Giveaway – Dead Letters by P J Murphy @ireadbooktours

 



Book Details:

Book Title:  Dead Letters by P.J. Murphy
Category:  Adult Fiction (18+), 349 pages
Genre:  Mystery, Literary Fiction
Publisher:  P.J. Murphy
Release date:   May 2023
Content Rating:  PG-13 +M. The book is not violent, and swearing is infrequent. There are a number of references to ghosts, but the atmosphere is more gothic than scary (with one exception). However, it is a book aimed squarely at adults, with references to depression and mental illness.
Book Description:

“If you want to find me, search within these pages.”

Bestselling author Richard Debden is missing. The only clue: a copy of his unpublished final novel delivered to his ex-girlfriend, Amy. When those closest to Richard reunite for his memorial, Amy turns to Chris, his former best friend, to help unravel the mystery. Could Richard still be alive and in need of their help?

Richard’s manuscript tells of two abandoned children in wartime Britain, instructed by a shadowy Postmaster to deliver letters to ghosts and release them from their torment. As Chris and Amy delve into the text, they identify parallels between fiction and reality; clues to a trail that leads across the country and – they hope – to Richard.

But they are not the only interested party. A mysterious society is following them, their motives unclear. Can Chris and Amy unlock the secrets of Dead Letters, or will more sinister forces get there first?

Dead Letters is the captivating second novel by P.J. Murphy, author of Troubleshot.
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Meet the Author:

P.J. Murphy writes novels that introduce unusual and humorous twists to classic genres. If you pick up one of his books, you’re in for an interesting read that never loses its sense of fun. As a writer, P.J. tries to stick to the adage ‘write what you know’, although with the addition, ‘just make sure you exaggerate and distort it beyond all recognition’. He is planning to write a novel about taking a road trip with a parrot. He has never owned a parrot.


connect with author: website facebook goodreads
Enter the Giveaway:

DEAD LETTERS by P.J. Murphy Spotlight Book Tour Giveaway




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Giveaway – Undomesticated Women by Anna Blake @ireadbooktours



 

Book Details:

Book Title:  Undomesticated Women, Anecdotal Evidence from the Road by Anna Blake
Category:  Adult Non-Fiction (18+),  325 pages
Genre: Travel Memoir
Publisher:  Prairie Moon Press
Release date:  Oct  2023
Content Rating:  PG. oblique mention of dysfunctional family, no sex, drugs, etc
Book Description:

Welcome to our year of living compactly. My dog, Mister, and I took to the road pulling our A-frame trailer, the Rollin’ Rancho. I’m a traveling horse trainer/clinician, who became a non-essential worker during the COVID-19 lockdown. Then, in 2022, we bounced back. We were nomads looking for horse training adventure and liver treats. Work paid for the trip; it was part clinic tour, part travelogue, part squirrel hunt. But mostly an unapologetic celebration of sunsets, horses, RV parks, roadkill, diverse landscapes, and undomesticated women.

It’s a book made of made of adjectives and nouns, blue skies and tornado watches, resorts and reservations, open roads to the horizon, and one-lane dead-ends. We emerge from the truck in a cloud of dog hair and sunflower shells, like disoriented and scruffy rock stars in a GPS haze, not entirely lost or found.

This book isn’t about training, although there are horses in it. It’s a follow-up of Stable Relation, my first book, but my life changed in ways I would never have guessed, so don’t expect the usual sequel. Undomesticated Women is a travel memoir, a peek behind the curtains of what my job is like. I wanted to see this beautiful country, do some time travel, and explore thoughts and memories now that I’ve become a gray mare.

Mister would tell you it’s his memoir about being tasked with the unreasonable job of guarding me against a wild range of dangers. Like eating dinner late.
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Meet the Author:

I’m an animal advocate, award-winning author, solo RV traveler, old-school feminist, dog companion, unabashed lover of sunsets, and professional horse trainer/clinician. I’m sixty-nine years old. I’ve done just about everything and done it well. No longer auditioning.

My books include:
Stable Relation, A memoir of one woman’s spirited journey home.
Relaxed & Forward: Relationship advice from your horse.
Barn Dance, Nickers, brays, bleats, howls, and quacks: Tales from the herd.
Horse Prayers, Poems from the prairie.
Going Steady, More relationship advice from your horse.
Horse. Woman. Poems from our lives.
Undomesticated Women: Anecdotal Evidence from the Road

I was born in Cavalier County, North Dakota, in 1954, the youngest daughter in a farm family. Now I live at Infinity Farm, on the flat, windy, treeless prairie of Colorado with a herd of reprobates, raconteurs, and our moral compass, Edgar Rice Burro. Previously, I was a self-employed goldsmith, showing one-of-a-kind artwork in galleries from coast to coast. My Denver studio and gallery was shared with generations of good dogs.

Early writing included a few screenplays, one of which was produced independently, and articles for several periodicals. Every Friday since 2010, I have posted an unconventional and popular blog about life on the farm and horse training. My unique perspective combines Calming Signals and Affirmative Training for a special method of understanding, training, and respecting animals.


connect with the author: website facebook facebook instagram ~  goodreads 

Tour Schedule:
Undomesticated Women, Anecdotal Evidence from the Road Book Tour Giveaway



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Giveaway – The January Corpse by Neil Albert @partnersincr1me

The January Corpse by Neil Albert Banner

The January Corpse

by Neil Albert

January 15-26, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The January Corpse by Neil Albert

Dave Garrett is a disbarred lawyer eking out a living in Philadelphia as a private eye. At noon on Friday, a law school classmate offers him what looks like a hopeless investigation. Seven years before, a man named Daniel Wilson disappeared. His car was found abandoned with bullet holes and blood, but no body. A hearing is scheduled for Monday on whether Wilson should be declared legally dead. The police have been stumped for seven years. Organized crime warned off the first investigator to look into the case. Over the course of the weekend, the case takes Dave from center city to the coal regions and back, where the story comes to what the critics called “a startling and satisfying conclusion.”

Nominated as a Best First Novel by the Private Eye Writers of America when it first appeared in 1990 and the first of a series of twelve.

Praise for The January Corpse:

“Worthy of a Scott Turow . . . This exceptional first mystery is driven by a baffling plot and comes to a surprise ending that passes the Holmesian test.”
~ Publishers Weekly

“Tantalizing twisted”
~ The New York Times Book Review

“A first rate first novel.”
~ The Boston Globe

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Private Eye
Published by: Onyx
Publication Date: First published January 1990
Number of Pages: 207
ISBN: 9798663201599
Series: Dave Garrett Mystery, #1
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

FRIDAY, 11:00 A.M.

I couldn’t stand the sight of him but I took his case anyway.

I’d been sitting in the spectator’s section of a courtroom in the basement of the Court of Common Pleas of Philadelphia County. At night the room was used for criminal arraignments, and it showed. Everything in the room was dirty, even the air. I breathed in a mixture of grit, poverty and despair. The bare wooden benches were carved in complex, overlapping swirls of graffiti, initials, gang emblems, and phone numbers. Some people called it street art. I didn’t.

To my left, fifteen feet off the ground, a clock was built into the wall. It was missing its hands and most of the brass numerals, and the few that were left were muddy brown. Not that I cared what time it was; as long as I sat there, waiting to testify, my meter was running.

Today the room was being used by the Family Court for a custody case. This was the second day of trial, and the wife’s attorney was hoping to get me on the stand today. There’s no such thing as a custody case with class. The couple were both doctors, both well respected. Married ten years, two children, both girls, ages four and seven. They had separated two years ago. Each had a condo; his was just south of Society Hill in a newly gentrified neighborhood; hers was on Rittenhouse Square. They both had memberships at the usual country clubs, plus time-shares in Aspen and Jamaica. She drove a BMW and he drove a Benz. It had been amicable at first. Neither one was leaving for someone else; they just didn’t like being married to each other anymore. There was no one stirring it up. Most spouses need encouragement from a third party to get really nasty–a new girlfriend, a mother, a friend, or a lawyer. In the absence of someone to stir the pot, it was very civilized. For a while. Then, while working out a property settlement, her lawyer found that her husband had forgotten to disclose his half-interest in a fast-food franchise–a small matter of half a million dollars. In response, she dropped the blockbuster; she moved to terminate his visitation rights because she claimed he was sexually abusing the seven-year-old. He denied it and countered with a suit for attorney’s fees and punitive damages. The case had started yesterday, was being tried again today, and would probably go on for a good chunk of the next two weeks.

I had very little to say, but the wife’s lawyer wanted me to testify anyway. In a close case, almost anything might make a difference. I’d followed the husband for a week, and the most interesting thing I’d found was that he read Penthouse. Plus, as I was sure his lawyer would point out on cross, Time, Sports Illustrated, Business Week, and The New England Journal of Medicine.

The wife’s attorney, sitting at counsel table, turned to me, pointed to his watch, and shook his head. The cross examination of the wife’s child psychologist was hopelessly bogged down on the question of her credentials, and they weren’t going to reach me that day. The case wasn’t on again until the following Wednesday; I was free till then. I nodded, pointed to my own watch to indicate that my meter was off and headed for the door. My overcoat was already over my arm; no one familiar with the Court of Common Pleas of Philadelphia County leaves their property unattended. There used to be a sign outside the Public Defender’s office: Watch your hat, ass, and overcoat, till somebody stole it.

The corridor was as filthy as the courtroom, but at least there was light. And people–lots of them. The young and shabbily dressed ones were there for misdemeanor criminal or for family law cases. The felony defendants were usually older and better dressed; they’d learned the hard way that making a good impression just might help. The best dressed of all–except for the big-time drug defendants, who put everyone to shame–were the civil trial attorneys. There was big money in personal injury work and large commercial claims, and a lot of it was worn on their backs. My own suit, when it was new, had looked like theirs; now it was dated and worn, and my tie had a small stain. I was dressed well enough for what I did now.

I was nearly to the exit, feeling blasts of cold air as people went in and out, when I heard him call my name. The voice was raspy and nasal. I turned; it was Mark Louchs, a classmate from law school. He practiced with a small firm out in the suburbs. His hairline had receded since I’d last seen him, and he was wearing new, thicker glasses. His skin was red, probably from a recent Caribbean vacation. He smiled, shook my hand, and said he was so glad to see me. It was all too fast and too hearty, and I wondered what he wanted from me.

“Hello, Mark. Going well for you?”

“God, hearings coming out my ears. Clients calling all hours. Can’t get away from it. My accountant–I’m busy as hell–” He stopped himself. “Yeah. Fine. Look, you know how bad I feel about what happened to you. ” His voice trailed off. He’d been a jerk when I needed his help and we both knew it. I said nothing, letting the awkward silence go on. Making him uncomfortable was petty, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying it. When he was nervous, I noticed, his smile was a little lopsided.

When he was certain that I was going to leave him hanging, he went on. “Look, I hear you’re doing investigations now.”

“It’s the closest thing I can do to keep my hand in. And I sure wasn’t going to hang around as somebody’s research assistant.”

“I tried to reach you first thing this morning. They said you were out. ” I hadn’t had time to check my messages, but I just stayed quiet. I liked leaving him under the impression that I was in no hurry to talk to him. Partly because it might give me an advantage in whatever he wanted with me, and partly because it was true.

“Listen, Dave, I’d like you to do me a favor. Are you set up to handle a rush job?”

I do plenty of favors, but not in business. And not for someone who didn’t respond to my request for a letter of support when I’d gone before the Disciplinary Board with my license on the line. I kept my voice disinterested and cautious. “How much a favor, and how much a rush?”

“I need you to do an investigation for a case to be heard this coming Monday at one thirty.”

I carefully gave a low whistle, watching for his reaction. “That gives me just the rest of today and the weekend. Pretty short notice.”

“If you can do it, the fee should be no problem. I’m sure we can agree on an acceptable rate. “

I looked at his suit and at my own. I knew the money would never wind up in a suit. I had too many other bills. But it gave me something to focus on. “Let’s go somewhere and hear about it.”

We put on our overcoats, cut through the perpetual construction around City Hall and wound up at a small bar near Sansom. He found a quiet corner booth and ordered two coffees. Whatever serious lawyers do after five, they don’t drink during the day.

“Ever do a presumption of death hearing!” he asked.

“Fifteen years ago, fresh out of law school, I did a memo for a partner.”

“Familiar with the law?”

“Unless it’s changed. If all you have is a disappearance, no body or other direct proof of death, the passage of seven years without word gives rise to a presumption of death. If the person were alive, the law assumes that someone would have heard from them.”

“I represent the survivors of a man who disappeared under circumstances strongly suggestive of his death. His name is—was–Daniel Wilson. We filed an action to have him declared dead. The hearing is Monday afternoon at one-thirty in Norristown. The insurance company is fighting tooth and nail.”

“What carrier? I do some work for USF&G and for Travelers. I’d hate to get on their bad side. “

“Neither of them. Some one-lung life insurance outfit out of Iowa. Reliant Fidelity Mutual, or something like that.”

“Let’s hear some more. “

“He lived in Philly and had offices in the city and in Norristown. I figured that his office in Norristown gave me enough to get venue in Montgomery County. I don’t come into Philadelphia for trials if I can avoid it. The insurance company won’t offer a nickel, but they don’t care if it’s in Philadelphia or Montgomery County. “

“What kind of office?”

“A law office. Never heard of the guy before this case, though. I made a couple calls to friends from law school, but neither of them knew him. “

“Lawyers aren’t disappearing kinds of people. We’re more like barnacles.”

“Wait till you hear about the disappearance. Just after New Year’s, seven years ago. His sister was in town from LA; they planned to get together. They’re in separate cars, out in the country. Powell Township, Berks County. She finds his car off the road full of bullet holes. Plenty of blood, but no body. Police can’t turn up shit. He was never heard from again.”

It was short notice, but I had no plans for the weekend. It sounded like a break from skip traces and catching thieving employees. And it paid. “The case has been kicking around for months. You didn’t decide to hire an investigator this morning.”

Even in the dimness I could tell he was flustered. “Yeah, you’re right; you’re getting sloppy seconds. The Shreiner Agency was handling it till yesterday. ” I just sat there until he decided to continue. “They were doing all the usual interviews, credit checks, asset checks. They hand-delivered back the file and refunded our retainer. And a letter saying they wouldn’t be able to help any further. “

“Someone warned them off. “

“There could be other reasons.”

“This thing smells to me like organized crime. That’s out of my league. “

“Look, nobody’s asking you to find who killed him, even if he’s dead. We just need to say that there’s no evidence he’s alive. That ought to be easy enough.” He didn’t say the words ‘even for you’, but I heard them.

“Tell that to the Shreiner Agency. “

He finished his coffee. He was anxious to get help, but I was clearly hitting a nerve. “Yes or no?”

I normally worked for a flat fifty dollars an hour. Right then, considering who I’d be working for and whatever had happened to the Shreiner Agency, I wasn’t so sure if I wanted it. “I charge my attorney’s rate–one hundred fifty per hour; two hundred for work outside of business hours, half rate for travel time, plus all expenses.”

“Think you can come up with something for that kind of money?”

“Haven’t the slightest idea. You know how it is. I work by time, not results.”

“That’s a lot of money.”

“And it’s quarter to twelve on Friday.”

He gave me the kind of look I didn’t normally associate with being hired–it was closer to the expression you get when you steal somebody’s parking place. But he grunted something that sounded like “okay” and gave me his business card with his home number on it. And the Shreiner file, too–there was so little of it, he was carrying it in his breast pocket.

“I’ll look this over and do what I can this afternoon. When can I talk to the sister?” I asked.

“Give me your card. She’s in the area. I’ll have her at your office at nine tomorrow morning. “

“Make it seven; I don’t want to lose any time on Saturday. It’s tougher to reach people on Sunday.”

“Okay, but keep me posted, will you? Remember that you’re working under the supervision of an attorney. “

“Right. ” I wanted to tell him that I was working under the supervision of an asshole, but I let it pass.

Philadelphia has mild winters, but early January is no time to linger outside. I needed a quiet place to read. I went to Suburban Station and found an empty bench.

The Shreiner Agency was like the Army: bloated, bureaucratic, and sluggish, and most of its best people moved along after a few years. Yet they were careful and scrupulously honest. That counted for a lot in my business.

The file was only about twenty pages, and most of it was negative information. Daniel Wilson hadn’t voted in his home district since the time of his disappearance. Neither had he started any lawsuits, mortgaged any real estate, filed for bankruptcy, used his credit cards, joined the armed forces, opened any bank accounts, or taken out a marriage license. His driver’s license had expired a year after he disappeared and had never been renewed. At the time of his disappearance he had no points on his license and no criminal record. Since then, there had been no activity in his checking or savings accounts; the balances in each were a few hundred dollars. No income taxes or property taxes had been paid in seven years. None of this distinguished Daniel Wilson from somewhere between ten and fifteen percent of the population. I would need a lot more than this to convince a judge he was dead.

Toward the bottom of the pile I found an interim report by “JBF,” who I knew to be Jonathan Franklin, an investigator I’d worked with before. According to the report, at the time of his disappearance Wilson was thirty years old, short to medium height, wiry build, brown hair and eyes. Paper-clipped to the corner of the first page was a black-and-white wallet-size formal photo of Wilson in a suit and tie. From the date on the back, it was probably his law school graduation portrait. Assuming he graduated at twenty-five, the picture was twelve years old. I had visions of showing it and asking people if they’d ever seen an average-looking guy with glasses and brown hair before. It was a pleasant-looking face; maybe a little bland, but presentable. His cheeks were smooth and pink, and he looked closer to twenty than twenty-five. His glasses weren’t the wire-rimmed ones that were fashionable when I was in college, or the high-tech rimless models the yuppies wore now, but good old-fashioned ones, horn rimmed, with a heavy frame. He had the kind of face clients would trust.

The family background was minimal. Wilson’s father had died when he was a child; his mother was still living and worked cleaning offices in Center City. She lived in the Overbrook section of west Philadelphia. There was one sibling, a sister, Lisa, two years older; a former nurse who now lived in a small town upstate. She’d been living in LA, if I remembered Louchs correctly. I figured her for a loyal daughter who’d moved back east to be close to their mother after Daniel’s death, or disappearance, or whatever it was. Neither Lisa nor Daniel had any children. Neither had ever been married.

Franklin had come up with some more about Wilson’s grade and high school education. Wilson was consistently a superior student; not brilliant, but always near the top of the class. He was seldom absent, hardly ever late with work assignments, and never a discipline problem. Several of his high school classmates had been contacted; they remembered him as serious and hardworking. He played no sports but was active with the school literary magazine and the newspaper: He had a few dates, but no one remembered a steady girlfriend.

Except to tell me that he’d attended Gettysburg College, was secretary of the Photography Club, and obtained a degree in history, the college section was a blank. I wasn’t surprised; in high school everybody knows everybody. But people are too busy in college to know more than a couple of people well. Investigating backgrounds at the college level is usually helpful only if the subject was very well known or if the school was very small. I was reading with only half my attention by then; I was trying to imagine what kind of man was behind that picture. And what was the judge going to make of him. I hoped he wouldn’t decide that Wilson was the kind of loner who would pull up stakes and disappear without a word to anybody.

The next section was hardly more help. After college, three years at Temple Law School, graduating about one-third of the way from the top. He passed the bar on the first try and set up practice in Center City with a classmate, Leo Strasnick. When Wilson disappeared five years later, the partnership already had three associates, with offices in Philadelphia and Norristown. Nice growth.

I rubbed my eyes and looked at my watch. It was nearly one, and this was the only business day before the day of the hearing. The rest of the file would have to wait.

One of the advantages of Suburban Station was plenty of phone booths. My investigation got off on the right foot. Not only was Leo Strasnick available, he agreed to see me at four that afternoon. His office was only a few blocks from the station.

I tried Shreiner’s next.

“Shreiner Security Agency. How may we help you?” She sounded like a recording of herself.

“Mr. Franklin, please.”

“And whom may I say is calling?

“She was good. If my gross ever broke into seven figures, I promised myself I would get a receptionist who talked that well. And to take lessons from her.

“Just say I’m calling regarding the Wilson case. ” I was curious to see if that would be enough to get me through.

“Yeah, this is Jon Franklin,” was all he said, but it was enough. Something was bothering him. His words were unnaturally clipped, and his voice was too loud and too fast.

“Hello, Jon, this is Dave Garrett–“

“You said you were calling about Wilson?”

“Yeah, right,” I said as casually as I could “Remember me, Jon? We worked together on those tools disappearing out of Sun Shipbuilding? I was–“

“I remember. ” Then his voice got softer. “Dave, what do you have to do with this? We’re not in the Wilson case.”

“I’ve just taken it over. ” There was silence on the other end. “I’ve read your report and I assume there’s more than you had time to put in writing. ” More silence. “Look, Jon, the case is coming up Monday, for Christ’s sake. Cut me some slack.”

“You want some advice? Don’t take the case.”

“The lawyer guaranteed payment,” I said, being deliberately stupid. I had a lot of practice at that.

“No amount of money is worth it. ” I’d been expecting him to say that, but he was at the biggest agency in the state a fifteen-year veteran of the Philadelphia police.

“Can we get together somewhere?”

“I’ve told you all you need to know already,” he said, and hung up.”

***

Excerpt from The January Corpse by Neil Albert. Copyright 1990 by Neil Albert. Reproduced with permission from Neil Albert. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Neil Albert

Neil Albert is a trial lawyer in Lancaster, Pennsylvania and this book is based on a real presumption of death hearing. He has completed nine of the projected twelve books in the series and hopes to finish with December within the next two years. His interest in writing mysteries was kindled by reading Ross Macdonald and Neil operates a blog with an in-depth analysis of each of Macdonald’s books, In his younger years he was an avid fox hunter. His best memory is that he hunted for fifteen years and was the only member not be to seriously injured at least once.

Catch Up With Neil Albert:
www.neilalbertauthor.com
Goodreads

 

 

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Giveaway – Valkyrie Earth by Merrin Slade @goddessfish

 



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Merrin Slade will award a $50 Kobo gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

In a world where perfection is demanded of its citizens, one imperfect woman may be the only person who can save humanity.

One thousand years in the future, humans have developed the ability to alter their genes to create a perfect version of themselves, but not all are so fortunate. Cerys Skye is a Wild Type, genetically unaltered and forced to live in the Refuge—a place for Wild Types and the unlucky citizens whose genetic modifications society has deemed as imperfect.

All the fiery tempered young woman knows is how to fight. Using her wits and skills, Cerys must compete in brutal prize fights if she is to bring food to the table for her younger sister. But, she is always aware that the next fight could her last—she must find a way out of this life.

Leaving behind all that she knows, the last place the tempestuous Cerys expects to find herself is joining the United Planet’s Space Force Academy, where she battles prejudice and intolerance in a world run by genetically modified humans.

As the new recruit discovers, not all is as it seems at the Academy with a shadowy cyber-evil seeking to threaten humanity. But, when loyalties are tested and the stakes are high, can Cerys rely on newfound allies and her unshakeable courage to stop the impending catastrophe?

Contains mature themes.


Read an Excerpt

She felt light-headed. “I need half an hour. To find my sister, that’s all…” Starla would understand this was for both of them. She would ask Gerry to take Starla in. Of course, she would. Gerry had a big heart.

“If you’re joining the Space Force, you leave now. You must decide,” he said.

Panic seized her. “I have to say goodbye. I must make arrangements.”

“Step into the pick-up zone. Or you are free to stay behind.”

Cerys glanced up at the silver disk darting through the clouds towards them. She looked back at the crowd. Inquisitive tourists gathered in a wide circle around her. Standing on the edge of the pick-up zone, their faces flashed: green, white, green, white.

In that moment, a woman shoved to the front of the crowd, the haft of a sword glinting over her shoulder—a Valkyrie.

“Kara,” Cerys shouted. “Over here.”

“Cerys.” Kara strode towards the checkpoint. GMs shrank away. “What’s going on? Did they take you? I heard about it.”

The secofficer scowled, and the crowd whooped.

“Kara, listen.” Cerys tugged her aside. “I’ve been recruited to the Space Force. Tell Gerry to look after Starla, and tell Starla…I love her. I’m getting her out of here. I’ll send money. Promise me.”

Kara blinked. “Now? You’re going now?”

“Just promise.”

“I promise.” She nodded vigorously. “Of course, I promise. Hey, what’s this…?”

Secnoids grabbed Kara from behind, dragging her away. Even the famous Valkyrie were not permitted to say goodbye.

“Tell Starla I’ll message…” Cerys shouted, but Kara was already lost in the crowd.

About the Author: Merrin Slade is a science fiction writer who transports readers to alternate futures and faraway universes.

Connect with Merrin Slade:

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@merrinslade
Website: https://merrinslade.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/merrinslade
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/merrinslade

The book is discounted for a limited time in NZ, Australia and the UK. https://www.kobo.com/au/en/ebook/cerys-valkyrie-earth

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Giveaway – Twinkle Twinkle Au Revoir by Heather Weidner @dollycas @HeatherWeidner1


Twinkle Twinkle Au Revoir: A Mermaid Bay Christmas Shoppe Mystery
by Heather Weidner

About Twinkle Twinkle Au Revoir


Twinkle Twinkle Au Revoir: A Mermaid Bay Christmas Shoppe Mystery
Cozy Mystery
2nd in Series
Setting – Virginia
Level Best Books (January 16, 2024)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 252 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1685125328
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1685125325
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CL5N91S9

Love is in the air when Hollywood arrives in Mermaid Bay, and the town may never be the same.

Fans will do almost anything to get a glimpse of the actors or a chance to be an extra in the Love Channel’s “My Coastal Valentine.” Crowds flock to the cozy beach town from all over and business is booming for Christmas shop owner, Jade Hicks until the body of a testy reporter is found in one of the actors rooms. And if murder isn’t bad enough, someone tries to kill the show’s star, hunky Raphael Allard.

The cozy little beach town feels cursed, as the Love Channel threatens to pull out of the project. Jade and the gang, Lorelei, Peppermint Patti, Bernie, Chloe, and Neville the Devil Cat, have to solve the crimes before it ruins the town’s reputation and breaks the hearts of fans across the country.

About Heather Weidner

Through the years, Heather Weidner has been a cop’s kid, technical writer, editor, college professor, software tester, and IT manager. She writes the Delanie Fitzgerald Mysteries, The Jules Keene Glamping Mysteries, and The Mermaid Bay Christmas Shoppe Mysteries.

Her short stories appear in the Virginia is for Mysteries series, 50 Shades of Cabernet, Deadly Southern Charm, and Murder by the Glass, and she has non-fiction pieces in Promophobia and The Secret Ingredient.

She is a member of Sisters in Crime (Central Virginia, Chessie, Grand Canyon Writers, and Guppies), International Thriller Writers, and James River Writers.

Originally from Virginia Beach, Heather has been a mystery fan since Scooby-Doo and Nancy Drew. She lives in Central Virginia with her husband and a pair of Jack Russell terriers.

Author Links

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Giveaway – The Ghost Of Shantel Thompson by Curtis Maynard @GoddessFish @CurtisMaynard12

Amazon / Goodreads

THE GHOST OF SHANTEL THOMPSON by Curtis Maynard

GENRE:  Paranormal Thriller

BLURB

When the Riggs family in Mobile, Alabama, faced the mysterious death of their adoptive daughter Shantel Thompson, they never imagined her ghost would linger for decades…

In Curtis Maynard’s heart-stopping paranormal thriller, ‘The Ghost of Shantel Thompson,’ a new family, fifty years later, grapples with a haunting legacy where the line between life and death is hauntingly thin.

Just as they begin to settle into their new life, their own young daughter is gripped by chilling visions of Shantel. It’s not just fleeting shadows—she’s entangled in a vengeful spirit’s relentless quest for justice, a quest that spans generations.

As whispers from the grave reveal long-hidden secrets, this new family faces a terrifying truth: some ghosts refuse to be silenced. Now, they must confront the mystery of Shantel’s death before her ghostly agenda consumes them all.

Dare to uncover the truth? ‘The Ghost of Shantel Thompson’ awaits to send shivers down your spine

EXCERPT

Hours drifted away as they immersed themselves in the accounts of the murder day, meticulously examining interviews with the neighbors. It was during this exhaustive search that Sarah stumbled upon an article that sent a shiver down her spine. Her face turned pale, and she repeated the word “no” in disbelief.

Concern etched on his features, Damian inquired, “Honey, what’s wrong?” His worry grew as he witnessed his wife’s deteriorating condition.

Handing him the article, Sarah whispered, “Read it. It’s about the little girl who was murdered. She was adopted, just like Alicia. And look at the name. Shantel.”

Damian’s trembling hands held the article as he absorbed its contents. Shantel had been ten years old, the exact age their daughter had been when they had adopted her and moved to this very town. The uncanny similarities between the two girls sent a chill down his spine.

“D-Damian?” Sarah attempted to regain her husband’s attention, her voice quivering. “Damian?”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, placing the article down. “It’s just… It hits too close to home. I mean, what are the odds that we would move into the very house where she was killed?”

“And the name, Damian. Shantel. How could Alicia possibly know about her? We never disclosed the fact that a murder had occurred in our home,” Sarah lamented.

“Do you think she found out from someone else?” Damian posed the question, searching for answers.

“Who, Damian? She hardly leaves the house, except to go to school. Yet somehow, she learned about Shantel. Unless… never mind,” Sarah dismissed a fleeting thought, her anxiety evident. “I’m letting my imagination run wild again. I’ve watched one too many horror movies,” she chuckled nervously, masking her unease.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Curtis Maynard is an independent filmmaker, screenwriter, and author passionate about suspenseful storytelling. Enthralled by the paranormal, his mysteries and thrillers feature everything from hauntings and visions to cryptic messages from beyond the grave. Curtis currently resides with his wife and son in Alabama, a setting rich with inspiration for his novels and short films. He hopes his stories will leave you spellbound, disquieted, and suspicious of the slightest shuddering shadow.

Amazon / Twitter / TikTok / Facebook / Instagram

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Giveaway – Nerd Meets Curvy by A C James @goddessfish



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a winner a book box with the stunning hardback special edition with sprayed and stenciled edges, a dual-sided dust jacket, and custom swag. Please include this link with your post for her giveaway: https://acjames.com/blogs/news/nerdmeetscurvystories-hashtag-challenge-special-edition-book-box-giveaway

Coralie dreads starting over, but Mystic River beckons her home like a siren’s call. Armed with determination and a toolkit full of DIY magic, Coralie sets out to revive her grandmother’s worn-down house. If anyone can breathe new life into the old walls, it’s her. And with lifelong friendships awaiting her, she has a support system as sturdy as a bear shifter’s embrace.

Little does she know that her homecoming will launch her into the wildest roller coaster ride of midlife dating and a mating bond that makes her head spin faster than a tornado. Coralie certainly hadn’t signed up for this level of excitement, but here she was, courtesy of the enigmatic mastermind herself, Mrs. Wilde. The queen of matchmaking and the architect of the notorious Peculiar Hearts Dating Agency promises Coralie a spicy rebound for her upcoming high school reunion.

Enter Jax, a scorching hot bear shifter haunted by a love that’s gripped him since high school. Just when he finally has a shot at settling down, a pesky ex-harpy swoops in, flapping her wings and causing more drama than a forest full of squawking birds. Tired of the chaos, this bear is ready to throw in the towel and hibernate for good!

But as they say, fate has a wicked sense of humor.

Beneath the surface of his chance to make things right and rewrite history are secrets that could detonate like a ticking time bomb, threatening to shatter their fragile bond. Coralie holds a haunting secret buried deep within her heart. It shapes the choices that molded her into the fierce, curvy woman she is today. As for Jax, his past is a murky labyrinth of pain and darkness. Lives and love swing on a high-stakes pendulum as danger closes in.

Can Coralie and Jax beat the odds, untangle the mystery of the danger stalking them, and build a future that defies the limits of their pasts?


Read an Excerpt

Eleanora settled across from Coralie at the kitchen table, her shrewd gaze sweeping over her with an unapologetic curiosity. Coralie couldn’t help but feel anxious with anticipation. After all, this was the renowned Mrs. Wilde, the matchmaker extraordinaire. If anyone could navigate the treacherous waters of her love life, it would be her.

“So, how’s your sex life?” Eleanora blurted out, her straightforwardness causing Coralie to nearly choke on her tea.

Jessie’s warning about Mrs. Wilde’s blunt nature had been an understatement, to say the least. But Coralie had come to the Peculiar Hearts Dating Agency for a reason—to find love, even if the thought made her stomach twist with uncertainty.

Summoning her courage, Coralie straightened her posture. She met Eleanora’s inquisitive gaze with a defiant spark in her caramel-colored eyes and a touch of humor snarking her voice. “Nonexistent.”

Eleanora nodded, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Her words carried an air of understanding as if she had already seen Coralie’s romantic future unfold. “I figured as much. That’s why you’re here, my dear. Seeking a second chance at love.”

Relief flooded through Coralie, grateful she didn’t have to delve into the messy details of her past relationships. Eleanora seemed to possess an innate sense of what she needed. It brought a flicker of hope to Coralie’s weary heart. Could she truly open herself up to love again? Memories of her disastrous ex still lingered, fresh like an open wound that refused to heal. It had been two long years. She had remained closed off, unwilling to expose herself to the vulnerability that came with dating someone new and opening up to them.

Returning to Mystic River had been her escape, a refuge from the pain she endured. The house she inherited from her grandmother became her project, a labor of love and distraction. For months, she toiled away, dedicating herself to the renovation. It was a way to create her own haven and a means of avoiding the potential heartache that came with opening her heart to another. She had convinced herself that she didn’t need anyone else, not after the wounds inflicted by her ex.

About the Author:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author A.C. James writes paranormal romance and erotica, including Eternal Ever After (rebranded as Eternal Lover), featured in the bestselling Spice Box anthology. Her Ever Dark Immortals Series, which begins with Eternal Lover, has been described as “brimming with sensuality” and “romantic and sizzling hot.” The Isle of the Horse Shifters series starts with Ride: Awakening and is “lighthearted,” that is a “joy ride from beginning to end.”

She resides in the Philadelphia suburbs with her adoring husband Ron (aka Mr. A.C. James), who loves her imaginative yarns and punny sense of humor. She’s also a domestic violence advocate and discusses intimate partner violence and addiction to raise awareness on social media and through her writing. Many of her books include themes like alcoholism or addiction. If you love books that feature underdogs and redemption, her stories will capture your heart.

She spends most of her time drinking large vats of coffee while wrangling kids by day and writing by night. Recovering video game beta tester and tech geek who grew up going to cons and watching SmackDown. There’s probably some cosplay pictures around somewhere of her dressed up as Bloodberry from Saber Marionette J. Just don’t tell anyone.

Connect With Me

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Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Nerd-Meets-Curvy-Peculiar-Hearts-ebook/dp/B0CJ85QSWD/ref=sr_1_1

GIVEAWAY

The author will award a winner a book box with the stunning hardback special edition with sprayed and stenciled edges, a dual-sided dust jacket, and custom swag. Please include this link with your post for her giveaway: https://acjames.com/blogs/news/nerdmeetscurvystories-hashtag-challenge-special-edition-book-box-giveaway


Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found HERE.

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The Spotlight Is On – The Black Leopard’s Kiss & The Writer Remembers by Laury A Egan @ireadbooktours

 


I am excited to have Laury A Egan here today, sharing her thoughts about whatever she wants. 🙂

Thank you very much for featuring The Black Leopard’s Kiss & The Writer Remembers! Here are my interview questions:

1. What was the inspiration for writing this very unusual work?

To be honest, I haven’t a clue! The best I can say is that the beginning of the first novella (there are two, both linked, with the same main character) was strongly influenced by Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, in that it starts in a slow, introspective manner. After that, the plot picks up speed and begins a series of twists and turns, employing an Orlando-esque quality and magical realism. One of my main interests was telling a story about an older woman who is dealing with some physical infirmities and looking back on her life and investigating its mysteries.

2. Can you explain what you mean by magical realism and how did you use it?

This work is about an author, Sidonie Ross, who is depicted at age 64, 70, and at earlier ages as she tries to uncover memories and to look at her life as a narrative. In the book, I’ve intertwined the real, the half-remembered, and the forgotten and blended them together using a magical style. This is a difficult book to describe or categorize, but the reader is in for a dizzying ride.

3. How does this work compare to the other thirteen novels and story collection you’ve written and published?

Fog and Other Stories contained early short fiction and allowed me to experiment and try different styles, create a wide range of characters, and find the genres in which I was comfortable. Unfortunately—or fortunately—I discovered that my tastes were eclectic, from psychological suspense to coming-of-age to comedy to literary, as in this book. Of all of my writing, The Black Leopard’s Kiss & The Writer Remembers is my most creative and unusual. I’m really pleased to have this one published!

4. The author in this book writes from a room within her home. Do you?

Yes. Although my office is in the same quadrant of my house as Sidonie’s office, her house is based on my childhood home, which is only a few miles from my present residence. In both cases, there were woods visible through the right window, and the ocean was on the far side of the building (better to avoid distractions). I work every day, almost all day.

5. Do you have other obligations? Family or career?

Other than a prolific number of doctor’s appointments? As for job demands, I’ve retired from my career as a book designer (Princeton University Press and 20 other publishers) and as a freelance live opera/theater photographer, but I still hold fine arts photography critiques every two months. When my publishers allow, I create photographic illustrations and do the typography for covers, such as I did for this book. My life’s philosophy—which might also be that of Sidonie Ross—is best summed up by a line from Andrew Carnegie: “My heart is in my work.” Since I attended Carnegie Mellon University, I took this sentiment very seriously from an early age. My mother, who was a brilliant artist, did, too, and my father, who was a building contractor, was imaginative in his fashion. I have no family still alive, except for a few far-flung cousins, so my life is mostly free of distractions.

6. Since The Black Leopard’s Kiss & The Writer Remembers features time regressions, what period of your life would you like to revisit?

My early forties. I had just begun my freelance design and photography business, had fallen in love with opera and was attending the Met Opera regularly, with some magical evenings spent photographing live opera productions such as Philip Glass’ premiere of The Voyage at the Met. I was meeting so many fascinating people and, at the same time, was starting my first novel, which I’ve recently unearthed and am attempting to revise (a very heavy lift). Everything was exciting; doors were opening into new worlds I had only previously glimpsed. And, yes, there was a romance!

Thank you so much for visiting and sharing your thoughts, Laury. Good luck with the tour.

Book Details:

Book TitleThe Black Leopard’s Kiss & The Writer Remembers by Laury A. Egan
Category:  Adult Fiction (18+), 306 pages
Genre:  Literary, with magical realism
Publisher:  Spectrum Books
Release Date: Dec 16, 2023

Content Rating:  PG + M.  Language is moderate; scenes of attempted incest and lesbian encounter.  

Giveaway – A Bean To Die For by Tara Lush @dollycas


A Bean to Die For (A Coffee Lover’s Mystery) by Tara Lush

About A Bean to Die For


A Bean to Die For (A Coffee Lover’s Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
4th in Series
Setting – Florida
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Crooked Lane Books (January 9, 2024)
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 288 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 163910545X
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1639105458
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0C1YBSBXZ

Perfect for fans of Cleo Coyle and Lucy Burdette, reporter-turned-barista Lana Lewis is back on the case when a body is dug up in the community garden.

Lana Lewis is brewing up new concoctions at Perkatory, a popular café in Devil’s Beach, when she decides she wants to try her hand at growing her own coffee. She secures a gardening plot in the community garden, thanks to her father and the garden’s owner, Darla. Darla’s list of rules is long, but that doesn’t stop someone from leaving Jack Daggett’s body amongst the gardening plots.

Jack, an environmental activist, had been banned from the garden previously, because of his many fights with Darla about organic produce. Lana promises her boyfriend, police chief Noah, that she’s going to stay out of this case, having been too involved in previous cases. But when she learns that Jack died from an accidental overdose, and Darla is the top suspect because of her shady past, Lana can’t help but poke around in an attempt to clear Darla’s name.

As Lana dives deeper into the case, she learns that Jack had more enemies than she realized. When Darla turns up dead, Lana has to turn up the heat on her investigation. With Lana on the case, it won’t be long before someone spills the beans to crack this case wide open. But will she able to find the killer before they strike again?

About Tara Lush

Tara Lush is a Florida-based author and journalist. She’s an RWA Rita finalist, an Amtrak writing fellow, and the winner of the George C. Polk Award for environmental journalism.

She was a reporter with The Associated Press in Florida, covering crime, alligators, natural disasters, and politics. She also writes contemporary romance set in tropical locations under the name Tamara Lush.

Tara is a fan of vintage pulp fiction book covers, Sinatra-era jazz, 1980s fashion, tropical chill, kombucha, gin, tonic, seashells, iPhones, Art Deco, telenovelas, street art, coconut anything, strong coffee and newspapers. She lives on the Gulf Coast with her husband and two dogs.

Her debut mystery series is published by Crooked Lane Books.

Author Links

FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/tamlush
WEBSITE: https://taralush.com
INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/the.book.lush/
GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/20274256.Tara_Lush

Purchase Links – AmazonBarnes & NobleKoboBookshop.org

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Review – Vicious Scars by Jane Blythe @jblytheauthor @GiveMeBooksPR




Title: Vicious Scars
Series: Prey Security: Bravo Team #1
Author: Jane Blythe
Genre: Military Romantic Suspense
Tropes: Forced Proximity/Private Security
Release Date: January 9, 2024

MY REVIEW

I usually read Jane Blythe’s series in a progressive order, but this time I stepped ahead. I couldn’t help myself. I feel her books can be read as stand alones. The characters appear throughout the books, but each book highlights a couple. Vicious Scars tells Tallulah Russell and Gabriel “Tank” Dawson’s story.

Jane sets the hook early, creating a need to know from the opening pages. An intruder. It wasn’t what I expected, and I love that. Jane is very good at throwing twists and turns throughout her books. There are two story lines in Vicious Scars and we will only learn the results of one, Tallulah and Gabriel’s story.

A kidnapping of a woman in Witness Protection. What? Why would Prey Security feel the need to save someone who has been given a new identity and is being hidden by the U S Marshalls? Well, I’ll tell you. There’s a rat and they are there to, not only save her, but catch the man who has put a million dollar bounty on her head.

At 6%:

Instead of trying to brute force her way out of his hold by thrashing about, which would have been impossible, she immediately put her hand between his legs, grabbed his crotch, and twisted.

Yeah, Jane may love her damsels in distress, but she does not leave them defenseless.

Tallulah carries the sins of her father and has been in foster care since she was three years old. Because of her desire to help those in need, she has put a price on her head. Just once, she would love to have something good in her life. She doesn’t know it yet, but her kidnapper is the man that fits the bill.

We have some light moments, having me nodding my head and smiling. Even in times of darkness, there is light.

Some steamy moments heated up my ereader, but Tallulah and Tank deserve something good in their lives. Even though I knew Jane Blythe would supply it, the road to their happy ever after was not an easy one. Bullets flew, bodies fell, and suspense mounted as we came to the heart pounding conclusion.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

BLURB

No good deed goes unpunished.

Tallulah Russel knows she’s made a mistake. Unfortunately it’s too late to do anything about it. Snatched from her home and held prisoner in a cabin by a man whose behavior grows more confusing by the minute, she has two choices. She can escape the second she gets an opportunity, or she can put her trust in her kidnapper when he tells her he’s the only thing standing between her and certain death.

Gabriel “Tank” Dawson didn’t want this job. Now when his team needs him, he wants to be there for them, but this case has been ranked as high priority. Falling for the target shouldn’t be an option. But he can’t seem to help himself. Every second he spends with Tallulah he grows more captivated by her. Too bad the second she learns he’s been lying to her from the beginning she’ll hate him.

What should have been a simple plan goes to hell and its Tallulah who will end up paying the price.







PURCHASE LINKS

99c for a limited time!

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited






COMING SOON


Releasing February 13

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU






AUTHOR BIO


USA Today bestselling author Jane Blythe writes action-packed romantic suspense and military romance featuring protective heroes and heroines who are survivors. One of Jane’s most popular series includes Prey Security, part of Susan Stoker’s OPERATION ALPHA world! Writing in that world alongside authors such as Janie Crouch and Riley Edwards has been a blast, and she looks forward to bringing more books to this genre, both within and outside of Stoker’s world. When Jane isn’t binge-reading she’s counting down to Christmas and adding to her 200+ teddy bear collection!


AUTHOR LINKS




MY REVIEWS FOR JANE BLYTHE’S BOOKS

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