Posts Tagged ‘mystery’

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The Secret In The Wall

A Silver Rush Mystery

by Ann Parker

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


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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

About Ann Parker

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

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

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

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February 15 – #BRVL Book Review Virginia Lee Blog – SPOTLIGHT

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Trust Me

by Kelly Irvin

February 7 – March 4, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Suspense

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

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

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER 1

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

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

CHAPTER 2

TEN YEARS LATER NASH RESIDENCE, SAN ANTONIO

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

 

 

Author Bio:
Kelly Irvin

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

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

 

 

 

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This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Thomas Nelson and Kelly Irvin. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
 

 

 

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

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

Author Terry Korth Fischer will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Don’t forget to enter!

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

Gone Before

by Terry Korth Fischer

Genre: Mystery

Synopsis

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

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Guest Post

Behind The Writer: A Day With Terry Korsh Fischer

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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

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

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

“Sorry, boss.”

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

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

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

“I could use a good laugh.”

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

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

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Author Terry Korth Fischer

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

   

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GIVEAWAY

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

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Rabbit Shine

Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery Series Book 1

by Cliff Yeargin

Genre: Southern Fried Humorous Mystery

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RABBIT SHINE A Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery

Book # 1 in the Award Winning Southern Fried Mystery Series

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

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

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

DISCOVER JAKE ELIAM TODAY AND GRAB YOUR COPY

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

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Hoochy Koochy

Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery Series Book 2

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

˃˃˃ AWARD WINNING SOUTHERN FRIED MYSTERY SERIES

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

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

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

DISCOVER JAKE ELIAM TODAY AND GRAB YOUR COPY

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

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MudCat Moon

Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery Series Book 3

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

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

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BirdDog Boogie

Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery Series Book 4

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The latest in the Award Winning ChickenBone Mystery Series

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

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

Shelton Stevens, Atlanta, Georgia

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

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Goodreads * Amazon

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SweetTater Tango

Jake Eliam ChickenBone Mystery Series Book 5

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

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

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Goodreads * Amazon

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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On Tour with Prism Book Tours
 
We’re celebrating the release of the third book in the Annalisse series, Scattered Legacy!
Today, we learn author Marlene M Bell’s Top Ten activities for winter.  If you missed her author interview, you can read that HERE. She also shared an excerpt from the book HERE. Plus, there’s an awesome 3-winner
giveaway to enter below. Enjoy!

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Scattered Legacy

 

(Annalissa Series #3)

 

By Marlene M Bell
Mystery, Christian Fiction
Paperback & ebook, 352 Pages
October 6, 2021 by Ewephoric Publishing

To outsiders, the relationship between Manhattan antiquities assessor Annalisse Drury and sports car magnate Alec Zavos must look carefree and glamorous. In reality, it’s a love affair regularly punctuated by treasure hunting, action-packed adventure, and the occasional dead body.

When Alec schedules an overseas trip to show Annalisse his mother’s birthplace in Bari, Italy, he squeezes in the high-stakes business of divesting his family’s international corporation. But things go terribly wrong as murder makes its familiar reappearance in their lives – and this time it’s Alec’s disgraced former CFO who’s the main suspect.

Accompanied by friend and detective Bill Drake, Annalisse and Alec find themselves embroiled in a behind-closed-doors conspiracy that threatens the reputation and legacy of Alec’s late father – linking him to embezzlement, extortion, and the dirty business of the Sicilian Mafia. The search for the truth sends the trio straight into riddles, secrets, and an historic set of rosary beads. Annalisse leads Alec toward a discovery that is unthinkable, and events that will change their futures forever.

(Affiliate links included.)
Scattered Legacy Book Trailer
 

Other Books in the Series

Stolen Obsession

 

(Annalissa Series #1)

 

By Marlene M Bell
Mystery
Paperback, Audiobook & ebook, 294 Pages
January 12, 2018 by Ewephoric Publishing

People die, but legends live on.

New York antiquities appraiser Annalisse Drury recently lost her best friend to murder. The killer’s identity may be linked to her friend’s expensive missing bracelet—a 500-year-old artifact that carries an ancient curse, one that unleashes evil upon any who dare wear the jewelry created for the Persian royal family.

Weeks later, Annalisse sees a matching necklace at a Manhattan gallery opening. She begs the owner to destroy the cursed piece, but her pleas fall on deaf ears—despite the unnatural death that occurs during the opening. With two victims linked to the jewelry, Annalisse is certain she must act.

Desperate, Annalisse enlists the gallery owner’s son to help—even though she’s afraid he’ll break her heart. Wealthy and devastatingly handsome, with a string of bereft women in his wake, Greek playboy Alec Zavos dismisses Annalisse’s concerns—until his parents are ripped from the Zavos family yacht during their ocean voyage near Crete.

Annalisse and Alec race across two oceans to save his mother, feared dead or kidnapped. When the killer changes tactics and goes after Alec behind Annalisse’s back, can her plan to rescue Alec’s mother save them all?

(Affiliate links included.)
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Spent Identity

 

(Annalissa Series #2)

 

By Marlene M Bell
Mystery
Paperback, Audiobook & ebook, 378 Pages

November 18, 2019 by Ewephoric Publishing

To find her missing aunt, she has to unearth the secrets of the past. But lies and deceit run through the very heart of their town…

What started out as a promising relationship with adventurer and tycoon Alec Zavos has fizzled into an uncertain future for antiquities expert Annalisse Drury. Returning to Walker Farm in Upstate New York to see her Aunt Kate should have been a welcome homecoming and distraction. Instead, she finds the childhood home she expected to inherit is for sale, without her permission. What’s worse, Kate’s ranch manager makes a gruesome discovery in the barn: the body of a man, dead by foul play.

Annalisse turns to Alec for help. She and her aunt shelter on his estate in the Catskills while the authorities canvass the scene. But when Kate herself disappears without a trace, Annalisse fears the worst: that one of the many secrets of her hometown has ensnared her family—a secret someone is willing to kill for to keep hidden.

(Affiliate links included.)

Marlene M Bell’s Top 10 Favorite Things to Do in Winter

· Sit in front of a fire in our new library and read mysteries with Leo.

· Binge shop on the Etsy website to help other entrepreneurs.

· Take photographs of our Horned Dorset sheep and surrounding landscape.

· Sit in front of my personal computer and write when it’s raining.

· Set up giveaways for my Facebook friends who read, write and raise sheep.

· Watch feel-good movies on the Hallmark channels with my husband.

· Buy research books for novels to write, new characters, scenes and plots.

· Design punch hook rug patterns for my huge yarn collection

· Browse my cookbook collection and cook a gourmet meal for my husband.

· Photograph nature and wildlife while my husband fishes for bass in the pond. No too far out, though. We have wild hogs about that think nothing of coming after people who venture where they’re rooting.

This is just a list in no particular order. All ten situations are my favorite things do in the winter during downtime when the trees lose their leaves and the air turns crisp. We raise sheep, so this involves a certain amount of outdoor activity when the animals are fed twice a day. I’m a photographer and artist seeking out beautiful sunsets and cloudy skies to use in my catalog business. Many of the pictures taken contribute to the merchandise offered to our sheep clients and collectors of everything sheep and lamb.

I’m also a catalog shopping maniac. Back in the 1980’s when eBay began as a marketplace, I purchased sheep related gifts and eventually sold my own work there. I hoard mail order catalogs and frequently purchase all over the world for our home. Vintage or new products eventually land in our home, especially if they involve a sheep. As my business and publishing company says, I am Ewephoric about sheep and writing. https://www.ewephoric.us It’s all about hobbies and the outdoors for me. In a time when we are stuck inside our homes, I’m fortunate to roam our fifty acres and spend time with the wildlife. Because we raise animals as part of the food chain, I’m able to travel as needed. The cats, Leo and Hollywood make sure that I’m not gone from the house too long!

About the Author

Marlene M. Bell is an award-winning writer and acclaimed artist as well as a photographer. Her sheep landscapes grace the covers of livestock magazines such as, The Shepherd, Ranch & Rural Living, and Sheep Industry News. She has a mystery series available as well as a children’s book featuring their bottle lamb, Natalie. Marlene and her husband, Gregg, reside in beautiful East Texas on a wooded ranch with their horned Dorset sheep, a large Maremma guard dog named Tia, along with Hollywood, Leo, and Squeaks, the cats that believe they rule the household—and do.

 

Tour Giveaway

GRAND PRIZE
A Nicole Miller 50 x 60 inch ultra-soft throw in neutral colors
A signed copy of Scattered Legacy by Marlene M Bell
Two (2) 18 oz. mugs. One says: GRATEFUL the other, BLESSED
Box of 15 Ghirardelli Hot Chocolate Mix

2nd place winner: A signed copy of Scattered Legacy by Marlene M Bell
3rd place winner: A signed copy of Scattered Legacy
by Marlene M Bell

US Only

Ends January 22, 2022


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To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

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Two Truths and One Liar
Deirdre Riordan Hall
Publication date: December 27th 2021
Genres: Mystery, Thriller, Young Adult

Knives Out meets One of Us is Lying with a hint of the Inheritance Games. Like the original whodunnit, Clue, this suspenseful mystery also has three possible endings explaining what could have happened.

They all have secrets. They all have motives. They all tell lies.

Every year, at a prestigious boarding school, Professor Groff hosts the Midnight Masquerade. But this year, before the festivities, he’s discovered dead in his office. Yet six students still receive invitations. The same six students who’re questioned about his murder.

The show must go on. At the Masquerade, two additional students claim to know the truth. The lights go out and when they come back on, one of them is dead. Anyone could’ve been at fault.

Francisca blind in one eye and deadly on the rugby field. Toshi a number ninja and the campus punching bag. Taz who struggles with anxiety and lingers in the shadows. Fish the golden boy hiding wounds and not only in his heart. Caroline the heiress and the image of perfection. Gorgeous George the resident Greek God with nothing to lose.

The six receive anonymous notes, making them question themselves and the assumptions they’ve made about each other. Brought back together, they must prove their innocence before the all-school meeting the next morning, otherwise, they risk humiliation if their secrets are exposed exposed—and worse, if they’re found guilty.

It’s a long night of theft, danger, and threats by a secret society that shows Professor Groff was right during his final lecture.

Everything that can go wrong will.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Dean Hammond straightens a stack of papers then looks up. With a severe lift to her eyebrow, she scans those of us present, and then says, “Oliver Groff was found dead in his office at 3:22 pm, shortly after his last class of the day.”

A weight in my stomach sinks just as it did when Arpad made the announcement in the dining hall. Questions roll through my mind and collide when the realization hits me full force. He was alive, teaching earlier today, making dire pronouncements about how basically everything sucks.

Boy, was he right. Now, he’s gone.

The circumstances were different the first and second times someone in my life died but the familiar emptiness, the void, vacancy returns—or maybe it never left.

“Yeah, we heard—” George’s tone tells me he wants to say something more about loss and tragedy, something sentimental perhaps, but he’s hard-wired for nonchalance as the campus crush and most likely to smoke, hook up, and skip classes.

Caroline clasps her hands in front of her chest. Her knuckles pale. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” She pauses. “He was an…efficient teacher.”

I imagine she struggles to think of a nice thing to say about Groff. I sneak a glance at the others because I can’t be the only one wondering why we’re here.

Arpad already announced the news in the Refectory. There’s a good chance not everyone was there. Hammond inhales.

“Francisca Thompson-Sanchez, nice seeing you again.”

Francisca’s expression doesn’t suggest the feeling is mutual, although she is wearing a mud-streaked rugby uniform and likely feels as out of place in the plush office as I do.

“Can you please tell me where you were from the end of English class until now?” Hammond asks.

She focuses on something on the wall behind the dean but her hands tremble slightly. “I went to talk to Mr. Groff after class, but he looked, um, busy. Then I went to the bathroom.” She glances at Caroline. “Uh, then my dorm, followed by rugby practice, and then the Refectory.”

Arpad writes rapidly on a yellow pad.

Hammond’s penetrating gaze lands on a math whiz, gamer kid whose dorm room is by the day student room in my dorm. “I was at the Library then Refectory.” He speaks clearly, but he’s all-over sweaty.

“Tazmin King?” Hammond says, going down the line.

“Taz,” she corrects. Eyeliner stains the space around her big brown eyes like she’s been crying. “After class, I went to my dorm and then dinner. If Oliver died, it was because of a broken heart,” she blurts. Emotion streaks across her features, but she captures it and makes it disappear.

“And how would you know that, Tazmin?” Hammond’s tone is dark.

“It’s none of our business,” she answers. Then it’s as though she ghosts even though she’s still in the room with us. Hammond barely conceals a look of disgust.

“Moving on. John?”

“Maybe the professor was tired of his life and wanted to escape. Suicide? Or maybe he just wanted out. Faked it. On a plane to Tahiti.”

By Hammond’s pinched expression, I instantly realize this is the wrong answer. My sweat now rival’s Toshi’s. I cannot get kicked out. I cannot afford to go back to Burningham. Whatever this is about… I cannot lose my spot here.

“No, we found the body. Poetic though. However, the question was where were you this afternoon?” Accusation fills Hammond’s tone.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I misunderstood. I was in the dayroom at my dorm, Varth Dader, then lacrosse practice in the lower fields.”

She glances at me dismissively and nods at Caroline. I know all too well not to allow relief to replace the nerves inside. Best to stay alert.

“I was with the Promenade committee, finalizing some items for tomorrow. Wait. You’re not canceling prom because of this are you?” Typical Caroline, always concerned about her agenda.

The goth girl, Taz, narrows her eyes. “It should be after the tree went up in a blaze and now Oliver, I mean Professor Groff, is dead.”

Hammond hardly looks at them. “Ladies, that’s none of your concern. Now, George. If you please.”

“I was in the student center. You can ask Mrs. Carson.” He smirks. Likely, he was hooking up with someone.

“Do any of you have a reason to want Oliver Groff dead?” Hammond’s question is like a stone thrown in a lake. The ripples of this implication could be devastating.

 

Author Deirdre Riordan Hall

Deirdre Riordan Hall is the author of the contemporary young adult bestsellers Sugar and Pearl as well as the High School Murder Mystery series. She’s in an ongoing pursuit of words, waves, and wonder. Her love language involves a basket of chips, salsa, and guacamole, preferably when shared with her family.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Newsletter

 

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A Holiday Haunting at the Biltmore
Eva Pohler
(The Mystery House Series, #8)
Publication date: January 1st 2022
Genres: Adult, Horror, Mystery

Ellen should have known that a gathering in America’s last castle would entail a few uninvited guests.

During a Christmas eve wedding at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina, Ellen and her friends are visited by multiple ghosts. The spirits have come to tell their stories, to right the wrongs that history has done to their memories. Each of them died in Asheville with their voices stifled. One spirit is particularly adamant and threatening, despite her small size, and her mood fluctuates like the mountain winds surrounding the great estate. She claims to be the ghost of Zelda Fitzgerald, and she wants her story told, even if she has to kill to make it happen.

*Although this is book eight in The Mystery House Series, these books can be read in any order.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Chapter One: Hot Tub Musings

Ellen clung to the handrail as she eased down the steps into the hot, bubbling water. She adjusted her black one-piece bathing suit, making sure she was still covered. The aquafit class had rearranged everything.

From behind her, Sue said, “I can’t believe I let you guys talk me into this.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Tanya said from where she was already resting in the tub.

Ellen sat across from her. “Speak for yourself. I could barely breathe.”

Sue followed Ellen through the water, the ruffles of her polka dotted bathing suit dancing on the surface. “I may have even died for a few minutes. I thought I saw a light at the end of a tunnel and my mother waving to me.”

“That was probably just the Nazi instructor on deck telling you to lift your knees higher,” Ellen teased.

Two other women from the aquafit class, both in their early seventies, joined Ellen and her friends.

“That instructor isn’t as good as the one on Tuesdays,” one of them, a petite woman with white hair, said. She was nearly as thin as Tanya.

The other woman, rounder than Ellen but not as round as Sue, nodded. “The one on Tuesday really works you.”

“Oh, Lord.” Sue pushed her dark brown bangs from her eyes. “Let’s not come on Tuesday.”

“We already agreed that we would,” Tanya pointed out. “At least until the wedding.”

Ellen tugged at her shoulder straps, trying to keep everything in the right place. “You can count on me. I’m determined to lose twenty pounds or die trying.”

Sue scoffed. “Well, maybe I love life more than you.”

“If that were true,” the petite woman with the white hair began, “you’d keep coming. I’ve been doing this for over thirty years. I used to be bigger than both of you combined.”

The woman pointed at Ellen and Sue. Ellen tried not to be offended. The audacity of some people, she thought.

“I’m sold!” Sue said comedically, lifting her finger high in the air. “Sign me up! Oh, that’s right. Tanya already did.”

The other women laughed, and Ellen’s mood lightened.

“Did I hear you say that you have a wedding coming up?” the rounder woman asked Tanya.

“Not my wedding,” Tanya said as her blue eyes widened. “It’s Ellen’s son. He’s getting married on Christmas eve at the Biltmore Estate.”

“Oh, how nice,” the petite woman said. “That’s the most beautiful house in the country.”

Ellen leaned against the lip of the tub and breathed in the smell of lavender and musk. “That’s what my son’s future in-laws say, too. They’ve been planning this wedding since their daughter was a baby, I think.”

“Are they from Asheville then?” the petite one asked.

“They live there,” Sue said. Then, turning to Ellen, she asked, “Is it the mother that’s related to the Vanderbilts?”

“Yes,” Ellen said.

“Which means they’re getting the works,” Sue gloated. “The entire wedding party and their guests will be staying at the Biltmore House, which is never done anymore.”

Ellen gave Sue her keep-your-mouth-shut look. Maya’s parents had asked them not to talk about the event with others. They wanted to avoid a media circus.

“How wonderful,” the petite woman said. “You sure you don’t need another grandmother to come?”

Ellen smiled but said nothing in reply.

“That sounds like a once in a lifetime experience.” The round woman climbed from the tub. “I hope you enjoy it, and have a nice weekend, ladies.”

“You, too,” Ellen said as Sue and Tanya waved.

“I should go, too,” the petite woman said. “Will I see you all on Tuesday?”

“We’ll be here.” Tanya turned to Sue. “Right?”

Sue shrugged. “We shall see.”

After the two women left, and she and her friends were alone in the hot tub, Ellen said, “Poor Lane is so stressed over this wedding.”

“I thought that was the job of the bride,” Sue said.

Tanya stood up. “It can be hard on the groom, too. Poor thing. What’s been the most stressful for him?”

Ellen sighed. “Maya’s grandparents. Both sets are still alive, and, apparently, one set can’t stand the other, and vice versa.”

Sue furrowed her brows. “Do you know why?”

“Lane doesn’t know the whole story. The grandfathers were friends long before Maya’s parents were born. According to Maya, they can be really nasty when forced to be in the same room.”

“That’s too bad,” Tanya said as she took her damp blonde hair from its ponytail, and then remade it higher on her head. “I hope they won’t ruin the wedding.”

Ellen’s stomach clenched. She wanted Lane’s wedding day to be perfect for him so that only happy memories would be made.

“I would think the setting alone would be enough to sweeten even the sourest grapes of the bunch,” Sue said reassuringly.

Ellen lifted her brows. “I hope you’re right.”

“Is it Maya’s maternal grandfather or grandmother that’s related to the Vanderbilts?” Tanya asked.

Ellen submerged to her neck. She let out a small gasp of pleasure as the hot water relaxed her muscles, tight from the workout. Then she said, “Grandmother. Melissa Dresden—used to be Brown. She’s the daughter to a cousin of George Vanderbilt, the one who made it all happen. I just read a book about it called The Last Castle by Denise Kiernan. It was interesting to read about the estate’s history. George fell in love with Asheville when he took his ailing mother there to breathe.”

“To what?” Tanya asked.

“To breathe,” Ellen repeated. “Back then, they believed fresh air was the cure for almost everything—especially tuberculosis—and Asheville had become known for its breathing porches that overlooked the beautiful Blue Ridge and Smoky Mountains.”

“George’s mother had tuberculosis?” Sue asked. “Most people didn’t survive it.”

“No, she had malaria, and she recovered from it, but not before George fell in love with the area and began buying up all the land.”

“What year was this?” Tanya asked.

“Late 1800s,” Ellen said. “According to the book, George wasn’t interested in the family business like his two older brothers, who took over various railroad companies when their father died. George was more of a scholar. He loved to read and to collect art, and he wanted something different for himself. So, he decided to outdo his siblings by building the largest private home in America.”

Sue nodded. “That he did.”

“It was more than that, though, wasn’t it?” Tanya asked. “Didn’t he build a famous dairy?”

“Yes—though now it’s a winery. He also hired the best forester and horticulturalist and created a forest preserve and foresters’ school. Later, his wife Edith, who outlived him by many years, created a school for the villagers that focused on textiles and crafts, I believe. Apparently, Edith did a lot for Asheville. I think she was the real heart of Biltmore, only because George died young. They had a daughter named Cornelia, but, according to the book, she was never as devoted to Biltmore as her mother.”

“How old was George when he died?” Sue asked.

“Early fifties, I think. Younger than us.”

“Can you believe I turn sixty next year?” Tanya asked.

“Already?” Sue covered her face with her hands. “I’m right behind you.”

“Brian’s sixty-two, and he’s fine,” Ellen pointed out. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Sue said.

“That’s too bad about Maya’s grandparents,” Tanya said. “I really hope they behave themselves at the wedding.”

“Me, too.” Ellen sighed and leaned back on the lip of the tub. “Lane says that Maya’s Vanderbilt grandmother was originally engaged to Maya’s other grandfather, and that’s why the two sets of grandparents don’t get along. One man stole the Vanderbilt bride from the other.”

“Must be hard for the grandmother who isn’t a Vanderbilt,” Sue pointed out. “She might feel like chopped liver. Don’t you think?”

“I know I would, in her situation,” Tanya said. “How selfish of her husband that he can’t let it go.”

“Lane doesn’t think that’s the whole story,” Ellen said. “I just hope they can be civil for the sake of their granddaughter.”

“And for the rest of us,” Tanya added.

Sue shrugged. “I don’t know. Drama at the Biltmore might be fun.”

“Don’t say that,” Ellen insisted. “I’m worried enough about the other encounters we may have while we’re there.”

“Did the book say the house is haunted?” Tanya asked.

“No, and when I asked the Biltmore wedding coordinator about it, she said that they weren’t allowed to discuss it.”

“It’s rumored to be.” Sue furrowed her brows again. “And if Biltmore employees have been warned against talking about it, then you know what that means.”

Tanya stretched her arms. “It’s a good thing we’re taking along some of our equipment.”

“I’m afraid not to,” Ellen said. “Ghosts have a way of finding us, and I don’t want to be caught unprepared.”

“They find us because we have the gift, and they can sense it,” Sue said.

“What do Lane and Maya think about it?” Tanya climbed up and sat on the edge of the tub with her legs in the water.

“I haven’t mentioned it to them,” Ellen admitted. “I’d like to keep any ghostly happenings away from the wedding, as much as possible.”

“Have you done any research, to learn if anyone has written about hauntings there?” Sue asked.

Ellen combed her fingers through her short, damp hair. “I’ve read about ghosts in Asheville, but very little is said about hauntings at the Biltmore. One book claimed that George Vanderbilt’s ghost is there.”

“I wonder what unfinished business a billionaire would have, that would keep him from moving on,” Tanya said.

Ellen climbed up and sat beside Tanya. “Hopefully, it’s only a rumor, and the wedding will go off without a hitch—worldly or otherwise.”

“I’m sure it will,” Tanya reassured her.

“We’ll find out in two months’ time,” Sue said. “That is, if we survive Aquafit.”

Ellen and Tanya looked at each other and grinned.

Author Eva Pohler:

After earning her Ph.D. in English and teaching writing and literature for over twenty years, Eva Pohler became a USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels in multiple genres, including mysteries, thrillers, and young adult paranormal romance based on Greek mythology. Her books have been described as “addictive” and “sure to thrill”–Kirkus Reviews.

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The Little Town of Summerville

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A Dog Named Chubby

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by Robert Douglass

The Little Town of Summerville by Robert Douglass

December 1-31, 2021 Virtual Book Tour
 

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Jack Wellington moves from the big city to make a new start. He jumps at the opportunity to become a detective in Summerville.

A peculiar case is assigned to him as artwork has been stolen and a dog is missing. Fellow detective Charlie Finch, a man adorned with decades of service, uncovers clues with Jack. They become intrigued by the words and actions of a neighborhood boy and wonder how much he might know.

Clues are followed but it’s the kids in the neighborhood who provide the most relevant clues. As the detectives get closer to them with their questions, the pressure of the kids struggle unfolds.

Kids, dogs, thieves, and a detective who meets a gal named Sally in the little town of Summerville.

Genre: Mystery

Published by: Amazon Publication Date: November 1, 2021 Number of Pages: 200 ISBN: 979-8677929410 Series: The Little Town of Summerville, 1

Purchase Links: Amazon

Enjoy this peek inside:

Jack poured a coffee and reached the back door with mug in hand. He stepped onto the screened-in porch as the twilight of morning brightened the yard. He enjoyed the peaceful surroundings of the porch. It was completely different from the small apartment he left behind a few months ago. He had worked in the Saint Louis police department for five years and jumped at the opportunity to work in Summerville. He settled into an old wicker chair he’d found at a garage sale and grabbed the tablet lying next to it to get caught up on sports and local news. He was on his second mug when the phone hummed away on the table. He noticed the number was from the police station. “Hello, this is Jack.” “Hi Jack, this is Captain Ottoman. I need you to get over to 28 Little Creek Lane. Someone was in the house during the night and the homeowner is very upset.” The captain sounded tired and cranky with no patience for conversation, so Jack didn’t bother explaining it was supposed to be his day off. “Yes sir. I can get over there right away.” “Thank you,” and the captain ended the call. Jack got back inside, buzzed the electric shaver over his face, jumped into some clean clothes, and was out the door quickly. He thought about the history of the town as he drove to the location. Summerville had been founded during the railroad days of long ago. It was a crossroads of railway tracks built by the Summers Rail & Cargo Company. John Summers became so impressed with the area he established the town and moved his family to the beautiful location with its wide valley and soft hills. Blueprints were drawn for the town which included shops, neighborhoods, and parks, which would enjoy the modern luxuries of the era, and of course, the ability to travel by railway. Today Summerville still enjoyed the shops of the downtown area, its many parks, and the atmosphere of its small college. A group of businessmen and a strong town council maintained the town with its modest Midwest economy. At times, a getaway for some of the city dwellers to get refreshed by the small-town charm. It was a pretty town, safe and friendly, and Jack Wellington intended to keep it that way. Jack pulled up to 28 Little Creek Lane as the sun cast its long early morning shadows. Each lawn had its own style, with a tree or two in the front yard and shrubs along the side that acted like a fence. There were sidewalks on the narrow residential street which had gas streetlamps that would shine day and night. He got out of the car and checked his dark hair in the reflection of the car window. He was above average height with a lean and strong build for a mid-twenties guy, but his collar was crooked. He shook his head, rebuttoned his shirt, and hoped no one was watching as he tucked it back into his pants. A quick check to make sure he had pen and notepad in his back pocket, and he took the walkway across the yard to the front porch entrance. Up the stairs, across the porch, and a few taps on the door. The homeowner opened the door. “Hello. I’m Jack Wellington from the Summerville police department. Captain Ottoman asked me to come over this morning.” The homeowner tried to smile, but her eyes were swollen with a sunken tainted darkness around them. Her sterling gray hair looked a bit out of place with a sadness upon her face. “So, you’re a policeman?” “Yes, I’m a detective,” and Jack showed her his credentials. She gave a soft grasp of Jack’s hand, “I’m Elizabeth Ashley,” and she invited him into her home. They walked down the entrance hallway and dropped into the living room. Two couches and a couple of chairs formed a horseshoe with a coffee table in the center. The couches faced each other, and the chairs sat on the end with a straight view to a fireplace. She sat on the couch and Jack took a chair. *** Excerpt from The Little Town of Summerville – A Dog Named Chubby by Robert Douglass. Copyright 2021 by Robert Douglass. Reproduced with permission from Robert Douglass. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Robert Douglass:
Robert Douglass

Robert has an AAS in Microsoft Networking Technology from Glendale Community College and is a Microsoft Certified Professional. He likes reading, writing, and exploring natural wonders. His favorite pastime is telling tall stories around the campfire.

Catch Up With Robert Douglass: RTDouglass.com Twitter – @RTDouglassLit Facebook – @RTDouglassAuthor

 

 

 

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Find Her

A Lacey James Mystery Book 1

by Chris Patchell

Genre: Mystery, Thriller

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A simple heist at a hardware store uncovers a brutal crime spree leaving a police officer dead, several innocents murdered, and the small Oregon town of Sweet Home shaken to its core.

Veteran police officer Lacey James answers the call. The robbery suspect has fled, but the items she finds inside the car at the scene raise the hackles on the back of Lacey’s neck: a hammer, a tarp, zip ties, and a stolen gun. This discovery pushes her suspicions to an all-time high and has her questioning what dark and dangerous crimes this man may be involved in?

Eden Mills is smart, kind, and fun-loving. Not the kind to make enemies or run away. But Eden has a stalker, and when Lacey discovers that Eden is missing, possibly kidnapped, there is plenty of reason to fear the worst. As Lacey peels back the layers of the suspect’s crimes, her pursuit of the truth leads to unthinkable tragedy.

A colleague is dead. Her suspect isn’t talking. And time may be running out for Eden.

Can Lacey find her before one man’s obsession destroys more lives?

Goodreads * Amazon

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About the book cover

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A picture is worth a thousand words and setting has always played an important role in my stories. My editor often comments about how the environment becomes a character. And if you’ve never been here, the Pacific Northwest is truly gorgeous, from the dramatic Pacific coastline, through the sweeping green of the Willamette Valley, up into the deep dark reaches of the Cascade mountains. There is mystery and beauty everywhere you look.

I chose to set the Lacey James Mysteries in a town called Sweet Home. Like most of the towns in the area, Sweet Home was built on the logging trade, and when the logging industry went through a rough patch, the town fell on hard times.

As I was finishing the story, I talked my husband into taking a long and winding drive from the town of Mt. Angel, through the Silver Falls State Park, on a meandering route that brought us into Sweet Home. We drove through farmlands and forests, saw covered bridges and changing leaves. I took a ton of pictures along the drive, of the forests—of the deep greens, the striking golds, and the rusts. Connecting with the environment gave me the inspiration I needed to finish the book.

I’ve been working with the same cover artist for a few years now, and when I sent him my photos from the drive, he was magically able to adapt it into a stunning cover for the book that perfectly melded the dark mystery of the story with the beauty of the area.

It’s one of my favorite cover designs. I hope you love it too!

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Chris Patchell is the award-winning, USA Today Bestselling author of five novels. A former tech worker turned author, Chris Patchell pens suspense novels set in the Pacific Northwest.

Her novels have been praised by Kevin O’Brien and Robert Dugoni, and her rich complex plot lines and well-drawn characters will keep you turning pages well into the night. When she’s not writing books or watching football, Chris is hanging out with her husband, kids, and two crazy dogs.

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

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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Deadly Target

by Elizabeth Goddard

November 1-30, 2021 Virtual Book Tour

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Synopsis:
Deadly Target by Elizabeth Goddard

Criminal psychologist Erin Larson’s dreams of a successful career come to a screeching halt when she nearly loses her own life in a boating accident on Puget Sound and then learns that her mother tried to commit suicide. She leaves her job as a criminal psychologist to care for her mother in Montana. At least she is able to produce her podcast, which focuses on solving missing persons cold cases.

Nathan Campbell’s father was investigating such a case when he was shot, and now Nathan needs to enlist Erin’s help to solve the case. She’s good at what she does. The only problem? She’s his ex.

As the two dig deeper, it becomes clear that they, too, are being targeted–and that the answers to their questions are buried deep within the past Erin struggles to explain and longs to forget.

The race is on for the truth in this gripping and complex tale of suspense, intrigue, and murder from USA Today bestselling author Elizabeth Goddard.

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Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Suspense

Published by: Revell Publication Date: November 2nd 2021 Number of Pages: 336 ISBN: 0800737997 (ISBN13: 9780800737993) Series: Rocky Mountain Courage #2 || This is a Stand-Alone Novel

Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | ChristianBook.com | IndieBound.Org

Read an excerpt:
1 Puget Sound For a few hours every Saturday morning, Erin Larson could forget that evil existed. And usually, only on the water. She dipped the double-bladed paddle into the sea, then again on the other side—left, right, left, right, left, right—alternating strokes in a fluid motion to propel her kayak across the blue depths. Her friend Carissa Edwards paddled close behind. Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. On the water she was close to nature and far from the chaos and noise of the city even though she and Carissa paddled along the shoreline and could see the cityscape in the distance. The quiet calmed her mind and heart. The rhythmic paddling mesmerized her. The exertion exhilarated her. Cleansed her of the stress and anxiety acquired after a week of forced labor. Okay, that wasn’t fair. Her suffering certainly wasn’t physical in nature. Water. Mountains. Sky. She took in the sights and once again . . . forgot. Beautiful snowcapped Mount Baker—the Great White Watcher—loomed large in the distance to the east. Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. The slosh of paddles along with the small waves lapping against her boat soothed her and were the only sounds except for seagulls laughing above her—ha, ha, ha. To the west, the impressive Olympic Mountains begged for attention. Erin couldn’t wait for Mom to join her out here, when she finally convinced her to move. A salty ocean breeze wafted over her as peace and beauty surrounded her. She couldn’t ask for more. She shouldn’t ask for more. But God . . . I need answers. Carissa caught up with Erin and paddled next to her kayak. “Thanks for coming with me today. I needed this.” “The exercise or the scenery?” Erin had just broken a sweat despite the early morning cool. “How about a little of both. And the company makes all the difference, I’m not going to lie.” “Yeah,” Erin answered with reluctance. She and Carissa had an understanding between them. On their kayaking excursions, peace and quiet were supposed to reign. “By the way, I listened to your podcast last night,” Carissa said. Maybe she’d forgotten their unspoken pact. “Oh?” Erin wanted to know Carissa’s thoughts, but at the same time, she didn’t want to hear the criticism. Nor would she trust any praise. “Why keep it anonymous?” “It could get complicated.” Carissa’s laugh echoed across the water. “In my case, I’d probably want the dean of the college and my students to know. But then again, I wouldn’t be talking about crime or missing people. I’d be talking about history. So, what took you so long to tell me?” Erin lifted a shoulder, opting for silence. Maybe it would be contagious. Now she wished she hadn’t told Carissa, but letting her friend in on her secret was a step toward opening up. She kept too much hidden inside. Erin had never been good at letting others in. Although as a psychologist, she was all about learning what made people tick on the inside. Erin breathed in the fresh air, listened to the mesmerizing ripple of the water, felt the warm sun against her cheeks, and chased away thoughts of crime and work. “Cold cases. Do they ever get solved?” Carissa asked. Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. “Some do.” Few. “Why do you do it?” “I need a hobby, I guess.” Erin couldn’t begin to explain the complex events that drove her to talk about missing person cold cases in hopes that answers could still be found. “I’ve been thinking.” Carissa’s kayak inched ahead. Erin remained silent. “We do this every Saturday,” Carissa continued. Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. “It’s been a lifesaver,” Erin said. “Thanks for inviting me along.” After a week working for the State of Washington, the endless hours spent researching and writing reports for forensic evaluations, she needed the break. The job wasn’t what she had dreamed about when she’d become a criminal psychologist. Still, she hoped it was a means to an end. In the meantime, she’d started the cold case crime podcast. “How about we switch it up? Go hiking. Mountain trails and lush forests all around us.” “This is close. We don’t have to drive far. Plus, I really love the water.” And have an aversion to dense forests. Carissa didn’t need to know that, as a psychologist, Erin was a walking oxymoron. “I thought you might enjoy a change.” “No, I’m good with this.” Erin’s shoulders and biceps started burning. She was relieved they would soon turn around and head back. “I hope you’ll think about it. I’d love for you to join me next weekend. I’m hiking in Mount Baker National Forest, and I’m inviting you to join the group.” “What? You’re ditching me to go hiking?” “Um . . . Is it just me, or is that boat heading directly for us?” Panic edged Carissa’s voice. Erin glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Carissa’s wide-eyed stare. A thirty-foot cruiser sped toward them. She and Carissa had strayed a bit from the shoreline. Regardless, that boat shouldn’t be approaching them in this area or at that speed. “Hurry.” Erin quickened her pace. “We can get out of its path.” “We won’t make it.” Carissa stopped and raised her paddle, waving to get the boater’s attention. “Hey, watch where you’re going! Kayakers on the water!” Arms straining, Erin paddled faster and propelled the kayak forward. Her friend hadn’t kept up. “Carissa, let’s go! Just angle out of the path.” Carissa renewed her efforts and joined Erin. Together they paddled toward the shoreline that had seemed so much closer moments before. Carissa screamed. Heart pounding, Erin glanced over her shoulder. The boat had changed course and was once again headed straight for them. Fear stole her breath. “Jump! Get out of the boat and dive!” It was all she could think to do. “Now, now, now!” She sucked in a breath and leaned forward to flip the kayak until she was upside down in the water for a wet exit. Holding her breath, she found the grab loop and peeled off the skirt. Then she gripped the sides and pushed the kayak away from her body as she slid out. Instead of heading for the surface, she kicked and dove deeper. She was grateful she was wearing a manually inflatable life vest over her wetsuit or it would drag her back to the surface, which was normally a good thing. But today that could get her killed. She pushed deeper, deeper, deeper . . . away from the surface. We’re going to make it. Erin twisted around to glance upward. The water was murky and visibility was only about ten feet, but she could still see her friend struggling to get free of her kayak. Terror stabbed through her. Erin swam back to Carissa to help her, even as the boat raced toward the kayaks and was almost on them. Her eyes wide, Carissa pushed forward, freeing herself. The hull of the speeding boat sped right over the top of the kayaks, breaking Carissa’s in half—the stern of her broken kayak propelled toward Carissa. Her head jerked forward. All the bubbles of air burst from her lungs, then her form floated—unmoving. Unconscious? Or was she lifeless? Her pulse thundering in her ears, Erin swam toward Carissa, grabbed her, and inflated their life vests. They rose quickly to the surface. Erin broke the water and gasped for breath as she held Carissa. The water remained disturbed from the speeding boat’s wake and crashed over them. Erin confirmed what she already feared. Carissa wasn’t breathing. Adrenaline surged through her. She had to keep moving. Holding on to Carissa, Erin started swimming them back to shore. She spotted the errant boat making a big circle. Coming back? Had someone lost control? She had to make it to shore to give Carissa CPR. And maybe even to save them both. Stay calm. Panic wouldn’t help either of them. The water was cold, but not so cold that she needed to worry about hypothermia. At least not yet. The whir of a boat from her left drew her attention, kicking up her already rapid heartbeat. As she took in the slowly approaching trawler—a far different boat from the speeding cruiser—relief eased the tension in her shoulders. Three men and a couple of women waved. A silver-haired man in a Seahawks cap shouted, “Do you need help?” “Yes! Hurry!” The boat edged slowly toward her, and she swam to meet it. The men reached down and pulled Carissa up into the boat. Erin used the ladder on the side. “She needs CPR. She’s not breathing!” When she hopped onto the deck, she saw that one of the men had started administering CPR. A redheaded woman wrapped a blanket around Erin. “Oh, honey, are you okay?” Hot tears burned down her cold, wet cheeks. “No . . . no, I’m not okay.” She dropped to her knees next to her friend. Carissa coughed up water and rolled onto her side. When she’d finished expelling seawater, she sat up and looked around. Erin hugged her and spoke against her short, wet hair. “I thought you were done for.” Carissa held on to Erin tightly, then released her to cough more. Erin took in the group standing around them, their watchful eyes filled with concern. “I’m Vince. And this is my wife, Jessie.” The man with the Seahawks cap gestured to the redhead, then made introductions. John, his son, and Terry, John’s friend, and Mavis, John’s girlfriend. A family affair. “I’m Erin, and this is Carissa.” Jessie placed a blanket around Carissa. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll get you something warm to drink.” “Thank you.” Erin sat with Carissa on the cushioned bench and took in her friend. She looked shell-shocked, and why shouldn’t she? Was she going to be okay? Carissa closed her eyes. Was she in pain or thinking back to what happened? Jessie had disappeared below deck to grab warm drinks. Mavis, Terry, and John were trying to recover the kayaks and bring them onto the trawler. Vince remained standing, his arms crossed as if he were a sentinel sent to protect them. And at this moment, Erin needed that reassurance. “If you hadn’t come when you did,” she said, “I don’t know what would have happened. I can’t thank you enough.” She searched the waters around them. “Is that boat . . . Is it gone?” “What boat?” Mavis approached and glanced at Vince. “You didn’t see that?” Erin got to her feet and pulled Carissa with her. She searched the waters. “A boat came right for us. Ran over our kayaks and almost killed us. They must have lost control. Maybe they were drunk or something.” “I saw a boat heading west,” Vince said, “but I didn’t connect that to seeing you in the water swimming to shore. Kayaks and canoes are hard to spot sometimes. I’m sorry that happened. But I’ll contact the Seattle Police Harbor Patrol and let them know. In the meantime, is there somewhere we can take you?” “Back to the marina at Port of Edmonds. We could talk to the police there and tell them what happened,” Erin said. Vince eyed Carissa. “I’ll let SPHP know we’re on the way and to meet us there. Should we get you to the hospital?” Erin shared a look with her friend. “She sustained a hit to the head. Maybe an ambulance could be waiting for us when we get to the harbor.” Carissa nodded but said nothing. Erin ached inside. She’d almost lost Carissa. She was grateful that her friend had survived. They had both survived. Erin replayed the events in her mind. Had the boat deliberately veered toward them or had she imagined it? These boaters who’d helped them had simply been out enjoying the day when they spotted Erin and Carissa in the water, their kayaks floating, Carissa’s in two pieces. I can’t believe this happened. The water had been her place of peace and tranquility. But no more. Erin pulled her ringing cell from the plastic bag tucked in a pocket on her suit. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was a Montana prefix. Her heart jackhammered as she answered, “Erin.” “Dr. Larson . . . Erin.” The familiar male voice hesitated. “This is Detective Nathan Campbell.” Dread crawled up her spine. Nathan would never call her without a good reason. “Nathan . . . what’s going on?” “It’s . . . your mom. She’s okay. But she tried to commit suicide. I’m so sorry.” A few heartbeats passed before she could answer. “Wha . . . What?” Nathan apologized again and repeated the words. The air rushed from Erin. She couldn’t breathe and stood. She headed for the rail and hung her head over the water, gasping for breath. “Erin! Erin, are you there?” Nathan’s concerned voice shouted over the cell loud enough she could hear him despite the boat’s rumbling engine and rushing water. Carissa joined her at the rail. “Erin, what’s happened?” The darkness closed in on her all over again, but this was different from before. Why hadn’t she seen the warning signs? She had to fix this. Squeezing her eyes shut, she lifted the cell to her ear again. “I need details.” Nathan relayed that her mother was in the hospital and in stable condition. Ending the call, she stared at the cell. Mom was in trouble. The fact that the awful news had come from the man she’d left behind compounded the pain in her chest. This, after she and Carissa had barely survived a boating accident. Evil wouldn’t let her forget that it existed, even for a few hours. *** Excerpt from Deadly Target by Elizabeth Goddard. Copyright 2021 by Elizabeth Goddard. Reproduced with permission from Baker Publishing Group. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Elizabeth Goddard:
Elizabeth Goddard

Elizabeth Goddard is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of more than fifty novels, including Present Danger and the Uncommon Justice series. Her books have sold over one million copies. She is a Carol Award winner and a Daphne du Maurier Award finalist. When she’s not writing, she loves spending time with her family, traveling to find inspiration for her next book, and serving with her husband in ministry.

For more information about Elizabeth Goddard, visit her website at: www.ElizabethGoddard.com Goodreads BookBub – @ElizabethGoddard Instagram – @elizabethgoddardauthor Twitter – @bethgoddard Facebook – @ElizabethGoddardAuthor

 

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