Posts Tagged ‘guest post’

 

 

Book Details:

  What Bear Said about Life, Love, and Other Stuff 

by Jack Wiens

Category:  Children’s Fiction (Ages 3-7),  98 pages
GenreJuvenile fiction/picture book/values & virtues
PublisherTorchflame Books
Release date:  October 15, 2024
Content RatingG. Specifically for children.

Book Description:

The boy has a lot of questions—hard ones about love, honesty, grief and loss, prejudice, forgiveness, why we are here, and more.

Bear’s wise answers are always offered with compassion and enthusiasm. The friendship between these two is deep, tender, and sometimes fun. Bear’s clear, common-sense philosophy of life is a welcome contrast to the complex world our children face today.

On the beautifully illustrated pages, you will also meet Jay, Raccoon, Badger, Elder Moose, and others who add to the fun and adventure.

Walk with Boy and Bear for a while in the woods and see what you might learn about life, love and other stuff.

​This uplifting book will surely become a treasured collection of simple wisdom, inspiring rich, meaningful conversations between adults and children alike.
Buy the Book:
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MY REVIEW

Bear was such a gentle friend to Boy and shared with him answers to some hard questions. Some of Boy’s worries might not come to mind as adults. What seems minor to us could be huge to a child. Me, I found much of Bear’s advice helpful even as a grownup. My son asked questions I struggled to answer and I would have loved to have Bear as my sounding board.

I enjoyed this book from cover to back flap. It was filled with wisdom and delightful illustrations. I’d recommend you keep it within reach when you and child feel like reading together.

5 STARS

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GUEST POST
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Excerpt from the book: Meaning and Purpose

“Bear, what is this all about? Why are we here? What am I supposed to do? I really just want to play a lot and have fun!

What Bear Said

Well, yes, we ARE here to play. Look at our beautiful playground! AND, we have to eat, and stay warm (pick berries and find a den), and that takes some work. The tricky part is keeping it all balanced.

What is this really all about? It is The Great Mystery. Many ideas have been shared, but no one really knows for sure. Perhaps we are close to the answer when we are feeling the happiest, when we have found our “place in the woods,” have loved ones who love and appreciate us, and when we have found our unique gifts—those things we are good at and have passion for—and are offering them to the world.”

My answer to the question, “What is this life all about?” has gotten simpler over the years.  I used to have a lot of dogma to share from my early days of religious and theological study.  Then I moved into much more psychological explanation for things and then more spiritual, generic language. As Bear’s answer reflects, I have drawn from all those earlier orientations and distilled it down. As corny as it sounds, I really do believe love is the answer to most questions. I am a relational person. How I am with people in my life is the most important thing. Am I kind, loving, honest? Can people count on me? Do they know I care? Do I like myself? I know when I am using my abilities, like illustrating or communicating, or even playing tennis, I am happier and feel fulfilled. When I invite a friend to meet me for breakfast or a cup of coffee, I feel richer, happier. When I stop what I’m doing because a blue jay is pecking on my kitchen window and go out and feed him or her some peanuts, I feel happier.  Anytime I enter the natural world and make conscious contact with it, I feel calmer, peaceful and even more hopeful.

Is there some lofty mission I have in this world? I used to think I did. I literally felt I should somehow save the world. These days I believe if a give a friend a ride to their doctor’s appointment or tell someone I appreciate their good work, I have, in some degree, fulfilled my mission for today as a human being.

I think it is important these days to help children have very real, direct experiences of honest, loving, in-depth communication with others—their peers or adults—that happens in person, not on a screen. They need to be really seen and heard by a real person they see and hear. We all need that! This is the main way they will learn what their strengths and gifts are which they can offer the world.

Finally, I think it is good for kids to hear that adults don’t have it “all figured out.” When Bear says, “It is the Great Mystery,” I hope that can light a little fire of curiosity in a young reader. It is important to continue at all ages to find “wonder” in living, to be amazed at the unknowns and unexplainable parts of our world and Universe. It’s really okay to seek answers and to recognize nobody has them all figured out.

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Meet Author Jack Wiens:

Jack Wiens has illustrated over 40 children’s books and designed many book covers, a family magazine, curriculum materials and greeting cards. He has also exhibited his fine art in galleries and art shows in Colorado, Missouri and Oregon.

Jack earned a Masters degree in Marriage and Family Therapy and worked as a counselor for 34 years in private practice as well as in a hospital inpatient addictions program and mental health centers. He led many workshops on communication, relationships and self-care during his career as psychotherapist.

​He lives in Ashland, Oregon, where he enjoys the natural beauty of nearby mountains, lakes and rivers, the creative energy of the community and good friendships. Besides hiking, biking and tennis, a favorite activity is exploring the Oregon coast and whale watching in Depoe Bay.

connect with the author: website 

Enter the Giveaway:

WHAT BEAR SAID ABOUT LIFE LOVE AND OTHER STUFF Book Tour Giveaway

 

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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Candy Crone is a Christmas Short Story standalone in
the bestselling Hawthorne University Witch Series.

Candy Crone

The Hawthorne University Witch Series Book 8

By A.L. Hawke

Genre: Paranormal Holiday Fantasy

Candy Crone is a Christmas Short Story standalone following Shadow
Cast
 in the Hawthorne University Witch Series.
While I’m enjoying a spicy caramel apple surprise at our local ice cream
parlor, an old lady in rags rambles nonsense about candy canes to children
waiting for Santa. That distracts me from prepping my young friend Cat for her
college interview at Hawthorne University.
Christmas turns into creepy Halloween when all the local children, including
Cat, disappear in the woods. Bryce and I search our forest but become
spellbound. All this voracious casting heralds the arrival of a new witch in
town. The Candy Crone.
As the Hawthorne Witch, I hold great power, but with my unborn baby kicking,
the witch exploits my sins and vices through gluttony. Am I nothing more than
my appetites and power as the Hawthorne Witch? Or can I accomplish something
greater? If I can’t sort my stuff out, Cat, my unborn baby, Chandra, and all
these innocent kids living in Hawthorne are toast.

 

Cadence Hawthorne returns in this Christmas novella taking place after
Shadow Cast, book 6, in The Hawthorne University Witch Series. Candy Crone
is a complete self-contained novella not ending in cliffhangers. Some spoilers
cannot be avoided, but the story is a STANDALONE book that can be enjoyed
without reading the preceding novels.

 

 

Content Warning: Candy Crone contains profanity, adult situations and, of
course, witchcraft.

 

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Cadence! Cadence!”

Bryce and I spin around in the direction of the shouting. That was Cat’s voice! I’m forced to squint as the sun’s rays open again through a gap in the trees. But then Cat stops crying for help.

Light shines over our dirt path, winding through the trees, and I see more breadcrumbs strewn along the ground. I don’t follow the path. Instead, I walk off the trail and start gathering large fallen branches in the bushes. I pile the thickest ones and start forming a five-pointed star.

“What are you doing, Katie?” Bryce asks.

“I don’t know. I remember doing this in my dream. All this happened before, in the dream…or…I foresaw it happening. You and I first spotted breadcrumbs. So I built this sigil as a signal and as a refuge during the nightmare. I think the headmaster’s right, this witch is very powerful. She, or whoever’s possessing her, is attacking us with powerful magic. I feel like I have to build this circle for protection.”

And I drag another stick along the ice, forming a circle surrounding my pentagram. Then I gesture at my work.

Bryce nods, but then he freaks me out when he covers his eyes, squinting over my left shoulder. Turning in the direction of his gaze, I see a bright golden glow. The light is heralding a small cottage among the trees. The breadcrumb trail ends at a walkway surrounding the cottage, which has two windows with shutters and a chimney. It’s as if the cottage has always been there, hidden in the woods. Two large red poles with white stripes by the entrance appear to be the size of people. They look like huge peppermint candy canes. And beside the peppermint sticks, in the snow, are two gingerbread-like statues about half my height. The top of one of the peppermint sticks forms the outline of a girl’s face. But her expression is frozen, motionless, like a statue. An icy pathway of shiny red and green candy tiles leads to the front door. The door and the shutters are composed of a brown cake-like substance. Gingerbread? White patches on the walls form a thick plaster. On the plaster brush marks stick out in sections, reminding me of frosting. Soft red and green gems embedded in the white plaster, covered in crystalized sugar kernels, reflect the golden sunlight. Gumdrops or sugar plums. Chocolatey-brown drippings fall from the rooftops, draining into chocolate pools. And the roof is made of a cinnamon red candy–like surface.

We walk slowly along the candy path. Bryce runs a finger along the white plaster beside the door. It’s not solid, and it’s not plaster, it’s like a thick white goo.

“Frosting?” Bryce asks me with a nervous chuckle.

I nod and run my finger along the wall too. I bring the goo to my nose. It smells so sweet and delicious.

“This has to stop,” snaps Bryce. “This sick witch is controlling us like in a fairy tale. And . . . I feel drowsy, as if I’m dreaming, Kate. I think she’s putting a spell on us.”

How can she not be? We’re standing in front of a gingerbread house.

I nab a large crystalized green gumdrop the size of my palm, stuck to the white frosting, and bite into it. It tastes so good! It’s soft, full of granules of sugar, with a wonderful tangy sweet lime. And the best part is the consistency. The gob sticks in my mouth like chewing gum.

“Cadence, what are you doing!”

He tries to snatch it from my fingers, but I pull it away. I don’t know why I’m eating it, but I am. It’s like I’m compelled to eat it. But it tastes sooo good. I don’t know how Bryce is stopping himself. I’m so hungry.

“It tastes really good, Bryce,” I say with my mouth full. “Wow. You should try some.” Then I dip it in some of the wall plaster and offer him some. “Try it, babe. Just take a bite.”

Growly, growler. Growly, growler.

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Do you write one book at a time or do you have several going at a time? 

If I’m really into a particular project, it becomes all encompassing. I prefer one book at a time but it doesn’t always work out that way. And lately, I also work on converting books to audio at the same time.

 

What made you want to become an author and do you feel it was the right decision?

I always had ideas in my head about writing. I think I always wanted to be a storyteller my whole life.

 

Advice you would give new authors? 

Take a look at other books in your interested genre. Learn from other writers by looking at what’s been written before. And do it for the fun of writing, not for the dollar. At an average cost of $3.99 per ebook, just doing the math, this isn’t a job making writers rich. You really have to love it for the craft.

 

Describe your writing style. 

I think my books are very dialog-heavy. It’s funny because I’ve heard the opposite. Some say they were impressed with my descriptive writing, but I really feel like most of the time I’m using description as a scaffold for conversation. I’m letting the characters run the show. So, reality comes in the form of dialog. It’s what breathes life into my characters.

 

What makes a good story? 

Something engrossing.

 

What are you currently reading? 

I’m reading It Ends with Us. Heard of it? ☺ I’m giving that book a whirl.

 

What is your writing process? For instance do you do an outline first? Do you do the chapters first? 

No outlines. My characters shape what happens.

 

Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want? 

That’s a good question. It’s a mix. If I feel like something is successful, like my witch series has been, then I want to spend my time working with my success. That’s why I’ve written so many books in the series. But I write some books outside of my typical genre. And I like to take chances. It’s part of being an “artist” not a marketer. Because indie writers tend to be on different sides of that spectrum.

 

How long on average does it take you to write a book? 

I can write about four pages an hour. I’m very prolific and can bust out a novel in a couple of weeks. The editing process can take longer, but, in many ways editing is more gratifying. There’s no blank pages staring at you. Or you’re not looking at page count and thinking “man, I’ve only got another hundred pages to go.”

 

Do you believe in writer’s block? 

Absolutely. I suffer from it all the time. But, for me, it’s not a blank page. I can write pages upon pages, but it’s a sense that I’m struggling to get work out. If the story comes easy, it’s so much more of a pleasure and I know it’s going to be good.

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A.L. Hawke is the author of the bestselling Hawthorne
University Witch series. The author lives in Southern California torching the
midnight candle over lovers against a backdrop of machines, nymphs, magic,
spice and mayhem. A.L. Hawke writes fantasy and romance spanning four thousand
years, from pre-civilization to contemporary and beyond.

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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.

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Their fantasy is her reality.

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Tune in Tomorrow

by Randee Dawn

Genre: Humorous Pop-Culture Fantasy

A funny, thrilling and mysterious adventure into the
world of alternate reality television… Perfect for fans of Jasper Fforde and
Christopher Moore.

 

She’s just a small town girl, with big mythic dreams.

Starr Weatherby came to New York to become… well, a star.
But after ten years and no luck, she’s offered a big role – on a show no one
has ever heard of. And there’s a reason for that. It’s a ‘reality’ show beyond
the Veil, human drama, performed for the entertainment of the Fae.

But as Starr shifts from astounded newcomer to rising fan
favorite, she learns about the show’s dark underbelly – and mysterious
disappearance of her predecessor. She’ll do whatever it takes to keep her dream
job – though she might just bring down the show in the process.

Raves for the book:

“I thought I’d seen everything in the galaxy of reality
TV, until Randee’s book!” – Andy Cohen, Host / Executive Producer, Watch
What Happens Live with Andy Cohen and New York Times bestselling author

“Randee Dawn has single-handedly created a glittering
new genre: the Backstage Comedy Fantasy Romance — and I want more!” –
Ellen Kushner, World Fantasy Award-winning author of Thomas the Rhymer and
Swordspoint

“Randee Dawn’s Tune in Tomorrow is a wild ride through
the world of reality TV, Faerie style. It’s a satire and a romance (of a sort)
and a fairytale and a mystery, full of characters I loved (and loved to hate)
and situations that had me biting my nails. It’s also hilariously funny.”
– World Fantasy Award nominee Delia Sherman, author of The Porcelain Dove and
The Evil Wizard Smallbone

“Tune in Tomorrow is a joyride. It takes you on a
journey into the make believe world of a soap opera. It dives in and out of
what could possibly be fantasy or in fact is reality. As with the sands of
time, as you Search for Tomorrow, or you are feeling Young and Restless, get
lost in the adventures of Starr and be taken over by all that is Tune in
Tomorrow.” – Emmy-nominated actor Gregory Zarian

“Dawn’s Tune in Tomorrow is a ton of fun with a lot of
heart, charming characters, and devilish foes. And it’s funny as hell.” –
Zin E. Rocklyn, author of Flowers for the Sea

“Few authors can open the door to another world as
easily as you might turn on the TV, but Randee Dawn has the key and the remote
control firmly in her hand. Flip through the fae and the grindylows, let her be
your TV guide and psychopomp. You will find yourself howling at the gate for a
rerun.” – Meg Elison, author of Number One Fan

“This book is a BOUNCY CASTLE! This book is like a
candy store and a screwball comedy had a fling in fairyland and the result was
a mythic soap opera! There was no predicting it, there was only riding this
dragon all the way to its rollicking rollercoaster conclusion. How dear and
joyous it is, how satisfying, and how worthy of praise!” – World Fantasy
Award-winning author of Saint Death’s Daughter C.S.E. Cooney

“Dawn balances over-the-top drama and comedy with
genuine intrigue to create a fun story with plenty of heart. Fans of Douglas
Adams and Terry Pratchett will want to snatch this up.” – Publishers
Weekly

“Tune in Tomorrow is a hilariously well-constructed
story with surprising complexity, and one that uses its reality TV premise not
as a destination, but as a jumping off point to create something uniquely
interesting that stays entertaining the entire way through.” – Lightspeed
Magazine

“Dawn’s witty take on society’s fascination with
peering at life through a camera lens spotlights the sometimes-blurred
intersection between fantasy and reality, all captured on video. Her playful
narrative propels readers into the realm of alternate possibilities while
questioning what is real and what is make-believe, and if we can even tell the
difference.” – BookTrib

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On the surface, Phil made sense as a security guard. He was a proper, enormous dragon, theoretically full of fire in the belly and leftover meat in the teeth.

But so far as Starr had seen, Phil was a receptionist. For one thing, his belly fire was mostly a small, flickering flame. “My therapist says I got lack of confidence,” he’d muttered to Starr some weeks back in his tractor trailer-sized voice. “I got issues.”

One of which was that flame—which meant he’d be more likely to smoke things than scorch them—and the fact that he’d never consumed a human. “Yet,” he always made sure to add, third eyelid nictitating over one lightning-bolt pupil. It was meant to be a threatening gesture, but mostly it made him seem like he was winking at Starr.

His “issues” left him with a smaller skill set and fewer job prospects than most dragons of his size, which meant he put extra effort into guarding the contents of his cave, a jagged rocky opening that burst from the wall behind the reception desk like an explosion and emitted damp breezes.

Yet Starr hadn’t expected pushback when she asked if she could go through the archived scripts he held back there. Much had happened in the Central Park/Centaur Park Nexus, but the action item that had stuck with her was Nico’s advice to read Joseph’s old scripts. Which she knew were kept in archives in the cave.

For weeks, Phil had refused her entry. “It’s a mess back there,” he said. “I don’t get visitors.”

He hadn’t budged when she promised to leave any gold or jewelry alone, either; the mere mention of precious valuables had made the spikes on his back rise up, piercing his grey shirt. Sparks had shot from a corner of his mouth.

“Mortals steal from me,” Phil slurped sriracha from his mug. “If my possessions are under threat, I can’t help myself. It’s in the blood. Even if I let you in, I’d feel you in there rooting around. And you’d end up mangled or maimed or smoked and I’d end up fired and my therapist would have to see me four times a week, instead of three.”

Starr shivered. It was like talking to Hannibal Lecter about his favorite recipes.

Phil ran his long tongue around the inside of his cup, lapping up the final drops of the hot sauce. “Sigh. There’s never enough.”

A small explosion lit Star up. That was it. Sriracha was going to save the day.

 

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Who designed your book covers? 

Alas, I’ve never met the designers. The covers for Tune – both the original and the reissue one – were done through my publisher Solaris. I was presented with a nearly-complete idea for the first version, and asked for some tweaking of color and font. It wasn’t what I had imagined in my head, but the truth was I hadn’t imagined much! I couldn’t figure out a good hook for a cover. In the end, I loved it – people commented on the cover all the time and I’d always say back that it was “loud and garish, which is perfect for the novel.” When they said they were going to do a cover redesign for the reissue, they asked for more direct input: What would be the main focus image, what about colors, did I have ideas. I told them – retro fluorescent bright colors, an old-fashioned TV, the “color bars” looking wonky on the screen, and some pixie dust swirling around. The addition of Phil came a bit later, and I described him. They sent a PowerPoint of slides of possible images, and I picked the ones I liked best. And it came together beautifully. I’m so happy Phil the security dragon, guarding both mangoes and scripts, is now my mascot for presenting the book!

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Randee Dawn is an author, journalist, and lucky denizen of
Brooklyn. Her first novel, the humorous pop-culture fantasy Tune in Tomorrow,
published in August 2022 (Solaris/Rebellion).

Randee’s short fiction has appeared in publications and
podcasts including 3AM Magazine (“The View of My Brother’s Profile in the
Rear-View Mirror,” 2001; “Warm, In Your Coat,” 2004) and
Well-Told Tales (“Home for the Holidays,” 2015; “Can’t Keep a
Dead Man Down,” 2017).

Dawn’s stories have appeared in anthologies including Where
We May Wag (“The Last Dog,” Writing Piazza Press, 2018), Children of
a Different Sky (“Can’t Find My Way Home,” Kos Books, 2018), Magic
for Beginners (“Queen Zoe and the Spinning Game,” Fantasia Divinity,
2019), Dim Shores Presents (“Rough Beast, Slouching,” 2021), Another
World: Stories of Portal Fantasy (“The Way Is Clear,” SummerStorm
Press, 2021), and Horror for the Throne: One-Sitting Reads (“Cat
Person”).

She has a short collection of dark speculative fiction short
stories, “Home for the Holidays” (2014) and co-authored “The Law
& Order: SVU Unofficial Companion” (BenBella Books, 2009). She
co-edited the speculative fiction anthology of “what if” stories
about The Beatles, “Across the Universe: Tales of Alternative
Beatles” (Fantastic Books, 2019).

When not making stuff up, Randee publishes entertainment
profiles, reviews, and think pieces regularly in outlets including Variety, The
Los Angeles Times, Today.com and Emmy Magazine, and writes trivia for BigBrain.

She can be found at RandeeDawn.com and @RandeeDawn (on
Twitter).

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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.

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Can the love that binds this family deliver Christmas
miracles?

Or will the unforgiving wilderness crush their holiday
spirit?

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A Pioneer Christmas Beyond the Oregon Trail

A Ghosts Among the Oregon Trail Holiday Novella

by David Fitz-Gerald

Genre: Historical Holiday Western Adventure

Dorcas and her family endured a harrowing trip along the
Oregon Trail in 1850. Now, they face their first brutal winter in the rugged
wilderness. Can they survive the harsh realities of frontier life?

Devastating setbacks threaten their lives, crush their
hopes, and test their faith in timeless traditions. Their cabin is unfinished.
Wild animals shred their tents, ruin their food supply, and wreck their camp.
As winter closes in, a powerful storm strikes their remote homestead. How much
more can they endure?

Dorcas suggests skipping Christmas to focus on survival, but
her children balk. They don’t want to give up on the cherished holiday. Is
Christmas a luxury they can’t afford?

When her husband, Agapito, fails to return from a critical
supply run, Dorcas ventures into the wilderness with a rifle in search of food
for her children. She must brave the elements as a mountain lion stalks her
through a violent winter storm.

Can the love that binds this family deliver Christmas
miracles? Or will the unforgiving wilderness crush their holiday spirit?

Start reading A Pioneer Christmas Beyond the Oregon
Trail
 today. Get wrapped up in this gripping western adventure of
love, survival, and the enduring power of hope. Perfect for fans of frontier
fiction and heartwarming holiday tales, this novella will keep you on the edge
of your seat.

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That scream curdles my blood and makes me shiver in fear. I clutch Agapito tightly against me.

Agapito says, “I think it is an owl. I do not know why owls howl like that. But I think it is because they are owls.”

I say, “We’d better check on the children.” After a mad dash to the river’s edge, I shiver as I climb into my clothes.

Agapito scampers after me. Racing to catch up, he laughs and says, “I lasted longer than you.”

The wilderness is full of undiscovered frightening beasts. Fortunately, the camp is safe, the children are asleep, and whatever attacked the camp while we were away is not a danger now.

It’s hard to believe an owl can make a sound like that. If I believed in such things, I might say it was a banshee.

It has been ten days since something attacked the camp, but we remain vigilant. Whatever it was could return at any time.

Being short of food is a constant worry. We’re trying to get by on less. The boys sometimes complain about the watery soup, but we must stretch what we have.

This morning, instead of chopping wood, Christopher and I are fishing in the Clackamas River. But neither of us are having much luck.

Dahlia Jane sits nearby, making nests. She collects dried grasses, then weaves them together into long strands, and then coils the lengths into bowl-shaped replicas. Considering she’s only four years old, her creations are quite convincing.

The cat plays nearby, never venturing far from the girl. It’s hard to believe the docile kitten is the same animal that we took in almost two months ago. I thought that vicious monster could never be tamed, but somehow the fur ball came around. Dahlia Jane says Christopher tamed it.

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**Don’t miss the rest of the series!**

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Find them on Amazon!

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Blogger’s Introduction: Today, I’m stepping into the dreams of Christopher Moon, or as he’s more fondly known, Dunk. He’s a lively nine-year-old boy who’s experienced more adventure on the Oregon frontier than most could imagine. With his almost magical knack for understanding animals and his boundless curiosity, Dunk’s life is full of excitement and discovery. Join me as I chat with him in the warmth of a dream, where stories and secrets are shared.

Blogger: Hi, Dunk! Thanks for meeting with me in this dream. Tell me about your nickname.

Dunk: [As he speaks, he motions with his hands, forming a cup with one, and making a dipping motion with the other.] People make fun of me because I like to dunk food in stuff. Like biscuits in stew, pancakes in porridge, or donuts in syrup. So, they call me Dunk instead of Christopher. I reckon that’s shorter.

Blogger: I’ve heard you like to get away on your own sometimes. Is there someplace special you like to go?

Dunk: [Eyes light up with a mischievous grin] Oh, I got a place, all right. Found an abandoned cabin deep in the woods. A mountain man called Crabapple Nick used to live there. Nobody knows about it but me. I like sneaking back there when I need a bit of quiet or when I just want to pretend I’m a real explorer. It’s like my own secret fort. Just don’t tell anybody, all right? I’d like to keep that a secret.

Blogger: Your secret’s safe with me! I’ve also heard that animals seem to listen to you in a special way. What’s your trick?

Dunk: [Leans in close, voice dropping to a whisper] It ain’t really a trick. It’s just something I can do. Boss, our puppy born right along the trail, listens to me better than anybody else. And then there was Dahlia Jane’s kitten, mean as a snake at first, but now that ball of fluff is all soft and purrs. Even the oxen, they do what I say like I’m the head honcho. Sometimes, I even talk to birds. [Laughs and looks around] Better not mention that either. Don’t want folks thinking I’m daft.

Blogger: That’s incredible, Dunk! It sounds like you’ve got the heart of a true adventurer. Do you ever wish you could be out on the trail more?

Dunk: [His expression shifts to a mix of longing and excitement] Yeah. Boy. Do I ever! I sure was mad when Alvah and the crew left without me. They get to have an adventure every day. I wanted to go so bad, but Ma said no. Said I’m too young, but I ain’t. Someday I’ll be a guide. Or a soldier. Maybe even a trapper. [His lips shift from side to side as if trying to decide which profession might be best for him.]

Blogger: I’m sure you’ll show them all, one day. Speaking of the trail, I heard you broke your arm. Tell me about that.

Dunk: [He looks at his arm and gives a proud smile] Got trampled in a river crossing. It hurt real bad, but I didn’t cry much. Hated the sling though. Ma said I was brave, and I reckon I was. It just made me tougher, I think. If I can go through that, I can do just about anything. I’ll be the best guide or adventurer this side of the Mississippi, you’ll see.

Blogger: I have no doubt about that, Dunk. Now, Christmas on the frontier must be quite different. What’s the best part for you?

Dunk: The best part’s the stories and songs we share. And this year, we had a Christmas cake! I don’t know where it came from, but it was like magic. Hey, do you like to dip your cake in milk? [He laughs heartily] You should give it a try. Tastes even better.

Blogger: I’ll have to try that! One last question before you wake up: if you could tell other kids one thing about life out here, what would it be?

Dunk: I’d tell ‘em that life’s tough sometimes, real tough. But there’s always something worth smiling about. Whether it’s your dog, a warm fire, or dipping cake in milk. And even if folks say you’re too young, don’t listen. You know what you can do.

Blogger: That’s wonderful advice, Dunk. Thank you for sharing your stories and dreams with me. Merry Christmas!

Dunk: Merry Christmas to you, too! And remember, keep the cabin a secret. [He winks as the dream fades away]

Blogger’s Closing Note: Christopher “Dunk” Moon is a boy full of heart and wonder, with dreams as big as the frontier. His stories remind us that even in the hardest times, there’s always room for hope, adventure, and a bit of magic. And, if you enjoy this character as a child in A Pioneer Christmas and the series Ghosts Along the Oregon Trail, you might be surprised to encounter him as an adult in the newly released book, First Drive: A Seph Vermillion Western Adventure.

Blogger’s Closing Note: Andrew’s ambition and depth remind us that even in the hardest times, dreams and determination can light the way. His story is one of hope, resilience, and finding a voice amid the wilds of the frontier.

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David Fitz-Gerald writes westerns and historical fiction. He
is the author of twelve books, including the brand-new series, Ghosts Along the
Oregon Trail set in 1850. Dave is a multiple Laramie Award, first place, best
in category winner; a Blue Ribbon Chanticleerian; a member of Western Writers
of America; and a member of the Historical Novel Society.

Alpine landscapes and flashy horses always catch Dave’s eye
and turn his head. He is also an Adirondack 46-er, which means that he has
hiked to the summit of the range’s highest peaks. As a mountaineer, he’s
happiest at an elevation of over four thousand feet above sea level.

Dave is a lifelong fan of western fiction, landscapes,
movies, and music. It should be no surprise that Dave delights in placing
memorable characters on treacherous trails, mountain tops, and on the backs of
wild horses.

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Baltimore Police Detective Kev Dixit is being stalked by a psychopath.

He’s also saving lives and solving crimes.

And he’s late for dinner.

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Sunscreen Shower

A Detective Kev Dixit Novel 2

by J.P. Rieger

Genre: Crime Mystery, Dark Comedy

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Baltimore Police Detective Kev Dixit is being stalked by a
psychopath. He’s also saving lives and solving crimes. And he’s late for
dinner.

Dixit temporarily heads the Criminal Investigation Division,
a real stress inducer. Aided by humorless partners and eccentric high school
friends, he investigates two vexing cases. Spouses are found shot to death in
their home. Murder-suicide is the obvious call, considering one spouse had just
cleaned out the couple’s joint accounts the day before. But all is not as it
seems when Forensics takes a closer look at the victims’ DNA. Later, Dixit and
his assigned mentee investigate a car bombing. What kind of person would
viciously murder a likeable gym rat?

Oh, and that murder-suicide. It reminded Dixit of an earlier
investigation, back when he was a mere newbie detective. One where he worked
tirelessly to solve a string of increasingly vicious serial attacks on single
women. One where he barely escaped with his life.

What readers are saying:
 



“A smartly plotted murder mystery set in Baltimore and
filled with memorable, local characters. Hugely enjoyable!”

The Wishing Shelf – Five Stars

“The author has crafted a masterful mystery novel with a
story full of unexpected twists and turns. . . . A great detective story with a
clever ending.”

Kirkus Reviews

“Rieger seamlessly weaves together a gritty crime
investigation, with a dark, delirious comedy. . . . A clever, funny and
wonderfully strange crime detective novel.”

Readers’ Choice Book Awards – Five Stars

“As a police procedural, this patiently crafted thriller is
methodical in its investigative storytelling and slow-burn character
development . . . With plenty of twists and dramatic reveals to keep readers
hooked, but still in the dark about the full story, this tangled mystery is
entertaining from the first page.”

Self-Publishing Review

“Rieger ensures that cases are solved through meticulous
police investigations rather than fortuitous breaks, adding a layer of
authenticity to the story. This attention to detail makes the narrative feel
genuine and engaging, particularly for fans of police procedurals. . . . The
book offers a unique blend of intense action and emotional introspection,
making it a worthwhile addition to the genre.”

Literary Titan

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December 2000

The man circled the block just once, precisely according to his plan. He quietly pulled in behind the parked car. He knew which house. He had watched them enter as he drove past the first time. He clicked off the radio’s switch. It had done the trick, as usual. He had heard the badge number and gotten to the scene nearly as quickly as they did.

He took a deep breath. He felt his heart beat faster and deeper. His nerves jangled, electrically fueled by adrenaline. He was happy. No, better than just happy. He felt thrilled, excited. He had never given up on his mission. He had tracked down his prey, finally, to the nondescript house in Hampden. Here it would end.

He removed the Glock from the glove box and placed it into the outer right pocket of his polar fleece. He exited his parked car and closed the door slowly, so very gently, with just enough force to click the door shut. He moved his body against the cloudy twilight toward the house, breathing deeply. The gun tapped against his gut as he walked, annoying him. He had to hold his jacket pocket against his body to stop the movement. But that discomfort, like the rest of the incessant annoyances he continually suffered, would soon be forgotten. Knowing that gave him solace.

He smiled as he approached the home. The dilapidated gray siding of the house smiled back, crookedly. He saw his hand trembling ever so slightly as he grasped the doorknob. He steeled himself and turned the doorknob quietly in the latch, careful to not open the door. Unlocked. He heard muffled sounds. A woman sobbing and a man’s voice speaking loudly. He couldn’t make out the words. Then laughter. He wasn’t sure what was going on inside.

He took the Glock from his fleece pocket, grasping it firmly. He raised his boot-swaddled right foot higher, then yet higher, and kicked forward violently. The wood panel splintered in its frame as the door thrust open, slamming sharply against the living room wall. Instantly, he saw the big older cop standing four yards away in front of a fireplace, grimacing and waving at him like a little child, with his four fingers up by his face. A man in a dark hoodie stood directly behind the big guy, shadowing him, pulling at something, pulling and grunting. The cop continued to hold his hand up by his ear, waving, waving, mutely wriggling his four fingers like a child. The gunman fought the instinct to wave back. Then he heard the muffled sound of a woman sobbing to his left, at the bottom of the staircase. She wore a dark hood over her head. Her wrists were bound behind her. She was curled into the fetal position.

A moment later, in his foreground, he saw his prey, the uniformed cop, back turned, standing over the sofa facing the fireplace. He watched his prey turn toward him looking surprised . . . confused. His prey was holding something in his hand, a round thing with a handle. A frying pan?

He spied the badge number of the man with the frying pan. It was him. The cop was now raising the pan high, about to strike at him. He aimed the Glock point-blank and fired two shots into the cop’s chest. The cop’s body fell backward against the sofa. He watched the cop writhing in agony, trying to right himself against the sofa. He saw the frying pan drop from the cop’s hand and heard the dull metal sound as it hit the floor.

The cop was now doubled over the back of the sofa, moaning but still moving, still trying to right himself. The man spent a quiet moment enjoying the cop’s suffering. And then another moment. Then he took two paces forward and placed the muzzle of the gun against the back of the cop’s skull and pulled the trigger.  Blood and tissue spattered in every direction, some slapping quietly against the shooter’s clothing and face.

The man looked around the room one last time, first toward the sobbing woman and then at the waving man and hooded figure. He wasn’t concerned with any of them. He had carried out his mission. He had avenged his father’s death. He had killed Kev Dixit. There was only one thing left to do. His life was as good as over. He had killed a cop. He sure as hell was not going back to prison. He held the nose of the gun up against his right temple and gently squeezed the trigger.

.

**Don’t miss the first Detective Kev Dixit Novel – Clonk! **

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Find it on Amazon

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What literary pilgrimages have you gone on?

  1. Paul Rieger © 1924

 

I travelled to London about twenty years ago and decided to track down the present location of Furnival’s Inn. Furnival’s Inn is probably best known for being the abode of Charles Dickens. He lived there for about four years in the 1830’s and apparently wrote his first novel, The Pickwick Papers, as a resident. But that’s not why I decided to track it down. I actually sought out Furnival’s because it was the home of one of my favorite fictional characters, Romney Pringle. Pringle was the literary invention of writers Austin Freeman and John J. Pitcairn who wrote pseudonymously as “Clifford Ashdown.” Freeman went on to become the pioneer of the medical detective story. His Dr. Thorndyke character was both a forensic investigator and barrister.

Romney Pringle, on the other hand, was a bachelor rogue. He leased an abode/office at Furnival’s Inn as a purported literary agent. But such was merely a cover. As mentioned in the first Pringle story The Assyrian Rejuvenator: “According to high authority, the reason of being of the literary agent is to act as a buffer between the ravening publisher and his prey. But … little or no business appeared to be transacted in the chambers. The buffer was at present idle, if it could be said to have ever worked!”

Pringle’s claim to fame was his ability to install himself invisibly into an ongoing conflict and walk away with its treasure. The Pringle stories are both hilarious and clever. Pringle is an avid bicyclist and there are many London scenes and landmarks referenced in the stories. Pringle’s precise address at Furnival’s was on the second floor, “No. 33, on the left as you enter from Holborn.”

Alas, the building is no longer there. It was torn down in 1889 to make way for a very grand Prudential Insurance building, now called Holborn Bars. However, I did find a bust of Dickens in the portico along with a plaque mentioning Furnival’s Inn. Interestingly, Dickens described Furnival’s Inn in his novel Martin Chuzzlewit: “There are snug chambers in those Inns where the bachelors live, and, for the desolate fellows they pretend to be, it is quite surprising how well they get on.” Perhaps Dickens ran into the desolate bachelor, Romney Pringle, while living and writing there?

.

J. Paul (J.P) Rieger is a born and bred Baltimorean and
mostly retired Maryland attorney. He’s the author of Clonk!, a police
farce set in Baltimore and published in 2023 by Apprentice House Press (Loyola
University-Baltimore). Clonk! was a finalist in 2023’s CIBA Mark Twain
Award for Humor and Satire. He’s also author of The Case Files of Roderick
Misely, Consultant
, a 2013 mystery novel featuring a wannabe lawyer
anti-hero. His third novel, The Big Comb Over, a slipstream fantasy/
comedy of manners, was a finalist in 2023’s Wishing Shelf Book Awards. Sunscreen
Shower
, a Detective Kev Dixit Novel is Paul’s fourth novel and a
sequel to Clonk! Paul and his spouse lives in Towson, Maryland, a Baltimore
suburb. Chek out his website:
jpaulrieger.net.

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

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.

 

Do you dare enter Dr. Frankenstein’s la-BOR-uh-tree? 

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Upas Street: Shocking Specter

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The Botanic Hill
Detectives Mysteries Book 6

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by Sherrill Joseph

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Genre: Middle Grade Paranormal Mystery

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Do you dare enter Dr. Frankenstein’s la-BOR-uh-tree?

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 A fearless quartet of teen sleuths, the Botanic Hill detectives, travel to
Llanfair, a fictitious Welsh village in present-day California, to solve the
mystery of the Shocking Specter.

.

The green-glowing apparition reportedly roams the countryside, setting
fire to buildings and meadows during the new moon. The occurrences began
shortly after a motion picture stagehand Scotty Roberts’s accidental death by
electrocution in this case inspired by the filming of Universal Pictures 1931
classic horror movie Frankenstein.

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Supernatural?

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Coincidence?

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Or is criminal activity at work?

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And why, nearly a century later, has the Shocking Specter returned?

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Readers will enjoy learning about real-life horror film star Boris
Karloff, Frankenstein author Mary Shelley, other key players
in the movie’s production, and 
some early Hollywood cinematic history. Our fabulous four might need to kick some monsters to the curb to solve
this challenging mystery!

.

 For ages 9 to 14. Adults like this series,
too! My present-day Middle-Grade mysteries have a twist of history,
this time, harking to the filming of 1931’s Universal Pictures classic horror
movie Frankenstein.
It is not within the Young-Adult genre that serves ages 14 to
18. 

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What readers are saying:

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 “Follow our detectives to the fictitious Welsh
settlement of Llanfair, California, as they chase a green-glowing specter and
get caught up in a riveting mystery that will introduce young readers to the
magic of old Hollywood horror movies. Kids will stay intrigued from start to
finish.”

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–KIMBERLEY KRAMER, Literacy Specialist, Saint
Katharine Drexel Academy, San Diego, CA

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“I loved this book and could not put it down! I
loved learning about the Hollywood monsters from the old-time days and meeting
the people of Llanfair. You will not be sad that you chose this book to read.”

–SOPHIA O., age 10, San Diego, CA

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“As a professor of History of Film and Monster
and Character Makeup Design, I was intrigued from the first page of this book!
The Golden Age of Hollywood is brought to life in the eyes of the young
protagonists through their exploration of Universal Studios’ Frankenstein
franchise. Joseph not only captured my attention with the charm and
intelligence of her four detectives but had me searching for clues and secret
messages (Easter eggs) to unravel this horror-movie-inspired mystery. Joseph
includes facts about Boris Karloff that I did not know, which delighted me to
no end. Jack Pierce may have never received an Oscar for his iconic makeup
designs, but he gets a wonderful tribute through this exciting story. A
must-read for mystery lovers and film buffs of all ages.”

.

–SHARON LYNN, award-winning author of A
Cotswold Crimes Mystery series; aka SHARON BOLMAN, Senior Professor of Digital
Video and General Education, University of Advancing Technology, Tempe, AZ

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Author’s Site 

Bookbub * Goodreads

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Background: The four Botanic Hill detectives are having dinner with their Llanfair hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Llewellyn. There was one night to go before the new moon and the specter’s likely appearance, so this evening should be relaxing . . . 

The detectives took turns filling the couple in on all the clues and leads they had gathered so far. As usual, Lanny was quick to remind everyone that evidence was scarce so far, but they hoped they were on the right track.

The diners also discussed the day’s unlocked-door issue at the tower museum and were glad the problem seemed under control now. But it would be critical to find out who made a duplicate key and why.

As Moki was reaching for dessert, a powerful, clanging sound began.

The Llewellyns pushed back their chairs immediately and headed for the front door.

Mrs. Llewellyn turned around to the detectives. “It’s a warning bell coming from the village church. Something terrible must have happened! Come with us, quickly.”

Everyone abandoned the dinner table and bolted outdoors. Smoke was already clogging the air, and the group heard a roaring sound. But they continued toward the source. Soon, they joined other villagers, who were shouting and gathering in the town square.

The detectives noticed a large wooden structure on fire! The fire brigade was on the scene trying to douse the tall flames.

“What’s burning?” Lanny asked anyone who would answer.

“Our St. David’s Day festival stage!” said a young woman with a catch in her voice. “We thought building it early would be a good idea, but . . . ” She shook her head.

Lanny looked at the squad. “Are you guys thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yep,” replied Lexi. “The Shocking Specter did this to distract everyone. It’s on the run—a day early!”

Lanny exhaled. “Ugh! And it’s got a jump on us.”

Rani tugged on Lanny’s sleeve. “Then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go after it.” The athletic girl raced ahead without waiting for a reply. Her three friends followed.

The Shocking Specter likely had a good head start, so the squad decided to go right to the cemetery and tower, ignoring the pond and bridge. The detectives traversed the grassy field in record time. No villagers followed them. Upon reaching the cemetery, Lanny told Moki and Lexi to check there while he and Rani would see if there was any trouble at the tower or its back door.

Soon, the four met between the two destinations.

Lexi held up a large corpse candle. It was a duplicate of the one Lanny had found in the pond, only hers was sparkling a bright red. “We found it by Scotty Roberts’s grave! And congratulations, Moki, for not complaining about returning to your least favorite spot in Llanfair.”

Without waiting for Moki’s reply, Rani said, “The tower museum’s door is still locked, thank goodness, but the doorknob’s loose as if someone’s been tugging on it. And we found a speck of its costume on the bush going down the steps!” She smiled and held up a few threads of fabric, brilliantly glowing green in the dark.

“Hey, guys. Look out there!” Lanny said, pointing.

Far off in the deserted meadow, running northwest toward the dense woods, was the Shocking Specter. It glowed a ghastly green from head to toe, shimmering and pulsating like an animated, computer-generated image. Just as Lanny was going to suggest they follow it, the apparition vanished— as if its lights had been switched off!

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**Don’t miss the rest of the series!**

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Find them on Amazon

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Q:  Please discuss your favorite inspirational authors or books.

A:   Nancy Drew mysteries (The Secret of Red Gate Farm and The Phantom of Pine Hill are two favorites), Frances Hodgson Burnett (The Secret Garden), and Phyllis A. Whitney mysteries (The Mystery of the Green Cat; The Secret of the Samurai Sword) still enthrall me. I still reread those for fun and inspiration. As a college English major, I developed a lifelong love of the classics, especially the Sherlock Holmes stories of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (“The Hound of the Baskervilles”), the Bronte sisters (Jane Eyre; Wuthering Heights), Daphne du Maurier (Rebecca), Bram Stoker (Dracula), Mary Shelley (Frankenstein), Edgar Allan Poe’s stories and poems, and Wilkie Collins (The Moonstone; The Woman in White). From modern times, I am awed and inspired by the writing style of Hazel Gaynor (The Cottingley Secret), John Fowles (The French Lieutenant’s Woman; The Magus), and Frances Mayes (Under the Tuscan Sun), particularly, all three authors’ uses of metaphor and descriptive language. Among children’s authors, I enjoy Steven K. Smith (The Virginia Mysteries), Aaron Johnson (The National Park Mysteries), and Nancy Springer (The Enola Holmes Mysteries).

Q:  Is any of your writing inspired by your actual life?

A:  Yes, mostly from my ongoing childhood! Mysteries have always been my favorite reading and writing genre. Therea re snippets of memories that influenced each of my Botanic Hill Detectives Mysteries. For example, in Book 1, Nutmeg Street: Egyptian Secrets, I employed a memory of visiting my great-aunt. She lived on a canyon and had an old, mossy pond down some steep stone steps. Many trees created a dark, mysterious world there for me. A cousin told me a big black snake hid in the pond and came out at night. In Book 2, Eucalyptus Street: Green Curse, I recalled childhood-book mysteries with secret passages and characters hunting for something hidden. In Book 5, Jacaranda Street: Gravestone Image, I wrapped a mystery around one of my favorite writers, Edgar Allan Poe. In Book 6, Upas Street: Shocking Specter, I showcased my love of Universal Pictures 1931 classic horror film Frankenstein and its inimitable star Boris Karloff as the monster. As a kid, I used to watch those old horror movies on television’s Shock Theater on Saturday nights. I often collect plots ideas on my daily walks in my neighborhood of vintage, historic homes.

Q:  Why the mystery genre, and why do you write cozy mysteries for kids?

A:   I have loved the mystery genre since I discovered Nancy Drew Mysteries at the age of ten. I would finish my schoolwork early so I could pull my book out of my desk and escape to “Nancy Land.” I used to write short mysteries starring Nancy and her friends and vowed that someday, I would write mysteries for children. Kid cozies offer kids a safe place to try on problems and work out solutions. There is crime, but minus the gore and dark peril, so squeamish readers won’t be turned off. Instead, young readers can focus on the actions of likable, role-model amateur sleuths who want to help right wrongs to ensure justice is served. There are often intriguing twists and turns in cozies, lots of clues, food, pets, a red herring or two, and a believable solution to wrap things up with a smile for everyone except the villains.

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Sherrill Joseph was a shy kid whose BFF was
Nancy Drew. From her, the author learned to seek adventures, be kind and fair,
help others everywhere, and become a mystery author someday.

Convinced early on that she was an architect in
a former life, Sherrill was receptive to the magic of her Southern California
neighborhood’s historic houses. To this day, she dramatizes those old
“castles,” filling them with mysteries, staircases, a ghost or two, and
exaggerated occurrences.

The author graduated Phi Beta Kappa and summa
cum laude
from San Diego State University. Once retired in 2013 after
teaching kids for thirty-five years in the San Diego public schools, the inner
child in Sherrill created the multi award-winning Botanic Hill Detectives
Mysteries series so her grandkids and all kids can gallop with her and her four
forever-thirteen-year-old sleuths in their standalone cases after clues to nab
the bad guys.

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

.

 There are old tragedies sealed in the stones of Llysygarn and their shadows don’t let go.

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Shadows

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Llysygarn Book 1

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by Thorne Moore

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Genre: Paranormal Historical Crime

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 Kate Lawrence can sense the shadow of violent death and it’s a curse
she longs to escape. But, joining her cousin Sylvia and partner
Michael in their mission to restore and revitalise the old mansion of
Llys y Garn, she finds herself in a place thick with the shadows of
past deaths.

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She seeks to
face them down but new shadows are rising. Sylvia’s manipulative son,
Christian, can destroy everything. Once more, Kate senses that a
violent death has occurred…

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A haunting
exploration of the dark side of people and landscape, set in the
majestic and magical Welsh countryside.

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Amazon
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No!

I didn’t hear the word, but I felt it, pushing me out of the cramped attic room, with its leaking dormer window among the chimney pots.

All through our tour of the house, I’d been waiting for some shadow to spring out on me. Sylvia had led me up staircases, down corridors, through one derelict room after another, but this, high up under the eaves, was the first sense of death and dark emotion I’d felt. There was fear in this garret, and a lingering panic, but mostly there was a strident, fierce defiance, determined to push me out.

No!

So I pushed back, and followed Sylvia in.

I’d done it. I’d conquered. Not so difficult after all. I just had to be strong. It was still there, that melting pot of fear and resistance, but I could put it firmly to one side.

‘…and perhaps the guttering.’ While I was vanquishing my shadows, Sylvia was considering the large blooms of damp on the sloping ceiling. She looked at me anxiously. ‘Could we?’

‘Sure!’ I felt absurdly all-conquering. ‘Nothing to worry about.’ I followed her, gleeful in my triumph, back down servants’ stairs to the ground floor.

She flung open double doors. ‘Ta-Ra! The drawing room. It’s the only one we’ve seriously tackled so far. What do you think?’

‘Hey.’ I could see why the room had inspired her into action. It was all mock-medieval plasterwork, with a Gothic fireplace and touches of stained glass in the tall arched windows that opened onto the terrace. Sylvia had decked it out with William Morris wallpaper, a chaise longue upholstered in faded red velvet, an Oriental rug and a brass oil-lamp with Tiffany shade. It was hard not to be impressed.

‘Wonderful. Creative. Just right.’ I reeled off compliments. It certainly demonstrated the potential of the place. Every other room merely screamed ‘Rewiring! Dry rot! Woodworm!’

‘I love it,’ said Sylvia. ‘Well, I think that’s it here. Now come outside.’

In the entrance hall, with its patterned tiles and mock-Tudor staircase, we struggled with the bolts of the towering front door, and emerged into the rinsing chill of a spring morning. Tissues of mist were clearing from the tree tops and the distant fields were already free from frost, though the sloping pasture below us was still crystalline grey.

From a mossy balustrade with crumbling urns, I surveyed the house. Solid Victorian, with heavy-handed touches of Gothic Revival; a pointed window here and there, a gargoyle or two, writhing vines on the woodwork.

‘We were so lucky to find it,’ said Sylvia happily. ‘When it went up for auction, I expect most people were put off by the amount of work it needs. Listed building and all that.’

‘But you and Mike didn’t mind?’

‘Of course not! I know there’s masses to do, but it’s such a dream and we’ve got money between us. Not endless money but you know, if we manage it carefully.’

I laughed. Sylvia had never managed anything carefully in her life, least of all money.

‘And if we can get the easy bits up and running, like the lodge, well, it will just pay for itself, won’t it?’

I doubted it, but practicalities could come later.

‘Of course it’s a gamble,’ she went on. ‘But we fell helplessly head over heels in love with it as soon as we saw it. And it does have incredible possibilities, doesn’t it?’

‘Oh God, yes.’ If the initial financial nightmares could be sorted out. That was where I came in. Nothing like a challenge.

‘Obviously guests,’ Sylvia took my arm and led me along, scrunching on gravel. ‘Music festivals perhaps. And a restaurant. You know, local organic produce, and our own herbs and vegetables. Themed weekends.’

We reached the end of the terrace. ‘And of course this is the real pièce de résistance.’

I jumped. There had been something so comfortably bourgeois about the Victorian façade that I was unprepared for what lay round the corner. The remnant of an old house. Much older, crouching behind the new. Nothing fake about this Gothic. Crumbling stonework, sagging beams, a small bush sprouting from a chimney.

‘What do you think?’ asked Sylvia, gleefully. ‘I could have taken you in through the house, but it’s so much more dramatic from this angle. Isn’t it incredible?’

I stared into the darkness behind crooked mullioned windows. My victory over an odd twinge in a servant’s attic was forgotten. This was altogether more forbidding. There were centuries upon centuries fossilised here.

‘A pity there’s so little of it,’ Sylvia continued. ‘Not much more than a hall, really, with a minstrel’s gallery. Oh, and there’s a dungeon. With a spiral stair! Lord knows how old it is. Mike’s researched it all, says it was already here in 1540. The rest of the house was demolished and rebuilt in Queen Anne’s time, and then again in Eighteen something.’ She patted the neat Victorian stonework as we passed.

I shivered. Hardly surprising with the frost still intact on the shaded gravel. Shiver with cold if I must, but it was absurd to shiver because of what might lie within.

There might be nothing.

Then again… Dungeons, Sylvia said. I’d dealt with an attic. Did I really have to deal with a dungeon too, on my first day?

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Long Shadows

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Llysygarn Book 2

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Llys y Garn is an ancient mansion riddled with mysteries. What
tragedies haunt the abandoned servants’ attics, the derelict great
hall, the deep mire in the woods?

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1884. The Good
Servant. Nelly Skeel is the unloved housekeeper whose only focus of
affection is her master’s despised nephew.

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1662. The
Witch. Elizabeth Powell, in an age of bigotry and superstition, who
would give her soul for the house she loves.

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1308. The
Dragon Slayer. Angharad ferch Owain, expendable asset in her father’s
eyes, dreams of wider horizons, and an escape from the seemingly
inevitable fate of all women.

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Amazon
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Llys y Garn, a rambling Victorian-Gothic mansion, with vestiges of older glories, lies on the steep slopes of the Arian stream, under the Preseli heights, in the isolated parish of Rhyd y Groes in North Pembrokeshire. It is the house of the parish, even in its decline, deeply conscious of its own importance, its pedigree and its permanence.

Others see it differently.

Rooks wheel over the deep valley of the Arian and see it in its entirety. Below them, tangled oak forests cloak the slopes, from the high crags to the glinting flash of the river as it swells, gathering the gullies that pour down from the hills, heading for the thundering ocean.

The rooks are the real owners of these forests. Their nests cluster in the trees and have done so from time beyond time. To them, the great house, Llys y Garn, is a transitory thing, intrusive, shape-shifting, of value for the occasional perch it offers, the food it discards. But it isn’t permanent, like them.

They see it from above, a mess of slate and cobbles, gable ends and chimney pots and mossy urns on terraces, clinging to the hillside.

But they saw it too when there was nothing here but round houses, women squatting over querns and wolves howling in the deep woods.

They saw it when, below the Devil’s stones of Bedd y Blaidd, a nobleman held court for poets, in a timber hall under sooty thatch, and men quarrelled over family feuds.

They saw it when gatehouse, stables, kitchen and stores clustered around a great stone hall and tower, and kings fought for sovereignty.

They saw it when Tudor wings embraced the hall and people battled and butchered over the sanctity of bread and wine.

They saw the dismantling and remodelling as Queen Anne breathed her last.

They saw the slow decay, the arrival of Victorian affluence and the building of a house that dreamed of King Arthur and croquet on the lawn. The rooks were not, and never will be, greatly concerned with documents, but it might be of interest to note that in the 1881 census, Llys y Garn, with its associated dwellings, was listed as the home of Edward Merrick-Jones, gentleman, aged thirty-six, his wife Agnes, son James, aged five, aunt Eleanor Pendrick (visitor), and twenty-seven servants, indoors and out. The Arthurian croquet lifestyle required a great deal of maintenance.

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Romancing the past.

I write historical fiction, or fiction in which history plays a vital part, but my books don’t necessarily fit the usual sub-genres. I don’t write about famous people – not even Tudor Queens. Plenty of other authors do that very well. There is a whole sub-genre, I know, of Historical Romance, but I don’t think anyone reading my books would mistake them for romances.

What a lot of romance there was in the past. Romantic fiction too, from tales of King Arthur, Tristram and Isolde, Lancelot and Guinevere. Everywhere, troubadours were singing about knights wooing fair ladies, begging for their favours, swooning with desire, passion swirling in the air. One thing that was lacking was the final line “and they married and lived happily ever after,” but it does seem to be an essential part of historical romances. Man and woman fall in love and therefore, after various adventures, with plots to divide them, they finally get married.

In the 20th century, except in royal families, it was taken for granted that love and marriage go together like a horse and carriage. Go back to the start of the 19th century and the idea is germinating, but it is still an ideal rather than a norm. There are repeated conflicts in Jane Austen’s novels between characters who see marriage as a matter of affection, like Elizabeth Bennet, and those who see it as a financial settlement, like Charlotte Lucas. Sometimes there are characters, like Eleanor Dashwood, who realise that a certain level of financial security is essential to ensure the survival of affection. There are also characters, especially among the older generation, who see marriage as a matter in which parents arrange and children obey. Jane Austen was writing at a critical moment in romance. Prior to the nineteenth century, marriages were arranged, by parents or by the couple, as a deal, a contract providing benefits and demanding duties, and romance had nothing to do with it.

Among the propertied classes, marriage was very much a matter of exchanging assets. It was the families of bride and groom and their potential alliances that mattered, with a view to enrichment, security or improved status. Sons and daughters were at the disposal of their parents or, if they were noble orphans, at the disposal of the King, who had an interest in the land, titles and, especially, military forces they represented. If they found their future spouse agreeable, that was a lucky bonus. Their duty, impressed by society, church and outright force, was to produce children who would ensure a line of succession to keep that all-important land and title in the family. They didn’t have to like each other. They didn’t have to fancy each other. They didn’t have to be heterosexual. They just had to procreate.

For the ordinary labourer, there might have been less pressure to obey parents, but the same imperative existed to produce children, because without them, how would men and women survive in their old age when they were too crippled or blind to be able to work and feed themselves? Love wasn’t really a consideration, although lust played a useful part. Come May Day, or Harvest Home, or those long summer nights when the rye was high, there was plenty of frolicking opportunity to get down and dirty. Any resulting pregnancy would likely lead to marriage, not because of disgrace or the need to amend sin, but because if the couple were capable of producing children, that was good enough to make their future relatively secure.

My books feature marriages, but that really isn’t the same as romance. In SHADOWS, which is set in the present day, there are marriages created in the 20th century way, via a belief in the all-conquering power of love, attraction and romance, and they don’t work out very well at all. In LONG SHADOWS, set across six centuries, there are marriages or attempted marriages created in the old way, via arrangement, command, calculation and convenience, and I am afraid they don’t work very well either. But then, if I don’t write romance, I do write drama.

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Thorne was born in Luton and graduated from Aberystwyth University (history)
and from the Open University (Law). She set up a restaurant with her
sister and made miniature furniture for collectors. She lives in
Pembrokeshire, which forms a background for much of her writing, as
does Luton.

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She writes psychological
mysteries, or “domestic noir,” exploring the reason for
crimes and their consequences, rather than the details of the crimes
themselves. and her first novel, “A Time For Silence,” was
published by Honno in 2012, with its prequel, “The Covenant,”
published in 2020. “Motherlove” and “The Unravelling”
were also published by Honno. “Shadows” is set in an old
mansion in Pembrokeshire and is paired with “Long Shadows,”
which explains the history and mysteries of the same old house. Her
latest crime novels, “Fatal Collision” and “Bethulia”
are published by Diamond Crime. She’s a member of Crime Cymru.

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She has also written the
Science Fiction trilogy “Salvage,” including “Inside
Out,” “Making Waves” and “By The Book” as
well as a collection of short stories, “Moments of Consequence.”

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Website
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* Bookbub
* Amazon
* Goodreads

.

 

.

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

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Deep beneath the desert town of Peridot, something evil lurks. 

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The Man Who Dealt in Death

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The Colton Fen Series Book 1

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by Marlena Frank

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Genre: Paranormal Weird Western

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Deep beneath the desert town of Peridot, something evil lurks.

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Werewolf detective Colton Fen is used to strange mysteries, but when he
arrives in Peridot on his latest assignment, he’s less than pleased
to be assigned a partner. Rennick Dalton is a blood-drinking,
illusion-wielding card shark who doesn’t have the best reputation.
The two unlikely partners will have to put aside their differences if
they hope to stop the horrible acts taking place beneath the streets
of Peridot.

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Together with the help of sharp-shooting
actress Mary Silva, they’ll track the demonic creature that
slithers beneath the desert. But the demon is waiting for them. It
wants to turn them into one of its many disturbing minions — or add
them to its grotesque collection.

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Step into a dangerous
and fantastic world set in the old west of 1893, where supernatural
creatures and unexplainables live alongside cowboys and gunslingers.
THE MAN WHO DEALT IN DEATH is Book One of the COLTON FEN series.

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Amazon
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Site
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* Goodreads

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Colton hated waiting rooms. He didn’t enjoy sitting in a cage while someone more important carved out time to see him. It always rubbed him the wrong way and made him feel unimportant. It didn’t help that waiting rooms were for things he didn’t enjoy, such as seeing a doctor, being suspected of a robbery, or, in this case, meeting his new boss.

He drummed his fingers on the edge of the table beside him, ignoring the sweat marks left behind on the thick varnish. The room was full of chestnut furniture that smelled freshly polished. The oily scent clung to the back of his throat. It wasn’t that strong to humans, but to werewolves, it was a mild form of torture. He tried to keep his leg from bouncing.

The heavy door at the end of the room opened and a tall man with dark, umber skin emerged. He wore an immaculate tan suit, quite rich, which was strange for someone who worked at the Agency.

“Mr. Fen,” he said with a wide smile, “sorry to keep you waiting. Come on in. I just have a few more things to finish before we can talk.”

Colton rolled to his feet, removed his Stetson hat, and wiped his sweaty hand on his duster coat before shaking the man’s hand. His new boss’s wealth had taken him off guard, but it was Colton’s inability to figure out what he was that made him uncomfortable. Almost every member of the Agency was some kind of supernatural being. He wasn’t a werewolf, and he didn’t smell like a vampire. Colton didn’t have an inexplicable sense of dread come over him, so he couldn’t be a wendigo, either. Nothing about him seemed unusual, and that normality made Colton uneasy. He was just a rich human who was far more put together than Colton.

“Not a problem, sir. I’ve got nowhere to be,” he said.

His new boss chuckled. “It’s good to meet you in person. Grady speaks highly of you.”

“I’m surprised. Grady doesn’t speak highly of anyone. It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Tep.”

“Please, call me Mekhu.” He gestured into his office. “Why don’t you come in and take a seat?”

Colton had the strange sensation of walking into a sacred space when he stepped through the threshold. While the waiting room smelled of buffed oils, this place was the exact opposite. The window was open, letting in the sounds of the bustling city below along with all the scents that came with it. Beneath the city smells of horses and the occasional automobile, some unusual ones lay just below the surface. It was difficult to resist openly sniffing the air. He wandered away from the open window and toward the bookshelves. There were some books, but what caught his eye were the trinkets sitting on a low shelf, intended to be missed by casual guests.

Little jars stood with various animal heads on top used as lids. One was a cat, another might have been a bird with a long beak. Colton was no historian, but he could tell they were ancient. He squatted down to look more closely at an ornamental human skull in the back, but he suspected there was more to it.

“Are you an anthropologist, Mr. Tep?” Colton asked.

Mr. Tep sat at his desk rifling through paperwork, and looked up to give a wide smile. “I see you’ve found my collection.”

Colton stood up straight and put his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I guess that’s where you got the money from, selling off whatever you stole from those tombs in Egypt?”

He laughed. “You’re mistaken, Mr. Fen. I’ve never stolen once in my life, merely claimed what was mine.”

Colton smirked. “I guess one man’s otherworldly riches are another man’s property.”

Mekhu pursed his lips. “The Agency for the Betterment of Supernatural Creatures: we employ the skills and knowledge of many shades of the supernatural, as you know, Mr. Fen. That also means that it doesn’t take much to offend.”

It took Colton a minute to realize he had said something wrong, and he hadn’t even sat down yet. “Sorry, sir.”

Mekhu smiled again. “Why don’t we just do what’s best for both of us and start over? How does that sound?”

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and settled down in the seat opposite his new boss. “My apologies. I have a bad habit of poking around too much.”

Mehku laced his fingers together. “Always the detective, I see. I understand your compulsion, Mr. Fen, but it’s that attitude that will end up getting you killed on assignment in the Agency. You need more tact.”

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

 

I started where so many authors start, with fanfiction. I wrote a bunch in junior high, high school, and into college. It was an escape from my rigorous degree program and a fun way to make friends. In 2010, I had the idea for a standalone short story, so I wrote it and tried to get it published. I didn’t really expect anything to come of it, but it was picked up by a small press called Short-Story.Me and was even included in their paperback collection. It was the first time I was paid for plucking a story out of my head and putting it down on paper. My friends had always told me I was a good writer, but it was in that moment that I thought maybe, just maybe, I could write books.

 

Invigorated, I tried my hand at writing novel-length pieces. I enjoyed fanfiction competitions that aimed at long stories. So, I tried doing NaNoWriMo and ended up finishing with a 50,000-word book. It was a rough draft and has never seen the light of day, but it was the impetus I needed. From there, I started writing regularly. I continued to find homes for my short stories and kept trying to write longer pieces. I eventually got picked up by Radiant Crown Publishing, now known as Aurelia Leo, for my novella, The She-Wolf of Kanta. It was an amazing experience.

 

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

Back when I was writing fanfiction, I really didn’t consider myself a writer. I wrote for fun. Even when I first published a short story, I knew I was a writer, but I didn’t really feel like it. It wasn’t until I had my novella published by Radiant Crown Publishing in 2018 that I felt like a writer. There was something about seeing a book with only my name on it as the author that really made it feel real. That is an awesome feeling every single time I get a book of mine in my hands.

 

Which of your novels can you imagine made into a movie?

I’ve been told that a lot of my books have a cinematic quality to them! The Man Who Dealt in Death is one that has frequently gotten that commentary from early reviewers. There’s something about the Old West in 1893 with werewolves, vampires, and gunslingers that really lends itself to film.

 

What literary pilgrimages have you gone on?

The literary pilgrimages I’ve made were never intentional. I was visiting with family in Austin, Texas when I came across the tiny home of O. Henry. I was amazed because I used to love his short stories when I was in school, and it was remarkable to see it in real life. More recently I got to visit Peggy’s Cove up in Canada and was inspired to write a book about a lone lighthouse. I had no idea that inspiration would happen when I visited, but the story idea bit me and wouldn’t let go. I’m hoping that will be a novel that comes out sometime in 2025.

What inspired you to write this book?

I first wrote Night Feeders, the novella prequel to The Man Who Dealt in Death, back in 2011. The westerns I loved growing up included The Quick and the Dead, Wild, Wild West, and Maverick. I had this image of a werewolf detective roaming the Old West with a mission: to solve the case he was handed. After I wrote that short, this story came to me in a rush. I could clearly see the characters, the big baddie, and the world spread out, and I hammered out the first draft in a month. It was amazing, I’ve never written so intensely before. It’s so exciting to finally see it out in the world.

 

What did you enjoy most about writing this book?

I just love how fun it is! The characters crack jokes even when the situation is dire, the world is always packed full of danger and interesting turns. The story is just an entertaining, romantic, and exciting page-turner from start to finish. It’s a blast to read and it was pure fun to write.

 

Do your characters seem to hijack the story, or do you feel like you have the reigns of the story?

I tend to have story beats that I follow as I write stories, but mostly I let the characters lead the way. They choose the dialogue, they come up with the romantic interests, and they ultimately decide how we get to those main story beats. It feels like a more fluid way of letting the story come to me. Of course, it does require me getting a good handle of the characters first, and that can sometimes take time. But once I get that part figured out, the story tends to flow.

 

What are some of the exciting aspects of The Man Who Dealt in Death?

My main protagonist is Colton Fen, a detective working for the Agency for the Betterment of Supernatural Creatures, or ABOSC. He’s a reluctant werewolf and although he’s in his 40s and has been through some tough cases, he’s still relatively new to being part of the agency. Meanwhile, his new partner, Rennick Dalton, is a vampire illusionist and a card shark. He is way more outgoing than Colton and he’s more comfortable in his supernatural skin. They have a rocky start working together and it takes them time to learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses. They have a “buddy cop” relationship that evolves throughout the book. It’s a lot of fun to see how they start to respect each other and rely on each other more as the stakes get higher.

 

Have you written anything else in this world?

You can find the novella, Night Feeders, that’s in this same world. It’s the prequel to this novel. It’s a glimpse into Colton working on his own with a vicious sheriff in an Old West town. He makes some big mistakes and you really see how he would be helped with a partner, even if it’s a reluctant one. Night Feeders is a great way to get introduced to the world, the supernatural elements, and step into the Old West of the Colton Fen series. During the release of The Man Who Dealt in Death, you can pick up Night Feeders for a limited time at a discount. So if this sounds like a fun read, go grab your copy and dive into the story that inspired this book.

 

Do you have any fun facts about this book?

I have a whole series of books planned for this world. I see these books as comic book style adventures that can be read on their own or read in a series. You’ll get to see the characters progress by reading them in order, but you can also read them on their own for individual adventures. Readers I’ve described this series to have said it sounds a lot like The Dresden Files series by Jim Butcher as well, which was high praise to me.

 

What kind of research did you do while writing this book?

While this series isn’t purely historical, I’ve done a lot of research to ensure it’s as accurate as possible for the Old West. I’ve found a lot of interesting facts about what clothing was worn, the way women were treated, and the way gun holsters were worn. I even found old train maps, city maps, and estimates of travel time back then. So while this series isn’t what I would call historically accurate, there are werewolves and vampires for example, it’s got a lot of historical flavoring. I worked hard to create that historical immersion with a supernatural flair.

 

What are your favorite genres to read?

I read a bunch of different genres including biographies, popular science, fantasy, horror, fantasy romance, mysteries, women’s literature, true crime, comic books, and graphic novels. I have a hard time settling down to specific genres. I want to read all of them. I tend to read a bunch of different books at once too, hopping between each one.

 

Do you write one book at a time, or do you have several going at a time?

I wish I could say that I focus on writing a single book and that’s all I put my focus on. I would probably be a faster writer if I did that. However, I don’t. I tend to have a main book that I’m working on, but I’ll also be working on some short stories, or working on writing a novel on my phone while on the go. I’ll get an idea and jot it down in my notes app or in my notebook so I don’t lose it. I’ll be brainstorming the world for a new book while working on actively writing a current one. I don’t have a reason for it, it’s just how my creative brain works.

 

Pen or typewriter or computer?

My preferred writing method is with a fountain pen and a nice lined journal. I have a few Metropolitan fountain pens that I love and a variety of inks. I try to use different color inks for different novels and worlds because it helps me since I write across so many novels at once. I feel like writing by hand forces me to get the story down, to create the dialogue, and not get caught up in scenes I want to add in later or anything like that. Especially on a rough draft. It helps me get the story down on paper, and even if it needs a lot of work, it at least gets the story started.

 

I tend to flush that out a bunch when I transcribe it onto a computer. I use Scrivener so I can easily add new scenes and keep track of shifting POVs. But having that first draft written by hand really helps me focus on just getting the story down. I do write some directly into Scrivener or when I’m travelling on my phone, but those tend to be more snippets than full-length novels. I have to turn those into more fleshed out stories later, but it’s great to have that flexibility when I don’t have the time or the ability to write long-hand.

Describe your writing style.

Character-driven stories are my favorites. I love seeing how characters evolve and where they take the story. I focus on fluid dialogue and realistic actions for the characters. I also tend to really have immersive world-building. In my fantasy books, the world-building is one of my favorite aspects, and of course even in the Old West fantasy world of The Man Who Dealt in Death, I can’t help but keep some very detailed world-building.

 

What advice would you give new authors?

There are a ton of ways to get discouraged when you’re first starting out as an author. Between all the rejections and the steep climb to get noticed by readers, there are a bunch of times you’ll want to give up. That’s perfectly normal, and I also got beaten down by that for a couple of years where I questioned if I wanted to continue my journey to become an author. I realized the stories kept coming even if I doubted myself.  Even if gatekeepers have you questioning yourself, don’t give up. Keep writing. There are so many ways to get your work into the world today. Find what works best for you and your writing. Hold on to that. Don’t let go and don’t give up. The world needs your writing.

 

What are you currently reading?

I’m reading several books right now (which is no surprise to anyone). I’m reading Malorie by Josh Malerman, The Story Girl by L.M. Montgomery, the Batman Arkham: Scarecrow comic book, and I’m re-reading Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice. That last one is a slow read for me since I haven’t read it since I was in Junior High. I also loved Bird Box by Josh Malerman when it came out years ago and Malorie is fantastic so far. I have to pace myself with it because it’s an intense read.

 

How long does it take you to write a book?

It really depends. Sometimes I can knock out a rough draft really quick, and sometimes it takes years. While I knocked out the first draft of The Man Who Dealt in Death in a month, it’s taken me over a decade before it will see the light of day. Some books I can draft and finish up in six months or so. I try to have around two books come out every year, but sometimes that’s just not possible due to personal things going on in my life. Like this year, The Man Who Dealt in Death is my only book release, which is fine for me. It really just depends.

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Marlena Frank is the author of young adult fantasy and horror novels, short
stories, novellas, and book series. Many of her books have hit the
bestseller charts, including her debut novel, Stolen.
Readers’ Favorite has praised several of her books with 5-star
reviews. Reader’s House awarded her book, The Seeking,
with the Editor’s Choice Award of Literary Excellence in May 2024.
De Mode of Literature Magazine featured her in November 2021. Her
stories have appeared in anthologies such as The Darkest Lullaby,
Emporium of Superstition, Heroic Fantasy Quarterly, Georgia Gothic,
and The Librarian Reshelved.

,

Although born in Tennessee, Marlena has spent most of her life in Georgia. She
has various professional memberships, including the Atlanta chapter
of the Horror Writers Association and the Science Fiction and Fantasy
Writers Association. She enjoys cosplaying, gaming, and spoiling her
adopted cats. Her drink of choice is a dairy-free chai latte. As a
wildlife enthusiast, she can share a plethora of weird animal facts
and talk about her favorite cryptids.

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Website
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Bookbub *
Amazon
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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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$10 Amazon gift card.

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ebook of Night Feeders by Marlena Frank.

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.1 winner each! 

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

.

Daughter of the Lost is a roller-coaster journey of self-exploration and finding family-even

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among your mortal enemies.

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Daughter of the Lost

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The Porn Star’s Daughter Book 2

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by Kay Stephens

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Genre: New Adult College Romance

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When the freshman party ends, the sophomore hangover hits.

Trinity Tachel has no use for society’s rules. Not after the New Orleans
police failed to investigate the murder of her sex-worker mother. Not
after she was abandoned to the Louisiana foster care system as a
child. And certainly not after fighting through freshman year to
prove herself worthy of a spot at the prestigious Filton University.

.

Trinity is overjoyed when she’s invited to spend the summer in the Los
Angeles mansion of retired porn star Missy Mariola. Escape the daily
struggle to survive as a New Orleans college student? Yes please.
Shock proper society by openly embracing an adult film star? Even
better.

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But when Trinity returns to New Orleans for her sophomore year, she’s an
unrecognizable version of herself.

.

Missy Mariola has taken over Trinity’s life. Missy doesn’t want Trinity to
work, makes all the rules-and even chooses Trinity’s housemates.
Trinity finds herself living with people she despises, including a
hot New Orleans cop who has a frustrating habit of showing up during
her worst moments.

.

Trinity has to decide if she wants to remain the abandoned child of her past
or embrace a future with people who love her.

.

Daughter of the Lost is a roller-coaster journey of
self-exploration and finding family-even among your mortal enemies.

.

Amazon
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.

.

No, it’s not time yet.”

Trinity batted at the finger incessantly poking her shoulder and pulled a pillow over her head to

block out the blare of the alarm clock. And, for just a moment, she escaped. She slipped back

into a world of sleep so seductive she would have willingly traded her remaining days to let it hold

her for eternity.

But Tali was relentless. She wedged both of her hands under Trinity and rolled her limp body to

the edge of the bed.

“This isn’t New Orleans,” she said. “It’s going to take us two hours just to get to the airport.”

“Then I’m dropping out of school.” Trinity yawned and pulled her pillow tighter over her ears.

“Fuck it,” Tali whispered. “Me too. We’ll stay here and start our own business.”

“Sex shop?” Trinity asked.

“Sex shop.” Tali grabbed Trinity’s hand and held it up in a blind show of unity before dropping it

to the mattress.

They had started the summer in separate rooms, rooms so far apart it felt as if they were still

living in different zip codes—distant and lonely and better at following each other’s lives via

social media than actual human interaction.

And Trinity had missed her. Though they were temporarily residing at the same address, eating the

same food, and driving the same car, she missed the days of living their lives together out of

Tali’s cozy dorm room at Richardson Hall—Tali tangled up in James, Trinity trying to peel

herself off Seth’s sweaty body. Waking up to Tali’s beautiful smile every morning. Hugging her

tight every night. Together in their freshman-year sanctuary, they knew no matter what they had

to face that day, they could come home to their safe space—their stability no outside force could

crack. Apart in Tali’s massive LA home, it felt like their floor had fallen out.

And Tali had missed Trinity too. By June, they had started making excuses to sneak into each

other’s rooms. Trinity’s room was too hot. Tali’s was too cold. Tali’s room was too close to the

noise of the busy city streets. Trinity’s room had sheets that were too fucking expensive to sleep

  1. By July, they had given up the excuses and just moved into the one room. And it felt like a

sleepover that would never end, Trinity’s best friend next to her, passing a bottle of wine back and

forth over stories of their freshman year at Filton University. Their school work, their boys, the

battles they had fought together. Going back to school now felt like tainting the memories they

had already created. It was far better to start over in LA.

 

The door to their room burst open, and a harsh light from the hallway spilled onto the bed. The

curvy outline of a silk robe and high heels was the only shadow cutting through the glare.

“Did I just hear my girls aren’t leaving me?” a voice cried into the room, startling them both from

their last moments of sleep.

“Jesus, Missy,” Tali said. “Did you just creep outside our room all night? Don’t you ever sleep,

woman?”

“You can call me Mom, Tali. I didn’t shove Trinity out of my vagina, and even she calls me

Mom.”

Tali turned her back to the open door and stole Trinity’s pillow before slamming it down on her

own head.

“You’re grossing everyone out, Missy. Can you at least put more clothes on before you start

talking about your pussy today?”

“Absolutely not. You know how much I hate clothes.” Missy ran across the room and jumped into

bed between the girls, wrapping her arms around their heavy shoulders and pulling them close.

Trinity breathed into Missy’s hair and took in the lingering scent of high-end perfume mixed with

higher-end liquor she had surely been sipping all night in preparation for the morning. She

smelled like home now, fleeting though it might have been.

“Good morning, Mama,” Trinity whispered, smiling into Missy’s neck.

“No, this isn’t a good morning, love.” Missy ran a hand over Trinity’s dark hair and down to her

cheek. “This is the best morning. My girls are staying in LA and opening up . . . what did you

say? A sex shop? My beautiful, genius girls. You can do anything, but you choose to stay here

to get into the family business. We’ll have to get started immediately.”

She pulled her phone out of her robe pocket and started punching out a text to her assistant as

she read aloud.

“Make sure to rush order the molds we had made of my vagina. My girls are dropping out of

school to start a sex shop.”

She finished typing, reached a finger high in the air, and slowly brought it down toward the send

button before Tali grabbed the phone and threw it across the room.

“Fine.” Tali grunted as she dragged her legs to the side of the bed. “We’ll go back to school. But

when we both end up hospitalized from sleep deprivation, you’re the one that’s going to have

to come get us. You.” She pointed a sleepy finger at Missy.

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**FREEBIE ALERT!**

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Get book 1, The Porn Star’s Daughter FREE July 22-26!!

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Find it on Amazon

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Question: When did you begin writing and what inspires you to continue?

Kay Stephens: I began writing romance in 2015 as a creative outlet during a messy

divorce. And my first book was as ridiculous as the failed marriage—no character

development, no plot line, no underlying message. But it was incredibly fulfilling to

realize I had used my energy to create something rather than devolve into negative

emotions.

 

My romance writing improved significantly with two other, simultaneous life changes.

Following my divorce, I lived my own romance stories that continue on today with my

current (amazing) husband! However, my boss took the divorce as an opportunity to

both slut shame and sexually harass me, both in the office and in my home. It was life

changing to see how some important people in your life can raise you up and give you

space to become the best version of yourself, while others can work tirelessly to destroy

you. And it was in that life disparity that I found a message that continues to motivate

me—growing through the positive people into your life while combating the destructive

people (and learning to distinguish between the two).

 

Question: Who would you say is the ideal reader for Daughter of the Lost?

Stephens: The ideal reader loves love, has faced bullying, and finds strength reading

about how other people have combated bullying. They not only accept others’

differences, they accept and embrace their own differences too.

 

Question: How do you respond to the negative stigmas associated with reading

romance (shame, embarrassment, guilt…)? Do you feel that the genre is growing and

changing to adapt to modern times?

 

Stephens: If I could wave a wand and erase the negative stigmas associated with

reading romance, I would be the wand-wavingest girl on the streets. However, since I

cannot, I try to appreciate the stigmas for two reasons. First, these stigmas are such an

efficient way to identify people to avoid, because it takes a really broken person to

stigmatize an activity that makes people happy and has no negative impact on the

world. Second, these stigmas create such a strong reading community. Romance

readers are an amazing, supportive group in part because they continue bonding over

what they love despite outside condemnation.

 

I feel the romance genre mirrors societal norms and continues to adapt to modern

times, specifically in relation to misogyny and other forms of bigotry. Like society, the

romance genre is far from perfect, but we are seeing movement toward stronger female

characters and more representation in modern romance novels than those written in

prior decades. Readers now seem to be rejecting authors that refuse to evolve—just

another example of a strong, supportive community!

 

Question: Do you have any quirky writing habits? (lucky mugs, cats on laps, etc.)

Stephens: I have one quirky writing habit that I always hoped no one would ask about.

Even during the hottest days of the summer, I must wear my favorite writing sweatshirt.

It’s hot pink, three sizes too big, and rocks the Circus Circus logo across the chest. Yes,

the Vegas casino that looks like the set of a 1980s gameshow. But I’m always cold, I

refuse to be uncomfortable, and if I’m being completely honest with myself…I love

Circus Circus. So it’s a win for everyone except my husband who would probably burn it

if he didn’t think it would lead to certain divorce.

 

Question: Do you have a motto, quote, or philosophy you live by?

Stephens: “It actually doesn’t take much to be considered a difficult woman. That’s why there are

so many of us.” – Jane Goodall

I have been considered a difficult woman since birth. But now that I’m writing romance

novels about the sex-work industry from my cozy little nook in the US Bible Belt, my

difficulty scores are measuring off the charts. It’s nice to remember I’m in good and

plentiful company.

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KAY STEPHENS is a lawyer
turned romance novelist, divorcée turned member of the illustrious
third-wives club, and party girl turned . . . uncomfortably old party
lady. Kay spent her early days living throughout the world, from
Boston to Barcelona to New Orleans, before finally settling down in
Tulsa, Oklahoma. She has the extraordinary privilege to write every
day due only to the loving support of her wild-ass husband and four
crazy teenagers. She has written for Your Tango and been featured in
Bustle and Female First among others.

.

Kay’s debut novel, The Porn Star’s Daughter, is a steamy, laugh-out-loud
story about self-acceptance and sexual empowerment. Kay writes for
the people who like to shame the slut shamers, who wear their
too-tight skirts with pride, and who laugh at society’s
ever-conflicting expectations of them.

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Website
* Facebook
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* Bookbub
* Amazon
* Goodreads

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

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 The devil has eyes and ears everywhere!

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The Devil’s Spies

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by K.C. Sivils

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Genre: Historical Fiction

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 Needing to stop the flood of humanity fleeing communist oppression by
making it to the divided city of Berlin, the communist government of
East Germany took drastic measures. In August of 1961, construction
of the Berlin Wall began.

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Two young lovers, an American
refugee worker, and an East German seminary student, find themselves
separated by the wall. Desperate to be reunited and build a life
together, Angela Wettin and Michael Dieterich, with Michael’s
brother Joseph, set in motion a dangerous plan to escape by tunneling
under the Berlin Wall.

Determined to stop any hope of
gaining freedom, the East German Stasi, the dreaded secret police of
the communist state, formed Department XX/4 to infiltrate and spy on
the Church in East Germany.

Faced with betrayal, dangerous
cave-ins, and family conflict, the trio enters a life-and-death race
against the Stasi and Department XX/4.

Can they gain their
freedom before they are caught by the Devil’s Spies from the Stasi?

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**On Sale for Only .99cents June 30th – July 6th!!**

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Amazon
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“It’s after two in the afternoon,” Angela complained to the nearby soldier. The GI studiously ignored Angela. He’d learned the hard way to ignore pretty girls when on duty. Hating the fact time moved so slowly, Angela decided the best course of action was to get a cup of tea before making her crossing into East Berlin. She’d expected to at least see Michael on the other side of the checkpoint, and if not Michael, then her fiancée’s partner in crime, Werner.

Shouting, followed by the sound of gunfire, jarred Angela out of her pique. A hundred or so yards from Check Point Charlie, a young man appeared at the top of the wall, caught in the wire. Spellbound, Angela watched as the man made no effort to free himself from the wire, simply rolling off the top of the wall and falling, taking several feet of barbed wire with him.

The bark of gunfire stopped, and a West Berlin police officer pulled himself up to the top of the wall and peered over, looking down. Screams from the onlookers propelled Angela forward. Sprinting towards the chaos, she could hear the cries of a man in pain, begging for help.

Another West Berlin police officer reached the wall as the first dropped down from it. They spoke, and the second officer climbed the wall and shouted to the man on the other side. Angela watched in horror as the second officer produced bandages and dropped them over the wall.

“Murderers!”

“Criminals!”

As an angry crowd gathered, Angela took notice of the escapee who had made it over the wall. He was cut and bleeding and clearly stunned by what had happened.

“You! You’re an American!”

Turning to the voice, Angela stared at the red, angry face of a young Berliner.

“Neither side will do anything to help him! Get the American soldiers!”

The sound of tear gas canisters being launched could be heard from somewhere on the other side of the wall. In seconds, tendrils of the greyish-white gas and its pungent smell began to reach across the wall.

The Berliner covered his face and pushed Angela. Shouting, “Go! Now, while there is still a chance to help him!” Angela nodded, relieved to suddenly find herself useful. She turned and ran as fast as her feet would take her to Check Point Charlie.

“Someone’s been shot trying to escape,” Angela panted as the Lt. in command of the detail came out to meet her. He said nothing, instead looking up in the sky at the helicopters that had suddenly appeared.

“We have our orders, Ma’am.”

“Your orders?!”

“Yes, Ma’am. We contacted General Watson for instructions.”

“Good, do something.”

“Ma’am, our orders are to stand down.”

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How did you come up with name of this book? 

 

More people had died under the rule of communist governments than any other form of government or ideology in human history. Something the devil himself would be proud of.

 

Throw that in with the fact the Church in East Germany was the target of the Stasi Department XX/4, it seemed like an appropriate name for a story set in East Berlin that involved the Communists infiltrating and spying on the East German Church and Christians.

 

The exact name came about after writing down about ten combinations of the words devil, spies, and some other topics related to Cold War Berlin. Once I wrote down The Devil’s Spies the title simply made complete sense to me.

 

Perhaps it should be noted I always come up with the title of the book I am writing before starting the first chapter.

 

What is your favorite part of this book and why? 

 

The different levels of conflict found within the story. Conflict is a part of life.

 

If you could spend time with a character from The Devil’s Spies, who would it be? And what would you do during that day? 

 

Joseph Werner. I would love to sneak around with him and see how he goes about running his assorted black-market enterprises. It would be interesting to see who his customers are as well.

 

Are your characters based off real people or did they all come entirely from your imagination? 

 

In the case of The Devil’s Spies, many of the characters are fictionalized versions of real, historical figures who are well known such as President Kennedy, Vice President LBJ, and Mayor Willy Brandt. Others are obscure and sadly, often forgotten today. For example, Peter Fechter, the youth who was shot trying to climb the Berlin Wall and died in the attempt, is largely a footnote in history today.

 

The remainder are figments of my imagination who decided to take part in the telling of the story that became The Devil’s Spies.

 

Do your characters seem to hijack the story, or do you feel like you have the reigns of the story? 

 

My characters like to tell me their story. Especially if I know them well. Periodically, I have to set them straight and control what they say and do. But, by and large, they inspire the story. It’s just a matter of knowing and understanding your characters.

 

Convince us why you feel your book, The Devil’s Spies, is a must read. 

 

It’s a cautionary tale based on historical events. Humanity has an infinite capacity for both evil and stupidity, both of which are driven by laziness or greed of the worst kind. Despite having a historical record to show us the folly of our choices, we will repeat the same mistakes of the past over and over.

 

People seem to have this blind willingness to “let the government do it.” It’s a dangerous thing to trade freedom of choice and personal liberty for a promise of security. Small people will seek out the positions of power over others and once they have that power, they will do whatever it takes to extinguish the slightest hint resistance or individual free thinking.

 

The great lie of communism is that it promises equality. It doesn’t. Lenin believed in the need to create an elite, intellectual ruling cadre that controlled the masses, the same masses he promised to elevate and set free from the chackles of oppression.

 

How well did that turn out?

 

What’s even worse, is that if you rob one man to pay another, you make both of them poor, if not in terms of actual poverty, then in poverty of life and the ability to create and make things prosper. People don’t grasp the fact that government, any form of government, doesn’t create anything.

 

Now, people will say, “look at all the jobs the government created.” Those are government jobs, paid for by the money of the taxpayers, who happen to be the ones who take all the risks, do all the innovating, and do the real work of building an economy. Government merely acts as a conduit to transfer the wealth and economic prosperity created by others to whatever group or individual the government sees fit.

 

History shows us the Berlin Wall wasn’t built to protect East Berlin. It was built to keep the citizens of East Germany and other parts of the Eastern Bloc from fleeing communism. Economics were a consideration as well as the Soviet Union and East Germany were losing the very individuals necessary to produce economic activity so the communists could redistribute the products those with education and skill would produce.

 

The Stasi spied on everyone. The organization kept records on everyone. The driving force behind Department XX/4 was the fact the Church was the one place where people had some small degree of freedom and within the confines of the church body, people would speak freely about things they dare not whisper anywhere else.

 

Throw in the fact that communism cannot tolerate any social force that dictates what is morally right and wrong and will often protest the excesses of the government and you have an institution that must be destroyed. It was surprising the Church and Christianity was allowed to exist at all.

 

As I take in the news on a daily basis, I find it disturbing how intrusive government has become. Not just the United States government, but the so-called democracies of the West. London is the most surveilled city in the world. The FBI has gone on record, begrudgingly, as having deliberately infiltrated the Catholic Church in the United States and placing believers who attend traditional Latin mass on lists of possible domestic terrorists.

 

Each day, the government seems to be encroaching more and more into the lives of citizens. Many welcome this encroachment. They feel it makes their life safer and the government will provide for them. They don’t realize they have made a deal with the devil.

 

So, if you want to read it that way, The Devil’s Spies can be seen as a cautionary tale. That government should be kept as far away as possible from certain aspects of people’s lives. Freedom to speak what is on one’s mind as well as the choice to worship the God one believes in, or not, are fundamental human freedoms that are not granted by government.

 

Or you can simply read it as a story. A story I hope every reader finds entertaining and engaging.

 

Fun Facts/Behind the Scenes/Did You Know?’-type tidbits about the author, the book, or the writing process of the book. 

 

The Devil’s Spies was not written in chronological order. I wrote the first few chapters in order to introduce the primary characters. Then I moved on to the actual events that were included in dramatized form in the book. Once those segments were finished, I worked on different storylines that made up the story as a whole. Finally, I pieced everything together and worked to make the story an integrated whole as far as the big picture story went.

 

I have a general idea when I sit down to tell a story how I want it to start and how I want it to end. In general, I have some ideas of what goes in the middle. As the characters develop, they seem to sort of take on a life of their own and tell me the remainder of the story. Of my seventeen novels and novellas, none of them were written from start to finish in chronological order.

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 U.S.A. Today and Amazon Best-Selling author is the creator of the
scifi crime noir series of Inspector Thomas Sullivan novels as well
as the southern noir series of stories centering around the private
investigator James Benoit “Heat” Heatley.

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A longtime fan of
crime noir and science fiction, director Ridley Scott’s adaptation
of Philip K. Dick’s sci-fi classic Do Androids Dream of Electric
Sheep into the masterful Harrison Ford vehicle Bladerunner encouraged
Sivils to consume as much of both genres as possible in his younger
years.

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A fan of past noir
masters such as Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler, Sivils also
enjoys the current generation of storytellers like Sandra Woffington,
Tom Folwer, Jeff Edwards, Renee Pawlish, and James Scott Bell.

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In addition to his
aforementioned series, Sivils is also the creator of the Agent Nelson
Paine Historical Mystery series set during WW II and the early years
of the Cold War.

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In a previous life,
Sivils was a varsity basketball coach and high school history
teacher. He and his wife, Lisa, have three adult children, seven
grandchildren, and two four legged furry children who still live at
home, Bella and Mr. Darcy.

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Website
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Facebook
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Instagram
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Amazon
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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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ebook of The Devil’s Spies,

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– 1 winner each!

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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.