend Serena had insisted she’d like? Now she had to live with knowing what the studio was capable of. But then again, knowledge was power.

She pulled out a Salem cigarette, slipped it between her lips, then punched in the knob for the electric heater on the dash. When it was ready, she applied the red-hot wire to the tip while drawing the soothing heat deep into her lungs, feeling the head rush, before letting it escape into a series of satisfying smoke rings.

The sun was dying a slow death, making her squint in self-defense. The glare kept her from seeing what needed to be seen, a black dog streaking out in front of her car on the bridge. She braked hard, catching sight of it at the last second, slamming her left foot right down to the floorboards, the cigarette flying out of her mouth.

Her body slammed forward, the seat belt cutting painfully into her chest. The vehicle lurched sideways and into the path of another vehicle, eastbound. The blacktop vanished. Unable to comprehend the speed at which her world had imploded, Claire was helpless, the vehicle air born. Something wet dripped into her eyes, stinging, and making her blink rapidly in efforts to see clearly.

“Oh my god!” The words burst from numb lips, her hands clutching at the steering wheel in horror.

The car slammed into the water a few seconds later, a river swollen and angry from a torrential rainstorm earlier in the day. Terrified, she watched the water rising around her. She struggled to undo her seat belt, but her hands shook so badly it seemed an impossible challenge.

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About Author January Bain:

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January Bain firmly believes that stories unite us, that good stories help us to discover the commonality of the human experience by supporting values, empathy and understanding. January writes with her heart, mind, and soul, hoping that her novels will touch your life, giving you moments of freedom as you fly with her to other worlds.

The award-winning author has had the pleasure of select novels being turned into games, while her work is also available in different languages.

January and her husband live in rural Canada on peaceful acreage where a variety of wildlife comes to visit regularly and expects to be fed and paid attention to.

Author Links: Blog / Twitter / Facebook / Goodreads / Instagram

Buy Link: Amazon

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The Eddie Shoes Mysteries by Elena Hartwell Banner

The Eddie Shoes Mysteries
by Elena Hartwell
March 18 – April 26, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

One Dead, Two to Go

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One Dead, Two to Go by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads

Book One in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private Investigator Edwina “Eddie Shoes” Schultz’s most recent job has her parked outside a seedy Bellingham hotel, photographing her quarry as he kisses his mistress goodbye. This is the last anyone will see of the woman … alive. Her body is later found dumped in an abandoned building. Eddie’s client, Kendra Hallings, disappears soon after. Eddie hates to be stiffed for her fee, but she has to wonder if Kendra could be in trouble too. Or is she the killer? Eddie usually balks at matters requiring a gun, but before she knows it, she is knee-deep in dangerous company, spurred on by her card-counting adrenaline-junkie mother who has shown up on her doorstep fresh from the shenanigans that got her kicked out of Vegas. Chava is only sixteen years older than Eddie and sadly lacking in parenting skills. Her unique areas of expertise, however, prove to be helpful in ways Eddie can’t deny, making it hard to stop Chava from tagging along. Also investigating the homicide is Detective Chance Parker, new to Bellingham’s Major Crimes unit but no stranger to Eddie. Their history as a couple back in Seattle is one more kink in a chain of complications, making Eddie’s case more frustrating and perilous with each tick of the clock.

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Go HERE for my review.

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Two Heads are Deader Than One

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Two Heads are Deader Than One by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads

Book Two in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private Investigator Eddie Shoes is enjoying a rare period of calm. She’s less lonely now that Chava, her card-counting mom from Vegas, is sharing her home. She also has a new companion, Franklin, a giant dog of curious ancestry. Hoping for a lucrative new case, Eddie instead finds herself taking on a less promising client: her best friend from her childhood in Spokane. Dakota has turned up in Bellingham, in jail, where she is being held on a weapons charge. Eddie reluctantly agrees not only to lend her friend money for bail but to also investigate who is stalking her. Soon after Dakota is freed, she disappears again, leaving Eddie to answer to the local cops, including her ex-boyfriend Chance Parker. Has Dakota been kidnapped? If not, why did she jump bail? What are Eddie’s business cards doing on the bodies of two murder victims? The key to these mysteries lies in Dakota and Eddie’s shared history, which ended when Eddie left home after high school. As a person of interest in both murder cases, Eddie is forced to go in search of the truth, digging into the past and facing her own demons.

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Go HERE for my review.

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Three Strikes, You’re Dead

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Three Strikes, You’re Dead by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads

Book Three in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private investigator Eddie Shoes heads to a resort outside Leavenworth, Washington, for a mother-daughter getaway weekend. Eddie’s mother, Chava, wants to celebrate her new job at a casino by footing the bill for the two of them, and who is Eddie to say no? On the first morning, Eddie goes on an easy solo hike, and a few hours later, stumbles over a makeshift campsite and a gravely injured man. A forest fire breaks out and she struggles to save him before the flames overcome them both. Before succumbing to his injuries, the man hands her a valuable object. He tells her his daughter is missing and begs for help. Is Eddie now working for a dead man? Eddie wakes in the hospital to find both her parents have arrived on the scene. Will Eddie’s card-counting mother and mob-connected father help or hinder the investigation? The police search in vain for a body. How will Eddie find the missing girl with only Eddie’s memory of the man’s face and a photo of his daughter to go on?

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MY REVIEW

You can’t help but love Eddie Shoes. She’s a tough gal and a now seasoned private investigator who has to juggle her eccentric mother, Chava, who’s always butting her nose into Eddie’s business, along with a mob connected father that tries to protect his daughter but his connections make being near him a questionable risk.

A relaxing weekend at a resort with her mother becomes a new case, or two, for Eddie when she rescues a man from a forest fire. As the man is dying he asks Eddie to find his missing daughter. With very little to go on, she’ll have to draw on all of her investigative skills to solve both cases.

What I enjoy so much about this series is the characters. Eddie is a tough cookie but also vulnerable.  Her mother, Chava, is a hoot. Another tough cookie but a bit on the zany side. And her father, who she’s just coming to really know, is a bit intimidating but also wants to be a part of Eddie’s life. These three make for some funny character dynamics.

The mystery is convoluted. Not easily solved. And I must have missed some bread crumbs as the final reveal caught me by surprise.

Fans of cozies with colorful character’s will enjoy this series. You could read this without having read the first books. The author drops some bones so you have an idea where everyone stands. But I’d recommend you start at the beginning and fully connect with these characters. You’ll catch up on all the fun that way.

I sure had a rip roaring time with this newest Eddie Shoes mystery. You can count me in for the next one!

5 STARS

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Praise for The Eddie Shoes Mysteries:

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ONE DEAD TWO TO GO is a well-written fast-paced story that kept me fully engaged from beginning to end. It’s one of those stories where you get to the end of a chapter and think, “Okay, just a few more pages.” And the next thing you know, you’ve read three more chapters.” ~ Mayor Sonni, Readeropolis “…an engaging mystery that will keep you stumped to the very end.” ~ Susan Sewell, Readers’ Favorite THREE STRIKES, YOU’RE DEAD gives us another vivid adventure with the quirky, genuine private eye Eddie Shoes. As usual, author Elena Hartwell’s characters are so real you feel like you could run into them at your local dive bar. Three Strikes takes us even deeper into Eddie’s complex family relationships with her charming-but-deadly father Eduardo and hilarious mom Chava, giving us further insight into Eddie’s psyche. The laugh-out-loud moments are many in this vital third installment, and you’ll find yourself wishing you could stay longer in the world of Eddie Shoes.” ~ LS Hawker, USA Today bestselling author

 

Book Details:

Genre: Private Eye Mystery

Published by: Open Road Media, March 2024

Series Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

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Read an excerpt from One Dead, Two to Go:
CHAPTER ONE
Call me Eddie Shoes. Not a very feminine moniker, but it suits me. My father’s name was Eduardo Zapata. In a fit of nostalgia, my mother Chava named me Edwina Zapata Schultz, even though by the time I was born she hadn’t seen my father in seven months. Edwina was a mouthful to saddle any child with, so at the ripe old age of six, I announced that I would only answer to Eddie. I didn’t have any nostalgia for a guy I’d never met, so Zapata just seemed like a name no one ever spelled right the first time. Chava wasn’t particularly maternal in any conventional sense, so not a lot of nostalgia for Schultz either. At eighteen I legally changed my name to Eddie Shoes. It said a lot about my sense of humor. Chava and I had come to an understanding. She stayed in my life as long as our contact was minimal and primarily over email. It was just enough to allay her guilt and not enough to make me crazy, so it worked for both of us. She’d always been down about my choice of career, but what did she expect from a girl who called herself Eddie Shoes? If I hadn’t become a private investigator, I probably would have been a bookie, so she should have been a little more positive about the whole thing. My career was the reason I sat hunkered in the car, in the dark, halfway down the block from a tacky hotel, clutching a digital camera and zoom lens, waiting to catch my latest client’s husband with a woman not his wife. I’d already gotten a few choice shots of the guy entering the room, but he’d gone in alone and no one else had arrived. I assumed the other woman was already waiting for him. After tailing the guy for a few days, I had a pretty good guess who the chippie would turn out to be. I didn’t think he’d hired his “office manager” for her filing skills, and sleeping with the married boss was a cliché because it happened all the time. I could already prove the man a liar. He’d told his wife he played poker with the boys on Wednesday nights, and I didn’t think he was shacked up in this dive with three of his closest buddies, unless he was kinkier than I imagined. But then, people never ceased to amaze me. December in Bellingham, Washington, often brought cold, clear weather and that night was no exception. Starting the engine to warm up sounded tempting, but I didn’t want anyone to notice me sitting there. Nice it wasn’t raining, but if the thermometer had crept much over twenty, I hadn’t noticed. To make matters worse, I’d scrunched my almost six-foot frame down in the driver’s seat for more than two hours. Even with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I was half frozen, and desperately hoped my mark didn’t have more stamina than I’d pegged him for. All I wanted was to go home and go to bed. And at some point, I would need to pee. Up on the second floor, the door of the hotel room I had my eye on finally opened. I brought my camera up, ready for the money shots. My earlier pics proved that the dirty white stucco on the side of the building bounced the pale glow from the minimal exterior lights enough for pictures to be clear without a flash. Even from this distance, there was a nice unobstructed view of the location. The only barrier between someone standing on the narrow walk and my camera lens was a flimsy, rusty-looking, wrought-iron railing. The balusters looked too thin to stop anyone from falling the height of the first floor to the asphalt parking lot below. I doubted anything at the tawdry place passed code. But what did I care? I wasn’t going to stay there. The “liar”—I have always been creative with nicknames—stepped out, straightening his tie. I snapped a few pictures and held my breath, hoping the other woman would come out behind him. Even if I took pictures of her exiting a few minutes later, the husband needed to be in the picture with her. A surprising number of wives would argue with me about what actually took place in these various, if interchangeable, hotel rooms. For some reason they would rather believe the info about their husband cheating was fake than admit he strayed, which confused me because I got paid either way. It felt especially crazy when they must already know the truth, otherwise they wouldn’t have hired me in the first place. But I knew better than to look for logic in the ways of the human heart and got the best evidence possible. The man turned sideways. Light from the room behind him threw his face into silhouette. He had an exceptionally generous head of hair, which made him very recognizable even in bad light. Mid-forties, and mostly in good shape, he appeared athletic as long as he didn’t unbutton his sport coat. I could see why women were attracted to him, though he didn’t do a thing for me. I preferred men a little more honest. But then, I’d never been married, so what did I know? A figure moved from behind him into the shadow of the doorway. “Come on, honey, step out into the light.” I held the camera to my eye. “One more step, so I can see your face.” The woman obliged by leaning into the cold blue glow cast by the old style, energy inefficient streetlights, her cheeks stained red in the flash of the vacancy sign. I happily clicked away as the “office manager” wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. She clearly wore nothing but lingerie. She must assume no one else would be out this late on such a cold weeknight. Or maybe she enjoyed having people see her, a bit of an exhibitionist in the happy homewrecker. Whatever the cause, she had him in the perfect spot for the best pictures. I loved it when guilty people made my job easy. My photos might not be art, but they were gold in my book. No way the wife could believe this was anything other than what it looked like. Several photos later, the husband extricated himself from the mistress and she ducked back into the room and closed the door. He walked briskly toward a shiny red Chevy Camaro. The guy owned a GM dealership and drove a new car every day. He lit a cigarette, which he puffed on for a few drags before he tossed it into the gutter. Not just a cheater, a litterer. The bastard. The cigarette stench backed his poker party story and covered the smell of another woman, killing two birds with one cancer-causing stone. As soon as he pulled out onto the street, I stretched back up to full height, relieved to still feel my feet. I started up my ancient green Subaru Forrester, cranked my heater, and headed for home, relieved I didn’t have to wait around in the cold for the mistress to reappear. Whatever she did next wasn’t my concern. Having the two of them in the pictures together convinced me my work was done. The hotel was located downtown—the blue-collar north end, not the high-priced, brick, historical south end, so I dropped down to Lakeway Drive, scooted under the freeway, and wound through the streets that curved around Bayview Cemetery. Traffic at ten o’clock on a midweek winter night was light, and I arrived at my little house by ten-thirty. I downloaded the photos from the hotel onto my computer, wrote up a final bill for my client, and went to bed content. What could possibly go wrong with such an easy case? *** Excerpt from One Dead, Two to Go by Elena Hartwell. Copyright 2024 by Elena Hartwell. Reproduced with permission from Elena Hartwell. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Elena Hartwell:

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Elena Hartwell

Elena Hartwell spent several years working in theater as a playwright, director, designer, and educator before turning her storytelling skills to fiction. Elena is also a senior editor with Allegory Editing, a developmental editing house, where she works one-on-one with writers to shape and polish manuscripts. If you’d like to work with Elena, visit www.allegoryediting.com. Her favorite place to be is at Paradise, the property she and her hubby own south of Spokane, Washington. They live with their horses, Jasper, Radar, and Diggy, their dogs Polar and Wyatt, and their cats Coal Train and Cocoa. Elena holds a B.A. from the University of San Diego, a M.Ed. from the University of Washington, Tacoma, and a Ph.D. from the University of Georgia. She also writes as Elena Taylor, to learn more visit www.ElenaTaylorAuthor.com

Catch Up With Elena Hartwell: www.ElenaHartwell.com TheMysteryOfWriting.com Goodreads BookBub – @elenahartwell Instagram – @elenataylorauthor Twitter/X – @Elena_TaylorAut Facebook – @ElenaTaylorAuthor

 

 

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