Archive for the ‘Mytery/Thriller’ Category

BURN THIS NIGHT
by Alex Kenna
November 4 – December 6, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

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Synopsis:
The Kate Myles Detective Series

 

Told in alternating timelines, this gripping mystery about a PI and her quest for answers is full of twists and turns, perfect for fans of Allison Brennan and Gytha Lodge.

Struggling private investigator Kate Myles is shattered to learn her late father isn’t her biological dad. She’s still reeling when she discovers that an unknown distant relative is the prime suspect in a decades-old murder investigation. Trying to convince her to take on the case for free, an old colleague recommends her as an investigator for a recent arson murder in the same small town.

After giving up on a failed acting career, Abby Coburn is starting over as a promising social work student. With her life on the right track, she’s determined to help her brother, Jacob, whose meth addiction triggered a psychotic break and descent into crime. But when Abby dies in a fire that kills two other people and destroys part of the town, the police immediately suspect Jacob.

As the Coburn family grapples with the tragedy, Kate begins unraveling the cold case but finds herself caught in the middle of an emotional minefield. Pretty soon, she discovers that this town is full of dark secrets, and as she comes closer and closer to figuring out the truth, Kate must solve both murders before she becomes the next victim.

Praise for Burn This Night:

“The twists keep coming in this devilish PI mystery . . . Lisa Unger fans will devour this.” ~ Publishers Weekly

“Solid, heartfelt spadework into an alarming range of graves.” ~ Kirkus Reviews

“A true page turner . . . Full of twists, turns, and suspects.” ~ Book Review Crew

Burn This Night is a fast-paced thriller that masterfully utilizes alternating perspectives to tell an absorbing, character-driven mystery. This is an electrifying read that had me engaged and on the edge of my seat until the very end!” ~ Elle Grawl, Amazon Charts bestselling author of One of Those Faces and What Still Burns

“An absorbing read told from multiple layered perspectives, Kenna ranges from finely observed domestic scenes to adept portrayals of grimy addicts living on the ragged edge. Burn This Night is smart and satisfying.” ~ Adam Plantinga, author of The Ascent

Burn This Night is an utterly-absorbing mystery. Alex Kenna skillfully weaves a tale of two women who both face emotional and physical danger as they fight for truth and family love. Kenna masterfully draws the reader into the dark exploration of the secrets hidden in small towns and the depths some will go to hide the truth. With fiendishly smart dialogue, a captivating setting and a plot that keeps you on the edge of your seat, Burn This Night is absolutely fantastic!” ~ Elise Hart Kipness, author of Lights Out

“A dark, lyrical crime novel, Burn This Night weaves a complex and twisty spell about addiction, family ties, and how sins of the past can’t stay buried. Kate Myles is a great addition to LA’s canon of troubled PIs—real, flawed, smart, and very human—and I can’t wait to see what’s next for her.” ~ Halley Sutton, USA Today bestselling author of The Hurricane Blonde

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Thriller – Private Detective Published by: Crooked Lane Publication Date: November 12, 2024 Number of Pages: 256 ISBN: 9781639109371 (ISBN10: 1639109374) Series: Kate Myles private detective series, 2

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Penguin Random House Books

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MY REVIEW

You might think it would be confusing to read this story as it’s written in multiple points of view in two separate time lines. The author made it easy to follow. And her choice to tell the story this way was a good one. There are two crimes to solve. One recent and one cold. And many characters involved, whether as suspects, those connected to the victims, or the person who’s charged with solving both crimes. Getting separate points of view invites you to get to know the characters. Get to know what they are thinking. And this makes the story move forward and keeps you invested in the conclusion.

Kate Myles, a private investigator is hired to investigate an arson case which resulted in two people’s death. The brother of one of the victim’s is accused of the crime and she’s tasked with finding out whether the clues lead to his innocence or guilt. She’s also assigned a cold case that, while investigating, seems to point to a dark secret.

There is a lot going on in this book and I appreciated the slow build up. I was able to easily follow both time lines and the characters of each. And I liked having more than one mystery to solve. Did I guess who did it? Not the first time. The second time I tried? Nope. At the end? Again, nope and nope. But, I sure enjoyed getting to the answers.

4 STARS

 

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Enjoy this peek inside:
PROLOGUE
Eight Months Ago—Grace

My eyes shot open when I heard the yelping. Barney was going to wake the baby. I dove toward the old dog, grabbed his snout, and held it closed with both hands. “Shh,” I pleaded.

I lowered one hand and rubbed Barney’s back, trying to calm him. He let out a whine, and like clockwork, Liam started to cry. I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and braced myself for another late-night nursing session. My body felt heavy with milk and stress and exhaustion.

Carefully, I scooped up the howling baby, carried him over to the rocking chair, and lifted my T shirt to feed him. Liam quieted down and nestled against me. I sniffed his hair and stroked his cheek as we rocked back and forth. Part of me wanted to stay like this all night. But a bigger part of me longed to be under the covers, passed out in a warm oblivion.

I heard the shower turn on down the hall. Ted must be back from serving his warrant. A few months ago, he’d gotten smart with a lieutenant, who then started feeding him late-night assignments. These frequent absences were brutal now that I was back from maternity leave and needed sleep to function at work.

Barney whined again and clawed at the bedroom door. Clutching Liam, I rose to let the dog out of the room.

I looked down at the baby, who was asleep and making little catlike snores. With slow, deliberate steps, I made my way toward the crib and lowered him until his back rested against the fabric. But the change in angle caused his eyes to open and his lungs to inflate. Then came the cry—and Barney ran back to the bedroom, joining Liam in a horrible wailing duet. I reached out toward the dog and felt wet fur. Damn it—Barney must have peed in the house. Hot tears ran down my cheeks. What I wouldn’t give for one night’s sleep.

The door opened and Ted walked in with a towel around his waist. “I need help,” I snapped. “What?” asked Ted, surprised by my tone. My eyes were closed, and I was crying. But Ted couldn’t see that in the dark. He just sensed the anger in my voice. I knew it wasn’t his fault that the baby wouldn’t sleep, that the dog couldn’t hold it, and that his boss was a jerk. But I’d reached my limit, and Ted was the only living being in earshot who understood human language. “Barney peed in the house. Take Liam so I can let the dog out before he does it again. Just try to get him back to sleep.” I placed the screaming, wriggling infant in Ted’s arms before either of them could protest. Flipping on the hall light, I made my way to the kitchen. Barney scampered ahead of me, spinning in circles. I threw on Ted’s faded hoodie. It reeked of old sweat, but I was too tired to care. I hooked Barney’s leash to his collar, and bracing myself for the cold, I unlocked the back door and stepped outside. The Santa Anas blew hard, and I shivered as cold air soaked through the hoodie’s weave. I could hear the Jeffrey pines rustle in the wind. Thrusting my hands into the central pocket, I rubbed them together for warmth. A smoky odor hung in the air—maybe the residue of a neighbor’s barbecue dinner. But the wind should have blown away the scent by now. Barney tugged at his leash. I let him drag me toward the street. Now that we were outside, he wouldn’t be satisfied without a walk, and it might clear my head as well. The sky was lighter than I’d expected. Idlewood doesn’t have streetlights. It’s a conscious decision to preserve the log-cabins-in-the-woods feel of the place. Darkness adds to the storybook charm, and it can be hard to find your way on moonless nights. But the sky had an orange-gray glow that reminded me of LA smog. Maybe it was later than I thought, almost morning. Barney tugged on his leash, half-dragging me up the road toward the intersection. He seemed agitated, and I wondered what had gotten into him. As we passed the Hernandez’s place, our footsteps activated the motion sensor, and the automatic light above their garage snapped on with an electric hum. I noticed something floating in the air. Tiny particles, like gray snow or dryer lint. The flecks danced in the air, and Barney snapped at one as it fluttered toward his jaws. The smell of smoke was growing stronger. Oh my god. Clutching Barney’s leash, I ran the rest of the way to the cross street, which cut straight to the mountain. High in the pines, I saw an orange glow—luminous against the dark sky. My vision tunneled, and all I could see was the fire on the hillside. The light was near Abby’s cabin. But I couldn’t tell how near. I grabbed my phone and scanned my recent calls, but it had been weeks since I’d spoken to my sister, and her name didn’t pop up. I pulled up my contact list and clicked on her name. After four rings, a cheerful recording prompted me to leave a message. Maybe she’s already fled. No, Abby would’ve called if she were awake. She might hate me, but she’d warn me about a wildfire. I called back, praying that her cell wasn’t on silent. Come on Abby, answer the phone. When I heard the prerecorded message again, I started to panic. I left a voicemail: “Abby, it’s Grace. There’s a fire by your cabin—you need to leave now!” The orange glow was getting bigger as the Santa Anas blew the flames toward Idlewood. It was how I’d always imagined an erupting volcano would look, with lava flowing down its sides. I called Abby a third time, cursing under my breath. Across the street, a door opened, and an old man stepped outside, holding a little white dog. “There’s a fire!” he shouted. I looked at him and then back at the mountain, ringing phone pressed against my ear. Dammit, Abby, pick up! “My son works at the fire station,” said the man. “They’re about to put out an alert. We have to evacuate. The whole town could burn.” “My sister’s cabin is on the hillside, and she’s not answering,” I shouted. “Can you call your son and tell him someone’s up there?” I heard a chime and looked down at my phone. It was a text from the fire department, ordering us to leave Idlewood. But my feet stayed planted. My sister was on that mountain, with nothing but a narrow dirt road leading down to safety. If the fire overtook the path, she’d be trapped. “Jeffrey, it’s Pop,” I heard the old man say. “There’s a lady here whose sister has a cabin near the fire.” Hearing those words unleashed a fresh wave of panic. Abby’s cheerful answering machine message sounded for a fifth time in my ear. “Abby, get out of there!” I screamed into the phone. “We have to go,” said the neighbor. “This thing could spread faster than they can contain it.” My phone chimed and I looked down at the screen, hoping to see Abby’s name, but it was a voicemail from Ted. Before I could call him back, a text flashed across my screen: FIRE—COME HOME NOW I looked back and forth from my screen to the mountain. My sister was up there. But my husband and son were at the house. I couldn’t wait any longer. I tugged at Barney’s leash and ran home. *** Excerpt from Burn This Night by Alex Kenna. Copyright 2024 by Alex Kenna. Reproduced with permission from Alex Kenna. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Alex Kenna:

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Alex Kenna

Alex Kenna is a mystery writer, prosecutor, and amateur painter. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, son, and giant schnauzer. Alex’s first novel, WHAT MEETS THE EYE, was a 2023 Shamus Award Finalist for best first P.I. novel. Her second novel, BURN THIS NIGHT, is coming November 12, 2024.

Catch Up With Alex Kenna: www.AlexKenna.com Goodreads BookBub – @akenna Instagram – @alexkennabooks Twitter/X – @AlexKenna9 Facebook

 

 

Tour Participants:

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for The Poseidon Project organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Giveaway for 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.

The Poseidon Project

by E. William Podojil

 

 

Genre: Mystery / Suspense / Thriller

Synopsis

The Poseidon Project is an international suspense thriller and the first book in The Herb Society Mysteries series

Molly Halloran and her friends have a secret past.  Their bucolic retirement is suddenly upended when Molly’s husband is abducted and held for a steep ransom.  Now she, her friends, her tech executive son, Lukas and his Air Force pilot boyfriend must race against the clock and travel halfway around the world to meet the kidnappers’ demands.  But when they learn why her husband has been abducted, they realize how high the stakes truly are.  Molly and her friends now must face their past in order to save the future.  But not only their futures; the world’s.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

The explosion was deafening. A huge fireball engulfed the Iveco box truck with a force that knocked Molly, Donna, Linda, and John off their feet. Having been already seated, Lukas instinctively shielded Taylor from the force of the blast that was over one hundred feet away. The explanation of the Hindenburg explosion his mom had referenced two days ago flashed through his mind. The hydrogen collection tank must have had a leak or breached from being overfilled. But unlike the Hindenburg, there was not a zeppelin-sized supply of hydrogen on the Demeter unit, or what was left of it. The explosion was sudden, strong, and brief. The flames quickly burned through the truck’s cargo area, then slowly burned the embers of what little was left. The truck was destroyed, as was Demeter. Zip- Tie’s blackened remains smoldered on the ground, about ten feet from the blast.

Betty and Patrick stood at the top of the terrace waving their arms and appeared to be yelling something. Lukas could not hear much other than the ringing in his ears, and he assumed the rest of the group was partially deaf as they struggled to get to their feet. Lukas had shielded Taylor’s body, and his hearing appeared to be unaffected. Taylor kissed Lukas on the cheek and mouthed Thank you. Or at least Lukas thought he said it silently.

Betty held the fourth Glock in her hand and ran toward the group to help them ascend the terrace. “We’ve gotta get out of here!” she yelled, hoping their damaged ears could hear her. She knew it was only a few minutes before the Dubai police came to investigate the source of the explosion in the city center.

“Where is Malik?” Betty asked as John, Donna, and Molly rubbed their ears, hoping to regain their hearing.

“He ran that way.” Taylor pointed in the direction of the Burj Khalifa. “I saw him for an instant right after the blast.”

Patrick raced toward the group. “Police are on their way. I hear the sirens. Let’s go, everybody!” Patrick and Taylor, both injured, were able to shepherd the group up to the Sprinter van, get in, and buckle up for what was going to be a quick getaway.

Betty slammed on the accelerator, and the van lurched forward. She could see the flashing police lights about a quarter of a mile to her right. She turned left, hoping to avoid them. “Patrick, I need you to navigate! I don’t know where I am!” Betty yelled with a tinge of panic in her voice. Patrick stood up and sat in the passenger seat to help navigate.

Taylor quickly dialed his daughter. She answered on the first ring tone. “Dad, where are you?”

“Get the Goose ready. We’ll be there in—” He looked at Patrick, who held up his hands with fingers extended. “—ten to fifteen minutes. Please clear a take- off slot for us in twenty-five minutes from now.”

“Got it, Dad. Drive safely.”

Tory hung up as Betty slalomed quickly through.

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About Author E. William Podojil:

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Edited in Prisma app

  1. William Podojil has worked as a writer, advisor and  international business executive while living in the Netherlands and the United States. He studied screenwriting at UCLA. His first novel, The Tenth Man, was published in 2004, by Haworth Press.  His latest novel, The Poseidon Project, will be published by Wild Rose Press in August, 2024 as the first book in the Herb Society Mysteries series.

Podojil currently resides in Northeast Ohio with his husband and three sons. He travels extensively and writes about his experiences on his website www.ewpodojil.com.

Author Links: Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

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Rabbit Moon

by Jan D. Payne

 

Publication date: September 17th 2024
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Thriller

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They say you can’t go back home, but Marin Sinclair, end-of-life doula, doesn’t expect her life to be in danger when she answers a mysterious plea for help from a long-ago friend and returns to Dinetah, the Navajo Nation. Her past there holds memories she is reluctant to confront, but what about her life then would make someone want to kill her?

Navajo Nation Police Sergeant Justin Blue Eyes shares a connection with Marin from the past, and he has a few questions of his own when Marin disappears―such as why the Nuclear Regulatory Commission has agents investigating the abandoned uranium mines on the reservation and how Marin is connected.

Marin needs to survive to find any answers, and to do so she is forced to run, going off the grid on her own in the Lukachukai mountains with unknown killers close behind.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

The Bilagaana woman’s eyes were wide and staring, and even if she wasn’t a ghost-witch Haastiin Sani thought maybe she was crazy. Only someone crazy would have been out here alone in the dark and the rain. Crazy people must be treated with care, and the same for ghost-witches. It didn’t help to make them angry.

He looked at the woman, considering.

She was trembling now, as if cold, but witches and crazy people both were known to be clever. The sooner he saw her off the better, and he jerked his chin toward the direction of his camp and motioned the woman to follow. He would show her every hospitality and then gently nudge her on her way.

She looked somewhat better when he gave her a cup of hot coffee and offered the frybread his daughter had left for him, inviting her with a nod to take it, and tears came into her eyes as her lips and chin began to tremble.

Very much like a normal person, but it could be a ruse to cause him to relax his vigilance so she could blow corpse dust over him. He busied himself with the fire and wished fervently to be rid of this evil.

Marin knew she made this man very uncomfortable, and she thought she even knew why, considering where and how he had found her, but she didn’t know how to relieve his fears without making things worse.

“Thank you,” Marin murmured to the old man. “Ahéhee’,” she repeated.

She studied the man on the other side of the fire. His face was seamed and wrinkled, his frame was tall and spare beneath the loose shirt of red cotton tied with a woven sash. His gray hair was worn long, and there was a turquoise bead woven into a strand of hair near one temple.

A hogan was built higher up the slope, a blanket hanging across the eastern door, and an empty sheep pen was tucked into a rocky cliff a short way from it. A handsome bay horse wearing a rope halter stood nearby, sheltering under overhanging boards propped between a few corral poles and the cliff.

She looked around for the sheep she knew must be somewhere close by, and the dogs, but they weren’t in sight. She didn’t see any sort of vehicle either, or any other person besides the old man, watching her surreptitiously.

The old man cleared his throat suddenly, and she flinched, startled, but instead of speaking, the old man rose to his feet and walked toward the corral.

She stood as well, thinking he meant for her to follow, but he gave no sign, and she paused.

Passing Marin without word or look, he ducked under the hogan’s blanket door, emerging a moment later with an ancient-looking saddle, a bridle, and a thick saddle blanket woven in red and black yarns.

Silently, he began to saddle the horse, smoothing the blanket across the horse’s back and throwing the saddle over, pulling the cinch tight. He put the bridle on last, settling the bit into the horse’s mouth before reaching to adjust the braided ear straps. Without looking at her, he walked back, thrust the reins towards Marin, and spoke for the first time.

“You go now,” he said, and pursed his lips, pushing his chin toward the east.

Marin opened her mouth to object to taking his horse and slowly closed it again. The old man was giving her a way to get down the mountain, and she had no wish to bring trouble to him if Tolliver managed to follow her here.

She took the reins.

Haastiin Sanii grunted and stepped away toward the fire, and Marin tied her jacket to the saddle, surprised when he returned and pushed the remainder of the frybread into her hands.

“Over there,” he said, pointing again with his chin, “is a good way down.”

She waited for any more words the man might offer, for he seemed to be listening and thinking carefully, but he said nothing. He slapped the horse on the rump and stepped away.

“You go now,” he repeated.

Marin mounted, then turned in the saddle. “I’ll leave the horse at a trading post below,” she said.

Haastiin Sanii shrugged, relieved, as he watched her ride away. She was someone in a lot of trouble or someone bringing a lot of trouble, but he had done the best he could.

He looked down at his sash and fingered the gun he had found beside the spring, then looked down the trail at the woman on his grandson’s horse. He wondered if she knew a flashflood was coming and if she knew enough to stay out of the canyon.

He shrugged again, figured a ghost-witch would know and a crazy person wouldn’t care.

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About Author Jan D. Payne:

Drawing from her years in the Southwest and the Navajo Nation, Jan Payne writes on themes of courage, regret, hope, and restoration in a world of created kinships. Through her characters’ lives and shared dangers—Marin Sinclair, end-of-life doula; Sergeant Justin Blue Eyes of the Navajo Nation Police; Cullen MacPherson, agent for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission; Garret Washburn, teenaged ward of Marin’s, and Lewis George, Raven spirit-guide-cum-trickster—she takes readers on a journey through the complex interactions of cultural backgrounds and personal histories, highlighting the way kinships forged in crisis have the power to reshape our lives.

Jan Payne lived on the Dineh (Navajo) reservation in Sanostee, on the New Mexico side of the Lukachukai mountain range, where she spent summers climbing mesas, taking camping trips on horseback, exploring ghost towns in the mountains of Colorado, or working with her dad breaking and training horses in Sanostee. Her two most memorable summer jobs were at a Durango, Colorado dude ranch working with pack mule trains and a brief stint as a camp cook at a uranium mining site.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

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

Author Vanessa C. Hawkins will award a $10 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

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

Twice Hung

by Vanessa C. Hawkins

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Genre: Mystery / Suspense / Thriller

Synopsis

Ethel Arsenault’s been hearing noises in her brother’s house ever since she arrived from Summerside, but when he turns up dead, could the supernatural be to blame, or her sister-in-law Dolly whose been caught talking to herself when night falls?

Ethel isn’t sure, nor is she happy when she’s left alone to care for Ernest’s estate. Was her brother the victim of sweet, little Dolly Arsenault, or is some other sinister force at work? The city of Charlottetown is quick to point the blame at Dolly, but now Ethel has been hearing things in the house…

… or is it just her imagination?

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Enjoy this peek inside:

The days were dandelions, sprouting and flourishing and wafting away in puffs to seed more weeds anew. Though the roads had been muck-filled and swampy when they’d arrived, gradually they were becoming less burdensome and easier to promenade when the days were hot. Ernest’s trip had been postponed, but that meant he spent the days at work, oftentimes taking a break to show Ethel the delights of Queen’s Square and Victoria Row or holed up in his study pouring over papers and the occasional glass of gin.

Ethel was enjoying her days at Eden Hall, wandering outside in the small gardens, or taking a stagecoach in town with Miss Murphy to appraise the daily catch and supply of vegetables hauled in from the neighbouring farms. Though the nights were seldom peaceful, Ethel had resolved to keep her concerns private. No one else in the house seemed bothered or affected, so she often napped during the afternoon, dozing after writing in her journal or upon finishing a few chapters of Little Women.

 “I’m certain there must be something in the attic,” Ernest grumbled at breakfast one morning. His departure had been finalised for the next day and a few men had been around to load up a few personal effects he had packed for the voyage. It was a beautiful midweek morning, and the windows in the dining room had been removed to let in the scent of grass and sunshine.

Dolly was sitting opposite her husband at the little breakfast table, while Ethel was in the middle. Both women looked up from their plates to regard Ernest as he poured a fresh cup of tea for himself.

“Adella-Ray, will you not check the liquor cabinet in the study for a bottle of the blueberry spirits? There’s a touch of maple in it that I’m sure will stir the tongues of the Americans.”

The serving woman was in the foyer, handing an order for milk to the carrier before she turned towards the study as asked.

“The attic?” Dolly piped up, directing the conversation backwards. She was picking around the sauce of her eggs benedict, combing it over the white poached pillow like a toupée on a bald man’s head. “Is there something up there that you forgot to pack?”

Ernest shook his head. “No, but I think an animal has gotten up there somehow. I’ve been hearing it scuttling around the last few nights.” He looked up and smiled, as though to excuse his ramblings. “I’ll ask Al to take a look. I don’t want it scaring you ladies while I’m gone for work.”

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About Author Vanessa C. Hawkins:

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A life-long lover of horror, Vanessa wrote her first story in the genre when she was only in grade five. It was titled Mutilated and it warranted her a trip to the school guidance counsellor. A lifetime later, she continues to write about anything that suits her fancy. She was afforded second place in the David Adams Richards Prize this year, and honourable mentions in the WFNB writing competition for her novel A Child to Cry Over. With over a dozen publications under her belt, Vanessa was celebrated as a bestselling author with Books We Love Publishing for the sale of over a thousand copies of The Curious Case of Simon Todd! She lives with her husband Brendon and daughter Bernie in New Brunswick.

Vanessa is the author of the following BWL Publishing Inc. releases:

The Curious Case of Simon Todd

Bunker Blitz

Ballroom Riot by Vanessa C. Hawkins & Tara Woodworth

Author Links: Facebook / Website

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

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Secrets and Photographs by A. K. Ramirez Banner

SECRETS AND PHOTOGRAPHS
by A. K. Ramirez

   

June 17-28, 2024 Virtual Book Tour
The Marissa Ambrose Witness Series
Synopsis:

 

How do you stop a killer you can’t even see?

It’s been two years since Detective Marissa Ambrose nearly lost her life working the Couple’s Killer case, but time hasn’t stopped the vivid nightmares. She still carries the heavy guilt of her partner’s death, and the Seattle Police Department refuses to support her theory that the suspect they arrested had an accomplice. With her ex-husband regretfully out of the picture, Marissa was supposed to be focusing on adjusting back to something resembling normalcy in her quiet tourist town. Then the letters came.

Unmarked envelopes full of photographs have been arriving at Marissa’s door. Candid shots of her at home. Now, Marissa is certain the missing murderer is stalking her, tracking her every move to finish what he started. As she obsesses over the strange images, the Seattle PD unexpectedly asks for her help. A serial killer is on the loose and targeting members of the Port Townsend community. Despite a personal connection to the first victim, Marissa agrees to pin her badge on once more.

The photographs are piling up and the suspect can’t be seen by surveillance cameras. Like a ghost, this killer is haunting her.

Praise for Secrets and Photographs:

“This book is Amazing!! I couldn’t put it down. I need book 2!!!” ~ Nicola Jamieson

“We love a messy family and a plot thick with dark and winding paths. Truly enjoyed this book and read it very quickly! I am very excited to get a signed copy of the next book that was just released!! AK Ramirez is “one to watch” in the crime/thriller genre. You have a fan for life now.” ~ Molly Badgett

“I had the pleasure of meeting this author in Richmond at a convention. I really enjoyed the story. The author pulls you in from the first page. Quick read” ~ Chris Kennedy

“A friend recommended this book to me as I was looking for a new mystery novel and I was so sad when it ended because I wanted more! The writing was exceptional and the story captivated me. Twists I didn’t expect had me reading this book in record time. Absolutely recommend!” ~ Melissa Brown

“I’m a sucker for a good crime novel and this one kept me hooked. I also love books set in the Pacific Northwest – I might be biased since I live in the PNW but I thought the author did a good job of using the coziness of Port Townsend to contrast with the horror of the crimes. I’m looking forward to reading book 2!” ~ April O’Brien

“I was hooked on the book from the beginning. It was a great read. I really enjoyed it and would recommend it to anyone that likes mystery and suspense.” ~ Diana

“I wasn’t sure how much I enjoyed this book at the beginning. It felt like it was moving very slowly. In fact, I was wondering if there was ever going to be a murder when I was about a third done. Then a couple minutes later, a murder! That’s when the book sped up! I had a little trouble keeping the two investigations separate. The twist was great! And I did enjoy how the two cases crossed. I felt for Marissa that no one believed her and was thankful when the police started listening to her. She’s a great detective and I’m looking forward to revisiting her and hopefully solving the big mystery soon!” ~ CMC

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery Thriller Published by: 4 Horsemen Publications Publication Date: November 15, 2022 Number of Pages: 362 ISBN: 9781644506639 (ISBN10: 1644506637) Series: Marissa Ambrose Witness Series, #1

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | 4 Horsemen Publications

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MY REVIEW

This book…… How do I love thee. Let me count the ways.

One: Suspects. Plenty of them. In the shadows, hovering just out of sight, or right in my face. It creates a bigger challenge to sift out the red herrings and find the right direction that leads to the villain.

About those suspects.  In Secrets And Photographs, the first suspect that pinged my radar about a third of the way through the book ended up with me being right. It was something I now can’t quite put my finger on that made the character stand out. I reread that whole scene several times but never nailed it down. But, there’s more than one crime, and the second suspect that pinged my radar seemed kind of obvious. I knew better than to just assume and actually kind of forgot about that one for a while. But, the character kept popping into my head as I continued reading and is number one on my list. But, since that crime is continuing into the next book, I’ll have to wait and see if I was right.

Two: The title and cover are perfect for this book. I’ll explain. There are secrets. So many. And you won’t get to know all of them. That will come in the next book. And photographs. That’s the killer’s calling card. His signature. And a way to torment his victims. The cover perfectly compliments the title. Both beautiful and chilling.

Three: Characters. I came to care about several. Especially the main character, Detective Marissa Ambrose. She was kidnapped by a serial killer and was the only victim that had ever survived. So damaged. Emotionally and physically scarred. Medication and alcohol an important coping tool. Her panic attacks are debilitating. Leaving her vulnerable. Though she thinks she’s weak, I think she’s incredibly strong.

Four: The feels. So many. Marissa has some amazing support from long time friends and her family. The author worked her magic and made so many of them genuine. I laughed with them. Got mad with and at them. And cried. Several times. Whew….

Five: The ending. I got some answers. Was left hanging on others. I loved this book and so many of the characters. No way I won’t read more of this series.

5 STARS

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Enjoy this peek inside:
Chapter 1

Marissa felt cold. She couldn’t see anything, a blindfold tied tightly against her eyes. Music blared against her ears, the throbbing in her head synced with the beat of the music. The cold, rough concrete burned her bare legs, and every time she attempted to adjust them, she felt sharp sensations rush through. She was stiff and cold and tired. Her right hand was handcuffed to something that felt heavy and unbreakable, though she tried to pull away. Time had blurred, and her mind swam, unable to focus on anything. She was thirsty, hungry, and tired. Marissa had never been so frightened in her life.

Someone grabbed her by the arm, squeezing tight as they unlocked her cuff from whatever she was attached to and ushered her along. She whimpered in protest and tugged away from the fingers that dug into her. She thought she heard a laugh in her ear over the music before that hand shoved her hard. She nearly toppled over but fell into another set of hands that caught her in their arms. These weren’t as rough and didn’t grip her as tightly. They held her up as she pulled her legs back under her, and one of the hands rubbed her arm where the other had aggressively gripped. She could feel his breath on her neck as his lips touched her ear, whispering something she couldn’t quite hear.

She gasped, sat up with a start, and sighed, acknowledging she was safe in her room. Ellie was lying on top of her legs, her cold nose poking at her in concern. She rubbed Ellie’s ears, feeling her heartbeat slow to normal. Her chest heavily convulsed as tears fell down her cheeks. Pulling the dog in close, she hugged her tight—a solid reminder she was no longer in that place but inside her bedroom, in her home. Safe.

“Good girl,” she whispered, gripping Ellie’s fur. The shepherd leaned in close, burying her cold nose into her neck.

Leaning back, Marissa glanced over at her clock. It was nearly five. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs.” With a heavy sigh, she shifted as Ellie bounced off the bed and toward the door. Marissa swung her legs over the side and winced, aches traveling through her body from her heels as they hit the floor. “It’s going to be a day,” she mumbled and forced herself to stand. It was still dark outside, and she was sure the air outside was cold, but the old house was warm. It may have been old, but her mom had updated everything except for the walls. Marissa wandered into the bathroom; she could still hear Ellie bouncing in the hallway, excited to start her day. She did not share the dog’s enthusiasm. She washed her hands and stared at the reflection that stared back at her. Her dark hair was a tangled mess, and dark circles were under her eyes. Marissa remembered when she took pride in how she looked, brushed her hair several times a day, and had a whole skincare routine. She had been a beauty queen when she was younger. It all seemed so pointless now. Her eyes drifted from her face down to her shoulder with the long, dark scar. Then they drifted to the scar that ran from the bottom of her collarbone across her chest. Her tank top covered most of it, but she knew the rest ran down her side and to her back. She was full of scars now. She turned the light off and followed Ellie to the hallway, stopping at the top of the stairs. It was the same every morning: the stairs were always daunting. Her ankles locked up like they usually did, forcing her to take slow and precise steps. Once she reached the bottom, she headed to the kitchen and opened the back door, letting Ellie bound out into the dark yard. Sunrise was still a way off, but the sky was beginning to lighten. She went to the cabinet above the sink and dug out her meds. Since her recovery from the events at the warehouse, Marissa had received a long list of diagnoses: fibromyalgia brought on by trauma, panic attacks, PTSD, and arthritis. Not to mention a rapid heart rate they couldn’t pin down, chronic migraines—so many meds. Putting on her tea kettle, she set up her teacup and waited for the water to boil. It had taken some time, but Marissa had made her childhood home her own again. Her mom had signed the house over to her while she healed, which gave her full rein to do as she pleased with the place, taking the opportunity to downsize without selling. Port Townsend was not where Marissa thought she would be, especially after so many years in Seattle. She loved the city: the noise, the crowds, the food. The fact that almost everything was open until at least midnight. Not like this tourist town, which felt like it had a town-wide bedtime of 9 p.m. It was known as a charming, quaint town by the sea, and as far as she was concerned, it had lost its charm decades ago. Slowly but surely, the house was coming together. She sighed, grabbed her hoodie off the hook by her back door, and threw it over her head while letting Ellie back inside. Her mom had done all the hard stuff, remodeling the upstairs and downstairs to an open-concept floorplan and updating the plumbing and electricity. Marissa could see her front door, the living room, the dining room, and a study from the kitchen. Below the stairs was a full bathroom. As the tea kettle screamed, she poured the water into the cup and watched the steam rise. This was not where Marissa expected to be at thirty-six. Growing up, all she wanted was to get the hell out of this town. She would be married to her high school sweetheart with kids, living in a big city, and making detective. The funny part was, Marissa had married her high school sweetheart. Twice. They’d also had two divorces. She had been living in a big city, owning not one but two properties in Seattle. She had made detective, reaching incredible heights as one of the youngest promoted in her unit. And now, she was back in her childhood home, divorced and alone, still a detective but benched for the unseen future. It felt like a punishment. Of course, some of it was her doing. She had pushed Jared away and moved back home. Her nightmare wasn’t only when she slept. Her precinct had done all but call her a liar during her recovery when she told them there was more than one assailant. She couldn’t see, so it was simply her word. She had undergone so much; she couldn’t have been sure. That was what her unit had said because it didn’t fit into the profile the SPD had given. People she had trusted with her life didn’t have her back. She paused for a moment before retrieving the hidden key from her hutch and carefully climbing onto her counter. Despite telling herself she wouldn’t, most mornings she would pull down the box. She winced, pain stretching through her leg as she reached the top of her cabinets to recover a lockbox. Once it was on the counter, she paused as her feet hit the ground. She hoped that one day, something new would stand out. Some tangible clue she could hold in her hands. Ellie came right alongside her and whined, sensing her discomfort. Marissa stretched a hand down, scratching her ear as she unlocked the box and let the photographs pour out onto the countertop. There were candid shots of her going about her day, walking down the street, leaving the bakery, checking her mail. A good stack of them was just Jared. Sometimes they would arrive weekly, and sometimes she would go a few weeks without receiving anything. Or maybe it was just a good reminder of why this was her life now. Why she had chosen to be here, alone. A reminder that her life was in danger. Local cops and SPD, while agreeing she was a victim of a stalker, wouldn’t connect it to that case because before the warehouse, Marissa hadn’t received any photos. She had been given police protection across the street, but she knew no one had taken her seriously. In the eyes of the law, she hadn’t been threatened and couldn’t identify anyone. She only had pictures that appeared on her doorstep or in her mailbox. She kept them safely locked away, spending most of her days trying hard to forget them. But too often, she found herself thumbing through them. It had become an almost daily ritual. Once she was satisfied the tea had steeped long enough, she returned the photos to the box and put everything back in its place. Her former partner, Tom, would tell her dwelling over the same pieces of evidence wouldn’t get her anywhere. He had always given her advice like that. He had been so much like the older brother she’d never had, having been the oldest of three sisters. Taking her mug with both hands, she headed out to the backyard, not bothering to turn the light on. She stretched out on her swinging bench and scrolled through her socials. Occasionally, she found her eyes wandering over the backyard, watching for anything or anyone out of place. She knew there was always an officer across the street, watching over her and her home, but they hadn’t proven very helpful yet. They hadn’t managed to see who or how things were being left on her doorstep. The early morning air was chilly and quiet. The only noises she could hear were Ellie’s panting as she plopped herself down next to Marissa and the occasional breeze blowing by. She glanced at the clock on her phone. Barely any time had passed. Putting her feet up, she finished her tea, put the empty cup down on the side table, and looked out into her dark yard. She needed to rest, but she knew sleep would keep eluding her. She didn’t want to sleep anymore; the nightmares had worsened. If she had stopped to think about it, she would have realized why. All that mattered was every time she closed her eyes, she was back there again. *** Excerpt from Secrets and Photographs by A. K. Ramirez. Copyright 2024 by A. K. Ramirez. Reproduced with permission from A. K. Ramirez. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author A.K. Ramirez:

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A. K. Ramirez

A.K. Ramirez is a mystery writer tucked in a corner of the Pacific Northwest. She likes to weave mystery, and family drama with a little bit of romance all in one. She has participated in NaNoWriMo on and off for years, reaching her goal three times with three different novels, in both the mystery and fantasy genres. When she isn’t writing, she runs a dog training, boarding, and daycare facility or spends time with her husband, kids, and pack of dogs.

Catch Up With A.K. Ramirez: www.akramirezwrites.com Goodreads Instagram – @AKRamirezWrites Threads – @AKRamirezWrites Twitter/X – @AKRamirezWrites TikTok – @AKRamirezWrites Facebook – @AKRamirezWrites

 

 

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Father Callahan is forced back into
dangerous filth, corruption, and crime. Can he remain a celibate
priest, or will he abandon the life of faith for more sensual
pleasures? Will he stay a good man or return to the dark criminal
life he once knew so well?”

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At Home Among Sinners

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The John Callahan Series Book 1

by Elizabeth Upton

Genre: Romantic Mystery Thriller

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John Callahan is a good man with a
bad past — and his past will not let him live in peace.

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Against the odds, he matures from a teenage Belfast street thug and an IRA
killer to a happily married man and expectant father. Then fate
snatches away his wife, his unborn child—and his world—in the
flash of a tragic accident for which he feels responsible. Years
later, just as he begins to find peace and serenity again as a monk
in a rural Irish monastery, a vindictive superior banishes the
handsome young priest to a derelict parish in New York City.

.

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Ripped away from his quiet, cloistered life, Father Callahan is plunged back
into a dangerous cacophony of filth, corruption and crime. Will he
remain a celibate priest or will he abandon the life of faith for
more sensual pleasures? Will he remain a good man or return to the
dark criminal life he once knew so well?

.

In this exciting, insightful novel, Elizabeth Upton puts readers inside
the mind of a passionate, wounded and angry young priest as he
struggles to live in a state of grace among new friends and enemies
in a foreign land.

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

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Amazon
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The Web of Darkness and Light

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The John Callahan Series Book 2

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Demons never tire. Like the banshees
of Irish legend, they cling to John Callahan and fill his heart with
wails of despair.

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No matter how John tries to live an
exemplary life, the former IRA killer is haunted by the memories of
the horrors he has suffered — and those he has inflicted in return.
Not the monastic life, not the vows of the priesthood, not the move
from Ireland to New York City has brought him peace.

In this second gripping novel in the series by Elizabeth Upton, John
Callahan has resigned from the priesthood in the hope of living a
simpler life as a professor at New York University. However, his
promise to a distraught colleague — who soon turns up dead —
plunges him into another mystery alongside his friend Ronald Casey, a
detective with the NYPD. Who would want to kill a professor of
neuroscience? What could be contained in the briefcase she has
guarded, quite literally, with her life?

.

.

It begins to be clear that Dr. Shannon Grey Feather had discovered a cure for
addiction and several complex brain disorders. That is a medical
breakthrough worth millions — and one worth killing over. Once
again confronted by murder’s cruelty and life’s injustices, Callahan
must find a killer while coming to terms with his criminal past. He
longs for true peace and genuine love, but before he can hope for a
bright future, he must revisit his dark past — where the looming
demons dwell.

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Lovers’ Secrets and Revenge

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The John Callahan Series Book 3

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How much does family matter? And
what if there are unknown details about them?

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John Callahan visits his beloved grandmother, Annabelle, at her 500-acre
estate in Ireland. The peaceful countryside is beautiful, with lush
hills that overlook the coastline, so different from Callahan’s
home in New York City. After Annabelle dies, Callahan discovers that
she’s left everything to him. However, there are some challenges
with the staff, where secrets abound, including murder and heightened
security on the estate that can’t seem to control the chaos that is
happening.

Callahan is perplexed, wanting to solve the
murder, understand the workings of the estate, and also longing for a
relationship that would create a happy home. He meets Sara, the woman
in charge of the horses at the estate, and longs to be with her.
Throughout the busy days of work, travel, and wondering if he’s in
love, John remembers Annabelle’s words. “Whenever you need my
help, rub this precious jewel for consolation, wisdom, and
protection. Call me when needed, dearest Johnnie, and I shall come to
you.”

.

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Learn how Callahan meets the challenges of
revenge, murder, and love to discover the true meaning of friends and
family.

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

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Elizabeth Upton is a best-selling
author and influential writer of gripping romantic thrillers and
inspiring self-help motivational nonfiction books.

Her best-selling books, ‘Secrets
of a Nun: My Own Story,’ ‘The Silver Woman of Fire’ and ‘The Healing
Swords of Love and Innocence’ helped set her firmly within the
world’s literary map. With many novels to her credit, like her newest
fiction book, released in June 2022, titled ‘Lovers’ Secrets and
Revenge,’ a gripping romantic thriller, and her new nonfiction
release in Feb. 2024, titled ‘You Are a Sovereign Woman of Strength,
Love, and Grace: Embrace Your Journey.’

The Author’s favorite book she
enjoyed writing was ‘The Shaman and The Mafia,’ as she shares, “The
creation of this story has been an exciting journey. I would love to
meet all of the characters in this book in real life.”
Elizabeth’s nonfiction books and novels are available on Amazon and
Amazon Kindle and are featured on fine literary book sites and
magazines.

Elizabeth was born and raised in
Los Angeles, CA., until the age of sixteen, when she entered a New
York State Convent and became a nun for twenty years, but she yearned
for a more authentic spiritual life. Elizabeth left the convent and
chose to attend and receive her B.A. from Syracuse
University.

Returning to her native state of California,
she attended and received her M.A. in psychology from Chapman
University. The Author began working for over thirty years in family
counseling as a social worker and probation officer working with
troubled teens and abused children. She is a speaker, spiritual
mentor, and advisor.

Elizabeth is happily married and
enjoys writing books for her reader fans around the world. When the
Author is not writing, she works out with a personal trainer to stay
fit and healthy; she loves long walks on the beach with her husband
and dog. She enjoys reading good books by some of her favorite
authors like Geraldine Brooks, Hanh, Jerry Archer, Joseph Murphy, and
Michael Connelly.

Elizabeth and her husband reside outside
the area of Santa Barbara, California.

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Website
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Lies and secrets pile up in this chilling next installment of Willow Rose’s bestselling series about FBI profiler Eva Rae Thomas.

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Rest in Peace

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An Eva Rae Thomas Mystery #15

by Willow Rose

Genre: Suspense, Thriller, Mystery

.

Sarah Chapman is angry at her husband. She’s also drunk… very drunk as she drives down their street, ready to face him.

When a neighbor hears the commotion and rushes to help, he finds her inside, gun still in her hand, and her husband, Steven, dead in the bed.

Sarah is arrested and taken away but claims to be innocent.

The only one who believes her is FBI profiler, Eva Rae Thomas.
She knows Sarah personally, and as she looks at the evidence in the case, she is convinced that Sarah is telling the truth, even though she was highly intoxicated when the event occurred.

But the detective on the case is determined to have her convicted for the murder.

As more bodies turn up, only Eva Rae Thomas sees the connections and soon starts a race against time to prove Sarah is innocent and to catch the real murderer before it’s too late and her own family is targeted.

Lies and secrets pile up in this chilling next installment of Willow Rose’s bestselling series about FBI profiler Eva Rae Thomas.

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Amazon * Bookbub * Goodreads

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.

Willow Rose is a multi-million-copy best-selling Author and an ALL-star Author of more than 90 novels.

She has sold more than six million books that are translated into many languages.

Willow’s books are fast-paced, nail-biting pageturners with twists you won’t see coming.

That’s why her fans call her The Queen of Plot Twists.

Willow lives on Florida’s Space Coast with her kids, two cats and her Goldendoodle. When she is not writing or reading, you will find her surfing and watching the dolphins play in the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

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Website * Facebook * X * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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Book Details:

The Heaven Spot (A Novel) by Mary Frances Hill
Category:  Adult Fiction (18+),  296 pages
Genre: Thriller/Mystery
PublisherMary Frances Hill
Release date:  February 2024
Content Rating:  PG-13 + M:
The story is about a recovering opioid addict (previously a soccer mom from Virginia) who travels to Florida to solve her estranged daughter’s (a runaway’s) murder and to learn about the life her daughter was leading.

  1. There are curse words. The F-word is used once.
  2. There are no sex scenes, but the mom discovers that her daughter was sexually fluid and in relationships with a woman and an older man. (separately/not a throuple)
  3. There is no graphic violence.
  4. The novel does deal with mature themes like addiction, suicide, and adultery as well as grief, guilt, the power of friendship, and forgiveness. However, given the protagonist’s addiction issues, it can be a bit raw at times.

Book Description:

The Heaven Spot is a modern-day mystery set in Palm Beach, Florida, that depicts opioid addict Maggie Robert’s desperate attempt to come to terms with her estranged daughter, Lilly’s, murder.

When divorcée Maggie Roberts stumbles into her Virginia bookstore for the last time to close up shop, she expects the morning to be rough. The business failure is hers alone. She took all those opioids. She relapsed. She vows to stay clean and regroup. But as she packs up her books, two cops appear and inform her that her estranged daughter, Lilly, has died in West Palm Beach.

Heartbroken, Maggie heads to Florida to find out why Lilly passed and how she lived. But when she arrives in the Sunshine State, she barely recognizes the young woman in the morgue.

​Maggie doubts she’ll ever forgive herself for her past mistakes with Lilly but believes that if she remains local, she can push the detective to focus on Lilly’s case and learn about her daughter. But as she connects the dots, Maggie wonders the unthinkable—could she have played a part in Lilly’s death while relapsing and blackout-high? Can she live with herself if she did?

BUY THE BOOK:
Amazon 
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MY REVIEW

Character driven stories are among my favorite to read. Getting inside their heads. Being shown their past and the actions that brought them to the present. And being shown why they did what they did. Being compelled to like or not like them. To care about them. All of that makes for a story I can immerse myself in. Walk in their shoes for a few hours. And hope for a happy ending. Or at least some answers to my questions.

The author did all of that. And she made me feel so many feels. Sadness. Joy. Anger. Despair and disappointment. And hope. She made me care about someone it was hard to care about. She even managed to make me care about someone that was no longer alive. Made me see her as an active character in the story.  That’s some good storytelling.

4 STARS

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Interview with Author Mary Frances Hill:
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Question #1—Why do you choose to title your novel The Heaven Spot?

Answer—I opted to go with The Heaven Spot because the murder victim/ protagonist’s daughter is a graffiti artist, and “the heaven spot” is a graffiti term referring to the most dangerous place to paint a piece. Also, the protagonist, Maggie, travels to Palm Beach, Florida, to solve her daughter’s murder, and Palm Beach is a beautiful island. It’s like heaven.

Question #2—What inspired you to write this novel?

Answer—Just prior to writing The Heaven Spot, someone very dear to me passed away. I believe that experience led me to write a story centered on grief. My own experience with grief was very complicated. I wanted my protagonist’s feelings following the death of her estranged daughter to be even more conflicted. This is why I made my protagonist a soccer mom/ opioid addict. Writing coaches always say you should put your characters in horrific situations. I can’t imagine anything more horrific than losing your son or daughter when you are not in a good place with them because of the choices you’ve made.

Question #3—Your novel is set in the Palm Beach/West Palm Beach area. Have you been there?

Answer—Yes. I owned a vacation home in Palm Beach and spent five hot, glorious summers there swimming and walking on the beach. (We rented our place out during the busy winter tourist season.) I love Palm Beach Island and the surrounding areas. The wealth, mix of people, and glitzy, tropical environment lend themselves perfectly to a secret-filled mystery with lots of intrigue and drama. This is why I selected PBI for the setting of my novel.

Question #4—How long have you been writing?

Answer—I began writing when I stopped working as a therapist so I could be at home and raise my children. My children are adults now, so that was almost thirty years ago. I wanted to write what my children were reading, so I started with writing picture books. I progressed to middle-grade and YA novels. Finally, I graduated to mystery novels. I love writing mysteries, especially psychological mysteries. I suppose I’m still a therapist at heart.

Question #5—What is your next project?

Answer—I’m writing another psychological murder mystery with a female protagonist. This one is set in a church preschool in central New Jersey, and the protagonist is the preschool’s director. The story is based on an experience my mother had when she ran a preschool near Princeton in the 1980s. In my novel, one of the moms discovers that one of the preschool dads is the son of a mafia boss and that he’s changed his name and lifestyle in an attempt to distance himself from his famous Italian family. When a body is found in the local lake, rumors and accusations fly. Of course, everyone suspects the dad.

Question #6—Do you ever get writer’s block? What helps you overcome it?

Answer—I don’t get writer’s block in the sense that I can’t think of something to write about. I’m a pantser, meaning I write and don’t outline my first draft. So, I guess you could say that I write through my blocks. However, I sometimes get stuck during rewriting when I realize something is amiss with my plot. When this happens, I talk out the issue with my wonderful critique group friends. They’ve taught me that most plot problems have easy fixes. Getting out into the world, living my life, and taking a break from my keyboard generates tons of ideas and solutions for me, too.

Question #7—One of the main characters in your novel, The Heaven Spot, is a graffiti artist, and another owns an art gallery. Your previous novel, The Worm Man, was about an aspiring artist. Are you a professional artist?

Answer—No. I’m not even an amateur artist, but I love visiting art museums. Also, when I was growing up, my father worked as a music professor in the fine arts department at a university. We regularly had his artist coworkers over for dinner. I spent hours listening to them talk about their projects and lives. I loved their passion. In fiction, you need passionate characters to propel your story forward. That’s likely why I’ve leaned toward writing about artists.

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Meet Author Mary Frances Hill:

Mary Frances Hill was born in Lawrenceville, New Jersey. The daughter of a music professor and an elementary school teacher, Mary obtained a master’s degree in counseling psychology and worked as a therapist before raising two children. Though Mary currently lives in Southern California with her Russian Blue and Scottish Straight cats, her Pyredoodle puppy, her golfer husband, and her adult son and daughter, she spent many happy vacations at her house on Palm Beach Island—the setting of her most recent novel, The Heaven Spot. Mary is an avid dog walker and home renovator and loves binge-watching true crime documentaries and mysteries. Mary’s debut novel, The Worm Man, was published in 2022.

Connect with the author:   Website  ~  Goodreads 
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THE HEAVEN SPOT (a novel) Book Tour Giveaway

 

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I am thrilled to be hosting a spot
on the WHEN CICADAS CRY by Caroline Cleveland Blog Tour hosted by 
Rockstar Book Tours.

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Check out my review and make sure to enter the giveaway!

 

 

WHEN CICADAS CRY

by Caroline Cleveland

 

 

Pub. Date: May 7, 2024

Publisher: Union Square Co.

Formats: Paperback, eBook, Audiobook

Pages: 336

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Find it: Goodreadshttps://books2read.com/WHEN-CICADAS-CRY 

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In this stunning debut by a South
Carolina attorney, Zach Stander, a lawyer with a past, and Addie Stone, his
indomitable detective and lover, find themselves entangled in secrets, lies,
and murder in a small Southern town.

A high-profile murder case—A white woman has been bludgeoned to death
with an altar cross in a rural church on Cicada Road in Walterboro, South
Carolina. Sam Jenkins, a Black man, is found covered in blood, kneeling over
the body. In a state already roiling with racial tension, this is not only a
murder case, but a powder keg.

A haunting cold case—Two young women are murdered on quiet Edisto Beach,
an hour southeast of Walterboro, and the killer disappears without a trace.
Thirty-four years later the mystery remains unsolved. Could there be a
connection to Stander’s case?

A killer who’s watching—Stander takes on Jenkins’s defense, but he’s up
against a formidable solicitor with powerful allies. Worse, his client is
hiding a bombshell secret. When Addie Stone reopens the cold case, she
discovers more long-buried secrets in this small town. Would someone kill again
to keep them?

Ideal for fans of mystery, suspense, and thrillers in the vein of Karin
Slaughter’s Pretty Girls and Stacy Willingham’s A
Flicker in the Dark
, as well as for readers who followed the high-profile
Murdaugh murder trial, held in the same small town as in When Cicadas
Cry
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MY REVIEW

There was so much that intrigued me about this book. The southern setting. The sensational murder case which created so much racial tension. A cold case that might tie into the recent one. And a killer watching as the small town imploded. It reminded me of the movie A Time To Kill.

The story is told from multiple points of view and I felt the author was right to do that. It helped me connect quickly with the characters and revealed why they had certain reactions and did what they did.

The story ebbed and flowed, kind of like the tide. There were moments where the excitement was palpable, and moments where the focus shifted to personal relationships and the past. I enjoyed all of it.

4 STARS

 

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About Author Caroline Cleveland:

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Caroline Cleveland is a labor and employment lawyer. A native South Carolinian, Caroline
grew up in the Lowcountry and earned her Juris Doctor degree from the
University of South Carolina School of Law in 1991. This is her first novel.

Website | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon 

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Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

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1 winner will receive a finished copy of WHEN CICADAS CRY, US Only.

Ends May 7th, midnight EST.

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tour Schedule:

Week One:

4/22/2024

@callistoscalling

IG Review

4/23/2024

Books and Zebras

IG Review

4/24/2024

@jaimes_mystical_library

IG Review

4/25/2024

Two Points of Interest

Review/IG Post

4/26/2024

Kim’s Book Reviews and Writing Aha’s

Review/IG Post

Week Two:

4/29/2024

The Book Critic

Review/IG Post

4/30/2024

Country Mamas With Kids

Review/IG Post

5/1/2024

ENCHANTED EXCURSE

Review/IG Post

5/2/2024

One More Exclamation

Review/IG Post

5/3/2024

FUONLYKNEW

Review

 

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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.

Some Kind of Truth by Westley Smith Banner

SOME KIND OF TRUTH
by Westley Smith
April 8 – May 3, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
A mysterious video. A cold case. A reporter hunting for answers to both.

Pittsburgh crime reporter, Steve James, returns home to find a mysterious package waiting outside his apartment door. At first, Steve fears the package could contain a deadly threat from a local mob boss pressuring him to retract his story, which helped put him behind bars. Instead, Steve finds a junior driver’s license belonging to Rebecca Ann Turner, a teenager who went missing from a party twenty-five years ago, and a USB flash drive containing a video of her murder. Horrified by the contents inside the package, Steve is determined to find out what happened to Rebecca and why someone dragged him into uncovering this mystery. But as Steve sifts through the clues and weaves his way around those trying to prevent him from exposing the truth, he continues to struggle with personal issues stemming from his time as a war correspondent in Afghanistan, where he was filmed being tortured and nearly executed by the Taliban, making what happened to Rebecca all the more personal.

Some Kind of Truth Trailer:

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Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Thriller

Published by: Wicked House Publishing Publication Date: February 2, 2024 Number of Pages: 336 ISBN: 9781959798309 (ISBN10: 1959798308)

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

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MY REVIEW

Steve James never thought that monsters would once again enter his life. He thought his capture and torture by the Taliban while working as a war correspondent in Afghanistan gave him a get out of jail free card from all that. But when he finds a package left at his door containing a drivers license and a USB drive with images of a teenage girl who’d been missing for twenty five years, he must once again go on the hunt. It’s more than just a story to him.

Do you believe in monsters? You should. They’re real. They might be someone you know. Or someone you pass on the street. They look human. They act human. But it’s a glamour they wear so you won’t see the ugliness that is them. Yes, they’re homo sapiens. But they have no right to be called human. I’m a tough cookie. Don’t normally feel sick to my stomach when reading about these kind of monsters. But, the author’s writing wouldn’t let me look away. And knowing monster’s like the ones in this book are real. Are doing horrific things to people and still getting a good night sleep had a strong effect on me.

Steve, along with Amy, a young reporter, dive into the fray. They’re the unsung heroes. They’re the kind of people who hear a gunshot and run towards it while everyone else runs away. What they discover while investigating Rebecca’s disappearance should have made them run away. But, they entered the fray and faced plenty of danger. Unable to quit, even knowing they might not survive the case. I feared for them. I cheered for them. I cared for them.

There was no sugar coating of events in the story. The author put it all out there. Yes, I felt sick sometimes. But that made me eager to see how it all came together. Whether the monsters got their just desserts. And whether the characters I cared about were still alive when the dust settled.

A dark, disturbing story written just the way it should have been.

5 STARS

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Enjoy this peek inside:
CHAPTER ONE
The package was marked…
ATT: STEVE JAMES of the PITTSBURGH TRIBUNE
…and wrapped in brown butcher’s paper as if it were a poor-man’s version of a Christmas present. Steve had received anonymous packages before, some with leads to run down, others with incriminating evidence from a source he was working with. However, this package had not been delivered to the Pittsburgh Tribune like it should have been. It was left outside his apartment door. Perplexed, Steve lifted the package, gingerly, from the floor. It was light and about six inches long by four inches wide. He shook it, but nothing moved inside. He had not been expecting a delivery, certainly not one to his home by an anonymous person. His guts tightened into an uncomfortable, disconcerting knot. Turning, he looked down the hallway, to where the back stairwell led out to the rear entrance of the apartment building. Sunlight shone through the single window at the end of the hall and cut a sharp blade-like angle of light onto the floor. Dust particles floated in the air as if recently disturbed – maybe by the deliverer of the package. Someone could have gotten into the building by the rear entrance, made their way up to Steve’s apartment, dropped the package by his door, and slipped back out before anyone noticed. He did not live in one of the new high-rises being built around Pittsburgh – apartments that came with all the security bells and whistles – but rather an old turn of the century building on the lower east side of Pittsburgh. The rent was cheap, and the landlord damn-near nonexistent, especially when it came to the safety and upkeep of the building. It was what Steve could afford on a reporter’s salary. He looked back at the parcel in his hands. The sense of unease continued to coil his stomach. Was he being targeted like reporters after 9/11, with anthrax-sealed packages delivered to their homes and offices? Possibly. The fact that his article “MOB IN PITTSBURGH” had helped put Anthony Palazzo, a local money launderer affiliated with the New York-based DeLuca Crime Organization, behind bars could have something to do with the mysterious package outside his door that afternoon. Again, he wondered what was inside and cautiously shook it, like a kid trying to figure out the present under the wrapping on their birthday. Nothing moved, nothing rattled inside. Steve knew he should leave the package alone; place it back on the floor where he found it, call the police, and have them look at it first. That was the smart thing to do. The right thing to do. There could be anything inside meant to bring him harm, especially nowadays, when reporters were being unfairly besieged for spreading false information to the public. Against his better judgment, Steve forced the apprehension away like a fly at a picnic, tucked the bundle under his left arm, fished his keys from his jacket pocket, and opened the apartment door. Once inside, he closed the door and peered through the peephole to the hallway. Still, the hall was empty, and no one passed by. Again, he felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle, and the hairs stand on end with nervousness. Why was the package left and what was inside? Steve wondered. Turning away from the door, he moved into the kitchen. He placed his laptop bag on the counter beside his keys, then removed a Zippo lighter and a pack of cigarettes and placed them beside the laptop bag. He put the brown package beside his things. It looked odd on the countertop, as if it were some evil present that had been left at his home – a gift from Satan himself. There was nothing out of the ordinary with its appearance. Other than the handwritten address, there were no other identifiable words or labels on the outside. Gooseflesh rose across Steve’s body. Whoever delivered the package knew who he was, where he worked, and where he lived. Normally, Steve had all large packages sent to the Tribune’s mailroom. He didn’t trust his landlord, Horace Baker. The slimeball charged an extra ten dollars a month to hold deliveries larger than what could fit into the small gold mailboxes in the lobby. He called it a ‘holding charge.’ Steve was sure it was illegal, a scheme to get more money from the tenants. Steve was not about to pay the extra money. He had heard stories from others in the building that when they received their packages some were opened, searched, and sometimes things were missing. Of course, Baker claimed it was how the parcels arrived. This particular package, sitting ominously on his countertop, should never have made it to his floor. Or maybe it IS from Palazzo, Steve thought. It could have been a scare tactic to get Steve to retract his story, setting Palazzo free from prison, while simultaneously clearing the DeLuca Family of any wrongdoing. For all Steve knew, there could be a small explosive inside the box, just big enough to rattle his cage but not kill him. Or, if they wanted to get the job over with, they could have laced it with anthrax, just like reporters received after 9/11. Yet, he wasn’t so sure Palazzo or the DeLuca Family were ready to make that kind of move against him. At the moment, Palazzo and the DeLuca Family were letting their mob lawyers handle the process through the courts with a defamation and source exposure lawsuit on Steve and the Pittsburgh Tribune. No, Steve was confident it was delivered by someone else. But who? And more importantly, why? He pulled a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey from the cupboard along with a small glass and poured himself a healthy snort. Just to quiet the demons, Steve thought bitterly, taking a swig. Just to quiet the demons. He studied the package while swirling the brown liquor around in the glass, knowing he should leave it alone and call the police. But intrigue was sinking its fangs into his mind, poisoning his thoughts with fantasies of what dwelled inside its dark recesses. Someone knew Steve well enough to know he could never leave a mystery alone. He thumbed one of the cigarettes out of the box, popped it into his mouth and lit it with the Zippo lighter. He inhaled deeply. Smoke filled his lungs. Calmed his nerves. Helped him think straight – so he thought. What’s inside? a shadowy voice spoke from the alcoves of Steve’s mind, pulling him from his reverie. He could not argue with this strange, archaic voice. He desperately wanted to know what was inside the package. Taking a long drag on the cigarette, he let the smoke out slowly between his teeth with a low sssss. What to do? What to do? There was only one thing to do. Setting the cigarette in the ashtray, Steve picked the package up. He felt that familiar chill of disquiet crawl over him, like cold skeleton fingers walking up his spine, vertebra by vertebra. “Enough of this guessing-game shit,” Steve said and tore the heavy brown paper away, exposing a white box underneath which resembled something a pastry would come in. The lid was sealed shut with a single piece of Scotch Tape. Steve knew no one would send him sweets – maybe anthrax, maybe a bomb, but certainly not sweets. In a career that spanned more than twenty years as a crime reporter for the Tribune, Steve had made more enemies, like Anthony Palazzo, than friends. Such was the life, he supposed. He peeled the Scotch Tape from the box and then lifted the lid slowly, as if a venomous snake were about to spring out and bury its sharp fangs into his face. With the box lid cracked, he peered inside. Instead of finding something harmful, the box contained a USB Flash Drive secured in white tissue paper. Two words were handwritten on the front of the flash drive in black magic marker:/p>
PLAY ME!
Steve frowned. Why would someone send him a flash drive anonymously? Did it have something to do with the Palazzo story he’d spent the better part of two years working on? Some missing information that would, without a shadow of a doubt, ensure that Palazzo stayed behind bars for the rest of his life? Or was it something unrelated? Steve didn’t know. Then he noticed the USB was not the only item inside the box. Tucked beside the flash drive was a small piece of white plastic. Removing the plastic from the box, Steve found it was about the size of a credit card and coated with a reddish-brown dirt. He rubbed his fingertips together feeling a gritty dust, like a fine sand. Turning the card over revealed it was a Pennsylvania Junior Driver’s License issued to a Rebecca Ann Turner of 428 Water Street, Abbottstown Pennsylvania. Her birthdate was 10/02/1982. The issue date on the card was 11/23/1998 — twenty-six years ago. The top right-hand corner, where the expiration date should have been, was broken, the plastic chipped away, forever lost to time, leaving a jagged edge that looked sharp enough to slice through flesh. The driver’s license photo of Rebecca Turner showed an attractive sixteen-year-old girl with blonde hair and bright blue eyes that sparkled with life. Her face was long, narrow, and innocent, holding the optimism of youth. Her beaming smile radiated from the picture, enhancing her natural beauty and charm. According to the driver’s license, Rebecca was born in 1982, which would make her forty-two years old now. But Steve got the sickening feeling that Rebecca did not live to see her forty-second birthday. He looked back to the flash drive resting inside the box. He was unsure how the driver’s license and the USB were connected, but he was certain they were, or they would not have been delivered together. What’s on the flash drive? Steve wondered anxiously. His heart began to race, and his palms grew moist with sweat. A horrible notion rushed through his mind that something awful had happened to Rebecca Turner, something the USB would ultimately reveal. “H-holy shit,” he said aloud; the shudder in his voice surprised him. Someone wants you to find out what happened to this young lady, Steve ol’ Boy, and expose the truth. Reaching for the cigarette in the ashtray, he brought it to his lips and inhaled. The smoke settled on his lungs with a comfortable bite that he relished. He looked back to the box; his eyes lingered on its contents. Possible scenarios played across his mind as to why someone would want him involved. But none of these thoughts made much sense at the moment. Steve took another drag and stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray. He had smoked it down to the filter as he often did; a haze of heavy, thick smoke hovered around the ceiling. He picked up the glass of whiskey and finished it in one swallow, and then poured himself another – three fingers worth this time. His mouth had gone bone dry, but he wasn’t sure another shot – even three fingers worth – would wet his whistle. The demons inside were growing, and Steve needed to calm them. Or, at least, he continued to tell himself that on a nightly basis. Warily, he lifted the USB from the box. Dare he view whatever was on it, or call the police and let them handle the situation? He shook the thought off. His reporter instinct had taken over. He needed to know what was on the USB, how it connected with the girl on the junior driver’s license, and why he was chosen to unravel this mystery before going to the police. *** Excerpt from Some Kind of Truth by Westley Smith. Copyright 2024 by Westley Smith. Reproduced with permission from Westley Smith. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Westley Smith:

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Westley Smith

Westley Smith had his first short story, Off to War, published when he was just sixteen. Recently, he has had short stories featured in On the Premise, Unveiling Nightmares, and Crystal Lake Entertainment. He was the runner-up contestant in the Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine’s “Mysterious Photograph Contest,” where his name was featured in the magazine. He sold his debut thriller, Some Kind of Truth, to Wicked House Publishing, it was released on February 2nd, 2024.

Catch Up With Westley Smith: Goodreads Instagram – @wsmithbooks Facebook – @westleysmith100

 

 

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.