Posts Tagged ‘giveaway’

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Checked Out For Murder

A Haunted Library Mystery

by Allison Brook


Checked Out for Murder: A Haunted Library Mystery
Cozy Mystery
4th in Series
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books (September 8, 2020)
Hardcover: 320 pages
ISBN-10: 164385447X
ISBN-13: 978-1643854472
Digital ASIN: B082738ZNV

Carrie Singleton and Evelyn the ghost sleuth the slayings of a starlet and a star-crossed psychic in Agatha Award nominee Allison Brook’s fourth Haunted Library mystery.

 

Daphne Marriott strolls into Clover Ridge and informs librarian Carrie Singleton that she’s a psychic. But had she foreseen what fate awaited her, Daphne would have steered clear of the quaint Connecticut town. Evelyn, the library ghost, tells Carrie that there’s more to Daphne than she lets on.

 

The mysterious woman grew up in Clover Ridge with her no-good dad, who apparently met his end at the hands of Daphne’s brother, Billy. Still, Daphne proves a welcome distraction when Carrie’s overbearing mother hits town. Mom’s much younger husband, Tom, is in a movie that’s lensing locally, and she’s there to keep an eye on him: Tom’s costar, sultry Ilana Reingold, is also his ex-fiancée, and there’s no denying the chemistry is still there. Soon after mingling with the moviemakers at a meet-and-greet, Daphne is found dead.

 

Carrie and Evelyn investigate, assisted by bushy-tailed library cat Smoky Joe. But the suspect list could overflow the library shelves. Has Billy killed another relative? Is their long-missing mother involved? Or Daphne’s mean ex-husband? Carrie’s sure she knows who committed the crime, but can she bind together the clues before the culprit Dewey-decimates the town?

 

About Allison Brook

A former Spanish teacher, Marilyn Levinson writes mysteries, romantic suspense, and novels for kids. Her books have received many accolades. As Allison Brook she writes the Haunted Library series. DEATH OVERDUE, the first in the series, was an Agatha nominee for Best Contemporary Novel in 2018. Other mysteries include the Golden Age of Mystery Book Club series and the Twin Lakes series.

Author Links: Instagram / Website / Amazon / Facebook / Goodreads / Pinterest

Twitter: Marilyn Levinson / Allison Brook

 Bookbub: Marilyn Levinson / Allison Brook

 

Purchase Links – AmazonB&NKoboIndieBound

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GIVEAWAY

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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September 8 – The Avid Reader – REVIEW, INDIVIDUAL GIVEAWAY

September 8 – Literary Gold – CHARACTER GUEST POST

September 8 – Author Elena Taylor’s Blog – SPOTLIGHT

September 9 – I’m All About Books – SPOTLIGHT, RECIPE

September 9 – Diane Reviews Books – REVIEW

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September 11 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT

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September 13 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST

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September 18 – Melina’s Book Blog – 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

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Little Bookshop Of Murder

A Beach Reads Mystery

by Maggie Blackburn


Little Bookshop of Murder: A Beach Reads Mystery
Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books (September 8, 2020)
Hardcover
ISBN-10: 1643854380
ISBN-13: 978-1643854380
Digital ASIN: B0818ZX2NY

A Shakespearean scholar inherits a beachside bookshop–and a murder mystery–in this delightful new cozy series for fans of Kate Carlisle and Ellery Adams.

 

Summer Merriweather’s career as a Shakespeare professor hangs by a bookbinder’s thread. Academic life at her Virginia university is a viper’s pit, so Summer spends her summer in England, researching a scholarly paper that, with any luck, will finally get her published, impress the Dean, and save her job. But her English idyll ends when her mother, Hildy, shuffles off her mortal coil from an apparent heart attack.

 

Returning to Brigid’s Island, NC, for the funeral, Summer is impatient to settle the estate, sell her mom’s embarrassingly romance-themed bookstore, Beach Reads, and go home. But as she drops by Beach Reads, Summer finds threatening notes addressed to Hildy: “Sell the bookstore or die.”

 

Clearly, something is rotten on Brigid’s Island. What method is behind the madness? Was Hildy murdered? The police insist there’s not enough evidence to launch a murder investigation. Instead, Summer and her Aunt Agatha screw their courage to the sticking place and start sleuthing, with the help of Hildy’s beloved book club. But there are more suspects on Brigid’s Island than are dreamt of in the Bard’s darkest philosophizing. And if Summer can’t find the villain, the town will be littered with a Shakespearean tragedy’s worth of corpses–including her own.

 

About Maggie Blackburn

Maggie Blackburn is the author of the Cora Crafts mysteries and the Cumberland Creek mysteries under another pen name. Her books have been selected as finalists for an Agatha Award and a Daphne du Maurier Award and as a Top 10 Beach Reads by Woman’s World. She has also been short-listed for the Virginia Library People’s Choice Award. She is the mother of two young women who are off following their dreams in the music business. She currently lives in Waynesboro, VA, and works at the University of Virginia as a development associate.

Author Links

Website   /  Twitter

Purchase Links – AmazonB&NKobo

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GIVEAWAY

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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TOUR PARTICIPANTS

September 8 – The Avid Reader – REVIEW

September 8 – Baroness’ Book Trove – REVIEW

September 8 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW, AUTHOR INTERVIEW

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September 8 – Thoughts in Progress – SPOTLIGHT

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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A Circle Of Dead Girls by Eleanor Kuhns Banner

 

A Circle Of Dead Girls

by Eleanor Kuhns

on Tour September 1-30, 2020

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Synopsis

In the spring of 1800, a traveling circus arrives in town. Rees is about to attend, but sees his nemesis, Magistrate Hanson in the crowd, and leaves. On the way home he meets a party of Shaker brothers searching for a missing girl. They quickly come across her lifeless body thrown into a farmer’s field.

Rees begins investigating and quickly becomes entranced by the exotic circus performers, especially the beautiful young tightrope walker.

Other murders follow. Who is the killer? One of the circus performers? One of the townspeople? Or One of the Shakers?

 

Book Details:

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Genre: Historical Murder Mystery Published by: Severn House Publication Date: March 3rd 2020 Number of Pages: 224 ISBN: 0727890085 (ISBN13: 9780727890085) Series: Will Rees Mysteries #8 (Each book “Stands Alone”)

Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

As if God Himself had taken a hand, winter abruptly changed to spring. The six inches of snow that had fallen just last week – the third week of April – was melting in the suddenly balmy air. Instead of hard packed snow, the roads were surfaced in slush and mud. Only on the north sides of the slopes and under the trees did snow remain and even there green spears poked through the white. Rees had already planted peas and in a few weeks he would begin plowing the rocky fields. He sighed. Although glad to see the spring, he did not like to think about the coming backbreaking toil. He would turn forty this year and his dislike of farm work had, if anything, intensified. His father had died at the age of forty-six, while Rees was away serving with General Washington in the War for Independence, and sometimes he wondered if six years was all he had left. Six years with his arms up to their elbows in mud and manure. Just the thought of it pressed down like a heavy weight. He didn’t think he could bear it. At least, with the coming warmer weather, he could look forward to a few weeks of freedom as he traveled these roads weaving for the farm wives. Besides the cash he would earn, he looked forward to what he imagined as sunlit days of freedom from the farm. With a shake of his head, he pushed the gloomy thoughts from his mind. Now he was on his way into town. For the past several days men had been shouting up and down the lanes and byways: Asher’s Circus was coming to town. Rees had brought his children to the Surry road yesterday to watch the circus arrive. First came a man in a scarlet coat and top hat riding a bay. Bells jingled on his harness and feathers danced upon his head. Two carriages followed, the beautiful women seated inside leaning through the curtained windows to wave and blow kisses. At least five wagons followed, wagons that were unlike any that Rees had ever seen. These vehicles looked like the carriages but were bigger and taller and the curtains at their small windows were shut. On every wagon door a bright gold rearing horse glittered in the sunlight. Finally, clowns with colored patches painted over their eyes and vivid clothing walked alongside. One was a dwarf with a pig and a dog and the other a giant of a man. While the little man turned cartwheels, the big fellow walked straight ahead barely acknowledging the crowds lining the street. Rees’s children were beyond excited, jumping and shouting beside the road. Even Rees, a cosmopolitan traveler who’d visited several large cities, had been enchanted. After a long winter kept mostly inside and occupied solely with mending tack and other chores he was ready for some entertainment. Now he was on his way into town to see a performance. A sudden wash of muddy water splattered, not only the wagon, but him as well. He swore at the young sprig galloping by, so intent on reaching Durham that he paid no attention to those he passed. But Rees was not really angry. A circus was a grand event and he guessed he could extend a little charity to the eager farmer’s boy. Rees knew Lydia would have liked to join him, and probably the children as well, but no lady would be seen at such rude entertainment, so she must rely on his descriptions. The streets of Durham were thronged with traffic. Wagons jostled for space next to horses and mules. Pedestrians were forced to cling to the side of the buildings lest they be trampled underfoot. Rees shook his head in amazement; he had never seen the streets so crowded. And Rouge’s inn! The yard swarmed with horses and shouting men. Rees’s hope – that he could leave his horse and wagon there – died. When he turned down an alley that went to the jail, he found this narrow lane almost as impassible. But he could already see a tall structure in the field that the Durham farmers usually used for Saturday market. It was so early in the season that market was just beginning. Later in the spring the grounds would be in use every Saturday. Finally, Rees parked his wagon and horse at the jail. He watered Hannibal from a nearby trough and joined the mob streaming toward the large field. Affluent townsmen rubbed shoulders with sunburned farmers in straw hats and dirty clogs. At first, except for the arena built in the center, the fairgrounds looked exactly as normal: an occasional ramshackle hut interspersed with large areas of open ground. The farmers usually set up their wares in one of those small squares; this was how Lydia sold her butter and cheese. Rees lifted his eyes to the tall wooden structure, dazzling with colorful flags flying around the roof, that dominated the field. At first, he did not notice how peculiar the building looked. But as he approached the flimsy construction, the lack of any windows, and the slapdash roof became apparent. An arc of roofed wooden vehicles – the circus wagons – curved around the back. At several yards distant he could see gaps between the splintered boards that made up the walls. Posters, all designed with a crude woodcut of a horse, papered over the widest of cracks. Rees directed his steps to a bill posted on the wall and paused in front of it. “Asher’s Circus”, he read. “Mr. Joseph Asher, trained by Mr. Phillip Astley and Mr. John B. Ricketts, and just arrived from tours of London, Philadelphia, Boston, and Albany, is pleased to present daring feats of horsemanship, the world -famous rope dancer Bambola, clowns after the Italian fashion and many more acts to amaze and delight.” Rees grunted, his eyes moving to the bottom. Names and dates scribbled in by different hands, and then crossed off, filled all the white space with the last being Durham, show time five o’clock. Since he didn’t recognize most of the names, he suspected they were for very small villages, not the cities mentioned above. Mr. Asher clearly had grandiose aspirations. Rees walked around to the front. An opening was screened by a shabby blue curtain, dyed in streaks and with the same look as the boards- used over and over for a long time. Now more curious than ever, he bent down and peered through the gap at the bottom. He could hear the sound of hooves and as he peeked under the curtain he saw the skinny brown legs of a galloping horse thud past. ‘I really must begin my journey.’ Piggy Hanson’s whiny drawl sent Rees’s head whipping around. What the Hell was Piggy doing here? Rees had not seen Hanson, or anyone else from his hometown of Dugard, Maine, for almost two years, not since the magistrate had written an arrest warrants for Lydia – witchcraft – and for Rees – murder. His family had had to flee for their lives. He did not think he would ever forgive the people involved, especially the magistrate who had enabled the persecution. Rage swept over Rees and he turned to look around for the other man. He saw his nemesis – they’d been enemies since boyhood – standing in a cluster of gentlemen, their cigar smoke forming a cloud around them. With every intention of punching the other man, Rees took a few steps in his direction, but then his anger succumbed to his more rational mind. He did not want Piggy Hanson to know he lived here now and anyway there were far too many men for him to take on by himself. ‘I must leave for the next town on my circuit, you know,’ Hanson continued. A magistrate for a large district, he regularly traveled from town to town ruling on judicial issues. He knew Rees was innocent of murder, Rees was certain of it, but he suspected he would still be treated as though he was guilty. And he doubted he could behave with any civility at all, not with this man. He cast around for a hiding place and, quicker than thought, he dashed behind the blue curtain. He swiftly moved away from the portal, pressing himself against the wooden wall so that no one who came through the curtain could immediately see him. Then he inhaled a deep breath and looked around. Stones carried in from the field outside marked off a roughly circular ring. The galloping horse thundered past, a woman in a short red frock standing on the saddle. At first scandalized to see the woman’s legs knee to ankle, Rees’s shock quickly turned to admiration. She stood on the saddle in comfort, her red dress and white petticoats fluttering in the breeze. Puffs of dust from the horse’s hooves sifted into the air. ‘Pip,’ said a voice from above. Rees looked up. A rope had been stretched tautly across the width of the enclosure and a woman in a white dress and stockings stood upon it. She wore white gloves but no hat and her wavy dark hair curled around her face. Rees stared in amazement as her white feet slid across the line. She was totally focused upon her task and did not give any indication she saw him. ‘Pip,’ she said again, and went into a flood of French mixed with some other language. Rees understood enough to know she was complaining about the rope. This, he thought, must be Bambola, the ropewalker, crossing the sky above his head. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. As her white dress fluttered around her, all he could think of was angels. ‘Bon.’ A man Rees had not noticed detached himself from the wall and moved forward. He was easily as tall as Rees, if not taller, and lanky. His hair was a peculiar reddish black color. In French he assured the rope dancer that he would fix the rope in a minute. Holding up his hand, he moved toward the ring. The equestrienne dropped down to the saddle, first riding astride and then moving one leg across so she rode sidesaddle. She pulled the horse to a stop and jumped down with none of the hesitation of a lady. She conferred with Pip for a few moments in tones too low for Rees to hear and then she went out the opening at the back. The man leaped easily into the saddle and urged the horse again into a gallop. He stood in the saddle, balancing even more easily than his female partner, and then, in one fluid motion, dropped to the saddle to stand on his hands. His lean body formed a long streak toward the sky. Rees gasped in amazement. Then the performer began jumping from one face of the saddle to the other, riding diagonally on each side with his feet pointing at the horse’s hindquarters. He was even more skilled than the woman and Rees was so enthralled he forgot why he was there and lost all track of time. Finally, Pip moved his long body into the saddle and slowed the horse to a walk. He dismounted and, taking hold of the bridle, began to walk the animal around the ring. ‘You,’ he shouted at Rees in a heavy French accent, ‘get out. You must pay.’ Rees half-nodded, listening to the chatter floating over the wall; he could still hear Piggy talking outside, his high-pitched voice carrying over the lower tones of the other men. ‘I didn’t sneak in to see the show,’ Rees told the circus performer in a near-whisper. ‘There’s someone outside I don’t want to meet.’ With a grin – he could also hear Piggy – the other man turned and pointed to the curtain at the back. Rees struck across the ring for the screen. Disappointment – for now he would not be able to stay and enjoy the show – fell heavy upon his shoulders. Another crime to put at Piggy’s door. Before he dropped the cloth over the opening Rees turned to look back over his shoulder. Now the tall man was scrambling up the pole to the small landing above. Rees wondered if the talented rider was a rope dancer as well as an equestrian but he did not go all the way up. Instead, as the girl withdrew to the landing on the other side, Pip began working with fittings. The rope vibrated. Rees dropped the curtain and looked around. He found himself in the cluster of the circus carriages, horses, and hurrying people. A dwarf wearing a clown’s short ruffled red pants and with red triangles drawn in around his eyes hurried past, quickly followed by a slender fellow with oiled black hair and an aggressive black mustache streaked with gray. The performance would begin soon. No one took the slightest notice of Rees as he threaded his way through the circus performers. Close to, the wagons looked beat up, scarred with use. Most of the gold horses on the wagon doors were simply paint and the few that were carved wood or sculpted metal were losing their gilding. Rees distinctly saw the tell- tale red of rust fringing the head of one rearing stallion. He broke into a run. He would never have expected to meet the Magistrate here in this tiny Maine town. And he prayed Hanson would leave soon. Rees would not dare to return until he could be sure that Piggy Hanson was gone. Leaving Durham proved just as challenging as entering town in the first place. The streets seemed even more congested now than they had been earlier. Abandoning the main road once again, Rees turned down a side street on the southern side of town. There was a narrow lane, little more than a footpath, that went east, from Durham to the Surry Road. He could follow Surry Road north past the Shaker community and then to his own farm. If he could just reach the lane. The side street was packed with wagons coming from the farms on the southern side of town. It took Rees much longer than it should have to drive the few blocks before he was finally able to turn. But from what he could see of this winding track, there was little traffic here. Because of the narrow and twisty nature of this lane most of the traffic was on foot. Only a few vehicles were heading into town. Congratulating himself on his foresight, Rees settled himself more comfortably on the hard wooden seat. If one were not in a hurry, this was a pleasant ride through the stands of budding trees and lichen spotted boulders. He glanced at the sky; he’d reach home before it was entirely dark. And, although he had not been able to attend the circus, at least he’d seen enough to make a good story to tell Lydia and the children. The wagon trundled around the last steep sharp curve. From here the road straightened out, cutting through farmland until it reached Surry Road. And ahead was a group of Shaker Brothers, walking towards him. Rees was surprised to see them. A devout group that rarely left their well-ordered community, they surely could not be walking into Durham for the circus. He slowed to a stop and jumped to the ground.

Chapter 2

The group of men resolved into individual faces. One man, Brother Daniel, Rees knew well. Daniel had been the caretaker of the boys when Rees and his family had sought refuge here two years ago. Promoted to Elder since then, Daniel was beginning to look much older than his almost thirty years. He’d lost the roundness to his cheeks, his face now appearing almost gaunt, and the gray appearing in his hair made him look as though he were fading like a piece of old cloth. Rees, who’d recently discovered white hairs on his chin and chest, felt a spasm of sympathy. Now worried lines furrowed Daniel’s forehead. ‘Rees,’ he said. ‘If I may request your assistance?’ ‘Of course,’ he said immediately. ‘What do you need?’ Not only was his wife a former Shaker but the members of Zion had helped him more times than he could count. ‘When you came through town did you see a Shaker lass?’ Daniel’s normally quiet voice trembled with fear and desperation. Rees shook his head. He had seen few women or children and none clothed in the sober Shaker garb. ‘What happened? Did she run off to see the circus?’ ‘Yes,’ Daniel said with a nod. ‘With one of the boys.’ ‘Shem,’ said Brother Aaron. Rees knew the cantankerous old man well. and was surprised to see him here, searching for the girl. Although a Shaker, Aaron was not always kind or compassionate. ‘I fear he was easily led by that girl,’ he added, confirming Rees’s judgement. ‘Apparently they took off right after our noon dinner,’ Daniel continued, ignoring the other man. ‘We wouldn’t know that much but for the fact Shem was almost late for supper.’ ‘Well, have you asked him where she is?’ ‘Shem had nothing to do with it,’ Aaron said sharply at the same instant Daniel spoke. ‘Of course we did. We aren’t fools.’ Rees held up his hands in contrition. The Shakers were usually the most even-tempered of people. He knew Daniel’s testiness was a measure of his worry. ‘What did he say?’ ‘That they were separated.’ ‘Shem wanted to see the circus horses,’ Aaron said. ‘Leah wanted to come home,’ Daniel explained, throwing an irritated glance at his fellow Shaker. ‘Well, they wouldn’t allow a woman to enter such a rude entertainment, would they? She was probably bored-.’ ‘He is horse mad,’ Aaron interjected. ‘Please Aaron,’ Daniel said in a sharp voice, staring at his fellow in exasperation. Aaron acknowledged the rebuke with a nod and Daniel continued. ‘How could Leah have been so lost to all propriety as to imagine she would be allowed entry, I don’t know.’ For a moment his frustration with the girl overshadowed his fear. ‘What was she thinking? I’m not surprised that rapscallion Shem would behave so carelessly but Leah is soon to sign the Covenant and join us as a fully adult member. The amusements of the World should hold no attraction for her.’ Rees shook his head in disagreement. He didn’t blame the girl. He thought that this was exactly the time when she would want to see something outside the kitchen. After all, he was a man, well used to traveling, and seeing the circus had made him long to pack his loom in his wagon and go. ‘Like all women, she is flighty,’ Aaron said, frowning in condemnation. ‘Attracted to sins of -.’ ‘Did you search Zion?’ Rees interrupted. ‘No,’ Daniel said. ‘When we couldn’t find the children, we suspected they’d left . . .’ His voice trailed away and he looked from side to side as though expecting the girl to spring up beside him. ‘Perhaps she just wanted to go home to her family,’ Rees suggested. ‘She has no family,’ Daniel said curtly. ‘Neither of those children do. Shem is an orphan and Leah has lived with us since she was a baby. Her mother brought her to us and died soon after. Leah knows no other family but us. She would not leave our community.’ All the more reason for her to want to experience something of the world, Rees thought but he kept his opinion to himself. ‘I drove to town on the main road,’ he said aloud. ‘I did not see any children at all.’ ‘When was that?” “About four,’ Rees replied. Daniel nodded and rubbed a shaking hand over his jaw. ‘You were on the road too late, I think. The children left the village right after noon dinner.’ ‘That means they would have been on the main road between one and two,’ Rees said. ‘Depending on their speed.’ And if Leah had parted from Shem and started home by two-thirty or three, walking either road, she would have reached Zion by four. Four-thirty at the latest. Anxiety for the girl tingled through him. He thought of his own children and the kidnapping of his daughter last winter with a shudder of remembered terror. ‘I’ll help you search,’ he said. ‘The more of us the better.’ He already feared this search would not have a good outcome. Daniel turned to two of the younger Brothers. ‘Search along the road,’ he said. ‘And hurry. We have less than an hour of daylight left.’ They started down the lane, moving toward town at a run. Rees looked up at the sky. The fiery ball was almost at the horizon, and long low rays streamed across the earth in ribbons of gold. In thirty – maybe forty minutes the sun would drop below the western hill and the pink and purple streamers across the sky would fade into black. ‘I’ll park the wagon,’ he said, jumping into the seat. He pulled it to the ditch on the left side and jumped down, looking around him as he did so. Farmer Reynard had planted the sloping fields on Rees’s right; buckwheat probably given the sloping and rocky nature of the ground. But on the left the buckwheat straw from last year stood almost four feet high, waiting to be cut down and then turned over into the soil. Rees inspected that field thoughtfully. Tall thick stems such as that could hide a girl who did not want to be found. ‘We should check the fields,’ he said as he rejoined the Shakers. ‘And the pastures.’ When Daniel looked at him in surprise, he added, ‘She might have started back to Zion and when she saw us coming gone to ground. She might not want to be dragged back to Zion in disgrace.’ Daniel nodded, pleased by the suggestion and quickly asked the other Brothers to spread out across the fields. Rees and Daniel started walking down the lane. But before they had gone very far, one of the other Shakers called out. ‘Hey, over here.’ A young fellow whose yellow hair stuck out around his straw hat like straw itself, began retching. ‘Oh, dear God.’ Daniel did not pause to remonstrate with the boy for his language but vaulted the fence into the field and ran. Rees struggled to keep up. Was it Leah? Was she hurt? His stomach clenched; he was so afraid the situation was far worse than that. They arrived at the body lying sprawled in its buckwheat nest at the same time. She lay partly on her right side, partly on her back, her left arm crooked at her waist at an odd angle. Her plain gray skirt was rucked up to her thighs and blood spattered the white flesh. Daniel turned around, his face white, and shouted at the Brothers approaching him, ‘Stay back. Stay back. Don’t come any closer.’ ‘Oh no,’ Rees said, dropping to one knee. ‘Oh no.’ Although he’d been told Leah was fourteen, she looked much younger. Under the severe Shaker cap, her skin had the translucent quality of the child. Her eyes were open, the cloudy irises staring at the darkening sky. Rees bent over her. Although it was hard to tell in the fading light he thought he saw marks around her throat. ‘She may have been strangled,’ he said, his eyes rising to the worm fence that separated this field from the road that led into Durham. Leah’s body had been dropped only a few yards from the fence but in the high straw it would have been almost invisible, even in daylight. Rees began walking slowly toward the main road, his eyes fixed upon the ground. There did not seem to be any path from the fence to the body; none of the buckwheat stalks were bent or broken in any way. He did not see any footprints in the soft April soil either. But in the setting sun detail was difficult to see and he made a mental note to examine this section of the field more closely tomorrow. ‘The farmer, did he do this terrible thing?’ Daniel cried, glancing from side to side. ‘Perhaps, but I doubt it,’ Rees said. He touched the girl’s upraised arm to see if he could move it. As he suspected, the body was growing stiff. ‘He would be a fool to leave her in his own field.’ ‘It was not Shem,’ Aaron said loudly. Rees glanced up at the man. Why was Aaron so protective of that boy? ‘She’s been dead for about some hours,’ Rees said, returning to his examination. Then he thought about the warmth of the day. Leah would have been lying here, in the sun. ‘Maybe since mid-afternoon.’ And that time would be consistent with the time she’d left town. ‘How do you know?’ Daniel stared at Rees in shock, mixed with dawning suspicion. ‘You told me she was seen at noon dinner,’ Rees replied, ‘so we know she was alive then.’ He rose to his feet and looked at Daniel ‘It must be almost six o’clock now.’ ‘Probably after,’ Daniel said, looking around at the fading light. ‘A body begins to stiffen a few hours after death and then, maybe half a day later, the rigidity passes off. I saw this frequently during the War for Independence but any good butcher will tell you the same.’ Rees kept his eyes upon the other man who finally nodded with some reluctance. ‘I would guess that Leah was accosted by someone on her way home.’ He paused. The poor child had probably been lying here when he rode past, thinking of the circus. He closed his eyes as a spasm of shame went through him. ‘She knew she was not to leave Zion,’ Daniel said with a hint of wrath in his voice. Rees sighed. This was not the first time he had seen the victim blamed. And perhaps, for a celibate such as Daniel, anger was an easier emotion right now than horror and disgust and grief as well. ‘Perhaps she behaved foolishly, but she did not deserve this end to her life.’ ‘We will take her home -,’ Daniel began. But Rees interrupted. ‘We must send someone for the constable.’ ‘No. No. She is one of ours.’ ‘This is murder,’ Rees said, staring fixedly at Daniel. Although shocked and horrified, he had witnessed too many violent deaths to be paralyzed by such evil any longer. His calm voice and stern regard had the desired effect. Daniel sucked in a deep breath. After he had mastered himself, he left Rees’s side and joined the group of Shakers. ‘Run back to the village and get a horse,’ he told one of the youngest Brothers. ‘Ride into Durham and fetch Constable Rouge.’ His voice trembled on the final word. Rees looked at Daniel. He was swaying on his feet, his eyes were glassy and his skin pale and slick with perspiration. He looked as though he might faint. Rees drew him away from Leah’s body and pressed him down into a sitting position. Daniel was little more than a boy himself and had lived in the serene Shaker community most of his life. It was no surprise he was ill-equipped to handle such a terrible occurrence. ‘Put your head between your knees,’ Rees said. ‘I’m going to walk to the farmhouse and talk to the farmer. Maybe he saw something.’ ‘I’ll go with you.’ Daniel stood up; so unsteady Rees grabbed him to keep him from falling. ‘No,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘I need to go with you,’ the Brother said fiercely. ‘I need to do something. That poor child!’ Rees stared at the other man. Although Daniel’s face was still white, and he was trembling he had set his mouth in a determined line. ‘I must do this, Rees.’ ‘Very well.’ Rees glanced over his shoulder at the body. From here, it appeared to be a bundle of rags dropped among the stalks. ‘Poor chick won’t be going anywhere.’ Daniel looked at Brother Aaron. ‘You were once a soldier,’ he said. ‘You’ve seen violence and death. Please stay with our Sister.’ Aaron nodded and, withdrawing a few steps, sat down in the row between the stalks. In the encroaching shadows he instantly faded from view. Only his pale straw hat remained, shining in the last of the light like a beacon. Rees and Daniel set off across the fields for the distant farmhouse. *** Excerpt from A Circle Of Dead Girls by Eleanor Kuhns. Copyright 2020 by Eleanor Kuhns. Reproduced with permission from Eleanor Kuhns. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

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Eleanor Kuhns

Eleanor Kuhns is the 2011 winner of the Minotaur First Crime novel competition for A Simple Murder. She lives in upstate New York. A Circle of Death Girls is Will Rees Mystery # 8.

Catch Up With Eleanor Kuhns: www.Eleanor-Kuhns.com, Goodreads, Instagram, BookBub, Twitter, & Facebook!

 

 

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I am so excited that TIME FOR SENSIBILITY by M. Sinclair is
available now and that I get to share the news!
 
If you haven’t yet heard about this
wonderful book by Author M. Sinclair, be sure to check out all the details
below.
 
This blitz also includes a giveaway for
a $10 Amazon GC courtesy of
Rockstar Book Tours & M. So if you’d like a chance to win,
check out the giveaway info below.
.
TIME FOR SENSIBILITY: Only Time Will Tell
(Women of Time Collection, #12)
 by M. Sinclair
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54506114. sy475
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Pub. Date: August 28, 2020
Publisher: M. Sinclair
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 120
Find it: Goodreads, Amazon
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Synopsis
Do not read this book.
No, seriously, I have absolutely no idea why one was even written about my life.
This is ridiculous. Not only did I live in the middle of nowhere in a drug
infested town, under the roof of a trailer that was literally collapsing on
itself… but nothing, and I mean, nothing interesting has ever happened to me.
Well, unless you counted being abandoned outside of a motel, picked up by my
new foster father that was always too high to remember my name, or spending the
last six years traveling the United States practically homeless. Oh! Let’s not
forget to include the jerk that I really needed to break up with because let’s
face it… he had actually started to scare me. A lot.
I’d spent the last six years of my life feeling horribly out of place. Feeling like
I was not only in a time that didn’t fit me but in a place that was so
lackluster that I had issues believing it was real. So when I tell you not to
read this book? I mean it.
There is nothing of interest in here. I promise.
Well, I suppose there was one memorable and interesting moment in my recent past… the
night of my eighteenth birthday. You know, the one where my four hot neighbors,
and known criminals, kidnapped me onto a river boat. You could say I was
confused when I found myself falling asleep floating down a Missouri river…
and waking up to marmalade skies and a talking river otter with a hot pink top
hat. None of that confusion though compared to when my four psycho kidnappers
made me remember everything I’d forgotten.
Because I had been right, I didn’t fucking belong here.
I belonged in the Kingdom of Snark.
This book is anything but sensible.
Time for Sensibility is a standalone reverse harem romance that is fast-burn
with violence, swearing, a band of hot psychos, a wonderland inspired world,
and a haunted slightly naive MFC. Abuse is mentioned. +18 audience.
.
Exclusive Excerpt!

I wasn’t positive what it was about these men, but they made me feel
grounded. More myself, a stronger version of myself. I didn’t think nor could
have predicted that my new grounded nature would include an acceptance of
homicide…but in this situation it seemed like the most sensible shit that I’d
heard all year. Or maybe I was just goddamn insane, and that felt more real
than not to me.
When Preston had first told me, I’d been freaked out.
I’d been caught up on the concept of them killing someone in
general, not specifically Wade. Then I realized I was only upset because I felt
like I ‘should’ be upset and since I wasn’t, I’d felt guilty.
Now though? Well, what was done was done… and frankly, I had
always been aware of what they were capable of. I’d heard the rumors about how
dangerous they were. Plus, the motherfucker had left bruises on me. That wasn’t
fucking okay.
Movement pulled me from my thoughts, my head snapping over
to Ranger and Lorenzo as they exited the trailer.
The sky above us was thundering, but no rain fell on the
guys, their smiles really fucking big for having just murdered someone. It was
sort of hot.
I was starting to understand why I had never been attracted
to anyone else before them. I was very clearly into serial killers. I should
have known, considering how much I loved watching documentaries about that
shit.
Ranger was covered in blood as he stripped off his shirt,
the man preferring to be shirtless far more than clothed, I had gathered, and
dropped it on the pavement before running his bloody hands through his hair,
tinting it with crimson. Lorenzo, on the other hand, had just rolled his sleeve
up, hiding the singular stain of blood. Damn, they were so different from each
other.
I had the urge to know what it would be like between them. I
felt like the way they fucked would be so dangerously different, and I craved
that. I just craved them. Alright, I possibly had a problem.
 
About M. Sinclair:
.

 

International Bestselling Author
M. Sinclair is a Chicago native, parent
to 3 cats, and can be found reading almost every moment of the day… yes, that
includes while at work. Despite being new to publishing, M. Sinclair has been
writing for nearly 10 years now. Currently, in love with the Reverse Harem
genre, she plans to publish an array of works that are considered romance,
suspense, and horror within the year. She also believes that there is enough
room for all types of heroines in this world and that being saved is as
important as saving others. So be a princess and a warrior!
Just remember to love cats… that’s not negotiable.
.

Giveaway

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.

The House Of The Setting Son

A Misty Dawn Mystery

by Nancy Silverman

The House of the Setting Son: A Misty Dawn Mystery
Cozy Mystery
3rd in Series
Independently Published (September 4, 2020)
Print Length: 213 pages
ASIN: B08F65LCBJ
GoodReads Link Coming Soon

When Misty Dawn, the former “Hollywood Psychic to the Stars,” receives a phone call in the middle of the night, she knows it can’t be good news. Dorine Witherspoon, an actress and former client is in town for the opening of her touring musical and tells Misty the show’s leading lady, Cassie Marx, has disappeared and the understudy had to go on for her on Opening Night!

 

Misty immediately suspects foul play and when she and Wilson, her psychic shade, arrive at the theater the next morning they discover LAPD’s Detective Cesar Romero meeting with the cast and crew. Events on both sides of the veil take a dark turn when Romero asks Misty off the case, and Wilson appears out of his depth with ghosts who want nothing to do with him.

 

Death, close calls, and forces on both sides of the veil threaten to undo Misty and destroy her relationship with Wilson unless she can find Cassie and restore order to the show.

 

About Nancy Cole Silverman

Nancy Cole Silverman spent nearly twenty-five in Los Angeles Talk Radio. She began her career on the talent side as one for the first female voices on the air, and later on the business side, where she retired as one of two female general managers in the nation’s second-largest radio market. Leaving her successful radio career behind in 2010, Nancy began to write fiction, and her crime-focused novels and short stories have attracted readers throughout America. Her Carol Childs Mysteries series (Henery Press) feature a single-mom whose “day job” as a reporter at a busy Los Angeles radio station often leads to long nights as a crime-solver. Her most recent series features Misty Dawn, an aging Hollywood Psychic to the Stars, who supplements her day to day activities as a consultant to LAPD and the FBI. Nancy lives in Los Angeles with her husband and a thoroughly pampered standard poodle.

Author Links
Facebook – GoodReads – Twitter: @NancyColeSilve1

Purchase Links – Amazon – B&N 

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Dog-Gone Dead

A Low Country Dog Walker Mystery

by Jackie Layton


Dog-Gone Dead: A Low Country Dog Walker Mystery
Cozy Mystery
2nd in Series
Publisher: Bell Bridge Books (June 26, 2020)
Paperback: 248 pages
ISBN-10: 1611949882
ISBN-13: 978-1611949889
Digital ASIN: B089N9R12V

Who’d have thought mulch could cause such a stink?

 

Low Country dog walker Andi Grace Scott is happy to score some free mulch from one of her brother’s landscaping jobs—until she discovers the dead body buried beneath the bark.

 

Worse, her brother’s landscaping tools were used to commit the murder. Once the police arrest her brother and seem happy to have “caught their man,” Andi Grace has no choice but to track down the real killer. She’ll risk everything to prove her brother’s innocence. Even if it means turning over every rock in town.

 

If you love small-town coastal life, dogs, and strong heroines, you’ll love Dog-Gone Dead.

 

About Jackie Layton

Former Kentucky pharmacist Jackie Layton loves her new life in the Low Country. When she’s not writing, Jackie enjoys walks on the beach, bike rides and collecting shells. The first two books in Jackie’s Low Country Dog Walker Mystery series are Bite the Dust and Dog-Gone Dead. Jackie always enjoys hearing from readers.

Author Links: Blog / Twitter / Website / Facebook / Pinterest / Instagram / Amazon / Bookbub

Purchase Links – AmazonKobo – Barnes & Noble – Google – Apple

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September 2 – I’m All About Books – SPOTLIGHT

September 2 – Reading, Writing & Stitch-Metic – GUEST POST

September 3 – Jane Reads – GUEST POST

September 3 – Ascroft, eh? – CHARACTER INTERVIEW

September 4 – Sneaky the Library Cat’s blog – CHARACTER INTERVIEW

September 4 – Cassidy’s Bookshelves – CHARACTER GUEST POST

September 5 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT

September 5 – Reading Is My SuperPower – REVIEW

September 6 – eBook Addicts – SPOTLIGHT

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September 7 – Hearts & Scribbles – SPOTLIGHT

September 8 – Mysteries with Character  – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

September 8 – I Read What You Write – CHARACTER GUEST POST

September 9 – The Pulp and Mystery Shelf – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

September 9 – My Reading Journeys – REVIEW

September 10 – The Avid Reader – REVIEW

September 10 – Angel’s Guilty Pleasures – SPOTLIGHT

September 11 – Brooke Blogs – GUEST POST

September 11 – Literary Gold – SPOTLIGHT

September 12 – The Book Decoder – REVIEW

September 12 – Christy’s Cozy Corners – CHARACTER GUEST POST

September 13 – Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

September 14 – Here’s How It Happened – SPOTLIGHT

September 14 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

September 15 – Celticlady’s Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

September 15 – Cozy Up With Kathy – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

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Gone Daddy Blues
Grace Street Mysteries Book 7
by Jane Tesh
Genre: Paranormal Mystery
Discouraged by a recent deadbeat dad case, PI David Randall wonders if he should close the detective agency he operates from his psychic friend Camden’s boarding house at 302 Grace Street in Parkland, North Carolina. But Doreen Padgett, a scrappy teen, convinces him to find her useless father, Arliss. Arliss and Doreen’s mother have divorced, and Doreen wants the man to pay what he owes her family. It’s another deadbeat dad, but Randall agrees to take the case.
When policeman Jordan Finley comes to Grace Street with a blouse he wants Camden to touch, a blouse that belongs to the victim of a suspected serial killer, a man with a bizarre fondness for blond hair. Camden has a serious reaction to the blouse, but can’t see anything that will lead to the killer except a hatred for a woman named Margaret.
Despite Cam using an accident as an excuse not to be psychic, Randall finds a connection to Margaret, Arliss, and the serial killer. All of them plan to attend an upcoming high school reunion, the same reunion Cam’s wife Ellin is looking forward to. Randall has to find the killer, especially since he realizes that except for himself, everyone who lives at 302 Grace Street is blond.
Gone Daddy Blues is the seventh in the Grace Street Mysteries, the continuing adventures of the family and friends who live at 302 Grace Street.
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Death By Dragonfly
Grace Street Mysteries Book 6
“The mystery plot is convincing and motives abound, but the vivid characters are the main draw, in particular the wryly observant Randall, who narrates the story with verve. Fans of cozies with a paranormal twist will be rewarded.” —Publishers Weekly
Flamboyant actor Leo Pierson’s Art Nouveau treasures have been stolen, including a one-of-a-kind Lalique glass dragonfly he claims is cursed. David Randall, 302 Grace Street’s private eye, agrees to recover the valuables before he realizes murder has raised its ugly head in the Parkland art community. Samuel Gallant of the museum board is missing, until Randall and his landlord/consultant Camden find Gallant’s body stuffed in a museum closet. When another board member suffers a fatal accident and the art critic for the Parkland Herald is attacked, Randall suspects the stolen dragonfly is indeed cursed. He investigates Richard Mason, curator of the Little Gallery, whose artwork consists of ugly mechanical sculptures, and Nancy Piper, finance manager at the Parkland Art Museum.
Meanwhile, Camden struggles against psychic visions he’s had since birth, taking pills to limit sudden intense visions. His wife, Ellin, fends off Matt Grabber, a television celebrity healer threatening to take over her Psychic Service Network and using his two large pythons to emphasize his bid. The pythons take a liking to Camden, upping his stress level, while he takes more pills hoping his visions—and the snakes—disappear. Kit, a new tenant at Grace Street, is a young rock star who is also psychic. As Camden becomes more addicted, Kit becomes an early warning system, alerting Randall to the next attack.
Randall works to solve the murders, find the jeweled collection, help Cam, deter Grabber and his pythons, romance the young lovely Kary, and avoid stray curses. A spirit on the Other Side surprisingly requests his help, a spirit with ties to the stolen pieces of Art Nouveau.
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Baby, Take a Bow
Grace Street Mysteries Book 5
“…readers seeking a cozy, feel-good mystery will enjoy this outing to Grace Street. The delightful characters navigate their worldly and otherworldly challenges with affection and humor, and Tesh maintains a whimsical tone that doesn’t detract from the serious subject matter.” Publishers Weekly
Camden’s friend Rufus Jackson receives a letter from his ex-wife, Bobbi, and he’s surprised to learn he’s the father of a baby. When Bobbi is found murdered in her home and her baby stolen, Rufus becomes suspect number one. PI David Randall immediately takes the case.
But Randall is almost sidetracked from the case by a series of what appears to be never-ending favors. When he takes his friend Cam to the Carlyle House to sing for a concert, Cam encounters Delores Carlyle, a troubled spirit trapped inside a huge mirror, who wants to see her daughter, Beverly, one last time. Beverly Carlyle will come to the house on one condition: that Randall find a home for her surly teenage son, Kit, and a band for her obnoxious daughter, Frieda. Kit is welcome at 302 Grace, but to secure a spot for Frieda, Randall has to get a local girl group a gig at a local nightclub. The owner agrees, if Cam will pose as a teenager and spy on a rival club. Cam agrees if Randall will take him to Green Valley to answer some questions about his past. And another ghost is haunting the hot dog restaurant, refusing to talk to Cam.
In addition to the tangle of deals, Randall has to contend with Rufus being hell-bent on revenge, the return of Cam’s telekinesis, and growing concern that if the baby—a girl named Mary Rose, as it turns out—is found, Rufus, might not want to keep her.
But where is Mary Rose?
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Just You Wait
Grace Street Mysteries Book 4
David Randall, a private detective short of work, invites his psychic friend Camden into a case. Miss Viola Mitchell, an aging local actress, has recently been reported missing. The Parkland PD’s Jordan Finley objects to the pair inspecting Viola’s home, claiming the police don’t need their help. Moments later, despite the array of birds and cats perfuming the residence, Cam advises Finley, “Check the basement.”
Viola is neatly planted there in a square of dirt. Who would kill her? Why? Are others targeted? Is a local performer twisted by jealousy? Could a role in a Parkland Little Theatre production have caused her death? Cam goes undercover at the theater while rejecting demands from his fiancée that they marry this month. His psychic gifts have expanded to levitate objects. He fears for their children. She wants to put him on television.
Meanwhile, a new Grace Street client, owner of popular BeautiQueen Cosmetics, is searching for her arrogant, absconding partner. Randall tracks him to Clearwater, Florida, and soon finds himself chasing shoplifters stealing pharmaceuticals and helping a jazz musician woo his woman while failing to woo his own love, Kary. Will Randall and Cam piece all this together?
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Now You See It
Grace Street Mysteries Book 3
Who is audacious enough to steal an antique box once owned by Harry Houdini? This collector’s treasure, skillfully hidden in the local Magic Club— a nightclub where magicians perform—is not merely an old theatrical prop. It is the prize in a contest that promises to jump start a magician’s career. At least that’s what Taft and Lucas Finch hoped before their prized possession was stolen. Private investigator David Randall is already busy searching for socialite Sandy Olaf’s missing diamond bracelet when he begins the search for Houdini’s box. But instead of finding the valuable box, Randall finds Taft murdered, his body locked in a backstage trunk. The magical world is brimming with jealous suspects, less successful magical competitors, romantic rivals, business conflicts, and festering hurts from long ago. Randall’s friend Camden is concerned with losing his voice, his girlfriend Kary insists on being a magician’s assistant, and Cam’s girlfriend Ellin has to deal with the overbearing Sheila Kirk, wife of a potential sponsor, who insists on hosting the Psychic Service Network’s programs.
Warned away from interfering in a police homicide investigation, Randall focuses on finding the box, searching for a missing diamond bracelet, and handling the crises embroiling his unique housemates in their rambling home on Grace Street. It will take a stroke of magic to connect the interlocking circles of these crimes.
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Mixed Signals
Grace Street Mysteries Book 2
“A solid mystery with a plethora of suspects and quirky regulars.”—Kirkus Reviews
It’s Christmas in Parkland, North Carolina, and PI David Randall is looking forward to his mother’s visit, even though he knows she’ll want to talk about his daughter, Lindsey, who died in a car accident. Further dampening the season’s cheer, his psychic friend Camden has harrowing flashbacks to a murder: Randall and Camden found Camden’s friend Jared Hunter brutally stabbed. Among the suspects is Boyd Taylor, Randall’s client. Jared had served time for breaking into the Parkland Museum of History. Bert Galvin, son of the editor of the Parkland Herald, was also involved.
And what of the inept superhero, the Parkland Avenger? The Superhero Society of Parkland insists the Avenger isn’t one of them. Are these things all somehow related?
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Stolen Hearts
Grace Street Mysteries Book 1
2018 – ALA Book Club October Pick, Things that Go Bump: Paranormal Mysteries
David Randall’s perfect family life came derailed when his little daughter Lindsey died in a car crash. Thrown out by his second wife and wanting to leave a dead-end detective agency to start his own, he reluctantly accepts his psychic friend Camden’s invitation to stay in Camden’s boarding house in Parkland, North Carolina.
Meanwhile, working the case of the murder of Albert Bennett, Randall’s only clue is a notebook filled with odd musical notation. When another client, Melanie Gentry, hires him to prove her great-grandmother was murdered by her lover, composer John Burrows Ashford, over authorship of “Patchwork Melodies,” Randall sets out to find a connection to Bennett’s murder, as well as to the murder of a Smithsonian director, who was preparing a new PBS documentary on early American music.
Randall’s investigations lead him to another notebook, where he finds not only “Two Hearts Singing,” Ashford’s most famous song, but a valuable early copy of Stephen Foster’s “Oh! Susanna,” hidden in the cover. But things become more complicated when Ashford’s spirit parks itself in Cam…and refuses to leave until Randall proves Ashford’s innocence.
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Jane Tesh lives and works in Mt. Airy, North Carolina, Andy Griffith’s home town, a real life Mayberry. She is a retired media specialist and the author of ten mystery novels, three fantasy novels, and over thirty plays for children. When not writing, Jane plays the piano for productions at the Andy Griffith Playhouse.
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.

The Crow King
M. H. Woodscourt
(Wintervale, #1)
Publication date: September 1st 2020
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

Magic is against the law. He must use it anyway.

The Crow King has outlawed magic. Despite the kingdom’s edict, Gwyn plunges into the ancient and deadly True Wood to find a magical cure for his dying brother. Within the shadowed realm, he must fend off more than violent and fallen fae-like Ilidreth when he learns the king is out to stop him at whatever cost.

On his desperate quest, he is joined by a unicorn, a quirky girl, and the maddest of the fallen fae. Together they must outrun enchanted crows and enemy armies, and face the ghosts of a shattered age, all while racing to save Gwyn’s brother. Meanwhile, war brews between countries, and a secret order of mages hunts Gwyn down.

Yet none of this can prepare Gwyn for the harrowing truth behind the fall of the Ilidreth long, long ago, and what it means for his life and his homeland.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

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Enjoy the glimpse inside:

Mist curled over the quiet hills of Vinwen. Somewhere a bird trilled, prophesying the coming dawn, and the sun answered with a ring of gold spilling over the horizon as it peeked at the slumbering world. Lazy clouds drifted by, grey, dappled with faint pinks and yellows.

Sitting on the wooden fence, Gwynter ren Terare squinted against the hovering gloom in the valley below, eyes fixed on the road. He strained for any sound beyond the faint chirrup of crickets, the song of birds, the gush of the nearby stream. A crow cawed as it landed on the fence.

There. Just there. A faint neigh. The rattle of a wheel against a stray stone. A cracking whip. Gwyn shoved against the rough wood post, leapt to his feet atop the fence, and wobbled once before he caught his balance. Perched, he soon made out the distant shape of the coming carriage, a single lantern bobbing to pierce the predawn shadows.

Gwyn grinned and jumped from the fence. The crow screamed and flew off. Gwyn loped along the streambank up toward the manor house. His shoulder-length hair flounced in his eyes, but he ignored it as he cut through a protesting gaggle of geese and threw himself against the kitchen door to stumble inside.

“Mercy, child!” cried Mavell, spoon in hand. “You look a sight. What awful trouble could there be so early as this?”

Gwyn shook his head as he gasped for air, leaning forward, hands on his legs. He gulped a few times before he could utter a word. “Lawen’s coming. Almost here. Down the road a bit.” He straightened and headed for a bucket of water on the table, took up a ladle, and helped himself to a long, cool drink.

The cook grabbed the ladle, poured water into a cup, and handed that to Gwyn. “Master Lawen, already? Surely not. He’s not to come until tomorrow, so his letter said.”

Gwyn drained the cup. He held it out to let Mavell ladle him another. “But he’s always early. I had a feeling to watch for him, and here he comes.”

“And how do you know it’s Master Lawen?”

Gwyn smiled. “I always know.”

She pursed her lips but didn’t argue. There seemed no point, they both knew that.

“Well,” the slender woman said, rubbing her hands against her apron. “If it is Master Lawen, oughtn’t you go off and clean yourself up for his arrival? Your mother will have a fit if you greet him looking like a shepherd’s boy.” She swatted Gwyn’s backside with the ladle. “Off with you, go on.”

Gwyn chuckled and trotted out of the kitchen and into a long gallery. His feet echoed against the flagstones. He cast a glance out the windows to find that full dawn had banished grey in favor of a thousand shades of green and brilliant gold. He could hear the geese and chickens griping and dogs barking as the carriage rolled along the private drive leading to the house. Gwyn thought he heard the crunch of gravel and his heart leapt.

Lawen! Home, at last. How long had it been? A year or longer. Mount Vinwen had felt hollow in his absence, though none of the others appeared to notice.

Gwyn reached his room, brushed off his trousers to dislodge any dirt or wood splinters, and changed his coarse shirt for fine woven linen. He slipped on stockings, yanked on a pair of polished boots, then caught his hair in a ponytail. A last inspection in his mirror. Gwyn awarded himself a curt, militaristic nod. He tugged one last time on his long shirt front, wrapped his belt atop it, clicked his heels, and headed downstairs.

In the main vestibule he found the rest of the ren Terares assembled, even Mother, though her lips pressed tight and her eyebrows arched above eyes sharp as needles. She turned toward Gwyn as he reached the bottom of the sweeping staircase and her gaze softened.

“Gwyn, dearheart. Thank you for not looking like a peasant this morning.”

He kissed her cheeks. “Good morning, Mother. I thought this occasion warranted the change.”

She sighed. “Yes, I suppose the master is home today.”

Gwyn brushed off her tone, not willing to let it seep in. He could understand her resentment in a way. Last year Tynveer ren Terare, Gwyn and Lawen’s blood father, had been killed in a skirmish against the savage Ilidreth. Now Lawen was the master of Mount Vinwen, and Mother, Tynveer’s second wife after Lawen’s mother had passed, now suspected her stepson would soon send her and her three children to live at another of his estates, but Gwyn knew better. There was no kinder soul in all Simaerin than his elder half-brother.

The sound of crunching gravel outside the front doors ceased as the carriage bounced to a stop. Gwyn’s younger sisters laughed and tumbled forward as the servants pulled the manor doors aside to admit the Master of Vinwen.

 

Author M.H. Woodscourt:

Writer of fantasy, magic weaver, dragon rider! Having spent the past 20 years devotedly writing fantasy, it’s safe to say M. H. Woodscourt is now more fae than human.

Her published titles include The Crow King, book one of her YA/High Fantasy Wintervale series, A Liar in Paradise and Key of Paradise of her YA/Portal Fantasy Paradise series, as well as October Cove, an Urban Fantasy novella.

All of her fantasy worlds connect with each other in a broad Universe, forged with love, sadism, and no small measure of blood, sweat, and tears. When she’s not writing, she’s napping or reading a book with a mug of hot cocoa close at hand.

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Undone In Uluru

A Traveler Cozy Mystery

by A. R. Kennedy


Undone in Uluru: A Traveler Cozy Mystery
Cozy Mystery
3rd in Series
Independently Published (August 25, 2020)
~150 Pages
Digital ASIN: B08D7S722B
GoodReads Link – Coming Soon

A missing person + a do-gooder father + a new friend = An adventure in which Naomi finds more than a murderer.

Naomi is off to Australia with her father in her latest vacation. She expects a drama-free trip to Oz with her dependable father. That all ends at check-in when they encounter a young woman searching for her boyfriend. Fellow traveler Daniel drags them into a search for the missing man in the Red Centre. In between sunset tours, daytime hikes, and Vegemite tastings, Naomi wanders ever closer to danger.

About A. R. Kennedy

A.R. KENNEDY

A. R. Kennedy lives in Long Beach, New York, with her two pups. She works hard to put food on the floor for them. As her favorite T-shirt says, ‘I work so my dog can have a better life’. She’s an avid traveler. But don’t worry. While she’s away, her parents dote on their grand-puppies even more than she does. Her writing is a combination of her love of travel, animals, and the journey we all take to find ourselves.

Author Links

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Purchase Link – Amazon 

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Belle Vue
C.S. Alleyne
Publication date: August 25th 2020
Genres: Adult, Horror

Synopsis

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Jealousy. Betrayal. Murder. And a hunger for vengeance that spans the centuries…

History student Alex Palmer is thrilled when his girlfriend, Claire Ryan, buys an apartment in Belle Vue Manor, formerly a Victorian lunatic asylum.

But as Alex begins to discover the dark truth about the asylum’s past, he, Claire, and their friend Marianne find themselves on a nightmarish journey. Each will face the deadly consequences of the evil that began with the construction of the first Belle Vue Manor by an aristocratic French émigré in 1789, as well as the cruelty and satanic practices that continued when it became an asylum for the insane.

As the two strands—past and present—unfold, Alex uncovers a supernatural mystery where revenge is paramount and innocence irrelevant—without being aware of the price he, and those around him, will pay.

Proudly represented by Crystal Lake Publishing—Tales from the Darkest Depths.

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EXCERPT:

Present Day

Claire and her friend Marianne are driving to see an apartment for sale at Belle Vue Manor, but Marianne has been negative about the property.

“It’s most likely nothing, but I want to tell you a few things about Belle Vue.”

Claire cast a quizzical eye in her direction.

“I’ve been there before,” she said.

“You never mentioned it.”

Marianne ignored the pout in her friend’s voice and continued. “I went there with Debs about eleven or twelve years ago, long before the developers ever got involved.”

As the memories flooded back, she stared unseeing out of the windscreen. “We’d just moved again and on our first day at school, Debs spotted a huge wreck of a building from the top of the bus. For some reason, it fascinated her. She kept bugging me about it and I gave in just to shut her up. I think Belle Vue closed in the fifties and by the time we got there, it was completely derelict.”

Claire pulled up as the lights changed to red. “And?”

“We squeezed through a broken gate. Everything was overgrown, but we found a path that took us to the back of the main building, to a half-open door, its lock ripped off. Of course, Debs said it was as though someone was waiting for us.”

“Sounds like she was winding you up,” Claire said, grinning.

Marianne scowled. “Anyway. We went inside. Two teenagers in an empty old asylum that looked like the set of a horror movie.”

Claire’s grin remained in place. “So, what happened?”

“Debs kept a running commentary like we were on one of those Murder Mystery tours. You know the type of thing, ‘The misery of the lunatics is trapped in these walls forevermore but, on a moonless night, their shadows…’ All the while, I felt like we were being watched. Debra must have felt the same since we stuck to each other like Siamese twins. The place was cold and silent except for our footsteps on the bare floorboards. Every now and then, we’d stop and hold our breaths, straining to catch any sound.

“Then we heard a door slam. Bang! You ought to have seen how high we jumped. We legged it out of there so fast, I got a stitch.”

Pause. Marianne looked across at Claire. “But that wasn’t what bothered me,” she said in a low voice. “Once outside, we followed the path round the main building and saw this chapel. Of course, Debs wanted to go in and, by now, I didn’t. While we were arguing, a woman appeared at the door. The chapel was half-side-on to us, so I couldn’t see if she’d come from inside or walked around it. Talk about a shock. It sure shut us up quick.

“She stared at both of us. From one to the other, as though sizing us up. Then she smiled, which believe it or not, was worse.

“‘Now, who will I choose?’ she said, in this snide tone. ‘You. Or you.

“We stood there like two dummies, wondering what on earth she was up to.

“‘What’s your name?” she asked me, and when I told her, she laughed like it was some huge private joke.

“‘I choose you then,’ she said. ‘Your fate is now sealed, Mar-i-anne. Poor you, dying slowly is such hell.’”

Author C. S. Alleyne

C S Alleyne grew up in Australia and originally trained as a hotel manager in the UK. After several postings in the Caribbean she changed tack and completed her MBA followed several years later by a PhD in Information Systems. She is a management consultant and also lectures in several universities.

With a lifelong love of reading, anything historical and a fascination with the supernatural and death, her vacations usually include visits to such places as the Pere La Chaise cemetery and the catacombs in Paris, the tombs in Egypt, the Popes’ crypts in the Vatican and any church yard with gravestones – you get the picture…

Cheryl was inspired to write Belle Vue by her daily journey past a block of luxury apartments that had been converted from an old asylum. Like her protagonist, Alex Palmer, she started to investigate its past and learnt that one of the inmates was murdered there in the late 19th century. The victim’s sister was hung for the crime. Cheryl was also thrilled to discover the asylum’s overgrown cemetery in her explorations of the area!

Belle Vue is her first, full length novel. Jonathan Myerson (Oscar nominated, Bafta and 4 Time Emmy winner) says he is ‘blown away’ by Belle Vue – ‘I am hugely impressed by this novel – it’s ambitious and daring and amazingly imaginative’.

Cheryl has a daughter and son-in-law who live nearby and a partner who, since reading Belle Vue, says he now sleeps with one eye open.

She is represented by Gandolfo Helin and Fountain Literary and Dramatic Rights Management.

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To see all of my giveaways go HERE

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.