Posts Tagged ‘paranormal’

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A River of Resentment (A Hollow’s Glenn Coven Mystery)
by Kristen King

 


A River of Resentment (A Hollow’s Glenn Coven Mystery)
Paranormal Cozy Mystery
2nd in Series
Setting: A small mountain town with elemental magic
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Silvester & Eve Publishing (December 18, 2023)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 392 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1963304993
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1963304992
Digital Print length ‏ : ‎ 328 pages
ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CPQX5BHJ

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When dangerous black magic surfaces, only the strength of a powerful coven can contain it.

With winter coming quickly to Hollow’s Glenn, the town anxiously prepares for the annual Night of Lights event. But planning gets disrupted when water witch Simone discovers the body of a local businessman in the icy town river. She and her cousin, Autumn, must figure out how the mysterious murder connects to the dark vines of magic seeping through the cold waters.

As they bring the founding families together for the first time in decades, the girls try to fight the growing black magic while uncovering who is to blame for the most recent death. Will they find the killer before more accidents claim the lives of others in Hollow’s Glenn, or will the girls themselves become victims to the dark waters?

A River of Resentment contains tropes such as:

– a cozy mountain town
– craft shop owners
– local coffee shop that everyone loves
– a coven of amateur sleuth witches
– elemental magic
– a cat familiar
– founding magical families banding together
– seasonal events happening around town
– a budding side romance
– mysterious red herrings

This is the second book in the paranormal Hollow’s Glenn Coven Mystery series, and it can be read as a stand-alone mystery. If you love Iris Beaglehole, Nancy Warren, and Ellie Alexander, then you’ll love this series that blends cozy mountain magic and small town amateur sleuths.

Entangle yourself in the power of water energy with this captivating story of family ties, spellbinding witches, and the strength of a small town overcoming all that threatens it. Grab your copy today!

About Kristen King 

Kristen King is an Amazon bestselling author of paranormal cozy mysteries. After many years blending project management, art/design, and coaching, she now lets her water energy lead the way through creative fiction writing. She finds that a good dose of magic sets the coziest tone for any day. When not channeling her writing muse, Kristen spends time snuggling in her mountain home next to a cozy fire and her calico cat. She loves to lose herself in taking photos, baking for her family, and pulling tarot cards or charging crystals by the light of the moon.

Author Links: Website / Facebook / Instagram / Goodreads / BookBub

Purchase Links: AmazonAudibleB&NBookshop.org – Series on Amazon

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December 17 – Maureen’s Musings – SPOTLIGHT

December 18 – Christy’s Cozy Corners – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

December 18 – Novels Alive  – REVIEW

December 19 – Frugal Freelancer – REVIEW

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Remembering Demons

J. Cornelius

 

(The God Cycle, #1)
Publication date: May 9th 2024
Genres: Adult, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Paranormal, Thriller

Have you ever wondered what lurks in the mirrors?

Daryl doesn’t have to wonder… he knows.
But why do they stalk him? Why can’t he remember anything?
It’s enough to drive a guy crazy!

Meanwhile, the eerie asylum seems to know more than an old pile of rock and mortar has any right to and his therapy is uncovering a blood-stained past of pain and death, alongside something dormant within him of disturbing power. When Dr. Walker teaches him how to face his demons, the psychoses and dreams conspire to warn him of something even worse stalking him. Something ancient and evil.

To survive, Daryl must confront the repressed memories that drove him insane.

For madness—is a blunt instrument.

This dark fantasy epic and paranormal thriller with a Shutter Island’esque vibe will have you questioning what is real. The story mixes dark and traditional fantasy with horror and science fiction elements to explore mental health, guilt, and a world where the physical realm of our experience blends seamlessly with the fantastical realm of monsters and gods. Perfect for fans of The Gunslinger, The Dresden Files, and the TV series Black Mirror.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“Dad,” she said imploringly, “please don’t make me show you again.”

A shiver ran down his spine. “No, of course,” Daryl said quickly. “No need for that.”

“Why did you go?”

“I . . .” he halted, unsure. “I thought I could have both.”

“And then what happened?”

“I . . .” His mind blanked, and he looked out the window, petrified.

“You have to face this, it’s not—” The pitch of her voice rose in alarm. “The butter is burning!”

Daryl whipped around, depositing the smoking skillet at the back of the stove before cranking up the extractor hood.

“Thanks,” he said, about to turn back around.

The sound of small feet pattered across the floor, coming for him.

“This is not how it happened,” she said from right next to him, the accusation in her voice like a discordant note, slashing the air. He knew what was coming, fearing it with every fiber of his being. Still, her voice ignited a deep ache to turn around and hold her, but he knew that was impossible.

The smoke from the burned butter grew in intensity, and he looked down. The tabletop was beginning to char. Wisps of smoke were gently rising from the crack where the counter met the wall. She jumped onto the tabletop, bringing herself level with him, reaching out for him with arms starting to blister from the heat.

His vision was blurring, as if sweat was dripping into his eyes, and his mind reeled. She grabbed him, causing him to stumble and seize hold of the now smoldering counter.

“Dad,” she said softly.

He tried to resist, but she forcibly turned him around, facing her. Facing those terrible eyes . . . eyes which held the truth.

“No,” he muttered.

“Listen.”

“Please no,” he repeated meekly.

She leaned in as if to speak, but instead opened her mouth wide and screamed. It tore through everything, cutting at his very soul. He knew why she screamed. He knew . . . Daryl felt a sudden sharp pain in his mouth, followed by a jolt as the dream receded. His surroundings grew foggy, her face retreating down a well. The dream dwindling, dwindling, gone.

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About Author J. Cornelius:

J. Cornelius is a medical researcher of pathogenic viruses by day and a writer of fantasy/sci-fi fiction by night. He is also: An equal responsibility father of three, a loving husband, an avid lover of many types of mountaineering, especially rock climbing and snowboarding, and a DIY maker of herb and fruit flavored spirits.

Sign up to his newsletter on his website to get a free copy of the God Cycle short story, ‘Catching Spiders’.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram

 

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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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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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A kiss under the Mistletoe brings good fortune, but can a
Christmas wedding stop a deadly feud?

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Thistle in the Mistletoe

A Stones of Iona Holiday Novel

by Margaret Izard

Genre: Holiday Historical Paranormal Romance

A kiss under the Mistletoe brings good fortune, but can a
Christmas wedding stop a deadly feud?

 

The soft beauty beside him at the altar would make the
perfect bride. Roderick MacDougall would do anything to stop the feud without
more bloodshed. Too bad the gorgeous woman is the daughter of his greatest
enemy who murdered his da. Trust in a Comyn is hard won, even if she tempts his
senses.

Mary Comyn only wants to stop the wars and live a life of
peace and goodwill. Tricked by her father and forced by the English king to
marry her clan’s enemy, Mary fears she’s scarifying finding true love for
peace. A Christmas wedding sounds romantic, but why would the handsome
MacDougall laird, her greatest clan enemy, love her?

 A man conflicted by duty charged to find peace. A woman
whose father betrayed all. When betrayal looms from within, can enemies find
love and forge a new future for both clans?

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**Don’t miss the other books in the series!**

Find them on Amazon

Margaret Izard is an award-winning author of historical
fantasy and paranormal romance novels. She spent her early years through
college to adulthood dedicated to dance, theater, and performing. Over the
years, she developed a love for great storytelling in different mediums. She
does not waste a good story, be it movement, the spoken, or the written word.
She discovered historical romance novels in middle school, which combined her
passion for romance, drama, and fantasy. She writes exciting plot lines, steamy
love scenes and always falls for a strong male with a soft heart. She lives in
Houston, Texas, with her husband and adult triplets and loves to hear from
readers.

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– 1 winner each!

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Bloody is the Night

by Robin Jeffrey

 

(The Night, #2)
Publication date: November 12th 2024
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Unbeknownst to humans, the werewolves of the world live in tight knit gangs, or “dens”, for protection from outsiders – and each other. Every major metropolis has one; to belong to a den is to have a family for eternity. Shaye Cassidy, an unhoused human woman scraping by on the streets of Los Angeles, hasn’t had anything close to a family in over ten years. Shaye left her home under a cloud to chase the dream of a new start, a dream that quickly turned into a nightmare; a nightmare that grows even more twisted when Shaye witnesses a werewolf killing a fellow unhoused man.

Andy Vasquez is a top member of Sangre Sagrada, second only to the den leader herself. When she tasks him with tracking down a werewolf gone rogue, someone who is killing humans for sport and risking the exposure of their world, Andy dedicates all his resources to the task. He couldn’t have predicted that the key to uncovering the identity of the rogue wolf would be a human woman, any more than he could have predicted that he would fall in love with her.

Now, Andy must protect Shaye not just from the rogue wolf, but also from those within his den who wish she would disappear. Shaye has her own secrets, however, and in the city of angels, everyone has a devilish side.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

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Enjoy this peek inside:

I faced forward and froze.

Sitting on the stool across the table was the slim man from the library. He looked me over with an unimpressed glaze to his eyes, leaning against the table, his breathing somewhat labored.

“Shaye Cassidy?” he said casually, as if we had arranged to meet here on a blind date.

I pushed away from the table, my eyes widening. “Shit–!”

Two massive hands clamped onto my shoulders. I tried to twist around, to twist out of their grip, but I might as well have been trying to squirm out of handcuffs. “Stay awhile,” said the silver-haired man behind me, pressing me down into the stool, squeezing hard, but not hard enough to be painful.

Heart in my throat, pounding against my skin like it was trying to escape, I watched as the dark-haired man slid himself on top of the plush green seat across from me, reaching forward and picking up a few pieces of hard-shelled candy out of the bowl as he settled himself. “How did you even get into a place like this?” he asked, an amused quirk to the corner of his mouth that set me on edge.

Even in the midst of the chaotic bar, his voice was deep, cool, and clear, like water from a mountain river. I watched as he threw the candy into his mouth piece by piece, and he returned my stare, his brows lifting over his dark eyes.

My tongue darted out to wet my suddenly dry lips. I cleared my throat. “Are you going to hurt me?”

His lips twitched up into a lightning strike smile that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. “No.” Tongue probing the inside of his cheek, he leaned forward across the table, so he didn’t have to shout. “Are you going to answer my question?”

His calmness grated on my raw nerves. I rolled my eyes and gestured towards the back of the club, past the dance floor. “Fire door alarm around the back is busted. Has been for almost a year.” As I shifted my weight on my seat, the man’s grip on my shoulders remained steady and firm. I grimaced at the pressure. “I noticed it when they hired me for a day to wash some dishes.”

The man looked in the direction I indicated and gave a harrumph, his shoulders rising and falling. He returned his attention to me, nodding. “Clever.”

Frowning, I gripped the edge of the table tightly. “I’m homeless, not blind.” I looked around. No one seemed to notice that I was under duress. If I started screaming, what would happen? What would anyone do? I decided not to risk it, sighing and staring at the man across from me instead. “I’m not stupid either. You’re Andy Vazquez, right?”

His calm facade cracked, if only slightly. This time he actually looked impressed, his eyes widening slightly, faint surprise clear in the opening of his mouth. “Ah, yeah.”

“What do you want?” I demanded.

“I thought you said you weren’t stupid.” He smiled, his eyes narrowing. “What would someone like me want with someone like you?”

“I don’t know,” I answered with unusual honesty, throwing one hand into the air. “I don’t even know who you are; not really. Just that you’re looking for me. You and the LAPD.” Looking him over more closely, a thought occurred to me. “Is that it? Are you a cop? Like a detective or something?”

As soon as the question was out of my mouth, I knew the answer was no. Getting a closer look at him, he couldn’t have been dressed less like a police officer. A part of my brain I had not used in a long time recognized the deceptively plain white dress shirt he was wearing as Louis Vuitton, meaning it cost somewhere close to a thousand dollars. The pants they were tucked into? Armani, over a thousand. The jacket? Even at this distance, I could tell: a single-breasted affair in virgin wool and silk – two thousand at least.

But it wasn’t just the clothes. It was the way he wore them.

Like they were strictly temporary.

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About Author Robin Jeffrey:

Robin Jeffrey can almost always be found cranking out punchy flash fiction, lyrical essays, or world-rich novels. Her writing has been published in magazines across the country and around the world. She currently calls the Pacific Northwest of the United States home, where she lives happily with her husband and their out of control comic book collection. She currently resides in the rainy Pacific Northwest. More of her work can be found on her website, RobinJeffreyAuthor.com.

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Color Me Dead by Teresa Trent Banner

COLOR ME DEAD
by Teresa Trent
October 14 – November 8, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:

Artist Gabby Wolfe has the ability to see not only the beauty of the living but the despair of the dead. When she returns to her childhood home in Henry Park Colorado, she is forced to bring along her younger brother Mitch. He is on a “break” from college where he was majoring in wine, women, and song. If that isn’t enough they also have Mitch’s rambunctious beagle Luigi along who prefers to spend his days wallowing in junk food. When Gabby draws the death of a young woman before it happens, she knows she must tell someone and risk a new job and her professional credibility. Will she reveal her secret in time to save the woman in the water or will it be too late?

 

 

 

Book Details:

Genre: Paranormal Cozy Mystery

Published by: Harbor Lane Books Publication Date: September 24, 2024 Number of Pages: 260

Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

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MY REVIEW

Cozy mysteries are among my favorite reads. I have shelves full of them. The covers are colorful and fun and the characters feel like someone you know. And this one has a paranormal element too. More fun for me.

The setting is a small town and the main character, Gabby, is an artist. This really set off my radar. I live in a small town. It’s actually a Single Tax Colony. And it’s full of writers and artists. This made the town of Henry Park feel inviting, comfortable. Even though there is a murderer in the mix.

And as with most cozies, there’s a plethora of characters. Some I really liked. Even Gabby’s brother, Mitch. Though I did want to kick him in the seat of his pants at times. His beagle, Luigi, is a strong character too. Don’t let his junk food cravings fool you.

I’ve read other books by this author and enjoyed them. It makes me happy to tell you I enjoyed Color Me Dead too.

4 STARS

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Enjoy this peek inside:
Chapter 1
We pulled into the driveway of a home nestled into the banks of Lake Henry. The overhanging roof, a dark silver color, provided ample shade on the front porch. As if guarding the home against the outside world, stone pillars stood on either side of the door. I parked my car on the circular drive that made its way through the deep, green lawn. Clarence Bradford’s home was well-kept, and the square corners and functional design reflected a sense of order. The light played between the two pillars, creating stripes on the slats of the porch. Built up on the mountainside, the house almost looked like a natural part of the landscape. Standing on the porch was a man I recognized from his book covers: Clarence Bradford. He was still quite handsome for his age, and his outfit—a forest-green button-down shirt, blue jeans, and hiking boots—told me every day was casual Friday. His silvery hair augmented his healthy tan. “You made it.” He took in my cotton flowered tunic, my favorite pair of jeans, and the high tops I was wearing and said, “You are young.” Maybe the high tops were a little much, but they were my favorite shoes. Even in my late twenties, I still hadn’t shed this style of footwear left over from my teens. Maybe it was the artist in me not conforming to uncomfortable heels that made my knees wobble. Clarence stood next to a tray set with a pitcher of tea and glasses. “You made good time. I was just on a break and decided you might be near and need some iced tea.” Luigi leaped out of the car first and ran like a maniac around the yard. “Will he run off?” I asked. Mitch scowled. “I told you. Luigi is the product of discipline and training. He’ll let off a little steam and then be back to his guard-dog status.” From the wild look in Luigi’s eyes as he tried to bounce off a pine tree, I doubted his strict training included that. Trying to put Luigi out of my thoughts, I gave an awkward little wave to my new employer. “Hi. I’m Gabby and this is my brother, Mitch.” My brother walked over and plopped into a chair, grabbed an icy glass, and kicked off his flip-flops. “Excellent, Mr. Bradford.” “Please, call me Clarence.” “Clarence then,” he said, downing the tea in almost one gulp. Nothing like a hangover to make you thirsty. I took a seat in the third chair. The smell of pine trees was so intense around me that it gave me the giddy feeling of Christmas. “You have a beautiful home, Clarence.” “Yes, it’s where I get all of my inspiration. But, of course, growing up around here you already knew how beautiful it was. If I had to write the Adventure Kid books in the city, I don’t think they’d be any good. Can’t exactly have my little adventurers taking the subway to get to their next escapade.” He refilled Mitch’s glass. “Working here,” I paused to look around at the towering trees and listen to the birdsong emanating from them, “sounds like paradise. I work in coffee shops a lot myself.” “Ugh, what a terrible thing. I don’t know how people concentrate in those places,” he said in disgust. “Earbuds,” I answered. “Excuse me?” Obviously, Clarence Bradford had no need to block out sound and pump in music. I pulled my earbuds out of my pocket. “These things.” “Oh, yes. I see young people wearing them all the time. It’s like they have to have an extension cord wherever they go. Seems kind of ridiculous-looking to me.” “You’re so right, Clarence,” Mitch said. “What I hate is hearing people’s phone conversations in the store. Do they even know how stupid they look having a heart-to-heart in the middle of the hemorrhoid creams?” Clarence’s laugh boomed from his chest as he slapped his knee. “I can see you’re going to make this summer interesting, Mitch.” “Mitch makes every summer interesting,” I added. “We’re renting a house on the other side of the lake, so it will be easy for me to come to work over here.” “That’s good. Would you like to see where we’ll be working?” I followed Clarence Bradford to what I thought would be a book-lined study, complete with the smell of cherry tobacco and a roaring fire. Instead, he took me to a room at the back of the house almost entirely encased in windows. There were blinds built into the double panes of glass. Clarence Bradford’s study wasn’t an office at all. It was an air-conditioned room on the lake. “This is beautiful,” I said, spinning around. “I don’t know how you get any work done here.” “Oh, but that’s the secret to writing outdoor adventure books for kids. I write them practically outdoors, with the modern conveniences of air conditioning and Internet. It’s my oasis.” “What a fantastic idea.” The wall facing the windows was lined floor to ceiling with books. As an artist, I appreciated just how much there was to see from Clarence Bradford’s view of Lake Henry. “Do the people going by in their boats watch you? I mean, do you feel like you don’t have any privacy here?” “Tinted windows. I can see them, but they can’t see me. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” The view was stunning, and I also made a mental note that whenever I needed a cigarette, I shouldn’t smoke it within view of this office if I wanted to keep it a secret. As I looked across the lake, the wavy line of the shore caught my eye. It looked like something I had seen before. I stepped closer to the glass. “Are you a bird-watcher?” Clarence asked. “Uh, no. I just thought I saw something familiar.” “Is your house visible from here?” “No. We’re too far away, and our house is on the other side of the road.” I glanced back at the shoreline. My shoulders began to feel cold, and I held onto my arms. The vision was trying to come in again. I must be close to whatever it was that was causing the woman with the cold hand to invade my senses. “I must have the air conditioning up too high in here. You’re shivering,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “No, I’m fine. Really.” “Of course …” he said but then asked once more, “You’re sure you’re alright, now.” “Yes.” I turned my back to the window. “This is my first children’s book, so I’m sure I have a lot to learn,” I confessed, changing the subject. *** Excerpt from Color Me Dead by Teresa Trent. Copyright 2024 by Teresa Trent. Reproduced with permission from Teresa Trent. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Teresa Trent:

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Teresa Trent

Teresa Trent started out teaching English, but life and children intervened and she began writing mysteries starting with her Pecan Bayou Cozy Mystery Series. After that, she wrote the Piney Woods and the Swinging Sixties Mystery Series. Color Me Dead is the first book in her new Henry Park Series and while all her other books take place in Texas, this series is set in Colorado, where Teresa grew up. Teresa is also the author of several short stories and is teaching writing at her local library encouraging new writers. Teresa lives in Houston, Texas with her husband and son.

Catch Up With Teresa Trent: TeresaTrent.com Books to the Ceiling Goodreads BookBub – @TeresaTrent Instagram – @teresatrent_cozymys Threads – @teresatrent_cozymys Twitter/X – @ttrent_cozymys Facebook – @teresatrentmysterywriter

 

 

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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.

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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!

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 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.”

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–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

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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.

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

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.

 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
* Bookbub
* Goodreads

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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
* Bookbub
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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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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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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.

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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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Tallowed Ground: A Magic Candle Shop Mystery
by Valona Jones

 


Tallowed Ground: A Magic Candle Shop Mystery
Paranormal Cozy Mystery
3rd in Series
Setting – Georgia
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Muddle House Publishing (September 10, 2024)
Digital Print length ‏ : ‎ 269 pages
ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0D9HLPS2W

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When a killer props his third and latest victim against the double tombstone of Tabby and Sage Winslow’s grandparents’ grave in Savannah, Georgia, the psychic twins are stunned. Even worse, the victim is the very man they filed a restraining order against a few months ago for trashing their book and candle shop. Coincidence…or a connection? Then a clue about the murders points to Tabby’s career as a candlemaker. Now, she is the number one suspect in the killing spree.

The twins investigate all three victims, finding little that might tie the cases together besides where the bodies were found—in or near Bonaventure Cemetery, a beautiful 100-acre historic graveyard with a storied past. Then Tabby’s Medical Examiner boyfriend is mysteriously pulled from the case, with his dream job in jeopardy. The situation reaches a flashpoint when new evidence points to Tabby. With her freedom and the family business in jeopardy, Tabby and Sage match their wits and psychic abilities against the wily killer.

That is, until Tabby’s spirited inquiry lands her in the worst kind of trouble. Can Tabby clear her name before the fiend snuffs her flame…for good?

About Valona Jones

Valona Jones, aka Maggie Toussaint, writes paranormal cozies set in coastal Georgia, Her latest release, TALLOWED GROUND, book 3 in the A Magic Candle Shop Mysteries, came out September 10, 2024. Under the name of Maggie Toussaint, she also publishes cozy mysteries and romantic suspense. Her pen name for a three-book science fiction ecothriller is Rigel Carson. In total, she has published more than 27 works of fiction and won multiple awards. She lives in coastal Georgia, where time and tide wait for no one. Visit her sites:  https://valonajones.com and https://maggietoussaint.com

Author Links:

Valona Jones: Website / Facebook / BookBub

Maggie Toussaint: Website / Facebook / BookBub / Booklover’s Bench / Twitter/X

Purchase Links
Kindle    Nook     Kobo     iBooks    Amazon Kindle and Print Book 

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