Giveaway – I Survived Blogfest! Tsunami Crimes by Chrys Fey @ChrysFey

“This is Chrys Fey reporting for Disaster 5 News. I am in Pensacola where a tsunami hit yesterday morning. I have Sherry Fundin with me, a survivor of the tsunami. Sherry, can you tell our viewers what happened, and how you survived?”

Well, Chrys, it was a gorgeous morning here in the Florida Panhandle. The sun was shining, the surfers were out and everyone was having a great time frolicking in the waves.

The first indication something was amiss was when the sea birds took flight in panic. I could feel a breeze that was different than normal and the hair on my arms and neck stood on end. Tingles ran down my spine…and the water rushed in. And it kept coming. It swept me off my feet, and I was driven down…down…down, being slammed into the pavement. I could feel the flesh being stripped from my body as I struggled to rise to the surface for a much needed breath of air. I frantically searched for anything to grab onto as the water rose…and rose…Just when I thought I couldn’t last any longer, someone reached out and grabbed my hand. I looked up and the most beautiful hazel eyes looked down at me. It was the best day of my life…Mr Wonderful had saved me…

.

I love all the covers for this series and Kim Mendoza has done a mighty fine job with Tsunami Crimes by Chrys Fey.

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Title: Tsunami Crimes
Series: Disaster Crimes #3
Author: Chrys Fey
Genre: Romantic-Suspense
 
Page Count: 272
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MY REVIEW

I have been following Beth and Donovan’s journey through one catastrophe after another in this fabulous thriller series. They first met in Hurricane Crimes, and had one hell of an adventure in Seismic Crimes and Lightning Crimes.

Now they face the rage of a Tsunami in Oahu, on their honeymoon, no less.

I have fallen for the characters. I watch as they grow and develop into more complex individuals. Beth is strong, independent, loving and giving. Better think twice about messing with her and her man. Donaovan and Thorn are best friends and both are in love with Beth. Their testosterone levels are so high, I think they need to pull them out and measure their ‘meat sword’. LOL Their friendly rivalry makes for some humorous situations. I love a good villain and Jackson Storm fits the bill nicely. 

The suspense builds, there is lots of action, and the suspense builds some more. Beth and Donovan are both targets and ya never know where the danger may come from. It lurks around every corner. Where and when will it strike?

Chrys Fey’s descriptive writing makes the story come alive, as if it is a movie playing out in my head. She has the ability to create doubt, even though I know the ending. She keeps the suspense at a fever pitch that goes on and on, never letting up, leaving me feeling wrung dry of my emotions. I finally reach the end and breathe a sigh of relief.

Excellent job, Chrys!

What disaster will be next?

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos 5 Stars

 
BLURB: Beth and Donovan have come a long way from Hurricane Sabrina and the San Francisco earthquake. Now they are approaching their wedding day and anxiously waiting to promise each other a lifetime of love. The journey down the aisle isn’t smooth, though, as they receive threats from the followers of the notorious criminal, Jackson Storm. They think they’ll be safe in Hawaii, but distance can’t stop these killers. Not even a tsunami can.
 
This monstrous wave is the most devastating disaster Beth has ever faced. It leaves her beaten, frightened. Is she a widow on her honeymoon? As she struggles to hold herself together and find Donovan, she’s kidnapped by Jackson’s men.
 
Fearing her dead, Donovan searches the rubble and shelters with no luck. The thought of her being swept out to sea is almost too much for him to bear, but the reality is much worse. She’s being used as bait to get him to fall into a deadly trap.

 If they live through this disaster, they may never be the same again. 

DIGITAL LINKS:
 
PRINT LINK:
 
99 CENTS: Amazon
And everywhere ebooks are sold. 
 
 
GIVEAWAY!
 

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Friday 56 #116 – The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie @SalmanRushdie

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The Friday 56 is hosted by Freda’s Voice.The only rules are to grab a book (any book), turn to page 56 or 56% in your ereader and find any sentence or a few ( no spoilers) that grabs you and post it.

Please join Rose City Reader every Friday to share the first sentence or so of the book you are reading along with you initial thoughts about the sentence, impressions of the book, or anything else the opener inspires.

Please include the title of the book and the author’s name.

~~~

A messy bookshelf is the norm around the Fundin household. I just cannot help but pick up another book and another and another…

Today I will be sharing a book I bought when it became banned overseas.

The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie.

Any time I hear about a book surrounded by controversy, I must have it.

The Satanic Verses

Amazon  Goodreads

My 56

“…No wonder I fell for you, sugar, when the local product is so low grade you get to like goods from foreign.”

(Page 56 in hardcover, published in 1989)

Book Beginnings

‘To be born again,’ sang Gibreel Farishta tumbling from the heavens, ‘first you have to die. Ho ji! Ho ji! To land upon the bosomy earth, first one needs to fly. Tat-taa! Taka-thun! How to ever smile again, if first you won’t cry? How to win the darling’s love, mister, without a sigh? Baba, if you want to get born again…’ Just before dawn one winter’s morning, New Year’s Day or thereabouts, two real, full-grown, living men fell from a great height, twenty-nine thousand and two feet, towards the English Channel, without benefit of parachutes or wings, out of a clear sky.

GOODREADS BLURB: One of the most controversial and acclaimed novels ever written, The Satanic Verses is Salman Rushdie’s best-known and most galvanizing book. Set in a modern world filled with both mayhem and miracles, the story begins with a bang: the terrorist bombing of a London-bound jet in midflight. Two Indian actors of opposing sensibilities fall to earth, transformed into living symbols of what is angelic and evil. This is just the initial act in a magnificent odyssey that seamlessly merges the actual with the imagined. A book whose importance is eclipsed only by its quality, The Satanic Verses is a key work of our times.

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Which cover would make you stop for more info?

The Satanic Verses The Satanic Verses آيات شيطانية

These are some of the covers, but I did not see the one I have anywhere (below).

 Is that a good thing? I think so. Makes mine rare, right?

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Giveaway – The Tick Tock Man by R M Clark @vandalrmc @month9books



Today R.M. Clark and Month9Books are revealing the cover and first chapter for THE TICK TOCK MAN which releases May 2, 2017! Check out the gorgeous  cover and enter to be one of the first readers to receive a eGalley!!

A quick note from the author:

The Tick Tock Man is my first foray into the world of speculative fiction. Here in New England, we are fortunate to have many wonderful clocks around. We have clocks in church steeples, parks, above banks and other locations. My idea for this story came from a simple “what if”. What if there were a community of “clock people” who kept all these great clocks running? Furthermore, what could go wrong? Then I made something go wrong and the story “clicked.” The Tick Tock Man takes place primarily in this fictional clock world, but the issues, conflicts and resolutions are not unlike those in the real world.

 

 
Title: THE TICK TOCK MAN
Author: R.M. Clark
Pub. Date: May 2, 2017
Publisher: TantrumBooks
Format: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 237
Find it: Goodreads | Amazon | B&N | TBD
 
When the clocks in town stop, thirteen-year-old CJ discovers an unusual “clock world” where most of the citizens are clock parts, tasked with keeping the big clocks running. But soon the seemingly peaceful world is divided between warring factions with CJ instructed to find the only person who can help: the elusive Tick Tock Man.

With the aid of Fuzee, a partly-human girl, he battles gear-headed extremists and razor-sharp pendulums in order to restore order before this world of chimes, springs, and clock people dissolves into a massive time warp, taking CJ’s quiet New England town with it.

 

 
Excerpt

Chapter OneSomething wasn’t right.

I’d planned on sleeping in Thanksgiving morning because, hey, it was Thanksgiving, and that meant no school and no stupid alarm to wake me up. Well, that was the plan.

At precisely eight a.m., the clock sitting a mere two feet from my head wailed.

Thunka thunka thunka thunka.

Stupid clock. That wasn’t even a real alarm sound. It was just an invented strange noise to annoy me. I checked the buttons on top. No alarm set and no radio. Maybe it was a dream? Just to be sure, I gave the clock a good whack.

All was well. Back to sleep.

Bonka bonka bonka bonka.

Now it was nine o’clock. I sat up and grabbed the clock with every intention of tossing it against the back wall. What a pleasure it would have been to see it smash into a million pieces. I win!

But, this clock was a birthday present from Uncle Artie. He’d said it was “a special clock for a special kid.” I didn’t like being called “special” because that had a different meaning at school. But it was a cool clock.

Until now. I mean, what kind of noise was that? Certainly not the alarm sound I was used to.

I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t help but wonder what crazy not-real-clock noise Uncle Artie’s “special” clock would make next. So I got out of bed.

Since it was Thanksgiving, I was not at all surprised to see my mom up and in the kitchen. The turkey was on the counter in a large pan. Her arm was halfway up the turkey’s you-know-what. Not what I wanted to see this early in the morning, thank you very much.

“Good morning,” Mom said. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I wanted to mention the special-but-stupid clock that made strange noises at weird times, but she had grabbed another handful of stuffing and stuffed it “up there.”

“We’ll need a few guest chairs from the basement when you get a chance. Nana and Papa are coming over, of course. Plus Grandma and Grandpa Boyce. And Uncle Artie too.”

“Sure thing, Mom.” I was barely awake and she was already asking me to do math. Nobody was coming over for quite a while, so I wouldn’t need the, let’s see, two-plus-two-plus-one chairs for several hours. I had tons of time.

What better way to spend it than on the couch watching TV? It would probably be the most fun I would have all day, with both sets of grandparents coming over. It was annoying enough that they had different titles: “Nana and Papa” on the Barnes side, “Grandma and Grandpa” on the Boyce side.

Then there was Uncle Artie. He wasn’t really an uncle but that’s what we always called him. I’ve also heard him called a “distant cousin,” whatever that means. He said his job as an “importer” took him around the world to some pretty exotic places such as Vienna and Timbuktu and South America. No matter what faraway land he went to, he almost always brought us back a clock. We had wooden clocks, metal clocks, cuckoo clocks, and some that were just too odd to describe. Mom would open a package from him and say, “Hey, look. It’s a clock. Imagine that.”

Each clock came with a wonderful story, so my parents loved to get them for just that reason. Unfortunately, both of them hated having all those clocks, with their constant ticking and chiming, so we kept them stashed away in the spare room upstairs until Uncle Artie came to visit. And since he was on his way, I sat up, knowing what was coming next. In three … two … one.

“CJ! Your Uncle Artie’s coming over, so you’ll need to set the clocks out.” Mom could sure belt it out when she needed to.

I knew the drill. I went to the spare room, pulled the special box out of the closet, and lugged it down the stairs. The crescent moon clock went in the living room, replacing a family portrait, which was fine with me since I looked like a dork in that picture, anyway. There was a special cuckoo clock for the bathroom that was pretty cool. The doors on the upper level opened at the top of the hour, revealing either a boy dancer or girl dancer. I set the correct time and adjusted the weights at the end of a long chain to keep the gears going. Six clocks later, I had completed the task, finishing it off in Dad’s basement shop with a clock made from a circular saw blade.

Uncle Artie’s favorite saying was, “You can never have too many clocks.” On this Thanksgiving Day, it was certainly true, even though I was sure my parents would disagree. Not me. Although I never paid a lot of attention to the clocks, I felt something strange as I took each one from the box and hung it in its rightful spot. The crescent moon clock had two huge eyes, one on the crescent side and the other on the orange side that completed the circle. The eyes were painted on but I swear they followed me as I moved around the room.

I double-checked the time on the cuckoo clock in the bathroom and admired the details in it. The entire clock was a house from a German village, with people dressed in lederhosen on the lower level. Lucky for me it was the top of the hour and the clock chimed, revealing the bird from a door at the top and children dancing in the two small doors just below it. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? What awesome detail!

I completed the clock replacement task, storing the non-clock items in the same box and returning it to the spare bedroom. That practically wore me out, so it was back to the couch. The smell from the great stuff Mom was cooking drifted into the room, reminding me I hadn’t eaten yet.

“I made you some scrambled eggs.” Mom smiled as I entered the kitchen.

“Thanks. I’m starving.”

She held out a plate then pulled it back, still smiling. “Just as soon as you bring up the chairs from the basement.”

This wasn’t fair, but it was the second time she’d asked. The third time would not be as charmed. On my way to the basement, I realized my early morning math was wrong. There were four chairs already in the dining room, so I only needed four more. I could easily get them all in one trip.

I passed Dad’s shop right at 10:30 and the heard the blade clock begin to make noise. I turned on the shop light to get a good look and, sure enough, the blade was slowly turning. Clockwise, not surprisingly. Even stranger was that the numbers never moved as the blade turned. A few seconds later, it stopped and went back to normal. Another clock I had never paid much attention to was suddenly freaking out. I hurried back upstairs with two chairs on each arm.

I got my scrambled eggs, finally.

***

At 11:00, things got even weirder. Dad was up by now, sitting in front of his computer, but that wasn’t the weird part. When the hour struck, the crescent moon clock made a strange clicking noise, and those crazy eyes began to wink at me. The painted-on lips between the four and eight went from a Mona Lisa smile to a full-blown grin. I wanted to say something to Mom or Dad, but who would believe me? I went into the bathroom, and the boy and girl dancers in the German village twirled next to each other while the bird stayed home. This was quickly moving into “bizarre” territory. It didn’t help when my watch—another gift from Uncle Artie—started chiming a sound I had never heard before. I took it off and stuffed it in my pocket. Problem solved.

***

I played video games in the back room, trying my best not to look at or listen to any of the suddenly crazy clocks in the house. It was working too, as I finished off another level of Mortal Warfare IV.

“CJ,” my mom called. “Please set the table.”

“Okay. Just one more level.” I sat up as the battle intensified.

“Now would be better. They’ll be here in less than an hour to watch the football game.”

“I’m on it.” I made it past the gatekeeper to complete the level, which allowed me to save my spot in the game.

I grabbed plates and set them out on the table. I took one plate and placed it on the TV tray next to the window. That’s where I would sit. The rule was: adults at the big table and kids somewhere else. Sometimes it was a card table when my cousins showed up. Since I was the only kid this year, I would have to settle for a TV tray.

My mom’s cell phone rang, and she talked with the phone squeezed against her shoulder as she mixed something in a large bowl. She stopped mid-mix and put the bowl down. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Her voice was all serious. She walked out of the room before I could hear any more of it.

I returned to my table-setting duties, grabbing forks, knives, and napkins. The smell of turkey and all the fixings hit me hard as I placed the silverware around the table. Maybe all this work would be worth it. I took another whiff. Maybe.

Mom returned to the kitchen, put the phone down, and stopped stirring.

“Mom, you okay?”

She looked up at me with moist eyes. “Uncle Artie is in the hospital and can’t make it for Thanksgiving. He hasn’t missed one since your dad and I have been married.” She dabbed her eyes with her apron. “Fortunately, it’s nothing serious and my parents are heading there right now, so they can’t make it until the weekend. I’d better go tell your father. Looks like we’ll only need five plates at the table.”

No Nana and Papa Barnes? No Uncle Artie? I truly hoped Uncle Artie was okay, but this was my big chance to sit at the head of the table, something I’ve always wanted to do. The head chair was bigger and had arms, and it felt like a throne. Uncle Artie always got the honors while I was stuck with the TV tray under the window.

I followed Mom out to the garage where Dad was cleaning out the van, getting it ready for our traditional late-afternoon drive. Dad didn’t seem too bummed to hear the news about Uncle Artie or his in-laws. He barely looked up as he polished the dashboard. “Yeah, well, sorry to hear about Uncle Artie. He’s never down for very long.”

The time was right to pounce. “Mom? Dad?”

Dad turned toward me and nearly bumped his head on the visor. “Yes?”

“I wish Uncle Artie was coming today, I really do.” I tried my best to act like I was crying. It must have worked because I felt my throat tightening. “His are some tough shoes to fill, but I bet he’d want me to sit in his spot at the head of table. After all, he gave me this watch for my birthday last year.” I pulled it out of my pocket to show them. “And we have the same middle name and everything.” I, Carlton James Boyce, was merely guessing at his middle name, hoping neither of my parents knew the truth. “Please? I think I’ve earned it.”

Neither of them thought about it for too long. “It’s all yours, kid,” Dad said as he leaned on the roof of the van.

“Remember your manners at the table,” Mom said. “Uncle Artie would want it that way.”

Manners? Oh, please. Uncle Artie smoked a lot, drank a lot, and sometimes swore a lot. In spite of all that, he was my favorite relative. Over the years, besides the watches and clocks, he had given me several toy cars, baseball cards, stuffed animals, and even a five-dollar bill. These gifts were always “our little secret.” Plus, he told the greatest stories.

Grandma and Grandpa Boyce arrived a little later, and each gave me a quick hug. It’s a terrible thing to say, and I know I’m supposed to love my grandparents without question, but Mom’s parents—the “good ones” who actually liked me—weren’t coming. If Mom and Dad ever found out I felt that way, I’d be grounded for a month—Dad’s typical punishment.

Dad and Grandpa went to the living room to watch the game while the women got the food prepared. I tried to help, but I mostly got in the way.

Everything was ready just before two o’clock, and I grabbed the spot at the head of the table, with Grandma and Grandpa to my right and Mom and Dad to my left. Everyone sat down except Grandpa. He placed his hands on the table and leaned toward my dad.

“I guess this doesn’t rate as a special occasion, eh, George?”

“How’s that, Pop?” Dad said.

“The Hoffhalder. It’s a Thanksgiving tradition, isn’t it?”

“You bet it is.”

The Hoffhalder was a large mantle clock that sat in the corner of the dining room on what mom called the buffet. The Hoffhalder had been in the family for decades, and Dad would only wind it on special occasions. Uncle Artie always had the honors when he came over.

“I’ll do it, Dad,” I said.

“Can he handle it?” asked Grandpa. “He’s just a child.”

I’m right here! I thought. And I’m not a child anymore. I’m thirteen.

“Sure he can,” Grandma said. “Now, make Uncle Artie proud.” She gave me her patented don’t-screw-it-up look.

“CJ, just be careful, okay?” Dad said.

“Sure thing.” I had seen it wound a thousand times. I took the key from the drawer of the small desk nearby, carefully opened the glass in front, and put the key in the keyhole near the number four. There was another near the number eight. I knew it wound clockwise on the right and counterclockwise on the left.

“Whatever you do, don’t overwind it,” Grandpa said. He gave anyone who ever got near the clock got the same warning.

I started winding. One turn. Two turns. Then it started to get tight, so I stopped. I placed the key in the left hole and began to turn in the other direction with my left hand. One turn. Two turns. It wasn’t getting any tighter. Three turns. That was odd; it usually tightened up by now, but I figured it had just been a while. Four turns and still not tight. I switched to my right hand to finish it up. Five turns. Surely it would start to get tight. Then I heard a faint click, and the key wouldn’t move anymore. Uh-oh.

“Everything all right?” Dad asked.

I pulled the key out and put it back in the drawer. “Everything’s great.” I looked at my watch, and then spun the Hoffhalder’s minute hand around until the time was five minutes until two. After closing the glass, I gently moved the large pendulum at the bottom, and the Hoffhalder began to tick. Whew! All was well.

When the Hoffhalder chimed, it made a beautiful sound. In fact, it seemed to be the only clock sound my family liked. It was a perfect combination of bells and gears and springs working in harmony. We now had three minutes until it would chime on the hour, and everyone at the table waited patiently for the moment to arrive. As the last thirty seconds ticked off, Grandpa nudged Grandma. “Here it comes,” he said in a low voice.

The Hoffhalder struck two and began to chime. Once. Then another.

But the second chime lingered way too long and the pendulum began to swing wildly, knocking into the side walls. The chime sound turned into a grinding noise, and the pendulum stopped.

“CJ!” Dad yelled. “What have you done to my clock?”

“He overwound it,” Grandpa said while making a turning motion with hand.

“Clearly,” said Grandma. “And I’ll bet Uncle Artie is rolling over in his grave as we speak.”

“Artie’s not dead,” Mom said. “Just in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry, everyone,” I said. “I didn’t mean to. Honest. It was an accident.”

“You’re grounded,” Dad said.

“For how long?” I asked.

“A month.”

“A month? Mom?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” she said.

I looked around the table, and three sets of eyes were on me. Mom reached out and touched my hand. At least someone was on my side.

“That clock’s been in the family for four generations,” Grandpa said. “Built by the finest clockmaker in Germany.”

“And smuggled out on a steamer ship during World War I,” Grandma added. “Truly one of a kind. Irreplaceable.”

I knew the details by heart, and it just made matters worse. “I’ll get it fixed, okay? I have some money saved up.”

“Sounds like you snapped the mainspring,” Grandpa said, adding a “break in half” motion with his hands.

Grandma leaned over and got as close to me as she could. “It’ll never be the same.”

“A month,” Dad said. He put a finger in my face to make his point. “For breaking my clock.”

He continued to glare at me as Mom began to serve the turkey. We ate in near silence.

I had ruined Thanksgiving.

 

 
R. M. Clark is a computer scientist for the Dept. of Navy by day and children’s book writer by night. He lives in Massachusetts with his wife and two sons.
 

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

 
3 winners will receive an eGalley of THE TICK TOCK MAN. International.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Have A Book Idea? World’s Best Story Wants To Know

 

I wanted to bring to your attention the world’s first crowd-sourced literary contest and discovery platform for readers and writers: World’s Best Story! 
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The contest aims to find a manuscript that has the potential to be a smash hit in books and beyond – from movies, to video games, to graphic novels, to merchandise. Anyone with a story can enter their synopsis and sample chapter for the community to review and help select ten finalists.


This is the third year they are open and accepting submissions. If you have a manuscript for a story you or someone you know has written in the following genres, it can now be submitted:

General Fiction
Crime / Mystery 
Romance
Horror / Thriller
Sci-fi / Fantasy
Young Adult
18+ Adult Fiction
All – including Non-fiction

This is a free contest submission. 
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Writers from around the world can submit stories for free in several fiction and non fiction genres while readers across the world vote on those stories using WBS’s easy and fun to use proprietary blockbuster story potential™ voting algorithm. All winning stories receive a pedigree building publishing deal represented by WBS Entertainment Inc.

 
 

Ready for your book deal?
Submit your story!
 
 
  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
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  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
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  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • Problem commenting, look for the twitter, facebook…buttons.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

My 2016 Reading Challenges WrapUp

YAY! I met all my goals this year. ‘pat myself on the back’ 🙂 

You may check my Reading Challenge page to see what I will be going for in 2017.

 

Blank yyib header maxresClick the My Year in Books image above for my 2016 Goodreads Challenge

 Can you read a series in a month challenge.

I read Rick Yancy’s series.

~~~

I will be trying the Alphabet Reading Challenge again and aim to do much better.

alphabet 2016The Alphabet Soup Challenge means that by December 31, 2016

Your bowls must be full of one book for each letter of the Alphabet. Click on the banner to see the rules.

***highlighted books have been reviewed***

A.  At The Sharp End of Lightning

B.  Betrayed by Jaye Frances

C.  Cancelled Vows by Lauren Carr

D.  Deadly Dunes by E Michael Helms

E.  Europa Awakenings by P R Garcia

F.  Falling for Sarah by Cate Beauman

G. Girl of Mine by Taylor Dean

H.  Heaven Enough by Ken LaSalle

I.  Icy Passage by Ann Gimpel

J. Joshua and the Arrow Realm by Donna Galanti

K.  Killer Pursuit by Jeff Gunhus

L.  Last Light by C J Lyons

M. The Mermaid and the treasure of the Bay by A Algeri by A Algeri

N.  Northwoods by Bill Schweigart

O. Oubliette by Vanta M Black

P.  Perfectly Tortured by Kristine Mason

Q.  Europa Quanndocii by P R Garcia

R. Roma, Underground by Gabriel Valjan

S.  Sugar Scars by Travis Norwood

T.  Tasting Temptation by Aria Glazki

U.  Unbridled Trails by Bonnie R Paulson

V. Vanish by Becca Campbell

W.  White Light by Anna Simpson

X. The Extraordinary Journey of Vivienne Marshall by Shannon Kirk

Y.  Your Name, In Fire by Kera Emory

Z.  The Zombie Game by Glenn Shepard

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I do read a lot of horror, so why not join me in the challenge?

Click the banner to see the rules at Cornerfolds.

 
Read and review 16+ horror books to receive the Horror Hound badge
 .
12. Oubliette by Vanta M Black
 
I’m sure I missed some, so feel free to browse and see if you can find which ones.

 

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Because I find it hard to say no to cozies, I’m in..

Click the banner to see the rules.

My goal – Level 4 – Sleuth Extraordinaire – Read 21 or more books

  1. Hastings Dead by Rohn Federbush
  2. Murder on the Horizon by M L Rowland
  3. Happy Homicides
  4. The Corpse with the Garnet Face
  5. Homicide in The House by Colleen Shogan
  6. The Black Thumb by Frankie Bow
  7. A Bad Reputation by Jane Tesh
  8. A Cunning Plan by Astrid Arditi
  9. Gnarly New Year by Anne Celeste Burke
  10. Cowabunga Christmas by Anne Celeste Burke
  11. Meddling With Murder by Ellie Campbell
  12. Scene of the Climb by Kate Seeley Dyer
  13. Silence in the Surf by Kate Seeley Dyer
  14. Slayed on the Slope by Kate Seeley Dyer
  15. Those Who Walk In Darkness by Joyce and Jim Lavene
  16. Beyond Belief by Helen Smith
  17. Cancelled Vows by Lauren Carr
  18. Midnight on the Mississippi by Mary Ellis
  19. What Happened on Beale Street by Mary Ellis
  20. Magnolia Moonlight by Mary Ellis
  21. Murder at Jade Cove by Dianne Harman
  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • animated smilies photo: animated animated.gifLook on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • Problem commenting, look for the twitter, facebook…buttons.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

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