Here’s a good reminder for us all:
(With thanks to Spirit Dog Training)
Whatever holidays you celebrate, wishing you and your beloved animals peace!
Here’s a good reminder for us all:
(With thanks to Spirit Dog Training)
Whatever holidays you celebrate, wishing you and your beloved animals peace!
We’re hot on the trail of great reads this week, and today is launch day for a new psychological thriller from AJ Waines. I’m a big fan of her work, and this latest in the Samantha Willerby Mystery Series promises to be just as terrific as her other books.
AJ’s fiction is a logical extension of her 15-year career as a psychotherapist. Her professional expertise brings a rich authenticity to her writing, and the result is mesmerizing. Today, AJ gives us a glimpse into her world. Read on!
Tell us about your latest book:
Perfect Bones is a murder mystery and psychological thriller, all in one! It’s about psychologist and ‘amateur sleuth’, Samantha, who is given seven days by the police to coax information about a killer from the sole witness – a young student who saw the attack, but who’s been traumatised by it all and can’t say a word. When he finally makes a sketch, it’s not what anyone expects – but by then another murder has been committed…
What’s different about your novels?
I’ve published eight to date and as a former psychotherapist, I like to combine a murder mystery on the surface with darker, psychological tension underneath. My books contain very little violence, blood and gore, but plenty about the internal workings of the mind: revenge, secrets, lies, hidden motives. Readers also say there’s a poignant feel of humanity in my stories (my killers are never ‘monsters’) and there’s always a big twist at the end!
What’s your biggest claim to fame?
The title of one of my books got mixed up with a more famous one that was written a few years later: ‘Girl on a Train’ – sound familiar? That was my title (the one by Paula Hawkins is ‘The Girl on the Train’). The mix-up meant tons of readers bought my book by accident and while a few felt they’d made a terrible mistake (!) – others loved my version, too! As a result, I went to Number 1 in the full Amazon chart in UK several times, and also Australia.
What does “home” look like for you?
Home for me is five minutes from the water Hamble, Hampshire (UK) with the river on one side and part of the English Channel on the other. I love the house, because it’s so quiet.
Home includes a beautiful garden where we’ve just installed an arbour for reading and a fountain for lazy Sunday afternoons just sitting, watching the birds.
What are you reading now?
At the moment, it’s probably Belinda Bauer. Her writing is quirky, poignant and macabre with a brilliant injection of humour. How can anyone combine those elements in crime fiction and make it work? Belinda cracks it every time. I’ve just started reading Snap!, but Rubbernecker is my favourite so far. There are many threads to this story that interweave in a complex, refreshing and fascinating way, taking psychological thrillers to a new level. The author also manages to address issues such as communication, isolation, the assumptions we make about coma victims and empathy in a chilling page-turner. An absolute must-read!
***
About the author:
AJ Waines is a #1 bestselling author, topping the entire UK and Australian Kindle Charts in two consecutive years, with Girl on a Train. Following fifteen years as a psychotherapist, the author has sold nearly half-a-million copies of her books, with publishing deals in UK, France, Germany, Norway, Hungary and Canada.
Her fourth psychological thriller, No Longer Safe, sold over 30,000 copies in the first month in thirteen countries. AJ Waines has been featured in The Wall Street Journal and The Times.
Note: I received a complimentary advance copy of the book. I like it so much that I immediately pre-ordered a copy. You can order your own copy here. I don’t know how long the super-low price will last, so jump in now to get this terrific book!
I hope you’ve enjoyed this Q&A with AJ Waines. You can keep up with the latest news about this terrific writer via Facebook, Twitter, or her own website.
At the outset, Miranda Davis has nothing much going for her. The tourists are long gone by October in the quaint Carolina town of Black Mountain, her realty business is at a standstill, and her weekend stint managing the local tavern offers little to pull her out of the doldrums. When prominent church lady Cloris Raintree offers a stipend to look into the whereabouts of a missing girl hiker on the Q.T, Miranda, along with her partner Harry (an unemployed features writer) agree.
But then it all backfires. A burly figure shambles down a mountain slope with a semi-conscious girl draped over his shoulder. Miranda’s attempts to uncover Cloris Raintree’s true motives become near impossible as she puts up one smokescreen after another, including a slip of the tongue regarding an incident in Havana. The local police keep stonewalling and Harry is of little help.
Tarot cards left on Cloris’ doorstep and arcane prompts on her e-mail only exacerbate the situation. Growing more desperate over the captive girl’s fate, Miranda comes across a link to a cold case of arson and murder. With the advent of the dark of the moon, she is summoned to “Tower Time” as this twisty tale continues to run its course.
Book Details:
Genre: Mystery, Amateur Detective
Published by: Milford House
Publication Date: August 2018
Number of Pages: 264
ISBN: 1620061848
Purchase Links: Amazon | Goodreads
The wind picked up yet again, joined by spatters of cold rain and the rustle of leaves from the encircling shrub.
All at once, the lantern flicked off, a scream cut through the wind and spatters. The cries became muffled, replaced by the grunts of a hulking figure clambering up the knoll, coming directly toward him with something writhing and flailing over its back.
For one interminable moment, he caught sight of her eyes, frozen, terrified, beseeching him.
Reflexively, despite every decent intention deep in his bones, Harry dropped the Maglite, turned and ran down the slope, tripping and stumbling, falling to his knees, righting himself, smacking into a brush that scraped his cheek. Rushing headlong now, smacking into more brush and banging his elbow, he kept it up, twisted his ankle but hobbled forward fast as he could until he reached his station wagon. Squirming behind the wheel, he fumbled for his keys, dropped them on the mat, groped around, snatched them up, grinded the ignition, set both front and back wipers going and shot forward hitting the trunk of a tree. He backed up into the hedgerow, turned sharply, not daring to flip on the headlights, scraped another tree and slid onto the narrow lane.
He switched on the low beams so he could see where he was going in the drizzle and fog and began making his way down. Dull headlight beams flashed behind his rear window and faded.
With his mind racing and the wipers thwacking away as the rain lashed across the windshield, he careened down the zig-zagging lane and thought of the car that was wedged under the branches parked on a downward angle and the hulking figure carrying his prey over his shoulder shambling toward it. And her eyes, those beseeching eyes.
He might have a few seconds lead before the girl was tossed in the trunk . . . or deposited in the cottage while the driver lying in wait exchanged signals and went after him. So many what-ifs? while some cowardly part of him only wanted a place to hide.
Then the dull, low beams flicked on again, glinting on his rearview mirror.
Straining to see through the wipers and beads of rain, he turned off down Sunset, then onto a flat, darkened stretch, then gunned it through an amber light over the tracks across brightly lit Route 70.
He drove away from the tracks where the girl doubtless had been tailed, came upon a T and swerved left onto a sign that said Old Route 70. In no time, he spotted a Grove Stone Quarry, but the gates were closed and he could swear the low beams tailing him flicked on again. If only he could stop veering all over the place, if he could get behind those humongous mounds of sand and stone.
Ignoring the traffic light, he cut to his right and swerved up a road bordered by a high wire fence demarcating a prison facility, sped past until he was hemmed in by walls of white pine. The walls of pine were intersected by for-sale arrows and a bright red banner. He killed his headlights altogether, swerved again into a cluster of model homes that formed a cul-de-sac, and coasted to a stop as the car stalled.
He got out and followed an exposed drain pipe that angled down until it cut off at a rain-slick paved drive onto a neighborhood of two-story houses, porch lights and street lamps.
His ankle gave way again as he became fixated on circling back to that massive, enclosed hiding place where he could try to get his bearings.
The cold rain beat down harder. Though the Blue Ridge range hovered in the near distance, it was shrouded in mist and offered no comfort.
***
Excerpt from Moon Games by Shelly Frome. Copyright © 2018 by Shelly Frome. Reproduced with permission from Shelly Frome. All rights reserved.
Shelly Frome is a member of Mystery Writers of America, a professor of dramatic arts emeritus at the University of Connecticut, a former professional actor, a writer of crime novels and books on theater and film. He is also a features writer for Gannett Media. His fiction includes Sun Dance for Andy Horn, Lilac Moon, Twilight of the Drifter, Tinseltown Riff, and Murder Run. Among his works of non-fiction are The Actors Studio and texts on the art and craft of screenwriting and writing for the stage. Moon Games is his latest foray into the world of crime and the amateur sleuth. He lives in Black Mountain, North Carolina.
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This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Shelly Frome. There will be 1 winner of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card. The giveaway begins on November 6, 2018 and runs through November 14, 2018. Void where prohibited.