Guest Post: Dogs in my Life

Nov 20 – Dec 15, 2023 Virtual Book Tour: The Legacy by C.L. Tolbert

Guest Post: Dogs In My Life & Fiction

I’ve had the honor of knowing several remarkable dogs throughout my life. They’ve been my best friends, my companions, my guides, and my guardians. Two in particular stand out. Their names were Maddie and Lulu. On the day I met them, Maddie crawled up the puppy play pen, a tiny little determined thing, doing all she could to get to me. Lulu was the largest of the litter, a little aloof. She knew she was beautiful. Maddie chose me, and stayed by my side for fourteen years. She would frown at me if she was disappointed, especially if I forgot to pick up her favorite dog food, but she was a constant, loving presence. I took Maddie and Lulu home with me together that fateful day. They were an amazing duo.

If I were a sculptor, I’d have honored Maddie and Lulu with garden statuary. But I’m a writer. So of course I’ve featured a fictional Maddie and Lulu in my Thornton Mystery Series. The protagonist in the series, Emma Thornton, is a law professor who lives with middle school-aged twin boys in New Orleans in the early 1990’s. In book two, The Redemption, Emma’s investigation of a murder exposes her family to danger, and she decides to find a dog at a local shelter for protection. At the shelter she’s excited to find twin German Shorthaired Pointers, Maddie and Lulu, for her twin boys.

In real life, and in the series, Maddie and Lulu were athletic, regal, and incredibly intelligent. Maddie, always the tattletale, would often approach me in alarm, pointing with her chin toward her sister, especially if Lulu was snuggled up on a couch! And Lulu loved fingernail polish, dangling a raised paw for extended periods of time, for the application of a layer of shiny purple nail lacquer. She loved attention and girly things, while Maddie, a big girl, was often confused for a boy. Maddie never sat down in a lady-like manner as her sister would. She’d flop down, crashing her joints against the floor, and making a loud “humph!” sound. But they were both beautiful.

Even though they had very different personalities, they were, by nature, hunters, and were often in perfect sync. They could sense in an instant whether an upstairs window was open, and would dash up the stairs, bolt out of the window to the roof, and flop their long ears over the eave to bark at the neighbor’s pig. (Yes, even though we were in the city, there was a pot-bellied pig next door!) They acted together in the field, too. Lulu would range out to find the birds, and Maddie would stay close, pointing to the poor scared creature she’d cornered, her tail extended, body quivering in excitement. (No little birds were injured during the training.) Surprisingly, Lulu could ignore gun shot, but Maddie wanted no part of it. Lulu enjoyed hunting all throughout her life, but Maddie stayed close to me, always.

I put Maddie and Lulu’s real-life training to good use when, in The Redemption, book two in the series, Emma’s apartment was broken into by a potential murderer. Maddie and Lulu confronted the intruder, acting in concert to push him down a metal winding staircase. Protection of their home was always paramount. Maddie and Lulu figure prominently in Sanctuary and The Legacy, the remaining books in the Thornton Mystery Series. They accompany Emma on walks and runs, and even some late night investigations in the French Quarter! Filled with infinite love and patience for their human family, they are as essential to Emma and her family as their original counterparts were to mine.

I miss my Maddie and her sister Lulu every day. It was fun to reminisce and to remember why they will always be so special to me. And it was fun to include them in my Thornton Mystery Series. As I write this, Yoda, our sixteen-year-old rescue Schnauzer, is giving me the side-eye as if to tell me it’s time for a cuddle. Yoda is the current commander of the house. He may be nearly blind, and completely deaf, but he still has a warrior’s heart! And he still likes to cuddle like a puppy. I might have to find a place for him in my next book.

C.L. Tolbert and Yoda (photo credit: © C.L. Tolbert)

Thank you for the opportunity to write about the canine loves of my life.

Synopsis:

The Legacy by C. L. Tolbert

A quiet tree-lined street in New Orleans erupts in panic when the body of Sally Wilcox is discovered by her landlord. Sally had been stabbed, and she was clutching a kitchen knife in her hand at the time of her death. Later, police discover evidence at the scene which implicates Sally’s son, Jeremy, in her murder. He was arrested the next day. Law school professor Emma Thornton is convinced by a friend to take Jeremy’s case. She begins her investigation into Jeremy and his family, and the facts surrounding the night of the murder. Layer after layer of family secrets slowly reveal themselves, as the numbers of murders and kidnappings multiply.

Holding the key to the killer’s trail and the case’s final resolution, Emma’s success depends on whether she can maintain control over her own reckless impulses.

Praise for The Legacy:

“Fearless, relentless, compassionate, and driven by an unyielding sense of justice, law professor Emma Thornton battles mounting evidence in a race to save a mentally ill young man from a presumption of guilt in the gruesome murders of his parents.” ~ Roger Johns, a Georgia Author of the Year and author of the Wallace Hartman Mysteries

“Fearless Law Professor Emma Thompson returns to defend a young man with schizophrenia accused of murdering his mother. Faced with a second murder, an unscrupulous prosecutor, a family with mental health issues, a pusher of pain meds, and a Gitanes-smoking stalker, Emma finds her marriage in jeopardy and her life on the line. Author C. L. Tolbert proves the Big Easy has never been easy, especially for a fighter like Emma whom I would follow anywhere.” ~ Valerie J. Brooks, award-winning author of the Angeline Porter Trilogy

“Unwavering in her conviction, law professor Emma Thornton must navigate a labyrinth of lies and deception to arrive at the truth and vindicate a disturbed young man wrongly accused of murder. Not only a suspenseful story, The Legacy represents the triumph of the human spirit to persevere in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.” ~ Lawrence Kelter, International bestselling author of the Stephanie Chalice Mystery Series

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Thriller Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: November 2023 Number of Pages: 260 ISBN: 9781685124267 Series: A Thornton Mystery, #4 Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

March 19, 1997
Sally Wilcox wiped her hands on the dish cloth and folded it neatly before placing it on the kitchen counter. It had been a long day at the shop. Two funerals down and they had already started preparing for a weekend wedding. She loved working with flowers, but the job triggered her sciatica. She could hardly stand by the end of the day. She was glad to be home. She hobbled to the TV room, and sat down on the couch, the pain in her body immediately eased by the down-filled cushions. She bumped into the table next to the couch and knocked over her favorite photograph of her kids, Jeremy and Becky. She placed the frame back on the table and stared at it for several seconds. She missed them so much. The cat curled into a circle on her lap as she propped her legs up on a fluffy ottoman. Comforted by her surroundings, she dozed off almost immediately. Three hours later she was awakened by the sound of static from her television. Channel Six had signed off for the night and refrains from the national anthem had just begun. An American flag fluttered across the television screen. It was just past midnight. She moved the cat from her lap, turned off the television and all the downstairs lights, and began making her way up the stairs, toward her bedroom. She stopped when she heard something that sounded like a restrained step. The cat’s ears twitched in the direction of the noise. Could someone, a stealthy burglar or worse, be creeping around the house? She almost laughed out loud, amused by her own foolishness. She was such a worrier. Of course, it had to be Charlie the parrot ruffling his feathers. She couldn’t remember if she draped the cloth over his seven-foot-tall cage. Still, she waited, and listened, not moving for several seconds. Then she froze as she heard a thump. She glanced out of a nearby window and could see wind blowing in the trees. Thinking that a branch must have bumped against the roof, she stood on the stairs for a few more seconds. Just to be sure. Hearing nothing, and convinced everything was okay, she continued up the stairs. Six a.m. came early. In her bedroom, she changed into her favorite nightgown, the silk one that felt like butter on her skin, cleaned her face, and flossed and brushed her teeth. No matter how exhausted she was, she always completed her nightly routine. Her mother had insisted on it when she was young and still at home, pointing to an aunt’s ravaged face as an example of what could happen if she didn’t comply. The practice had become her only indulgence. The cat had already curled up on top of the coverlet when Sally pulled back the sheets. Then she heard another sound. A muffled bump. She grabbed a robe and stepped into the upstairs hallway. The staircase and the light switch were only a few feet from her bedroom door. She found the switch and flipped the toggle up, but nothing happened. “What the…,” she whispered. The cat rubbed up against Sally’s legs, and she jumped. Then she heard another sound, and glanced out of the window at the end of the hall. The trees were still blowing fiercely. She tip-toed down the first two steps and peered over the banister, unable to see anything in the dark. She continued down the staircase, stopping every few feet to listen. When she was at the second step from the bottom she stopped. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Her voice quavered. “Youuu Whooo!” Charlie was awake now. She still couldn’t see anything but didn’t hear any unexpected sounds in the house. She shook her head, embarrassed by her over-reaction. The sounds had to be from Charlie, or maybe it was the wind in the trees. But just to be safe, she fled to the kitchen, feeling her way in the dark, and grabbed a knife from the block on the counter. Then she stopped, making certain all was well, and turned to retrace her steps back to her bedroom. Seconds later she felt a sharp punch in her stomach. She swung the knife she clutched in her hand, wildly stabbing into space until she felt a resistance. She’d nicked something. She turned, and raised her hand, stabbing blindly, then felt another punch in her stomach, and one in her chest. Then another and another. A warm liquid flowed down her legs. Her hand flew to a spot on her chest where she felt piercing pain and she realized that blood was pouring from her body. Something had happened. Someone was in front of her. She could sense their presence. Hear their breathing. She’d been stabbed. Her robe was wet, and blood was beginning to drip onto the floor. She felt dizzy. Her legs were on fire, as if a thousand needles had been jabbed into her shins. Then her legs started to shake. She collapsed, falling to the ground on her knees. Then a swift rush of air. She wasn’t certain what it was until it was too late. She saw the knife this time. And a dark figure. Charlie squawked, “Youu whooo!” The last thing she felt was a crushing pain in her chest. Her heart, already broken, had stopped. *** Excerpt from THE LEGACY by C.L. Tolbert. Copyright 2023 by C.L. Tolbert. Reproduced with permission from C.L. Tolbert. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

C.L. Tolbert

Licensed in Georgia, Louisiana, and Mississippi, Cynthia Tolbert retired after thirty-five years of practicing law and began writing full time. After winning the Georgia State Bar Fiction Writing Contest, she developed the winning short story into the first novel in the Thornton Mystery Series, Out From Silence, published in 2019. Two additional mysteries in the series have also been published, The Redemption in 2021 and Sanctuary in 2022. The fourth book in the series, The Legacy was published in November 2023. Cynthia taught at Loyola Law School for several years where she directed a homeless clinic, and worked with third-year law students in actual cases. All of these experiences have informed her fiction. She is an avid reader, a mother of two, and a grandmother to three beautiful girls. She lives in Austin, TX with her husband and Schnauzer, Yoda.

Catch Up With C.L. Tolbert:

www.CLTolbert.com         

Goodreads

Instagram – @cltolbertwrites

Twitter/X – @cltolbertwrites

Facebook – @cltolbertwriter

Giveaway & Tour Participants:

This giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for C.L. Tolbert. See entry terms and conditions here. Void where prohibited.

Visit these other great hosts for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!

11/20 Review @ elaine_sapp65
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11/21 Showcase @ Silvers Reviews
11/23 Guest post @ The Book Divas Reads
11/24 Showcase @ Guatemala Paula Loves to Read
11/25 Review @ tea. and. titles
11/27 Review @ Novels Alive
11/28 Review @ Novel Nerd Blog
11/29 Interview @ darciahelle
11/30 Review @ Country Mamas With Kids
12/01 Review @ Book Vue
12/04 Showcase @ Mystery, Thrillers, and Suspense
12/05 Showcase @ Archaeolibrarian – I Dig Good Books!
12/06 Guest post @ Dogs, Mysteries, & More
12/07 Review @ Nesies Place
12/09 Review @ Paws. Read. Repeat
12/12 Book Talk with Fran Lewis Radio Interview
12/14 Showcase @ Celticladys Reviews
12/15 Review @ fuonlyknew
12/15 Showcase @ Teatime and Books

 

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Guest Post: Time, Mystery and Murder

RSVP to Murder by Carol Pouliot Banner

November 6 – December 1, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

RSVP to Murder by Carol Pouliot

Guest Post: The Challenges of Time Travel

Creating a series with protagonists who are normal, everyday people but who discover the ability to time travel has been challenging but lots of fun. How do they travel from one time to another? What are the rules? What happens if they break the rules? Do they confide in their friends? How do they pack for a few days in another time?

In the Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries, Depression-era cop Steven Blackwell and 21st-journalist Olivia Watson share the same house eighty years apart. He lives there in 1934, she in 2014. They know nothing about the other person until one night when time folds over and they see each other across a doorway.

Here was my first challenge: how to make this experience believable to the reader? I relied on Einstein and borrowed his theory that there is no past, present, or future; all time happens simultaneously; and time can fold over and reveal another time. Okay. That takes care of that. I mean, Einstein is a pretty reliable source, right?

Next, I felt it was important to ground the time travel in reality. The more normal everything else in Steven’s and Olivia’s lives is, the more normal the time travel will feel. An ordinary doorway in their house serves as the portal. When they first see each other, Steven and Olivia sit on the floor of “their side” to talk. Later, they discover the doorway allows them to pass into each other’s time as long as they are touching—they hold hands to guide each other into the different era.

Steven is a cop and spends his days in search of evidence. When he sees Olivia and she explains Einstein’s theories, he’s skeptical. He tells her he wants concrete proof, hard evidence to prove that she really lives in 2014. He thinks his fellow police officers and friends are playing a joke on him. I won’t spoil that scene when Steven and Olivia prove to each other that they are who they say they are. It’s one of my favorites and I want you to enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. (It’s in the first book Doorway to Murder.)

As the series progresses, Steven and Olivia take more and more risks, eventually leaving the house in the other person’s time and mixing with the community. Since Steven is always investigating a murder and needs to stay in 1934, and Olivia gave up working as a reporter and now owns her own business, her time is more flexible, so she’s the one that does most of the time traveling. This brought a whole new challenge.

Think about the last time you packed your overnight bag for a weekend getaway or your suitcase for a vacation. You wondered: What do I bring? What will I need? Are we going to do a lot of walking or hiking? Go swimming? Attend the theater and explore fancy restaurants? Take the kids, t-shirts, and jeans? What will the weather be like? Now, imagine that you’re packing to travel back in time to spend a few days. What do you take? What do you leave behind? How critical is it if you make a mistake?

Steven’s beloved mother recently passed away, and he hasn’t been able to face cleaning out her closets. Luckily, she and Olivia take the same size, and Steven offers the fantastic wardrobe to Olivia, who revels in the designer pieces and chic 1920s and early 1930s outfits. Steven cautions her to wear the same pieces over and over again because times are hard and most people don’t have as many clothes as his mother did.

Olivia has to remember to leave all of her 21st-century electronics behind—days without her phone are a challenge. She must get used to working on her writing projects using pencils, pens, and paper notebooks. She can’t take any pictures (no phone) to show her two best friends when she goes home. She googles hair and make-up trends to be sure she’ll blend in. And of course, she can’t bring any money. She and Steven spend considerable time working that out!

In RSVP to Murder, the latest release, Steven and Olivia undertake their most daring time-travel experiment so far. They travel one-hundred miles from home to an Adirondack Great Camp for a Christmas party. Their big question is: Will Olivia go to sleep in 1934 and still be there when she wakes up in the morning? Little do they know that their host will be murdered and the bigger question is: Can Steven and Olivia unmask the killer before he kills again?

Synopsis:

A new twist on the 1930s English country house mystery.

Embarking on their most daring time-travel experiment to date, Depression-era cop Steven Blackwell and his 21st-century partner-in-crime Olivia Watson travel to the Adirondack Mountains for a Christmas party at one of the legendary Great Camps. Their host, a wealthy New York publisher, has planned a weekend filled with holiday activities, but, as the last guest arrives, temperatures plummet and a blizzard hits. Before long, the area is buried in snow, the roads are impassable, and the publisher is poisoned. Unwilling to wait until the local police can arrive, the victim’s widow convinces Steven to launch an unofficial investigation. Soon, a family member goes missing and Steven and Olivia discover a second victim. Trapped with a killer, Steven and Olivia race against the clock before the murderer strikes again.

RSVP to Murder by Carol Pouliot

Praise for RSVP to Murder:

“A classic holiday movie and Agatha Christie novel mashup” ~ Shawn Reilly Simmons, author of the Red Carpet Catering Mystery Series

RSVP to Murder is Agatha Christie with a time-travel twist. Pouliot supplies us with just what we crave in a great locked-room mystery: a blizzard, closed roads, dead phone lines, roaring fires, and lots of suspects and motives—all set in a luxurious Adirondack Great Camp in 1934. Snap on your seatbelt and travel with Steven and Olivia, you’ll be happy you did!” ~ Tina deBellegarde, Author of The Batavia-on-Hudson Mystery Series.

“A Great Camp in the Adirondacks serves up a sumptuous setting of plump armchairs, roaring fireplaces, and the heady scent of Christmas pines—all begging to be settled into with this thumping good vintage whodunit set in the 1930s. Cleverly plotted with plot-twists aplenty and some time-travel to boot, this immersive mystery is a gem.” ~ Laurie Loewenstein, Author of the Dust Bowl Mystery Series

“Readers are invited to the glamour of the Thirties, where the rich are putting on the Ritz, until there’s a murder to solve. Join time-travelers Blackwell and Watson in a race to the Racines’ Adirondack Great Camp to catch a killer. A clever…and a thoroughly unique must for fans of the paranormal and historical. RSVP today!” ~ Gabriel Valjan, Author of the Shane Cleary Mysteries series

“The Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries’ latest installment, RSVP to Murder, combines the thrilling and “timeless” aspects of Jack Finney’s classic TIME AND AGAIN mixed with the wit and charm of a modern, puzzling mystery. Highly recommended for all lovers of time travel, history, romance and wily sleuths.” ~ L.A. Chandlar, Best-selling author of the Art Deco Mystery Series

Book Details:

Genre: Traditional mystery Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: September 2023 Number of Pages: 305 ISBN: 9781685123857 Series: The Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries, #4 Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

December 31, 1902 New York City, New York
She was marrying the wrong man. With a silk-gloved hand, Margery Belleville lifted the bottom of her wedding gown and peeked around the heavy, carved doors into the nave of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Several hundred guests—ladies in expensive finery, wool coats trimmed with ermine and fancy hats with brims reaching out over their shoulders, and tuxedoed men in black silk top hats—awaited the wedding of the decade. St. Patrick’s reminded Margery of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris with its Gothic-style pointed arches and rich stained-glass windows set in lacey webs. The soaring, vaulted ceiling, lit by crystal chandeliers suspended on long rope-like cables, rose hundreds of feet in the air. Light from the chandeliers reached into the far corners of the church and mingled with the glow of candles twinkling in wrought-iron stands. Inhaling the scent of balsam fir from the many holiday decorations, Margery gazed down the long center aisle, where she would soon walk with her father. Margery stepped back into the vestibule, her pure-white gown rustling softly as she moved. She was, at least, happy her parents had allowed her the choice of her wedding dress, if not the groom. Margery and her mother had searched in several shops, nearly deciding to have the dress custom made when they came upon this elegant, sleek gown. The moment Margery laid eyes on it, she knew it was the one. The high neckline draped in soft folds beneath her chin, flattering her face. The form-fitting bodice hugged her curves, yet avoided the dreaded hourglass silhouette, with its yards of smooth satin skirt billowing around her. Margery’s unadorned veil revealed topaz eyes and soft lips, but covered her rich auburn hair and cascaded down her back. This was the gown of a modern, independent woman. If only her life matched the dress. His conversation with the bishop finished, Anthony Belleville joined his daughter. “Are you ready, my dear?” The organ began Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March,” and a rumble echoed throughout the nave as the guests stood and turned toward the back of the cathedral. Trembling, Margery took her father’s arm. He must have felt her shaking because her father leaned over and, to Margery’s astonishment, whispered, “I know he’s not your first choice. But you will be well cared for and you know Gil adores you. I don’t know which man has captured your heart, but you won’t lack for anything with Gilbert Racine. The publishing empire he’s going to inherit will provide a comfortable, even pampered, life. He’s the best choice to keep you in the style your mother and I have provided. I can’t bear the thought that you would ever lack for anything, my dearest daughter.” Margery was further shocked when her father wiped a tear from his eye. It was at that moment when Margery Belleville, soon to be Margery Racine, accepted her fate. She would be a good wife for her successful businessman husband. She would provide him with children and a well-run home. She’d bury her feelings deep inside, lock them away in a cupboard, and throw away the key. She could not marry the man she loved. But she might grow to love the man she married. Margery forced a smile and reached up to give her father a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be alright, Papa. Gil will be a good husband.” She patted his hand. Straightening her spine, Margery gave a sharp nod of her head. “I’m ready.” *** Excerpt from RSVP to Murder by Carol Pouliot. Copyright 2023 by Carol Pouliot. Reproduced with permission from Carol Pouliot. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Carol Pouliot

A former language teacher and business owner, Carol Pouliot writes the acclaimed Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries, traditional police procedurals with a seemingly impossible relationship between Depression-era cop Steven Blackwell and 21st-century journalist Olivia Watson. With their fast pace and unexpected twists and turns, the books have earned praise from readers and mystery authors alike.

Carol is a founding member of Sleuths and Sidekicks, Co-chair of the Murderous March Mystery Conference, and President of her Sisters in Crime chapter. When not writing, Carol can be found packing her suitcase and reaching for her passport for her next travel adventure. Learn more and sign up for Carol’s newsletter on her website: www.carolpouliot.com

Goodreads

BookBub – @cpouliot13

Instagram – @carolpouliotmysterywriter

Facebook – @WriterCarolPouliot

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From Myth to Murder

The Medusa Murders by Joy Ann Ribar Banner

Virtual Book Tour

by Author Joy Ann Ribar November 13-24, 2023

As a retired college professor, I welcome new additions to the field of academic mysteries. This cozy mystery adds to the genre with a main character whose esoteric field of study offers a new aspect to sleuthing.  

In contrast to the generic college professor often depicted in cozy mysteries, there’s an intriguing depth to the main character L.L. Browning, known to others as Bay. The author portrays Bay as professional, compassionate, and intelligent, traits  reflected in the way Bay interacts with many of the characters, although less often with family.

An adversarial relationship between amateur sleuths and law enforcement is often seen in cozy mysteries; that communication pattern is first evident in early interactions, and most notably when Bay decides to willfully ignore the homicide detective’s strict instructions to not discuss details of the investigation with anyone. (Professors do seem to have a passion for charging ahead, right into the action!) As the plot progresses, the relationship between amateur and professional morphs into something more personal and cooperative. This bodes well for the next book in the series.

Family is a continuing thread woven through the plot. The drama appears based on unresolved conflict which influences current relationships and family dynamics. From the start, Bay’s father and sister seem to take it for granted that Bay will adapt her carefully ordered life to accommodate their own needs and desires. The father, Barrett, uses “family” as an emotional cudgel and convinces Bay to shoulder the obligations brought about by the unexpected arrival of her sister, Cass.

On his own, Barrett seems an incomplete, even vague character through the story, while in contrast, the character of Bay’s sister quickly caught my attention, along with her cat, Minerva. I’d like to have seen much more of Minerva; here, she seems more of a prop than a character. Despite that, the names themselves suggest a backstory not yet revealed. What we do learn is that Cass was recently released from prison after serving a three-year sentence for larceny and fraud. Now on parole, Cass moves in, uninvited, with Bay and secures a job in security–surely a  surprising occupation for a felon. I hope future books in the series will include Cass and Minerva.

Bay’s unique studies in mythology, enhanced by a colleague’s knowledge of iconography, prove vital in unraveling the tangled web of art, literature, and family. If you enjoy an unusual mystery with an academic flair, this may be a good choice for your own bookshelf!

Praise for The Medusa Murders:

“This first-in-series held me captive on the edge of my seat where I frantically turned the pages of this intricately crafted story, desperate to solve the mystery. And, oh, what a revelation it is!” Laurie Buchanan, author of the Sean McPherson crime thriller novels

“A gritty and intense mystery that grabs you and won’t let go until the end. The personal relationships are complex, just like many in real life, and the familial drama pulls you in.” Kelly Young, author of A Travel Writer mystery series and Haunted and Harassed paranormal mystery series

“Ribar effectively wraps mythology, academia, archeology, and a touch of paranormal phenomena together to produce a more than satisfying read. Looking forward to spending more time with Bay.”  Debra H. Goldstein, author of The Sarah Blair Mysteries

“A well-written, fast-paced and vibrant debut novel. A highly recommended new series.”  Christine DeSmet, writing coach and author of The Fudge Shop Mystery series and Mischief in Moonstone series

Synopsis:

Professor Bay Browning has more snake problems than the Garden of Eden in this twisted mystery. The English Literature instructor is busy preparing for a new semester when a serial killer, known as Medusa, bites her quiet life in the behind. A wild ride ensues when Bay and her grifter sister, Cass, assist a perturbed Detective Downing with the investigation. What else can the sisters do, once they become Medusa’s targets? Will the slithering trail of mythology, art history, and family secrets help them catch a killer before she turns them to stone?

Book Details:

Genre: Amateur Sleuth, Mystery, Crime Published by: Wine Glass Press Publication Date: November 2023 Number of Pages: 316 ISBN: 9781959078203 Series: Bay Browning Mysteries, #1 Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | BookBub | Goodreads

The Medusa Murders by Joy Ann Ribar

Read an excerpt:

Back at the parking space, Bay opened the passenger door and looked at the white particles in brighter light. They were sprinkled like powdered sugar over the right side of the back seat, directly underneath the bag of clothes Bay had gone through last night. She felt certain the particles must have come from the lululemon coat pocket. She remembered seeing Detective Harris turn the pocket inside out over one of the evidence bags. Had there been feathers in either of the pockets? The empty parking lot at Giorgio’s put a smile on Bay’s face when she parked the Subaru a few minutes later. She was impatient to get to the bottom of the dry-cleaning mix-up and anxious to shake some details out of Giorgio. She could see him standing behind the customer counter, grooming his dark slicked-back hair and straightening his blue and white polo shirt that matched the building. “Good morning, L.L. I see you have nothing in your hands, so what can I do for you today?” Giorgio’s velvety voice was smoother than grease. “Cut the crap, Giorgio. You know why I’m here. Obviously, you sent the police to see me about my lululemon. What’s the story?” Bay frowned and her dark eyes narrowed. Giorgio backed away as if Bay might punch him, marring his handsome face. He was Stasia’s youngest brother, probably around Bay’s age. Bay had learned more Andino family facts than she cared to after attending the mandatory gatherings at Stasia’s home the past year. He held up both hands, placatingly. “I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t much. My niece, Aria, was working on the day of the mix-up. She’s in back. I’ll go get her.” “Get my lululemon, too, while you’re back there.” Might as well kill two birds as they say. Aria was short and pretty with wide dark eyes and thick black hair pulled into a neat bun on top of her head. She wore the same blue and white polo over hospital-style light blue pants. Bay guessed she was barely out of high school. What was that expression: fear or guilt on Aria’s face? “Good morning, Professor Browning. My uncle is looking for your raincoat.” Aria didn’t look Bay in the eyes. Dialing down from accusatory to neutral tone, Bay began her questions. “I understand you were working when my lululemon was switched with the one the police confiscated.” No point in lollygagging her way to the matter at hand. Aria looked down at her fingers, which were drumming methodically on the counter as if playing a tune on a piano. One hand stopped while the other slowed to a quiet tapping. “Yes. There were three other coats almost identical to yours when he brought in the one the police were after.” Bay registered the information. “Who is he that brought the coat in, please?” The girl seemed quite fragile, so kid gloves were in order for this interrogation. Bay was accustomed to communicating with students Aria’s age, and she knew the best methods for building trust and rapport. The finger tapping continued at a leisurely pace. Bay could almost pick out a rhumba beat. Aria continued to focus on her fingers, not looking up. “He said his name was Chance.” She closed her eyes, conjuring his image. “He was wearing a black hoodie but took the hood off to talk to me. He had short dreadlocks swept up to one side and had smart glasses on. You know, his glasses made him look smart.” She smiled, caught up in the memory. It was clear to Bay the boy had charmed Aria, and just maybe she would do anything for him. “Did Chance ask you for a favor, Aria?” She blushed, then turned a deep red. “He used me…” She choked back tears. “Yeah, boys are scum,” Bay empathized, glaring at Giorgio who had emerged from the back room empty-handed. The finger tapping quickened as the incident unfolded, from a waltz to a cha-cha, Aria’s eyes remained closed during the telling. “He asked me if people brought their expensive clothing here. Like could we be trusted with their stuff, you know. He said he had his mom’s lululemon, and he was kind of flirting with me.” She paused, thinking. “I told him we had three of those same coats in the back right now, and they were already cleaned and ready to pick up. I offered to show him, so he would know he could leave his mom’s coat here.” Aria stopped tapping and looked at Bay’s face where empathy greeted her like a warm embrace. “I didn’t know Chance wanted to swap coats until he asked if I could swap one of the clean coats for his mother’s dirty one.” I figured that he was responsible for getting it dirty, and he didn’t want her to know about it. “So, you randomly chose my coat and made the switch.” Bay wanted to sound helpful by filling in details, so Aria’s head shake surprised her. “No. That’s when things got weird. He asked me if we had L.L. Browning’s coat. He specifically wanted to trade his coat for yours.” Giorgio interrupted his niece, casting a warning look with shifty eyes. Bay couldn’t be fooled. “Why didn’t you call me Friday to let me know about the switch or the police? You knew they were coming to question me.” She darted daggers at Giorgio, who winced and backed away. “I didn’t think you were in danger, or I would have called you. How could I know that the lululemon was murder evidence? *** Excerpt from The Medusa Murders by Joy Ann Ribar. Copyright 2023 by Joy Ann Ribar. Reproduced with permission from Joy Ann Ribar. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Joy Ann Ribar

Joy Ann Ribar is an RV author, writing on the road wherever her husband and their Winnebago View wanders. Joy’s cocktail of careers includes news reporter, paralegal, English educator, and aquaponics greenhouse technician, all of which prove useful in penning mysteries. She loves to bake, read, do wine research, and explore nature. Joy’s writing is inspired by Wisconsin’s four distinct seasons, natural beauty, and kind-hearted, but sometimes quirky, people. Joy holds a BA in Journalism from UW-Madison and an MS in Education from UW-Oshkosh. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, Blackbird Writers, and Wisconsin Writers Association.

Catch Up With Joy Ann Ribar:
JoyRibar.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @ribarjoy
Instagram – @authorjoyribar
Facebook – @JoyRibarAuthor

Want to mention her on Twitter/X? Use #JoyAnnRibar and share the love!

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My thanks to Partners in Crime Tours for a complementary advance copy of this book. Opinions expressed are my own.

Guest Post: Thriller Tropes

Advertising banner for "The Water Tower" by Amy Young
October 9 – November 3, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

As a writer and a reader, I find the thriller genre a rollercoaster ride of tension, suspense, and high-stakes challenges. I’m fascinated by fast-paced, complex plots, and relatable characters I care about. That’s why I’m attracted to writers like Amy Young, and why I’ve invited her to share her thoughts about writing thrillers. Enjoy this week’s guest post!

***

All genres of fiction rely on certain conventions that define their space. In thrillers, red herrings abound, intelligent psychopaths hide in the shadows, and a clock slowly ticks away as the main character tries to solve the puzzle. And as a reader, there are a few thriller tropes that I cannot get enough of.

Dual (or Triple) Timelines or Narratives

The dual timeline setup is a popular method for creating suspense within a thriller narrative. Whether it’s done by alternating chapters or having one half of the book told from one perspective and the second half from another (or a third, as the case may be), this is one of my favorite thriller tropes. As a reader, we believe what a narrator tells us as the story goes along; but when a writer incorporates dual narratives, they create the opportunity to show that perspective is everything when it comes to buying into someone’s story.

Isolated Locales

Five people on an island, one of them turns up dead or goes missing? I’m sold. The isolation trope is used over and over again in thriller writing, and it never gets old for me. I’m drawn to titles like “The Island” or “The Getaway” for the seclusion and separation they promise. Throw in a good old fashioned “no cell phone service” layer and I’m hooked.

A Closed Circle of Suspects

The closed circle of suspects can go hand in hand with the isolated locale trope. In a setting like a city, there are endless possibilities for suspects. Trap everybody in a cabin or on an island during a storm, and the circle becomes much, much smaller. This trope appeals to me because it allows the reader to really get to know the characters (suspects) without the noise of the outside world.

The Unreliable Narrator

Unreliable narrators are by far my number one favorite of the thriller tropes. From the moment we meet the narrator in The Tell Tale Heart, he assures us that he is trustworthy and rational. Never mind that he’s the one who murdered the person buried below the floorboards. Admittedly, this is a trope that has been used quite a bit in recent writing, so much so that it’s difficult to trust any narrator now. However, it still remains one of my favorite twists in a story, no matter how many times I come across it. And it also leads me to ask the question: are any first-person narratives really reliable?

***

Now that we’ve heard Amy’s views on thriller tropes, let’s take a closer look at the first in her Lakeview Mysteries, The Water Tower. 

Synopsis:

The Water Tower by Amy Young

Josie Ashbury was a successful Hollywood actress with a booming career—until an on-set breakdown sends her back to her small Ohio hometown to recover. Taking a job teaching at her old high school, Josie is beginning to put the pieces of her life back together when one of her students dies under suspicious circumstances. The police close the case quickly, without any real answers. Josie is determined to find the truth behind the girl’s death. At the same time, Josie is battling demons of her own. As she faces debilitating insomnia that leaves her with gaps in her memory, she dives into the tangled secrets surrounding the investigation. When she finally unravels the web, she discovers that the truth lies much closer to home than she could have ever imagined.

Praise for The Water Tower:

“Start with a suspicious death of a beloved student, add a devoted former starlet turned drama teacher, and a dash of the police closing the case far too quickly, and you have the makings of a twisting and propulsive mystery. Amy Young’s The Water Tower will keep you flipping the pages to find out who killed the politician’s young daughter, and then have you checking if your teenager is where they should be tonight.” ~ Mary Keliikoa, multi-award nominated author of HIDDEN PIECES and the PI Kelly Pruett mystery series

The Water Tower is an electrifying work of suspense that depicts a wonderful hometown setting. This slow-burn mystery with sparkling prose has a well-crafted plot that is at once engrossing and fully realized from beginning to end. I highly recommend this engaging mystery.” ~ David Putnam, Bestselling author of the Bruno Johnson series and Dave Beckett series

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery    Published by: Level Best Books 

Publication Date: June 20, 2023  Number of Pages: 290

ISBN: 9781685122775   Series: The Lakeview Mysteries, Book 1

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

She stood on the water tower, looking at the skyline she had only observed from the ground. You really could see the whole town from up here. Funny how your whole life can fit into one 360-degree glance. Peering down at the ground, she was no longer able to see individual blades of grass, all of them blurring into a sea of perfect emerald green. To her right was the roof of Lakeview High School, looking small from this vantage point. She felt as though if she leaned over far enough, she could almost touch it. But that was ridiculous; the school had to be several hundred feet away. Her vision came in and out of focus as she swayed, thinking about her life, her past, her future. In her three years at the school, she had never been up on the tower. No one she knew had been up here, either. Most students wouldn’t dare to scale it. Too scared of getting caught, too scared of breaking the rules, too scared of living. When she looked down at the ground, she thought she could see movement, like little grass men dancing and hopping around through a crowd of their peers. Kind of like high school. More like, exactly like high school. Everyone looks the same; maybe some are a bit taller, a bit shorter, a bit wider, but everyone dressed in essentially the same uniform, hopping over one another, trying to make their mark. How many feet above the ground was she—50, 60 feet? Was that high enough to kill you, or maybe just break a few bones? It would probably depend on how you hit the ground. Here she was, high above the town, pondering the angle at which you might hit the ground and live through the fall, the velocity at which an object might fall from here. Her body felt warm all over, despite the crisp air of late fall, and she took off her jacket and threw it aside. She leaned against the rail and spread her arms, allowing the breeze to blow through her, inhabiting every cell for just a moment, before moving off in another direction to go dance with someone else. Her 17 years had all been spent here, in this one place, in this small, boring town where, it seemed, nothing was all that was destined to happen. The clock tower chimed; it was 11:00. She felt she had eternity in front of her, the rest of this night, the rest of her life, stuck here in this town. Would she ever get out? Did it even matter if she did? She thought about the college catalogs arriving at home, the hundreds of pages of sales pitches clamoring for her family’s money. The sprawling campuses, the smiling students, the serious, but friendly, professors—what was the point? She would just end up back here, raising the same family as her friends, living the same life that her kids would eventually live. Reaching out her slender arm, she twirled her wrist. She could hardly wait for graduation when, everyone said, “real life” would begin. “I can’t wait to get out of here,” her friends exclaimed, dreaming of big cities and even bigger lives in far off places: Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, anywhere but here. But she knew they would return, just like their parents, raising 2.5 kids with a Labradoodle and a balding husband in one of the best-little-suburbs in the country. Was it really so bad? She watched all these super-educated women who had given up their careers to stay home and clean up after the kids and drive to soccer practice, instead of changing the world as they’d so hopefully planned when plotting their escape years earlier. Was that her fate? Was that what awaited her now? Dozens of similar thoughts swirled and crashed like waves in front of her, mixing in a fantastic spray of colors, lights, and sounds. She was dead before she hit the ground. *** Excerpt from The Water Tower by Amy Young. Copyright 2023 by Amy Young. Reproduced with permission from Amy Young. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

Amy Young

Amy Young is an author, comedian, and actor based in Cleveland. After spending a decade in Los Angeles working in the entertainment industry and writing her debut novel, The Water Tower, she returned to Ohio to be closer to family. Amy is working on her second book, a thriller, and in her free time she enjoys going to the theatre, bingeing reality TV, and spending time with her husband and many, many cats. She has a B.A. in English from Kenyon College.

Catch Up With Amy Young:

AuthorAmyYoung.com Goodreads BookBub – @authoramyyoung1 Instagram – @amypcomedy Twitter – @authoramyyoung Facebook – @authoramyyoung TikTok – @amypyoung1

 

Continue reading “Guest Post: Thriller Tropes”

Step Back In Time For Murder

Murder at Midnight by Katharine Schellman Banner

Virtual Book Tour September 18 – October 13, 2023  

As a child, the public library was a magical venue where I wandered freely, my attention captured by books and stories about different cultures, people, places, and historical times. That probably explains my passion for fiction and non-fiction alike, and for exploring unfamiliar worlds found by reading across genres. Along the way, I discovered new-to-me authors; Katharine Schellman is one of those authors whose historical fiction has earned its place in my own personal library.

In Murder at Midnight, Schellman presents an intriguing puzzle set within the context of 1815-1816, the latter years of the Regency period. As the story opens, the constraints of gender, age, marital status, and social position in a highly stratified society become evident. As a widow, protagonist Lily Adler is less confined by her age and gender, which allows her the freedom to behave in ways other women of a similar or younger age cannot. This contrast is well demonstrated when Lily offers to lend her support to a family she’s close to, and to independently investigate rumors that pose a serious threat to the family’s youngest, unmarried daughter, and to the social standing of the family itself.

As the evening continues, though, Lily finds her independence challenged by an offer of marriage from someone she considers a dear friend. Unprepared to even consider a proposal, she’s reluctant to give an answer and requests time to consider the offer. Her request proves providential as the story unfolds.

As a researcher, I appreciate the historical authenticity and accuracy evident in her work. One such authentic element was the unusual weather that caused a Christmastide ball to lead to murder and mystery. If you’re unfamiliar with the weather of that time period, consider this excerpt from the author’s notes:

In April 1815, the volcano Mount Tambora, located in what is today known as Indonesia, erupted. It was a massive event, the largest eruption the world had experienced in at least 1,300 year. Scientists believe it led to a volcanic winter that lowered global temperatures in 1816….

It was known as The Year Without a Summer. And if you’re a writer who needs an uncommon December snowfall in the middle of England that’s severe enough to  strand a houseful of people for several days, that makes 1816 a convenient time to set a book. 

Fans of Agatha Christie, in particular, are sure to recognize the impact of a heavy snowfall and icy conditions that unexpectedly make travel impossible and isolates guests in a country home. Accepting accommodations and attire offered by their hostess, the guests scatter to their assigned rooms as the snow continues to fall. During the night, the sound of tree limbs snapping beneath their burden of snow and ice masks the sound of a gunshot. The gruesome discovery of a dead man in the snow spurs Lily who, along with her magistrate brother-in-law and two dear friends—including the one who proposed—to accept her hostesses’ pleas to solve the murder.

Assumptions based on conversational excerpts and confusing clues steer our amateur sleuth and others along a series of investigative paths, leading the reader through a plot full of unexpected twists and turns.  The result is a  compelling story that will keep you engaged until the end! 

Synopsis:

Murder at Midnight by Katharine Schellman

Perfect for fans of Deanna Raybourn and Ashley Weaver, when a body is found shot to death after an unexpected snowstorm, Lily Adler quickly realizes that some people will stop at nothing to bury their secrets.

Regency widow Lily Adler is looking forward to a quiet Christmastide away from the schemes and secrets she witnessed daily in London. Not only will she be visiting the family of her late husband; she will be reunited with Captain Jack Hartley, her friend and confidante, finally returned after a long voyage at sea.

But secrets aren’t only found in London. Jack’s younger sister, Amelia, is the center of neighborhood scandal and gossip. She refuses to tell anyone what really happened, even when an unexpected snowstorm strands the neighborhood families together after a Christmas ball. Stuck until the snow stops, the Adlers, Hartleys, and their neighbors settle in for the night, only to be awakened in the morning by the scream of a maid who has just discovered a dead body.

The victim was the well-to-do son of a local gentleman–the same man whose name has become so scandalously linked to Amelia’s.

With the snow still falling and no way to come or go, it’s clear that someone in the house was responsible for the young man’s death. When suspicion instantly falls on Jack’s sister, he and Lily must unmask the true culprit before Amelia is convicted of a crime she didn’t commit.

Praise for Murder at Midnight:

“Delightful . . . Historical mystery fans will devour this holiday treat.”
~ Publishers Weekly

“A plummy period whodunit with a colorful collection of suspects.”
~ Kirkus Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Historical mystery
Published by: Crooked Lane Books
Publication Date: September 2023
Number of Pages: 320
ISBN: 9781639104321 (ISBN10: 1639104321)
Series: A Lily Adler Mystery, 4
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Penguin Random House

Read an excerpt:

Lily sat bolt upright. Where had the sound come from? It hadn’t been loud . . . another part of the house? For a moment, in the pressing silence, she wondered if she had drifted back to sleep without realizing it and imagined the whole thing.

But a moment later, the sounds of a commotion rose just outside her window. Lily dashed to the window, throwing it open with some effort and peering out into the swirl of snow and early- morning light.

The guest room she had been given was one of the smaller ones—the better to quickly heat rooms that hadn’t been prepared in advance—and as was typical for such rooms, it lacked a pretty view. Hers looked over what she realized after a moment must be the poultry yard. Darkly clad figures who she could guess were servants stumbled through the thick layer of snow that had fallen, trying to reach the two people in the middle of the yard.

One Lily could see from her vantage only as a still, upright figure, hand outstretched and pointing toward the second person, who lay sprawled on the ground. The one on the ground was half covered by the ice and snow, unmoving.

Lily grabbed the dressing gown from the chair, pulled on her shoes, and ran from the room. In the hallway, a few guests were poking their heads out of their doors, hair tousled and faces creased with sleep, inquiring grumpily if anyone had heard an odd noise.

Lily didn’t stop to consider propriety or worry about what anyone else might think before she yelled “Jack!” as loudly as she could. She didn’t know which room he had been given, but a moment later, a door past the stairs was flung open and the navy captain’s head appeared.

“What is it?” he demanded. He was already dressed and wearing his driving coat over his clothing. That was odd at such an early hour, but Lily didn’t have time to be surprised.

“Downstairs.” In spite of the months they had spent apart, Lily knew she could depend on him to understand and act quickly. “Something happened. We have to help.”

And in spite of those months apart, he didn’t stop to ask questions. More guests were emerging, summoned by Lily’s shout, and questions were beginning to fly back and forth as she dashed down the stairs, Jack on her heels.

They didn’t need to wonder where to go; on the floor below, Mrs. Grantham was following a stately-looking woman who might have been the housekeeper or another upper servant. Their pace was just barely too dignified to be a run, but they couldn’t hide their worry as they disappeared down the steps to the kitchen. Lily and Jack hurried after them.

The servants’ staircase was narrow and cold. At the bottom, servants clustered in the kitchen, talking in shrill, anxious voices as the cook tried to keep some order. The underservants glanced uneasily at Lily and Jack as they came into the kitchen, but no one seemed to know what to do or say. The door to the yard had been left wide open, and the wind blew in gusts of snow and icy morning light. Outside, more servants were gathered, though they parted like a wave as the housekeeper led Mrs. Grantham out to see what had happened.

As Lily and Jack tried to follow, they were stopped by the frail but determined body of the butler, who interposed himself between them and the open door. “Madam, sir, perhaps you would care to return to your rooms? Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

Jack drew himself up, clearly prepared to use his rank to push his way past the aging servant. Before he could say anything, though, and before Lily could think how to reply, Mrs. Grantham turned sharply.

“What is . . .” She trailed off, eyeing Lily and Jack with trepidation. She looked ready to send them on their way with some commonplace assurance. But half a dozen emotions chased their way across her face in that moment, and she instead asked, “Mrs. Adler, how many of the rumors about you are true?”

“That depends on the rumors,” Lily replied calmly, though her heart was pounding. Behind Mrs. Grantham, she could see the limbs of the eerie, still figure sticking out of the snowbank. “Though if you refer only to the ones that are most relevant at this moment . . .” She turned her gaze pointedly toward the body in the snow. “There is indeed some truth to them.”

Mrs. Grantham hesitated, then seemed to make up her mind in a rush. She stepped aside, pulling the confused housekeeper with her. There were boots for the servants lined up next to the door, crusted with mud from repeated use. Lily pulled off her delicate evening slippers, slid her bare feet into the pair that looked closest to her size, and followed as she and Jack were ushered into the yard, their eyes fixed on what awaited them there.

A man dressed in borrowed clothes, his skin white with cold, his hair thick with clumps of ice and snow. He could have fallen, hit his head, been caught in the storm and frozen. He could still be alive, in need of help. He could have had an innocent reason for being out in the storm.

He could have. But this close, Lily could see the snow that had been kicked aside and trampled by half a dozen feet in the servants’ frantic attempts to clear it away. The icy powder was too thick on the ground for her to see the mud of the yard. But it was still stained with red and brown from where the man’s life had leaked away in the night.

The once-snowy linen of his shirt was stained the same color, jagged and torn from the bullet that had ended his life. The gun that had fired it had been unearthed beside him, as snow-logged as his own body. The man’s frozen eyes and mouth were wide open, as though he had not believed until the last moment that whoever had faced him in that yard could be capable of the shot that had ended his life.

***

Excerpt from Murder at Midnight by Katharine Schellman. Copyright 2023 by Katharine Schellman. Reproduced with permission from Katharine Schellman. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Katharine Schellman

Katharine Schellman is a former actor and one-time political consultant. These days, she writes the Lily Adler Mysteries and the Nightingale Mysteries. Her books, which reviewers have praised as “worthy of Agatha Christie or Rex Stout” (Library Journal, starred review), have received multiple accolades, including being named a Library Journal Best Crime Fiction of 2022, a Suspense Magazine Best Book of 2020, and a New York Times editor’s pick in June 2022. Katharine lives and writes in the mountains of Virginia in the company of her husband, children, and the many houseplants she keeps accidentally murdering.

Catch Up With Katharine Schellman:
www.KatharineSchellman.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @KatharineSchellman
Instagram – @katharinewrites
Facebook – @katharineschellman

 

 

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My thanks to Partners in Crime for an advance copy of this book. Opinions expressed are my own.

Writing For Readers

Among the late bestselling author Elmore Leonard ‘s widely quoted 10 Rules of Writing is this gem: “Try to leave out all the parts readers skip.” And what, you may ask, did he believe readers tended to skip? “Thick paragraphs of prose you can see have too many words in them.”

Personally, I’m one of those readers likely to skip those “thick paragraphs” that interrupt the action and slow the pace of the story. I do, however, appreciate short, succinct prose that provides insight into characters’ experiences and events directly relating to the plot. The level of detail I’m willing to read tends to vary by genre and type of book—that is, whether it’s a standalone novel or a series. And if it’s the first in a series, I do appreciate detailed prose that works to develop the overall structure. This is particularly true of cozy mystery fiction.

While there are multiple forms of mystery fiction that plunge straight into the action from the first page, cozy mysteries generally don’t. Instead, the first book in a cozy mystery series has traditionally used the first chapter to introduce the sleuth, the setting, and the “hook” that will carry through the entire series. (In my own Deadly Ties, the people and animals at Waterside Kennels become the hook for the series.) In the article Writing the Cozy Mystery: Quiet Beginnings, author and blogger Elizabeth Spann Craig explains:

“…You can start out with your idyllic, happy, safe…and, yes…cozy environment. You can start out with what’s routine: what a normal day in your story world looks like. This doesn’t have to go on for chapters–just a glimpse of happy normality and what’s lost when someone dies in the close-knit community.”

Getting all that into a single chapter or two requires the judicious inclusion of prose. After those introductory chapters, though, even the most hard-to-please reader should find any “thick paragraphs” of descriptive prose fading into the background as action and dialogue takes center stage.

This is a good time to point out that, while cozy mysteries nearly always exclude graphic violence, explicit sex, and vulgar language, other boundaries between cozy, suspense, classic, and traditional mystery appear to be blurring. As author Olivia Blacke points out when writing for the media site Frolic, writers are finding creative ways to bend—but not break—the traditional rules and norms within the subgenre. Whatever you prefer, browse the shelves of your favorite bookshop and you’ll find cozy mysteries—hopefully with a fair balance of prose and dialogue—that run the gamut from lighthearted quick reads to something edgier, even “unconventional” that increasingly reflect many of the social issues of our time.

Interested in learning more about cozy mystery fiction? Check these out:

A Brief History of Cozy Mysteries
How to Write a Cozy Mystery
Rules for the New Generation of Cozy Mysteries
The Best Diverse Cozy Mystery Books

♦ ♦ ♦

 

Mayhem and Mystery

Copper Waters by Marlene M Bell Banner

Copper Waters

by Marlene M. Bell

A New Zealand Cottage Mystery

May 29 – June 23, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Marlene Bell’s Copper Waters is the fourth in the series featuring an antiquities expert and amateur sleuth who compulsively involves herself in investigations of murder, mayhem, and mystery. If you’re interested in mystery and suspense fiction with a strong element of romance, read on!

Annalisse Drury is an intriguing protagonist with wide-ranging interests. She might, in fact, be the first amateur sleuth I’ve read with multiple consuming passions woven through the storyline. In Copper Waters, you’ll find subplots relating to her professional work in photography and antiquities appraisal, as well as her love of sheep and thoroughbred horses. Add in her quest to find elusive family members and a deepening relationship with wealthy Greek tycoon Alec Zavos, and you have the framework for a mystery that stretches from New York to New Zealand.  

When a former girlfriend of Alec’s shows up unexpectedly with a young boy she claims is Alec’s son, Annalisse impulsively decides to put some distance from the situation and accepts an invitation to visit a sheep station in New Zealand. Her impulsiveness as well as her ongoing trust and commitment issues will lead her (and others) into unexpected danger when two seemingly unconnected deaths occur. Local authorities appear to yield under the pressure of local politics and powerful families and are eager to close the cases as accidental. Annalisse, however, is convinced the more likely cause of death is murder.

The beauty of New Zealand shines through the richly detailed narrative, and the author’s knowledge and experience with sheep is evident in the New Zealand sheep station scenes. Regular readers of this blog will also appreciate the sleuth’s explanation of commonalities between sheep show judging and conformation judging for AKC-registered dog breeds.

Just as programs (also known as playbills) are used to share key production notes with an audience, the author uses a list of characters at the start of the book for a similar purpose. In Copper Waters, we’re given a glimpse of key personalities and/or their roles in the story. Of the sixteen characters identified, some are recurring characters in the series, while others appear to be limited to this book. I found the list a helpful introduction, offering insights about relationships and an introduction to potential challenges, motives, and more.  

Those descriptions I mentioned did, to some extent, influence my initial perceptions of each character, yet also led me to carefully analyze the behaviors of each character as they entered the story. For example, the author describes the protagonist Annalisse this way: “Filled with trust and commitment issues, she uncovers mayhem and foul play at every turn while love takes a rear seat for this gorgeous, green-eyed antiquities appraiser.” That description from the character list sprang to mind in Chapter 10 when the character herself says: “Researching art history is my thing. Relic and antique appraisals go hand in hand, so yes, I’m where I feel most comfortable.” That led me to wonder: did the author intend this bit of dialogue to illustrate the way Annalisse delves into the past to avoid focusing on the uncertainties of her current relationships? While this is mere conjuncture on my part, it’s prompted me to read the first three books in the series. (In fact, I’ve begun reading the first in the series already; expect a review soon.)

While I have, in the past, read a series out of order and found it easy to follow (Tony Hillerman’s Leaphorn & Chee mysteries and Jonathan Kellerman’s Alex Delaware series come to mind), reading the Annalisse series from the beginning may allow you to more fully appreciate what happened and the effects on characters’ relationships. And, as multiple subplots continue through the series, reading the books in order can offer a sense of continuity as the storylines unfold.

The well-paced narrative leads to a solid conclusion, answering key questions raised in the plot while laying the groundwork for the ongoing pursuit of unresolved issues. Well plotted with diverse characters and locales, Copper Waters is an intriguing read that will leave you wanting to learn more about this unusual amateur sleuth and the mysteries of her past.

Copper Waters Trailer:

Synopsis:

A rural New Zealand vacation turns poisonous.

Annalisse Drury and Alec Zavos are on opposite sides when an ex-lover from Alec’s past introduces him to his alleged son. With Alec’s marriage proposal in limbo, Annalisse accepts a key to her dream cottage—an invitation to a sheep station on South Island, New Zealand—only this time, she travels alone. Unbeknownst to her, a mutual friend follows on the flight, and together they are confronted by two peculiar deaths—either accidental, or the deliberate acts of a psychopath. Temuka police investigators are closing these cases too quickly. They want Annalisse to exit their country before she reveals the town’s darkest secrets. Will she return to Alec, or sacrifice their future together to expose it all?

Praise for Copper Waters:

“Marlene M. Bell’s COPPER WATERS is a well-written murder mystery with descriptive scenes, an intriguing setting, and enough push and pull between the characters and within the plot to keep readers engaged.”  ~Indie Reader

“Marlene M. Bell is a master storyteller when it comes to the cozy mystery genre.”  ~Book Review Directory

Copper Waters is an entertaining and fast-paced mystery, where small-town intrigue, family drama, and a high-stakes whodunit will deepen readers’ affection for the tenacious Annalisse.”  ~Self-Publishing Review

Copper Waters is emotional and thrilling, surprising and life-changing.” ~Book Excellence Review

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery (cozy type)

Published by: Ewephoric Publishing

Publication Date: December 2022

Number of Pages: 342

ISBN: 978-0999539491

Series: The Annalisse series, Book 4

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter Five

Homicides R Us
“Bill, get left!” I yell while checking for oncoming traffic. That’s when I notice a group standing in a semicircle near a driveway—around limbs. From here, it looks like a person’s body. “Oh no.” I stare through the windshield. We slow to a stop and park near the curb of a strip shopping area, leaving our engine running. “We should help.” I jump out to investigate. Women wearing rompers and a guy in greasy mechanic’s overalls are standing over someone on the pavement. “What happened?” I ask Bill, jogging to the scene and scanning the narrow two-lane road where no other vehicle has pulled over other than us. A familiar beige fishing hat lies a few feet from the victim. “A mad driver went on a strop!” a female screams from the gawking crowd. “It’s Alastair,” Bill mutters, his words loud enough for me to catch them. “Did he have a heart attack or did someone hit him?” Bill reaches the bystanders on Main Street before I do and throws his arm out, blocking me with his body and a stern glare. “Annalisse, would you please wait in the car?” “Can’t someone help him?” “It’s too late for that.” I change my mind about approaching Alastair. He’s in a bad way if Bill wants to shield me from viewing him. Travelers like us from the US who allow a local to drive their rental car will shoot us to the top of the authority’s suspect list—even if Ethan sent Alastair to pick us up at the airport. Our first day in Temuka and a nice old man is sprawled out dead on the road less than an hour after he stepped out of our vehicle. We’re so naive when it comes to learning the customs of another country before making the trip. Why didn’t I research this? I can’t help but think of the police encounters we’ve participated in and the hours of interrogation that happened not too long ago. This time we aren’t witnesses to the crime and weren’t in close proximity of Alastair when he was hit. Who is Alastair McGregor, really? A chilliness penetrates my hands. Why did he insist on walking along the roadside? Did he want to throw himself in front of a moving car, or is this just an accident? I wave Bill over at the same time one of the women throws up what appears to be her luncheon salad near Alastair’s prone body. I’ve seen no movement and try not to think about what’s staring me right in the face. Bill speaks to the male witness and returns to the car. “I hope you didn’t see him like that. According to one of the witnesses, Alastair was strolling his usual path. He takes this walk each day, rain or shine, and his reputation precedes him. They all know him well―a businessman and an environmental activist from their community.” “Was he hit by a car, or did he collapse in front of traffic?” “He was struck from behind, then the car came back around to finish the job.” Bill shudders. “Not an accident?” I’m in utter disbelief. “Activists make enemies. Alastair mentioned a protest next week at Bluebasin Lake. I hope someone didn’t do this on purpose to keep him from the protest.” “His cranium was crushed. Brain matter everywhere. The crime appears to be more deliberate, according to the ladies who saw the whole thing.” My fish and chips crawl up my throat where I can taste them again. I close my eyes to Bill’s description of the crime scene and try not to relive it in my mind. “There’s no chance he could survive?” I ask. “No way. His head was mashed under the tires. Once struck, he didn’t have a chance to get out of the way. Per the eyewitnesses, the driver sped through like a crazy person in a rage.” He verifies the navigation while we’re stopped and makes his U-turn in the road. “Shouldn’t we wait around for the police?” If we take off, won’t that look like we showed up to make sure—” “This country has a constitutional monarchy where England runs the show here. I’m not familiar with how a monarchy works, not yet anyway―homework for later. Let the police interview witnesses who saw the incident as it happened. We’ll go down to the precinct and tell them how we met Alastair and when we saw him last.” Bill glances into his rearview mirror. “I should also bone up on the local government in Temuka. We’re tourists in their country and should understand our rights before going to the police.” “The cottage is that way.” I point over the seat. “We’re taking the scenic route. I don’t want to drive past that crowd with police on the way and remind them we could’ve staged this. It’s not like they know us.” Poor Alastair. If he didn’t meet us, he might still be alive. “I wish he wasn’t sent to the airport to pick us up.” I say what Bill could be thinking. “We didn’t do this to him. A person in a dark Land Rover did,” Bill announces without warning. “They saw the car? I hope the driver gets what’s coming for murder. Knowing the make of the car will narrow down the suspects. How many Rover models can there be in a town of a few thousand people?” “Land Rover has an entire line. Remember, we’re in a British Commonwealth, and Land Rover is a UK company. You might not have noticed how many Brit vehicles we passed leaving Christchurch. Tons. They aren’t all the boxy type we think about,” Bill says. “The police will have their work cut out finding the hit-and-run driver if witnesses didn’t get a license.” My heart sinks for Alastair’s daughter. “Whoever gets the nasty job of notifying Alastair’s daughter, I pity that person. Before you returned with the rental car at the airport, I spoke to a woman named Jenny at the sweet shop. She may hear about it first.” “Immediate family notification isn’t going to be a problem.” “Why?” “The women had strange expressions when I brought up his family in a general way. It seems that Sidney and her son died two years ago, with Alastair at the wheel of their car.” My hand flies to my mouth. “You’re kidding.” “According to them, Alastair’s alone and has no living relatives.” The ache in my heart increases, as does the sadness. “The family were in a car accident together, and he was the sole survivor? That’s painful just thinking about it. Why did he tell us that his daughter owns, present tense, the shop on Whaler’s Street? I thought Jenny was an employee.” “Jenny could’ve stepped in to take over the shop for Sidney, and Alastair might’ve been so lonely after her death that he took on the taxi service to give himself purpose.” “Whoa. It takes a story like Alastair’s to remind us not to squander our time with friends and family.” “So true.” “I’m glad we ate when we did because there’s no way I could handle food after all this mess. Who ran Alastair down in broad daylight—without fear of being seen and then drove away?” Bill’s detour takes us to the cottage cutoff from the opposite direction. It’ll add a few extra miles, but I don’t mind when we have so much breathtaking countryside to absorb. I power the window down as we pass gigantic, smooth-barked, native trees filled with noisy birds that include hooked beaks and fat little bellies. Purple wildflowers that look like asters dot the meadows, and plants shaped like Scheffleras grow from the bases of those big trees. A faded green sign marks the dirt road to Woolcombe Station’s cottage on an idyllic triangular property marked by old fence posts. Pristine hedges and more flowering shrubs in pinks and yellows line the wooden porch to the main entrance. Shed dormers break up the A-frame roof, a dead giveaway for their heavy snows during winter. As per Ethan’s description, weatherworn gray planks in vertical lengths give the home a rustic, country feel. Crisscross windows in washed-out white casings add to the ambiance, but the most glorious part of this little house is the pond and stepping stones that wind to the rear. Water spilling over rocks nearby from a stream to our left pulls me in to its sound. The trickle and movement of water is so calming. We park next to clumps of small pampas-like grass finely maintained by a groundskeeper, I suspect. Not a blade of ground cover is out of place. Mowed volunteer grass on the outer yard matches what’s near the porch—a landscape that looks utterly natural and not at all commercially grown. “The cottage is larger, and the outside is cleaner than I expected. Quaint and pretty. Ready to check out the inside, or would you rather get some exercise?” I ask Bill. “Inside first.” Bill’s standing behind me as I dig into my tote compartment that holds Ethan’s box with the key. I slip the key into the slot and the door opens to a spacious world of twenty-by-twenty neutral tile and monochromatic sage-green area rugs. Two leather armchairs side by side and an exquisite nubby sofa crowd a large, calf-height, wooden coffee table similar in color to the gray exterior of the home. A vaulted ceiling adds size to the space, an illusion of a much larger dwelling than it is. “Chic. Someone has a knack for decorating.” I glance into the ugly mustard-tiled kitchen. “Ugh. Spoke too soon. We have early seventies over there.” “Not a guy’s pad, that’s for sure.” Bill wanders past me, leaving the vast room for a short hallway. “Looks like two bedrooms and a main bath,” he remarks loud enough for me to catch his remark from the end of the hall. The kitchenette is cubbyhole small, as if it’s been left that way from a modern renovation of the living room. One bright window has a view to the pond from booth seating made from the same nubby fabric as the couch. The stove and oven are a single-unit throwback from the Nixon administration, with electric elements and a tea-stained, harvest gold range top. “Not exactly gourmet cooking appliances.” My fingernail scrapes off some of the old grease. “I see a lot of takeout in our future. Are the bedrooms nice?” I stroll to the hall and smell the pungent odor of fresh paint. “Rooms are clean. Dresser, mirror, and a queen-size bed in each.” “I believe we’ve solved our travel problems, having only one car between us. Since the cottage is in the boonies, if you’d care to use the other bedroom, I’d like you to stay here. Having someone in the house will distract me from noticing paranormal activity at night.” I’m holding a straight face but about to burst from his expression. It’s priceless. “Is that right? Alec didn’t mention that you see ghosts.” Bill settles himself against the wall, with wide eyes and hands hidden behind him. “Drake, lighten up already. I’m kidding. We have enough to worry about without people in the hereafter joining our vacation.” “If you’re sure you don’t mind?” Bill’s lips flatline. “I don’t want to impose.” He hesitates as something stirs behind his eyes. “I’ll let Alec know the arrangements, don’t worry. Unless he plans on showing up unannounced? I don’t know what the two of you talked about.” “He knows he’s being slightly overprotective, but it’s well-founded. Trouble seems to like you… a lot.” Bill shoves a hand in his pants pocket and twists his mouth into a pucker. Alec does the same pocket thing when he’s frustrated with me. “Come on.” I bump him on the elbow. “I want you to camp here. Alec trusts you, as I do.” Bill’s serious nature is absorbing everything I say as truth. I’ll have to be careful teasing him. He hasn’t crossed any line since we met last year, so I feel protected in his presence, as if Alec were here. “I hereby promise not to make a nuisance of myself. Cross my heart.” I cross myself and hold up the Boy Scout salute. “Scout’s honor.” He looks at the sofa and touches it as if soothing the fabric. “Considering the incident with Alastair, it’s a good idea not to hang around town for lodging until we talk with police and explain how he showed up at the airport.” “I agree. The last time you spoke to Alec, what was his general mood?” “Crazy worried,” Bill says. “In his shoes, I’d be the same way.” I drop my gaze to the floor and consider how I left Alec with Noah. “He put you on the flight because you’d keep me from harm. You can’t do that from a motel in town. I’ll call Alec and give him the details about Alastair and tell him you’re staying at the cottage. I considered keeping the hit-and-run from Alec, but he should be told everything.” “I’ll bring in our things. Thank you for taking pity on a detective out of his element.” He’s outside before I can thank him for his mediation. Homicides R Us is back in business. *** Excerpt from Copper Waters by Marlene M. Bell. Copyright 2022 by Marlene M. Bell. Reproduced with permission from Marlene M. Bell. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

Marlene M. Bell

Marlene M. Bell is an eclectic mystery writer, artist, photographer, and she raises sheep on a ranch in wooded East Texas with her husband, Gregg. Marlene’s Annalisse series boasts numerous honors including the Independent Press Award for Best Mystery (Spent Identity,) and FAPA— Florida Author’s President’s Gold Award for two other installments, (Stolen Obsession and Scattered Legacy.)

Her mysteries with a touch of romantic suspense are found at her websites or at online retail outlets. She also offers the first of her children’s picture books, Mia and Nattie: One Great Team! Based on true events from the Bell’s ranch. The simple text and illustrations are a touching tribute of compassion and love between a little girl and her lamb.

Catch Up With Marlene M. Bell:

www.MarleneMBell.com

Goodreads

BookBub – @dorsetgalwrites

Instagram – @marlenemysteries

Twitter – @ewephoric

Facebook – @marlenembell

YouTube – @marlenebell4960

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaway entries!  

 

Join in on the Giveaway:

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Marlene M. Bell. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

 

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Note: I received a courtesy copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All opinions expressed are my own.

Showcase: Death On Cozumel Island

I always appreciate authors who can draw upon their professional experiences, research skills, and love of books to create a fictional world that’s uniquely their own. Today’s featured author, Cindy Quayle, has done just that, combining her passion for mystery fiction—and cozy mysteries in particular—with a love of travel and adventure. To my way of thinking, Cindy’s debut work, Death on Cozumel Island, could be described as a “destination mystery.” I’ve added the book to my TBR stack; if you’re interested in kicking off your own summer reading with a cozy mystery set in a beautiful locale, read on!

***

Q&A With Cindy

What inspired you to write a cozy mystery?

When I gave birth to my first-born son over 16 years ago, I wanted something fun and light-hearted to read. My first cozy mystery book was by Joanne Fluke, and I loved that her main character was a strong, independent woman. I also enjoyed all the dessert recipes that were included.

Tell us about your amateur sleuth.

My main character, Claire O’Keefe, is an English as a Foreign Language teacher, which means she teaches English overseas rather than in the U.S.or other countries that speak English as their first language. Her half Korean and half Irish-American heritage influences her outlook on life and her self-esteem. Claire also deeply cares about her friends, and when they are wrongly accused of committing a crime, she does everything in her power to help them and solve the mystery.

How did you choose Cozumel as the setting for your first book?

I was inspired when my family went to the island for a scuba diving vacation three years ago and I realized it was the perfect place to set my first cozy mystery. It’s funny because before I wrote Death on Cozumel Island, I wasn’t able to finish a story. After our time on the island, though, the plot just fell into place for me.

What’s next in this series?

Yes! My amateur sleuth Claire returns to the Bay area, where she’s deeply involved in solving another mystery.

***

Praise for Death on Cozumel Island

“Fun debut in a new cozy mystery series…I look forward to seeing what will happen next for Claire.”

“Cozy mystery fans will love this. It’s a perfect beach or vacation read!”

“It’s the perfect blend of atmosphere, suspense, and intrigue. I’m looking forward to my next Claire O’Keefe mystery and excited to see where her next adventure takes her!”

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Book Details

Genre: Cozy Mystery
Publication Date: February 22, 2023
Number of Pages: 246
ISBN-13: 979-8375789989 (paperback)

ASIN: B0BW384MQL (Kindle)

Series: Claire O’Keefe Mystery
Links:  Purchase from Amazon or  Purchase signed copy from author

***

About The Author

Cindy was born in Seoul, South Korea and grew up in Washington State in the Pacific Northwest. Her love for storytelling began in elementary school, when she was introduced to Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables.

Her professional background includes service in the U.S. Navy, where she learned to appreciate the cultural diversity of the people from myriad countries she was stationed in or visited during port calls. Currently, Cindy holds a faculty position in the Spring International Language Center at the University of Arkansas, where she teaches Intensive English language and other programs to international students.

Gobal travel and cross-cultural experiences, together with a graduate degree in Teaching English as a Second Language, provided a firm foundation for writing the Claire O’ Keefe cozy mystery series. Today, Cindy lives in Fayetteville, Arkansas with her husband, two teenage boys, and two mischievous beagles. To learn more about the series, you can follow her on Instagram or contact her through Facebook to order an autographed copy of Death on Cozumel Island.

***

Thrilling Reads

In the interest of supporting authors who have encouraged and inspired me, I enjoy highlighting a variety of great books by terrific writers here on this website. That trend continues with Libby Fischer Hellmann, who is an incredibly prolific and award-winning author of both long and short fiction. Libby’s books cross the spectrum of crime fiction—suspenseful mysteries, PI novels, amateur sleuths, police procedurals, historical fiction, and thrillers that will keep you reading far into the night.

Want to know more? Check out Libby’s website and you’ll find her own bookstore where you can buy books at a discount. Her work is available in audiobook, Ebook, and personally autographed paperback formats. You can also find Libby’s books through her Amazon store.

With over 20 titles in print, Libby features one of her ”Backlist” novels every month or so in a short video. Here’s one:

Connect with Libby:

Website   ♦    Goodreads    ♦    Twitter    ♦    Facebook    ♦    Instagram    ♦   YouTube

 

 

A Rollicking Thriller

The Accidental Spy by David Gardner Banner

The Accidental Spy

by David Gardner

January 9 – February 3, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

What can you do when you’re fifty-six, unemployed, broke, and lonely?

That’s just one of the questions tormenting Harvey Hudson, former professor, academic author, and self-described “speculative historian” who’s spent decades pondering the “What-Ifs and Whys” of life. With no job prospects in academia, desperation drives Harvey to ego-crushing gigs like delivering balloon and candy bouquets while wearing bunny ears and a spongy red nose. Pizza deliveries came next; the tips helped him secretly support his mother, and soggy leftover pizza was better than Skittles and Snickers liberated from overloaded baskets. These career lows help explain why he accepts a job as a technical writer for which he has neither the skills nor the interest. That’s his first mistake on the job. His second mistake is outsourcing his work to India.

That decision lands him in a world of trouble when his actions capture the attention of international intelligence agencies, and he’s swept up in a covert operation to prevent a Russian cyberattack on the U.S. petroleum industry. The situation is further complicated by Harvey falling in love with the woman who’s doing the work he’s being paid to do, and who just might be a Russian agent as well.

The elements of cybercrime are set within competing realms of family, politics, and national security; the result is a rich, fast-paced plot that will keep you engaged from start to finish. Unexpected twists and turns in the action create a framework for well-developed characters whose unique personalities add shape and meaning to Harvey’s world.

Harvey’s obsession with the unanswerable what-ifs and whys of life creates an atmosphere that’s laden with moments of deep-rooted guilt, cynical introspection, suppressed desire, and comic desperation. The result is an entertaining and thought-provoking novel in which nothing is what it first appears. You’ll find yourself rooting for our accidental spy even while shaking your head over his behavior. And when the situation turns deadly serious, Harvey must find a way to save himself and those he loves from the consequences of his decisions.

The Accidental Spy Trailer:

Synopsis:

Harvey Hudson is an emotionally scarred, fifty-six-year-old history professor who has lost his job, his wife and his self-respect. In desperation, Harvey takes a high-tech job for which he is totally unqualified. So he outsources it to India. Then Harvey discovers that a Russian intelligence agency owns the outsourcing company and are using him to launch a cyberattack on the U.S. petroleum industry. Harvey now finds himself in a world of trouble with the Russians and the FBI, and he has fallen in love with the woman from New Delhi who’s doing the job he’s outsourced—who might be a Russian agent.

Book Details:

Genre: Humorous Thriller with Literary Pretensions

Published by: Encircle Publications, LLC Publication Date: November 2, 2022 Number of Pages: 274 ISBN: 9781645994206

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Encircle Publications

Read an excerpt:

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both.” Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken”

Spy: “A person employed by a governmental agency to obtain secret information on a hostile country.” The Philips Dictionary of Espionage

Accidental Spy: “Some poor jerk dragged into a world of trouble.” Harvey Hudson

Chapter 1: Bunny Ears

Summer, 2019
Harvey Hudson released the steering wheel and swatted at the blue balloon (“Congrats! You Did It!”) that was banging against the back of his head. What was the ‘It’ for? Someone earned a law degree? Pulled off a bank heist? Successfully underwent potty training? All three? One day before turning fifty-six, and here he was, delivering balloons. How had he let this happen to him? He chewed on the last of the Skittles he’d swiped from a bulky candy basket attached to a red balloon shaped like a birthday cake. Too many sweets for some spoiled kid. He was doing the pudgy brat a favor. The Snickers bar was tempting. Maybe later. Harvey reached across the front seat, grabbed a handful of candy bars from the Skittle-less basket ($149), and dropped them into its modest neighbor ($39). He often shifted candy from larger baskets to lesser ones. He thought of himself as the Robin Hood of balloon-delivery individuals. He’d had just $87 in the bank a few weeks ago when he’d shambled past a help-wanted sign in the front window of the Rapid Rabbit Balloon Service. He paused and reread the sign. “Part-time Delivery Person Needed. Become a Rapid Rabbit!” Yeah, what the hell. He hurried inside before he came to his senses. He would have taken any gig—balloon-delivery specialist, male stripper, or get-away driver for a grizzled bank robber. With his part-time job delivering balloons and his full-time work as a beginning technical writer, Harvey could just stay afloat. His ex-wife had cleaned him out. He double-parked on a smart street of brick-front homes on Boston’s Beacon Hill. Hesitating, he clamped the hated bunny ears over his head and attached the spongy red nose. Sighing, he grabbed the $149 basket and, head down, ambled up the walkway and rang the bell. The balloon bobbed overhead, taunting him. The woman who opened the door was a slim and pretty brunette in her fifties. She had a narrow face and large, dark eyes. She was his boss at his day job. Also his high school sweetheart. Harvey wanted to disappear into the ground. Margo took a step back. “Oh.” Harvey pulled off the bulbous red nose and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. “Uh…this is where you live?” Margo shook her head. “I’m here with my daughter for a birthday party.” Harvey shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m…um…delivering balloons just for tonight to help out a buddy who had two wisdom teeth pulled this morning, a professor who lost his job the same time I did.” Margo blinked twice. “A sociologist,” Harvey added. Margo gripped the edge of the door. “Named Fred,” Harvey said. Margo nodded. “The guy took the job in desperation because he’s broke, recently divorced, and down on his luck,” Harvey said and realized he was describing himself. He handed the basket to Margo. Did she believe him? Probably not. Did the company have a rule against moonlighting? He’d soon find out. Margo poked around inside the basket. “There’s too much candy in here.” “At least there aren’t any Skittles.” Margo selected a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. “I’ve moved tomorrow’s team meeting up to 10:00 A.M. Did you get my email?” Harvey nodded. Was that her way of telling him that moonlighters don’t get fired? He hoped so. He was pathetically unqualified as a technical writer, and his job was in jeopardy. Harvey hated meetings. Sometimes he thought the software engineers asked him questions he couldn’t answer just to see him squirm. Many were kids in their twenties, making double his salary. And he hated lying to Margo. At least he could be honest about one small thing. “Actually, this is my night gig. I’ve had it for a few weeks.” Margo unwrapped the Reese’s, nipped off a corner, chewed and said, “Is that why I caught you asleep at your desk yesterday?” No, it’s because the job is so goddamn boring. He shook his head. “I wasn’t sleeping. I have the habit of relaxing and closing my eyes whenever I’m searching for the perfect way to convey a particularly difficult concept to our worthy customers.” “And snoring?” Margo was smiling now. That same cute smile from high school. He remembered it from the time they’d sneaked a first kiss in the back row of calculus class. The girl he’d loved and lost. She set the basket down and pulled a twenty from the side pocket of her slacks. “Um…would you…uh…accept a tip?” “No.” She shoved the bill into his shirt pocket. “Yes, you will.” Harvey shifted his weight to his left foot. A liar doesn’t deserve a $20 tip. At most, a few dimes and nickels, couch-cushion change. Margo finished the peanut butter cup in silence. He didn’t quite know what to say now. Yes, he did know. He should tell her the truth. He’d outsourced his job to India. Was that illegal? Probably not. But highly unethical. Would she protect him after he’d confessed? Unlikely, which meant he would lose his job. But living a lie was exhausting and just plain wrong. She’d hired him and trusted him. She deserved better. He cleared his throat, once, twice, a third time. “Margo, there’s something I have to tell you. It seems I—“ “Is that the balloon guy?” a young woman called from inside the house. “That’s my daughter,” Margo said and picked up the basket. A blue balloon bobbed on a string attached to the handle. “I’ll be right back.” Harvey stood at the open door, trying to think of some way to soften his upcoming confession. Or maybe just blurt it out and get it over with? “Happy birthday, Dad!” The daughter’s voice again from inside. “Candy and a kid’s balloon again this year! Are you trying to tell me something?” The daughter laughed. Harvey recognized the man’s voice. Tucker Aldrich was the CEO of the company where Harvey worked. He was also Margo’s ex-husband and a first-class dickhead. So, it meant the balloon and candy basket were for Tucker and not some child. Harvey was sorry he’d passed on the Snickers bar. The hell with telling the truth. Margo came back out, holding a glass of white wine. She leaned against the door frame. “What were you going to say earlier?” “Uh…that you’re an over-tipper.” “Only when the delivery person is a cute, curly-haired guy with a spongy red nose,” she said and sipped her wine. “Did I mention that the meeting’s moved to 10:00?” “Yes.” Silence, then Margo said, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She closed the door behind her. Harvey stared at the bronze horsehead knocker. He wanted to rip it off. The door too. He in fact wanted to tear the whole damn building down on Tucker’s head. Margo hadn’t forgotten that she’d told him about the meeting. Margo was incapable of forgetting. She was warning him to show up. Team meetings were a nightmare. The scruffy programmers spoke computerese, argued over stuff Harvey didn’t understand, and gleefully pointed out errors in his documentation. But way off in New Delhi, lovely Amaya understood, and with luck she might save his job. Tomorrow’s meeting would make or break him. Harvey shuffled down the walkway, his head lowered, his bunny ears slipping down his forehead. He’d been so shocked to see Margo that he’d forgotten to take them off. One of life’s bad moments. Still, she had called him cute. Yeah, sure. He was just hours from turning fifty-six, had found addional gray hairs while shaving that morning, and was thickening around the waist from too many Skittles and Snickers. Harvey climbed into his car and slumped in the driver’s seat. He was angry with Tucker for stealing Margo and angry at Margo for not offering him a glass of wine. But most of all, Harvey was angry with himself for letting her see him in bunny ears. When he’d first started making deliveries a few weeks earlier, he’d refused to wear them, then thought, what the hell? Doesn’t everyone at some time want to play the fool? There was no pressure to succeed, to show off, to one-up a colleague. What if everyone from a prisoner sitting out a life term to the President of the United States had to set aside one day a year and play the fool, to go out in public wearing a spongy red nose and bunny ears? What-Ifs and Whys had obsessed Harvey as a child, who from morning to night had trailed behind his father and mother and pestered them with questions. (What if there was a ladder to the Moon? What if everyone had four arms? Why is cousin Alice getting those bumps on her chest?) Later, he would turn his pestering curiosity into a profession. He thought of himself as a ‘speculative historian.’ (What if the Allies had lost the Second World War? What if Caesar hadn’t crossed the Rubicon? What if no one had invented the computer?) Harvey started the engine, reached over to tap the next address into the GPS, then leaned back. Why humiliate himself like this? His ex-wife had always insisted he was punishing himself in guilt over his younger brother. Harvey denied this, but he knew she was right. Enough. He had reached his lifetime quota of humiliation. Here’s another What-If: What if he quit this goddamn job? Harvey shut off the engine, climbed out of the car, went around back, and popped the trunk. A dozen balloons bobbed on basket handles, aching to go free. Harvey tied the spongy red nose to a balloon that read “Get Well Soon!” He cut it loose. Next, he liberated a black balloon picturing a racecar (“Turning Ten!”). Finally, he tied his rabbit ears to a cluster of white orbs trailing a banner that read, “Congrats, New Parents!” and set the bunch free. He watched until the last of the balloons caught the breeze and disappeared into the night sky. He slammed the trunk closed, climbed into his car, and right away started to fret. What if a balloon floated to the harbor for some sea creature to swallow (Headline: “Reckless Ex-Professor Kills Orca!”). Just one more reason to be angry with himself. *** Excerpt from The Accidental Spy by David Gardner. Copyright 2022 by David Gardner. Reproduced with permission from David Gardner. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

David Gardner

David Gardner grew up on a Wisconsin dairy farm, served in Army Special Forces and earned a Ph.D. in French from the University of Wisconsin. He has taught college and worked as a reporter and in the computer industry. He coauthored three programming books for Prentice Hall, wrote dozens of travel articles as well as too many mind-numbing computer manuals before happily turning to fiction: “The Journalist: A Paranormal Thriller,” “The Last Speaker of Skalwegian,” and “The Accidental Spy” (all with Encircle Publications, LLC). He lives in Massachusetts with his wife, Nancy, also a writer. He hikes, bikes, messes with astrophotography and plays the keyboard with no discernible talent whatsoever.

 

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Note: I received a courtesy copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All opinions expressed are my own.