Get a Book, Help an Animal Shelter!

If you enjoy discovering new series and want to support an animal shelter, here’s a great opportunity to do both!

Abby Deuel, DVM has recently published her first cozy mystery, Farmcall Fatality. It’s about a veterinarian and amateur sleuth with a Border Collie sidekick who solve murders together.  To celebrate the launch of her book and to support her local animal shelter, Dr. Abby is donating a free spay/neuter for every 50 copies sold. The lucky beneficiary is the Clay County Animal Rescue and Shelter (CCARS) in Louisville/Flora, Illinois.  Here’s more about the author, straight from her Amazon author page:

Abby

Abby Deuel is a practicing veterinarian in a small town in the Midwest. She worked in the Dairy farming industry in New Zealand before attending vet school there. After graduating and practicing as a mixed animal vet in the North Island of New Zealand, she moved back to America. Deuel served as a relief vet for several years, until she set up her own practice.

While she pulls from real life experiences for some of the cases and characters for this series, everything is very much fictional. The only exception is that she too has a Border collie named Lyle that continues to serve as inspiration for upcoming books as well as a constant companion.

She is animal crazy, with her own little petting zoo. There are 6 chickens, 7 runner ducks, 4 goats, 2 sheep, 3 geese, 2 rabbits, 2 turtles, 1 tortoise, 4 cats, 3 ferrets, and 7 dogs. Her little mini farm is run as sustainable as possible, with rain barrels, solar panels, and composting gardens.

FarmCall Fatality: A Mandy Bell DVM Mystery Series

3D_FarmCall_Fatality_Final (1)In this first book of the series, Mandy is summoned to the small Midwestern town of Crestview. A colleague and classmate from vet school has passed away and left her veterinary clinic and house to Mandy. While Mandy has always been a traveling vet in her motor home, she finds herself drawn to the Midwestern hospitality that the town shows her and her sidekick Border collie, Lyle. Unfortunately, on one of her farm calls, she discovers a body that turns out to have been murdered.

She is determined to solve the murder to clear the name of the quaint little town. She uses her own intuition and careful questioning of townspeople and clients to piece together the culprit at fault. Lyle is by her side through the whole book, including at the town’s Halloween Hoedown, where she gets into trouble of her own. Read on to experience life as a small town veterinarian with a knack for solving murders.

Now available in the Kindle Unlimited program!

Follow this author!

Get the latest news about the series on Facebook. Have a question for Dr. Abby? Post a note to the Facebook page. And watch for her Goodreads author page, coming soon!

Ask Your Favorite Author

goodreads

Want to ask your favorite authors a question? Many of us are taking questions NOW on Goodreads. We’ll answer questions about our books, our writing process, and just about anything related to the world of writing and publishing!

To see if your favorite author is taking questions, check their author profile page.  You can find my profile here.  You’re welcome to ask me anything about my books, my writing process, or even questions about the Ozarks regions where I’ve set my series.

Have a question about indie or trad publishing? Digital or print options? Ask, and I’ll do my best to answer!

Unlimited Books!

Quick updates:

Deadly Ties coverI’m thrilled to announce I’m close to signing a contract for the audio edition of Deadly Ties. More details coming soon!

My book Deadly Ties is now in Kindle Unlimited. That makes it FREE to Kindle Unlimited subscribers, and just $3.99 for anyone else.  You can get it here!

Haven’t heard of Kindle Unlimited? It’s the latest program by Amazon. You can “enjoy unlimited access to over 600,000 titles and thousands of audio books on any device” (their description). It’s a subscription service for $9.99 a month, and you get your first month free.  Just imagine all the books you could read for that one flat rate. Learn about the Kindle Unlimited program and start shopping!

And no, I’m not employed by Amazon–I’m just a serious book geek who loves to read!

Coming soon: I’ll start posting blurbs about other mystery, suspense, and thriller novels available through this program. And these same books are, of course, available for regular purchase; you’ll find the applicable links on the book’s Kindle Unlimited page.

To whet your appetite, here’s a look at what you’ll find if you search “dog mysteries” in the Kindle Unlimited program!

A Joyful Experience

One of my favorite places to be is in a library! Big or small, grand or humble, I see libraries as the heart of a community, a place where possibilities are endless and the world awaits. Yesterday, I had the pleasure of visiting one of the libraries in the Carroll and Madison Library System. After I was invited to participate in the Books in Bloom Literary Festival, the  St. Paul (AR) Public Library’s book club chose my book, Deadly Ties, for their July reading and invited me to visit. What an honor!

Who would expect that a tiny community tucked away in the Ozark Mountains, with a population of just 113 people, would have a vibrant library of its own? The Library Director, Bonnie Rodgers, has created a warm, welcoming place for readers of all ages. The interior space has been very cleverly used, and a covered porch invites patrons of all ages to come enjoy this jewel of a library. I had a delightful time browsing the shelves and discovering new books about the Ozark region. Lots of informative posters, handouts, and–a surprise–a lovely collection of photographs of barns and Ozark landscapes.

And the book club? A wonderful group! Great questions, engaging conversation, and a shared love of reading–who could ask for more? They were a marvelous audience and I’m already looking forward to my next visit.

thankyou
The St. Paul Public Library is located at 145 Fifth Street in St. Paul, AR 72760. You can reach them by phone (479-677-2907), email (library72760@gmail.com), or visit them on Facebook (http://tinyurl.com/kb7rj3j). To learn more about area, visit the Madison County Genealogical & Historical Society Website. 

A “Thrilling” Read

I’m departing from my usual format (and my usual genre) to participate in a Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tour.  I received a digital copy of the featured book in return for an honest review.

Hide and Seek by Amy Shojai

on Tour June 1 – July 31, 2014

Book Details:

Genre: Suspense/Thriller   Published by: Cool Gus Publishing

Publication Date: January 2014  Number of Pages: 254

ISBN: 978-1621251477  Purchase Links:

Synopsis:

A mysterious contagion will shatter countless lives unless a service dog and his trainer find a missing cat . . . in 24 hours.

A STALKER hides in plain sight.  A VICTIM faces her worst fear.  AND A DOG seeks the missing—and finds hope.

Eight years ago, animal behaviorist September Day escaped a sadistic captor who left her ashamed, terrified, and struggling with PTSD. She trusts no one—except her cat Macy and service dog Shadow.

Shadow also struggles with trust. A German Shepherd autism service dog who rescued his child partner only to lose his-boy forever, Shadow’s crippling fear of abandonment shakes his faith in humans.

They are each others’ only chance to survive the stalker’s vicious payback, but have only 24 hours to uncover the truth about Macy’s mysterious illness or pay the deadly consequences. When September learns to trust again, and a good-dog takes a chance on love, together they find hope in the midst of despair–and discover what family really means.

Review

I found the second book in the September Day series a compelling medical thriller, well written with careful attention to detail.  Previews for the book suggested this was a “dog viewpoint” thriller. The story is actually told from multiple points of view, with the most intriguing perspective offered by Shadow, the protagonist’s service dog. The inclusion of the dog’s perspective added a unique twist to this thriller.

The author is a certified animal behavior consultant, and her love of animals clearly shines through her writing. It’s also clear that she is an avid researcher, committed to delving deep into the details that comprise the medical elements of the plot.

I found the second book in the September Day series a compelling medical thriller, well written with careful attention to detail. Previews for the book suggested this was a “dog viewpoint” thriller. The story is actually told from multiple points of view, with the most intriguing perspective offered by Shadow, the protagonist’s service dog. The inclusion of the dog’s perspective added a unique twist to this thriller.

The author is a certified animal behavior consultant, and her love of animals clearly shines through her writing. It’s also clear that she is an avid researcher, committed to delving deep into the details that comprise the myriad elements of the plot. I particularly enjoyed and appreciated the details about animal training (particularly the vocabulary training exercises!). Lots of in-depth medical details will likely appeal to fans of medical thrillers.

With multiple characters and story lines introduced early in the book, readers might find it helpful to read the series in order. I’d recommend this book to fans of thriller and suspense fiction, and anyone who loves animals in high-suspense mysteries.

With multiple characters and story lines introduced early in the book, readers might find it helpful to read the series in order. (The first book is Lost and Found.) I’d recommend this book to fans of thriller and suspense fiction.

“Recommended for anyone who likes a ‘bite-your-nails, hold-your-breath’ kind of thriller.” — Dr. Lorie Huston, Cat Writers Association President

Read an excerpt: Prologue

Tommy Dietz grabbed the car door handle with one bloody fist, and braced his other hand against the roof, worried the carcasses in the back would buck out of the truck’s bed. Despite the precaution, his head thumped the muddy window. He glared at the driver who drove the truck like he rode a bronco, but BeeBo Benson’s full moon face sported the same toothless grin he’d worn for the past two weeks. Even BeeBo’s double chins smiled, including the rolls at the nape of his freckled neck.

The ferret thin guy in the middle snarled each time his Katy Railroad belt buckle chinked against the stick shift he straddled. Gray hair straggled from under his hat and brushed his shoulders. He had to slouch or he risked punching his head through the rust-eaten roof. Randy Felch’s snaky eyes gave Dietz the shivers even more than the freezing temperatures spitting through windows that refused to seal.

Three across the cramped seat would be a lark for high school buddies out on the town, but the men were decades beyond graduation. Dietz was in charge so Felch could either ride the hump or share the open truck bed with two carcasses, and the new Production Assistant.

Dietz stifled a laugh. Not so high-and-mighty now, was he? The man must really want the job. Vince Grady had turned green when he was told to climb into the back of the truck. Just wait till he got a load of the dump. Dietz remembered his first visit three years ago when he’d been out scouting locations. He wondered how the spit-and-polish Grady would react.

He’d hired locals for the rest of the crew. They needed the work, and didn’t blink at the SAG ultra-low pay scale, the shitty weather, or the stink. In this business, you took anything available when pickings were slim. Then the show got picked up and union fees grabbed him by the short hairs. Amateur talent screwing around and missing call times cost even more money, so he needed a Production Assistant—PA in the lingo—with more polish and bigger balls to keep the wheels greased. A go-to guy able to think on his feet, get the job done. No matter what.

If Grady wanted the PA job, he’d have to be willing to get his hands dirty, and stand up to BeeBo and his ilk. Riding in the open truck bed was illegal as hell, though here in North Texas even the cops turned a blind eye unless it was kids. This was an audition, and Grady knew it.

He had to give Grady props—he’d not blinked, but clenched his jaw and climbed right in when they collected him at his hotel. He’d been less enthusiastic after following the hunters most of the morning, tramping to hell and gone through rough country until his eyes threatened to freeze shut. Something drove the man, something more than a PA credit for piss-poor pay and worse conditions. Hell, something drove them all to work in this unforgiving business. Dietz didn’t care about anyone else’s demons as long as they let him feed his own.

Dietz craned to peer out the back to be sure the man hadn’t been tossed out the tailgate. Grady gave Dietz a thumbs-up. Probably wants to point a different finger, Dietz thought.

Grady wore the official Hog Hell blue work gloves and ski mask—dark blue background and DayGlo red star on the face—or he’d be picking his frostbit nose off the floor.

Prime time in the back woods. Dietz’s quick smile faded. Nothing about this trip was prime, not even the butchered Bambi in the back. Deer season ran November through early January, and it was always open season on hogs, so they were legal for any follow up film footage. The two deer hadn’t looked good even before BeeBo dropped them, but that’s what viewers wanted. Crocodile wrestlers, duck dynasties, and gold rush grabbers with crusty appeal and redder necks.

Nobody wanted actors anymore. Casting directors looked for “real people.” So he’d caught a clue, jumped off the thespian hamster wheel, moved to New York and reinvented himself as Tommy Dietz, Producer. He’d found his calling with a development company relatively quickly.

A movie star face didn’t hurt. Everyone these days had a little nip-and-tuck; it was part of the biz. He’d been selling his version of reality for years anyway, and always came out on top. He hit it out of the park on his third project. Hog Hell kicked off the next step with a Texas-size leap. He’d show them all, those who’d laughed at his dreams, calling him a loser. And he’d make them sorry.

The shabby pickup lurched down and back up again, and its engine growled and complained. Dietz was surprised the seat hadn’t fallen through the floor. The overgrown road the hunters called a pig path consisted of frozen ruts formed from previous tire treads. They damn well better not get stuck out here.

“Don’t worry, she’ll make it.” BeeBo talked around the stub of his unlit cigar. “This ol’ warhorse made the trip so often, she could drive herself. Ain’t that right, Felch?” BeeBo reached to downshift and Felch winced as the other man’s ham-size fist grabbed and jerked the stick between his knees.

Dietz sighed. Out the window, skeletal trees clawed the pregnant sky. Weird flocks of blackbirds moved in undulating clouds, exploding from one naked tree after another to clothe the next with feathered leaves. Spooky.

Thank God the icy weather stayed dry. Heartland, Texas had dug out of a record-breaking snowfall, and the locals hadn’t quite recovered. It put a kink in Hog Hell filming and they’d barely met the deadlines. Delay turned his balance book bloody with red ink.

Back home in Chicago they’d been hit with the same blizzard and so had NYC. But big cities knew how to manage winter weather. Apparently North Texas rolled up the sidewalks with even the hint of flurries. He wondered if BeeBo and Felch knew what to do in the snow, and didn’t want to find out. The thought of hunkering down overnight in the truck with these men turned his stomach.

Dietz adjusted his own ski mask. He’d folded it up off his face so the blue cap hugged his head while the red star painted a bull’s-eye on his forehead. He wore the official coat, too; dark blue and a bright hunter-safe star on the front and back, with the Hog Hell logo. The Gore-Tex fabric crackled with newness, and his blistered feet whimpered inside wet, dirt-caked boots. No way would he wear his new $300 Cabela’s, purchased for photo ops at the upcoming watch party. He had a gun, too. In Texas nobody cared if you carried. They expected it.

BeeBo’s preferred weapon, an ancient short barreled shotgun loaded with deer slugs, contrasted sharply with Felch’s double gun he’d had custom made last season. Felch shot 44 Magnums, and the cut down double barrel rifle boasted enough firepower to take out an elephant, or a charging feral boar hog.

They sleeved the guns in canvas cases stowed in the back of the truck, but the hunters cared far less about their own attire.

BeeBo and Felch would wear official Hog Hell gear at the watch party in five weeks, but not before. Dietz didn’t want them stinking up the outfits. Today they wore wash-faded coveralls, heavy work coats, earflap hats, clunky boots with thorn-tangled laces, and frayed gloves with fingertips cut out. A bit of peeling DayGlo tape formed an “X” on the back and front of each coat after Dietz insisted on the nod to safety, even though he knew the two hunters paid little mind to official start and end dates during hunting season.

That was the point of the original reality program Cutting Corners that focused on people forced to skirt the rules to make ends meet. The unlikely stars of a single episode, though, turned Felch and BeeBo into overnight sensations and birthed the new show after Cutting Corners tanked. The two hunters were experts at skirting rules. Dietz was no slouch, either.

In the truck bed, Grady swayed back and forth. He’d pushed up the ski mask enough to expose his mouth. White breath puffed out in a jerky tempo, and Dietz wondered if the man would pass out. If Grady took a header off the truck bed, the liability would kill the show. “Find a spot to stop, BeeBo. I think our new team member has had enough.”

Felch grunted. “No place to stop till we get there. Unless you want us to get stuck.” He grinned, but the expression never reached his eyes. “You don’t want us lugging that shit back to your hotel. The stink ain’t something you want close by.”

BeeBo guffawed. “Got that right. With all the hunters unloading, it’s what y’all might call a ‘renewable resource.’” He twisted the wheel and the truck bucked, jittering the decades old pine-shaped deodorizer suspended from the rear view mirror. “The critters take care of the stink pretty quick, though.” His hairless wide-eyed face was a ringer for the Gerber baby. “It’s around that next bend. You might even catch a whiff of Jiff by now.”

Dietz wrinkled his nose. The pungent aroma wasn’t assuaged by the air freshener that had probably come with the vehicle. He shielded his head from another thump, and squinted ahead through the crusty windshield. Wiper blades had torn loose on the passenger’s side and smeared the detritus rather than clearing the view. It didn’t bother BeeBo.

The trio remained silent during the final bump-and-grind through the trees. They pulled halfway into the clearing, and Dietz waited impatiently until BeeBo cranked the steering wheel, turned, and backed beneath a massive tree with pendulous clusters decorating the branches. Grady ducked, or he would have been scraped off by low limbs.

Several similar trees bordered the clearing, and another smaller truck squatted at the far end of the area. An elderly man stood in the truck bed and flailed tree branches with a long pole, while the woman dodged and weaved beneath to gather the resulting shower in a bucket.

“What’s that?” Grady wasted no time jumping off the truck bed. He gagged when the wind shifted.

“Nuts.” Felch unfolded himself from the cramped middle seat. “Pecan trees. They’re gleaning the nuts.”

Dietz’s stomach clenched. He pulled the ski mask over his lips and breathed through his mouth, imagining he could taste the odor that closed his throat. Neither Felch nor BeeBo seemed to notice the stench.

Grady wiped his watery eyes. The breeze paused and he gulped a less contaminated breath. “Pecans? To eat?”

The truck squeaked, rocked and grew two inches when BeeBo stepped out. “Back in town they’ll pay $8 to $10 per pound, once shelled. I got my daddy’s old commercial sheller—held together with baling twine and spit, but works okay. I only charge fifty-cents a pound to shell.” He shrugged. “Every little bit helps. It’s too early for most of the big-name commercial farms, but for the gleaners, if ya wait too long the squirrels get ‘em off the trees, or the pigs root ‘em off the ground. Pigs eat lots of the same stuff the deer and turkeys eat, acorns and suchlike. But they get ground-nesting bird eggs, too. Pigs’ll root up and eat damn near anything.” He jerked his chins at Felch. “Gimme a hand.” He lumbered toward the back of the truck and waited by the taillights.

Felch vaulted in the bed of the vehicle, and adjusted his gloves. He pointed. “Smorgasbord, y’all. Hey Slick, you might want to get video of this. Bet your big-city cronies never seen the like.” His yellow teeth gleamed. He bent low, and grunted as he pushed and tugged the black plastic bag to the tailgate, hopped down and joined BeeBo. Together they slung the truck’s cargo into the pit.

Yipping and growls erupted from below. Dietz stayed back, he’d seen it before. This stuff he wouldn’t put on the air. This’d be too much even for the hardcore viewers without the added value of aroma.

Grady covered his mouth and nose in the crook of his elbow. He edged closer to the deep trough, a natural ditch-like runoff that sat dry three-quarters of the year. Piles of gnawed and scattered bones mixed with carcasses in various stages of decomposition. A family of coyotes tried to claim BeeBo’s tossed deer remains, but was bluffed away by a feral boar.

Grady ripped off his ski mask, puked, wiped his mouth, and grabbed his camera with a shaking hand. He spit on the frozen ground and jutted his chin at Dietz. “So?”

Dietz smiled. “You got the gig.”

***

The damn ski mask dragged against his hair so much, the normally clear adhesive had turned chalky. Victor had removed the wig after dissolving the glue with a citrus-scented spray, a much more pleasant olfactory experience than the afternoon’s visit to the dump. A shower rinsed away any lingering miasma, but he gladly put up with the stink, the rednecks, and the sneers. The payoff would be worth it.

Until then, he couldn’t afford for anyone in Heartland to recognize him. His tool kit of fake teeth, makeup and assorted hairpieces kept him under the radar. For the price, nearly fifty bucks for a four-ounce bottle of adhesive, it damn well better hold the new wig in place for the promised six weeks. He rubbed his hands over his pale, bald head and grinned. Even without the wig, she’d be hard pressed to recognize him.

Muscles had replaced the beer gut, Lasik surgery fixed his eyes, a chin implant and caps brightened his smile. He’d done it all, one step at a time, over the eight years it took to track her down. He’d even changed his name and transformed himself into a man she couldn’t refuse.

He’d done it for her. Everything for her.

He dialed his phone. “I want to order flowers. Forget-Me-Nots, in a white box with a yellow ribbon. Got that? And deliver them December eighteenth. It’s our anniversary.” He listened. “Use red ink. The message is ‘payback.’ Got that? No signature, she’ll know it’s me.” He picked up a news clipping that listed the address, and admired the picture. She was lovely as ever. “Two-oh-five Rabbit Run Road, Heartland, Texas. Deliver to September Day. The name is just like the month.” He chuckled softly. “Yes, it will be a lovely holiday surprise.” He could hardly wait.

Author Bio:

Amy Shojai is a certified animal behavior consultant, and the award winning author of 26 bestselling pet books that cover furry babies to old fogies, first aid to natural healing, and behavior/training to Chicken Soupicity. She is the Puppies Expert at puppies.About.com, the cat behavior expert at cats.About.com, and has been featured as an expert in hundreds of print venues including The New York Times, Reader’s Digest, and Family Circle, as well as national radio and television networks such as CNN, Animal Planet’s DOGS 101 and CATS 101. Amy brings her unique pet-centric viewpoint to public appearances. She is also the author of the critically acclaimed dog viewpoint thriller LOST AND FOUND.

Catch Up With the Author:

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Partners In Crime.   I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 <http://www.access.gpo.gov/nara/cfr/waisidx_03/16cfr255_03.html> : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

A Twist of the Taleidoscope

 

Tree of Knowledge

Tree of Knowledge © Storm Thurgerson

I’m a guest today of fellow mystery writer Marja McGraw on her new website, writing about a twist on an old mantra. Here’s the lead-in:

The Golden Rule of “write what you know” is embedded in my DNA. That’s my only explanation for how I came to write “Three Little Bears Visit New York City” before I hit kindergarten. It seemed perfectly reasonable to me; after all, if people go to the woods on vacation, why wouldn’t a bear go to town?

And New York City was a place I knew something about. My maternal grandfather had been a photographer in New York, and my father talked about how different “the big city” was from upstate New York where he’d been born.  I used to watch my dad doing the New York Times crossword puzzle (in ink!).  So the name, the place, was embedded in my consciousness early on.

(Does Marja’s name seems familiar? It should! I’ve featured her work here on my site recently. Read the first here and more recently, here.) I hope you’ll stop by http://marjamcgraw.blogspot.com/ and read the rest. I’ll be back here in a few days with a new post.

p.s. For the curious: “taleidoscope” is not a typo! Unlike a kaleidoscope (which has brightly colored images), a taleidoscope uses mirrors and a lens to reflect the world around us.