$25 GC – Haunted By A Broken Oath by Dee Armstrong @partnersincr1me @deearmstrongbks #hauntedbyabrokenoath

Posted on February 7, 2026 by fundinmental

HAUNTED BY A BROKEN OATH

by Dee Armstrong

February 2 – March 13, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A JD WOLFE INVESTIGATION

When a hero dies and children vanish, PI JD Wolfe must confront a deadly conspiracy–and the ghost that’s haunted her since childhood.

A decorated military hero is found hanging from a rope. Two young boys vanish without a trace. And private investigator JD Wolfe’s world begins to unravel.

The deeper she digs, the closer the danger creeps–not just to her, but to the family that saved her and the career that keeps her sane. JD knows these crimes aren’t random. They’re a message. And she might be the target.

Once called Diamond in a grim orphanage, the Wolfe family adopted JD, but she’s never felt like she truly belonged. She harbors secrets too dark to speak. Secrets that landed her in an asylum. Secrets tied to a ghost that’s haunted her since the night her mother died in a fire.

This ghost doesn’t sleep. It invades JD’s cases, her dreams, and even her heart. She’s kept it buried for years. But now, with lives on the line, JD must do the unthinkable.

She must let the ghost in.

Praise for Haunted by a Broken Oath:

“Meet JD Wolfe—a tough, smart, quirky PI with special skills and a meddling ghost in tow. Buckle up for a wild ride!”
~ DP Lyle, Award-Winning Author of the Jake Longly and Cain/Harper Thriller Series and Co-Creator of the Outliers Writing University

“Dee Armstrong is a refreshing new voice in action thrillers. Her new novel is packed with gut-gripping suspense, peppered with witty quips that had me chuckling, while her plot twists had me biting back a scream. Blazing brilliant!”
~ Kathleen Baldwin, Wall Street Journal and #1 Barnes & Noble bestselling author of A School for Unusual Girls

“Haunted By A Broken Oath will grip you from the very first page and linger in your mind long after the last. Armstrong’s strong voice and resonant characters make this an unforgettable read.”
~ Kathleen Antrim, Bestselling Author

“A highly eventful but fast-paced supernatural thriller.”
~ Kirkus Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Thriller with a touch of paranormal
Published by: Outliers Press . Suspense Publishing
Publication Date: November 11, 2025
Number of Pages: 424
ISBN: 9798999682994 (Paperback)
Series: A JD Wolfe Investigation, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | KindleUnlimited | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

The first rule on my “JD Wolfe’s Survival List” was: Don’t trust the ghost, because she couldn’t leave anything alone. Not when you were awake, not when you were asleep, not when she was haunting you. Not when the only surprise you received for your eighth birthday, other than the death of your mom in a fire, was for the ghost who had tormented her to transfer that torment to you.

And torment you forever.

During the thirteen years since the fire, I went from homeless to orphan to private eye. I reinvented myself. I became stronger. When life comes at you, and you have no one to protect you, and flight isn’t an option, you either fight or surrender.

I chose fight.

I took my adopted family’s surname and changed my name from Diamond, the girl with no last name, to Justyne Diamond Wolfe, or JD for short. I haven’t forgotten my survival rules.

I’ve added more to the list.

Past midnight, I sat hunched at the counter, scrolling through my phone in one of those diners you see in the movies with wide windows, cushy booths, a long counter, and pictures of All American Little League baseball teams lining the walls. You’d expect to see couples snuggled in the booths and a clean-cut, milkshake melt-in-your-mouth kind of guy in a starched button-down shirt. Instead, I was alone with Creepy Diner Guy working the counter. His hair slicked back, his shirt a stain-spattered rendering of a Jackson Pollock painting, his buttons playing hopscotch, missing every other hole.

He wiped a dirty rag around a glass jar with a MISSING flier taped to the front. A pretty, fresh-faced, school-age girl smiled for the camera wearing decades-old clothes and a Hello Kitty backpack. The change and dollar bills stuffed into the jar suggested hope was still alive.

I wasn’t so sure. In my experience, hope was for suckers.

“Get you another coffee, Red?” His nasty meth-smile busted and blackened.

“Still struggling with this one.” I swirled the sludge he called coffee in the bottom of my cup. It had created a tar pit inside my gut. I decided to check in with the office before the coffee killed me.

On the stool at my nine, a ball of light appeared. Flickered. Sparked in shades between blue, violet and eye-piercing white. The air snapped. The skin on my arms tingled and puckered like a plucked goose’s butt.

The light shifted from a pixelated pattern into a semi-transparent woman, all monochromatic shades of gray. Stringy hair stuck to her face, hiding her features. Only her silver eyes and charcoal lips showed through. A dingy nightgown hung from her shoulders and fluttered in shreds around her bare feet.

Home, home, home, the ghost whispered in my brain, where the thoughts were supposed to be mine, not hers. One of many things about the Woman that ticked me off.

Most people would call the ghost a spirit or specter, but I preferred “the Woman.”

Or “Bitch.”

Instead of playing patty-cake and singing nursery rhymes, I learned how to survive living with a not-so-dearly departed. I didn’t care how she died, only that she stuck to my mom like a nasty rash.

The second rule I learned? Never tell anyone about the ghost. Otherwise, they’ll think you’re crazy and lock you up.

Creepy Diner Guy didn’t react to his supernatural guest. He walked past and wiped down tables. That didn’t shock me. My mom had been the only other living person I’d known who could see or hear or smell the Woman.

Even when the Woman didn’t appear, she watched. Listened. Waited for a way to interfere. It was inevitable. I lived with the dead.

An overwhelming smell of lavender clung to the Woman. I gagged on the disgusting sweetness. My hand tugged at the collar of my leather jacket and the t-shirt beneath. “Why can’t you give me one day?” I whispered. “One day without your lavender scent up my nose, your annoying voice blabbing in my head, your bony butt blocking my way?”

S-s-sorry, s-s-sorry, sorry, she repeated.

“Yeah, right. If you were sorry, you’d go back to hell.”

La-la-late. The staccato beat of her words pounded against my temples. As if the ghost cared if she didn’t get forty winks.

“I’m on a job. Go away.” I worked in the family’s business, White Wolfe Investigations. Today’s job was more of a payback than a paycheck. My adopted father, Milt Wolfe—whom I liked to call Fixer Geezer in my head—owed a lifelong favor to his old Navy buddy, Master Chief Ben Palmer. I didn’t know why Master Chief had bought a 24-hour diner right off I-95. Senile? Maybe.

This kind of debt could never be paid off. How could you put a price on someone saving your life?

I understood Milt’s orders: Sit tight. Observe and report. Master Chief thought Creepy Diner Guy volunteered for the night shift to make money on the shady side of life—the side where things slip from white-lie gray to back-alley black; the side where cops close your restaurant and cart you off to jail.

My phone buzzed. No doubt it was one of the Geezers. Two brothers I considered my real fathers, and my bosses. “Sweet cheeks, I’ll be home soon.”

“Sweet cheeks?” Their voices blended into one. They’d put me on speakerphone. Great. Two opinionated, life-controlling Geezers for the price of one.

I couldn’t bring myself to call Milt anything like Dad or Daddy or Pop. Some things took time and a barge load of counseling. “Is everything okay, Sweet Cheeks?”

“Has he passed any packages? Drugs? Money?” Cliff Wolfe, a.k.a. Smarty Pants Geezer and my adopted uncle, was super stinkin’ smart. The type of smart that could send a rocket to the moon but not close the refrigerator door.

“Nope. Only coffee.” I ignored the ghost and monitored Creepy Diner Guy. He picked at a stain on his shirt and popped something into his mouth.

My stomach revolted.

“Stolen anything?” Street smart and straight to the point, Milt didn’t waste words.

“Nope. Nada. Not cash from the till or a quarter from the floor.”

“Be smart.” Uncle Cliff’s voice geared into lecture mode.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be smart.”

“Don’t approach anyone. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Get the intel. Get home. You’re more important than a favor.” Milt, the man who fixed everything with what he had on hand, even if it was only his brute strength or a rubber band, sounded as strong and sure as the day he saved me from St. Francis’ Group Home for Lost Souls. A fancy name for an orphanage. People rebrand and rename. It’s all the same. Group home or orphanage. I preferred orphanage. Or St. Francis’ Hell Hole.

The name didn’t catch on.

“Pleeease.” Unwanted emotions compressed my chest. I struggled to remain in character. “I know better than to talk to strangers.”

“She can handle this.” The rise in Cliff’s voice vetoed any worry.

Creepy Diner Guy inched closer with each swipe of his rag.

Unsure what he could hear, I kept my words soft. “Don’t worry. I’m a big girl.”

The Woman leaned in.

I leaned away, checking the diner’s clock. “It’s past midnight. Do you need me home?”

“A few more hours. Nothing good happens between midnight and three,” said Cliff.

“I don’t like her on her own.” Concern lined the deep timbre of Milt’s voice. “We’ll meet you there. Follow orders and stay safe.”

My face burned solar-flare hot. He didn’t trust me. How could I prove myself if he didn’t give me a chance? “Sheesh. You don’t need to pick me up. I can drive home. I’m not eleven anymore.”

Back ramrod-straight, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, the Woman disapproved of my tone. You’d think after decades of death, she’d have pulled the sequoia-sized stick out of her spectral butt.

“It’s been a long time since you lived on the streets.” Milt shouted into the speakerphone. Technology wasn’t one of his strengths.

“Sweet cheeks, don’t yell.” A sick part of me enjoyed the charade. “I can hear you.” My gaze flickered to Creepy Diner Guy, and I clicked down the volume on my phone. “It’s a cellphone, not a handheld radio.”

“Milt’s right. We shouldn’t have sent you in alone.” Cliff’s words rose decibels higher than his brother’s.

They’d joined forces and wanted to pull the plug on my mission. I couldn’t let that happen.

“I’m okay.” I kept my voice light and confident. To ease their angst, I added a hint of humor. “Worrying is only going to make you grayer.” By age seven, I’d mastered controlling my voice to manipulate adults. That was how you survived when you were the proxy adult because your mom had surrendered to another drug-enhanced dream.

Bored with our conversation, the Woman hummed a song—not a pop or a rap or a country song, but that lullaby. I rubbed my temples, biting my tongue to prevent myself from begging her to stop.

“Keep us posted.” Milt barked out the order as if I was a newbie boot on his ship.

I suppressed an aye, aye, Sir, and replied, “Be home soon.” I hung up and glared at the Woman. “Don’t you start.”

The Woman switched to a jazzy tune.

I passed the time naming the stains on Creepy Diner Guy’s shirt. Red—ketchup. Yellow—mustard. There was a slick of brown across his midriff. Grease? Gravy?

The coffee pit in my belly bubbled. I didn’t want to know.

He shuffled into the back and returned with a plate stacked high with raw hamburger patties and a bag of frozen fries. He tossed the meat on the grill, dumped the fries into a basket, lowered them into grease, and wiped the grill’s metal front with his rag.

In the mirror above the grills, I scanned the parking lot behind me through the diner’s gigantic windows. Empty except for my Jeep.

Through the same mirror, Creepy Diner Guy gave me a hey-baby-I’m-the-answer-to-your-prayers look.

I shot back a don’t-make-me-shove-that-rag-down-your-throat glare. The ghost’s laughter rang in my head. A girly giggle slipped from my throat before I could kill it.

Creepy Diner Guy flipped the hamburgers. He turned, wiping his hands down his shirt. “Waiting for a boyfriend?”

“Expecting a midnight rush?” I countered. The meat smelled a little off, or maybe the nauseous odor came from him.

“Nonya.”

Was that code for something? “Nonya?”

“None ya business.” His shrill laugh shredded my eardrums. He planted his elbows on the counter and leaned in. “Lived in Rubyville long?” His lunch haunted his breath. Hamburger with extra onions.

Home, home, home.

“Kinda,” I replied with my own one-word cryptic answer and snubbed the ghost.

Home, Home, HOME. The Woman didn’t like to be left out or ignored. The longer it went, the more insistent she’d become. At least her humming stopped.

Creepy Diner Guy turned back to the grill, removed the hamburgers, and lifted the basket of fries from the grease. He came around the counter. Sat on a ripped vinyl stool, sandwiched me between his onion breath and the Woman’s putrid potpourri. He leaned close. “I like green eyes and red hair. You look real good in black.”

As if I cared what he thought. Shades from onyx to ebony filled ninety percent of my wardrobe. My leather jacket and knee-high boots fell comfortably in the range. Black was easy to accessorize. It went with more black. “Uh-huh. Thanks.”

Truck pipes rumbled. I checked the parking lot in the mirror. A baby-blue, nineteen-eighty-two Ford parked out front. I’d love to have a truck like that. All shiny and clean.

Home, Home, Home.

I raised my phone as a shield between his breath and me. I texted the Geezers: Got movement, adding the truck’s description and license plate number. In a low voice, I told the Woman, “Hit the bricks.”

“No need to be like that. I’m not going to hurt you,” Creepy Diner Guy replied, his tone operator-smooth. He rubbed a piece of my hair between his fingers. My hair. “Red’s my favorite color.”

My muscles tensed. One swift back fist. That’s all it would take. He could add fresh blood to the stains on his shirt. Bright red would enhance his color palette. Besides, red was his favorite.

But I was on a job. A job I couldn’t mess up by spilling his blood. “Don’t you have more burgers to flip? Potatoes to peel?”

“You wanna peel my potato?”

The coffee tar backed up into my throat. Leaning into my third rule—keep everything important safe in your boots and everything important will keep you safe—I palmed the knife from my boot and showed him the blade. “I can peel more than that. Wanna play?”

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, the Woman chanted. The lights in the diner flashed.

I slid the blade of my knife against his jaw, giving him a free shave. “You’re not really bad, are you?”

The diner’s door opened. I shifted, keeping my back between the door and the knife. No need to frighten a customer or warn off the pick-up guy.

Creepy Diner Guy’s face turned morgue gray. Scared stiff worked for him. He scrambled backward, helter-skelter, and side slipped from the stool.

“That’s what I thought.” I lowered my knife.

Like a buck caught in the crosshairs, he froze. A tsunami of fear flowed over his face. He gazed over my head. Neither my blade nor the Woman caused his locked stare.

Someone scarier than a knife to his throat stood behind me.

Dread dripped down my backbone like bacon grease from a hot pan, setting my nerves on fire. I tucked my chin and snuck a peek over my shoulder.

Scary didn’t do the guy justice. He was a mashup of Godzilla and King Kong—butt ugly and horribly wrong. A massive neck—a monster mama would be proud of—steel-studded earlobes, his hair spiky and nuclear green. He’d claimed this cement jungle and declared himself king.

And I?

I was the bug in his way. But I wasn’t Diamond, the girl with no last name, anymore. I was JD Wolfe, Private Eye.

***

Author Bio:

Dee Armstrong writes thrillers and romantic suspense with a paranormal twist — stories that squeeze the heart, rattle the nerves, and still leave room for love, laughter, and sass.

She pits tough heroines against bad guys you’ll love to hate — with twists that keep the pages flying and endings that fight for hope.

A former U.S. Air Force Russian linguist and three-time Taekwondo Black Belt National Sparring Champion, Dee believes the vulnerable should be protected and justice must be fierce—because the past never stays buried, and the truth never sleeps.

When she’s not writing about danger and desire, Dee is chasing after her littles, sipping tea on the porch, and plotting against the weeds in her garden.

Find her on social @DeeArmstrongAuthor for sneak peeks, behind-the-scenes chaos, and stories that leave a fingerprint on your heart.

Catch Up With Dee Armstrong:

DeeArmstrong.com
Dee Armstrong’s Newsletter
Amazon Author Profile
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Facebook – @DeeArmstrongAuthor
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Tour Participants:

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Love Mystery & Suspense? Celebrate Haunted by a Broken Oath with a Gift Card Giveaway!

This giveaway is hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Dee Armstrong. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

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Sherry’s Shelves 12.14 – 12.20.25

Posted on December 21, 2025 by fundinmental

Sunday Post is hosted by Caffeinated Book Reviewer
Sunday Salon is hosted by Readerbuzz
Stacking The Shelves by Reading Reality
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Hi Everyone. Time has gotten away from me and I have very few posts scheduled in advance. I like to post every day. Luckily, if I must, have some prewritten hanging out for that very reason. We had company from out of town, so I read a lot, but didn’t write reviews. I hate when I do that, because it makes it harder to write a review. I am watching college football playoff games today, so I am going to try and catch up. Alabama had a wild ride yesterday, but they always play to the very end. They beat Oklahoma, which is no slouch. They will be playing Indiana next. Michigan is out of the playoffs, but they will play in the Cheez It Citrus Bowl against Texas on December 31st, so I know what I’ll be doing on New Years Eve. We usually stay home and watch the ball drop in New York. How about you? Do you have any plans for the new year? Do you make new year’s resolutions? For all those who celebrate, Happy Holidays.

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Sherry’s Shelves
Giveaway – Dug To Death
Thoughtprovoking Review – Journey To Red Dawn by Cagla Meyda
Review – Facing Nightfall by Michael B Chikondi

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The Grand Finale – Review – The Sleepy Hollow Incident by P D Alleva @PdallevaAuthor #thesleepyhollowincident

Posted on December 12, 2025 by fundinmental

Amazon / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

The Sleepy Hollow Incident IV by P D Alleva picks up where Book III left off. This Gothic horror story needs to be read in order. The eerie atmosphere in the town of Sleep Hollow covers up what lurks underneath. Marc had sacrificed himself to save Lori once, will he be here, at the end, to save her again? I am eager to find out how P D Alleva will wrap it up.

Blood, guts and gore run through the streets, whispers floating on air.

P D Alleva’s writing has the story unfolding in vivid detail. I couldn’t stop reading. Many bodies will fall, and I wonder who will be left when the story is done. And the house? Hmmmmm…Just because the story is over, does that mean that the evil is done? Would you want to visit Sleep Hollow?

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos — 4 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

The final descent into hell has begun.

Winter thickens over Sleepy Hollow as shadows rise from the soil and the ancient evil behind Marc Saduj’s bargain prepares to claim its throne. A buzzing veil of dread smothers the town. Shops are shuttered, streets abandoned, and whispers in the fog speak of a darkness older than time itself.

Detective Stephen Carver, bloodied but unbroken, stumbles back toward the Hollow after surviving betrayal and near death. Every step draws him closer to the cavern at Patriot’s Park, where the veil between worlds is tearing. Lori Francon, clutching Marc’s cryptic notebook, fights to find the man she loves—though what waits in the crypt may no longer be Marc at all.

Beneath the town, torture and sacrifice fuel the rise of the Man in Black, whose true demonic form now emerges. Ghost demons, covens, and corrupted souls gather as the astral plane cracks open, threatening to unleash Baphomet’s reign on earth.

As Marc confronts the horrifying truth of his bond with the Man in Black, he stands on the knife’s edge between redemption and damnation. Lori must decide how much she is willing to risk—her body, her soul, her very sanity—to pull him back from the abyss.

The battle for Sleepy Hollow is no longer about survival. It is about salvation—or surrendering the world to eternal night.

Gothic, romantic, and unrelenting in its terror, The Sleepy Hollow Book Four concludes PD Alleva’s chilling saga with a storm of forbidden love, supernatural horror, and cosmic dread. Perfect for fans of Anne Rice, Clive Barker, and The Haunting of Hill House, this finale asks one haunting When love itself is a curse, can it also be the cure?

Genre: Angels and Demons, Fiction, Gothic, Horror, Parnormal, Romance, Supernatural
Kindle Edition
Expected publication December 9, 2025 by Chamber Door Publishing LLC
Series: The Sleepy Hollow Incident IV

ABOUT P D ALLEVA

I write books, that’s what I do. Horror, scifi, thrillers, fantasy, and sometimes a literary gem. Good ones, crazy ones, fun books, entertaining books, terrifying books that are absolutely insane, books with depth and thrills, and stories that rip out the heart of humanity and tosses it on a slab to be feasted on. Yeah, that’s what I do, I write books. Any questions?

My current projects include: the Pulp Fiction, Sci-Fi/Fantasy series, The Dark Veil: The Rose Vol. III; the horror thriller novella series, Girl on a Mission; the supernatural thriller series, The Hypnotist; and a follow up to Jigglyspot and the Zero Intellect, tentatively titled The Sleepy Hollow Incident.

Your free book is waiting. Join the PD Newsletter at https://pdalleva.com and score a free book.

WEBSITE LINKS

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/pdalleva_author/
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Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/pdalleva
Website: www.pdalleva.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7634126.P_D_Alleva
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/p-d-alleva
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/gxKH7P

MY P D ALLEVA REVIEWS

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Review – The Sleepy Hollow Incident #3 by P D Alleva @PdallevaAuthor #thesleepyhollowincident

Posted on November 26, 2025 by fundinmental

Amazon / KindleUnlimited / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

First off, what a fantastic cover for the third book in The Sleepy Hollow Incident by P D Alleva. Look into those eyes and tell me what you see. Does Marc Saduj have any humanity left inside him? Lori learns things about her family’s evil past. Can her love for Mark save him?

P D Alleva’s writing draws me in, deeper and deeper, because I don’t have any idea where I am going or how I’m going to get there. I just know it’s going to be frightening, dangerous, dark and disturbing.

The Sleepy Hollow Incident by P D Alleva has an eerie, gothic feel where evil oozes off the pages, spreading danger throughout the town in the search of more hearts for the demonic. Can the town survive? We shall see in Book IV, the final book in The Sleepy Hollow Incident by P D Alleva.

GOODREADS BLURB

Where desire collides with darkness, every secret bleeds, and love is the most dangerous weapon of all.

Winter in Sleepy Hollow grows colder—and deadlier. As Detective Stephen Carver investigates a string of mutilated corpses marked by satanic symbols, his search draws him closer to a hidden truth that could unravel the very soul of the Hollow. The deeper he digs, the more he feels the malignant pull of something ancient, something that feeds on fear and sacrifice.

Meanwhile, Lori Francon awakens to a new nightmare. Poisoned by betrayal and hunted by the shadows of her own family, she discovers that the house she once called home is a cathedral of corruption, its foundations bound to demons and blood rites. What waits for her inside is more than madness—it is a revelation that could damn her bloodline forever.

And Marc Saduj, hollowed by fever and haunted by the demon scar carved into his flesh, finds himself drawn back to the village streets. But with every step, the Man in Black’s grip tightens, dragging Marc closer to a possession that could unleash hell on earth.

As the walls close in, old bargains resurface, new devils arrive to claim their due, and the line between the living and the damned dissolves. With the Francon legacy steeped in sacrilege and Sleepy Hollow itself trembling on the edge of chaos, Lori must face a question more terrifying than death itself:

When love is twisted into a curse, can it still be the key to salvation—or will it open the gates to eternal ruin?

Gothic, brutal, and mesmerizing, The Sleepy Hollow Incident: Book Three plunges deeper into a world of forbidden love, demonic possession, and cosmic horror. For fans of The Witching Hour and The Haunting of Hill House, this installment will leave you breathless, broken, and begging for more.

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Fiction, Gothic, Horror
406 pages, Kindle Edition
Published November 18, 2025 by Chamber Door Publishing, LLC

ABOUT P D ALLEVA

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MY P D ALLEVA REVIEWS

You can see my Giveaways HERE.
You can see my Reviews HERE.
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Review – One Mistake Too Late by Amanda Siegrist @amanda_siegrist #onemistaketoolate

Posted on October 24, 2025 by fundinmental

Amazon / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

One Mistake Too Late by Amanda Siegrist is the third book in the Haunting Love series and it was the best one yet. I wouldn’t change a thing in this paranormal love story.

Stella is a fascinating character and new to the group. She is a homicide detective and hunts supernatural killers. She may hunt vampires, but just like with humans, there are good and bad creatures and she doesn’t kill willy nilly. Also, I was introduced to a new kind of witch, a cosmic witch, and that is why Stella stays on the move. People finding out about her powers could put a target on her back.

We have a familiar group of characters, vampires, lycan, witches and humans, who return in One Mistake Too Late, and Stella will need their help with the supernatural killers leaving bodies all around town. New friendships will be forged.

One Mistake Too Late moves at a steady pace, keeping me reading, having to know what would happen next. There were suspenseful, shocking moments when I was talking to my ereader, saying no, it can’t be. WTH

I am always thankful to get the opportunity to read and review Amanda’s books. Her need to have happy ever afters puts a smile on my face when the book is done and leaves me looking forward to the next one.

GOODREADS BLURB

The predator is about to become the prey…

Detective Stella Waters hunts supernatural killers, moving town to town protecting people from evils they don’t know exist. When her latest case points to a vampire killer, she doesn’t need co-workers interfering. They wouldn’t survive a bloodsucking creature.

Donnie is haunted by nightmares of his dark past. He’s accepted he’ll always live in permanent darkness, but he refuses to let the deadly impulses control him anymore. When innocent people start dying, he’s determined to stop the killer terrorizing his town.

Stella knows Donnie is a vampire, but not the one she’s hunting. Despite their mutual distrust, they reluctantly join forces. She plans to move on once the case is closed, but there’s an inexplicable pull between them neither can deny. As they close in on their suspect, they discover something far more sinister lurking in the shadows—a force that could destroy them both.

Get a taste of this pulse-pounding paranormal romantic suspense where love bites back and danger lurks in every shadow.

One-click to sink your teeth into this supernatural romance today!

The entire Haunting Love (Each book can be read as a standalone.)
Third Time’s the Charm (Book 1): Kade & Bailey
Thirteen Days Gone (Book 2): Breck & Charly
One Mistake Too Late (Book 3): Donnie & Stella

296 pages, Kindle Edition
Expected publication October 21, 2025

ABOUT AMANDA SIEGRIST

Love! Gimme some love and heaps of romance. I have a sappy heart that just loves two people meeting, going through the cycles of a relationship, and ultimately, falling in love. Give me a good book like that and I’m a happy camper:)

I write contemporary and romantic suspense, but I am partial to suspense. I just love a good mystery.

Besides writing, I love baking, crafts, and baseball…oh, and meeting new people. *smiles*

Website / Twitter / Facebook / Instagram

MY AMANDA SIEGRIST REVIEWS

Sunrise Awakening
Sunset Darkening
One Taste of You
One Taste of Love
One Taste of Crazy
One Taste of Sin
One Taste of Redemption
Merry Me (A Holiday Romance Novel)
Mistletoe Magic (A Holiday Romance Novel)
Christmas Wish (A Holiday Romance Novel)
Snowed In Love (A Holiday Romance Novel)
Snowflakes and Shots (A Holiday Romance Novel)
Sleigh All The Way (A Holiday Romance Novel)
Dark Consequences (A Consequences Novel)
Cruel Consequences (A Consequences Novel)
Fatal Consequences (A Consequences Novel)
Drowning in You (With Jane Blythe) (Conquering Fear)
Out of the Darkness (With Jane Blythe) (Conquering Fear)
Closing In (With Jane Blythe) (Conquering Fear)
Protecting You (The McCord Family)
Trust In Love (The McCord Family)
Trust In You (The McCord Family)
Always Kind of Love (The McCord Family)
Finding You (The McCord Family)
Deserving You (The McCord Family)
The Wrong Brother (A Perfect For You Novel)
The Right Time ( A Perfect For You Novel)
The Easy Part (A Perfect For You Novel)
The Hard Choice (A Perfect For You Novel)
Escaping Memories (A Lucky Town Novel)
Dangerous Memories (A Lucky Town Novel)
Stolen Memories (A Lucky Town Novel)
Deady Memories (A Lucky Town Novel)
Forgotten Memories (A Lucky Town Novel)
Dashing Through The Fear (A Sleighville Novel)
Here Comes Chaos (A Sleighville Novel)
Third time’s The Charm (A Haunting Love Novel)
Thirteen Days Gone (A Haunting Love Novel)

You can see my Giveaways HERE.
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$25 GC – Descendants Of The Big House by C Vanzale Lewis @xpressotours #cvanzalelewis #descendantsofthebighouse

Posted on October 18, 2025 by fundinmental

Descendants of the Big House
C. Vonzale Lewis
(A Horde of Dead Poets)
Publication date: October 14th 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Fantasy, Mystery

Beatrice Monroe is still getting used to the knowledge that she was born a champion for Good and Evil. She spends her days combing through her great grandmother’s journals trying to find answers to what this newfound ability means for her as a member of law enforcement.

When a woman walks into her precinct claiming her aunt was murdered, Beatrice discovers a link between their families that may just have the answers she needs. But those answers are not easy to find. Because this mystery’s roots are buried in the past with five young girls and what they gave birth to…in The Big House.

Descendants of the Big House is a standalone installment in A Horde of Dead Poets collection featuring seven authors and their stories inspired by famous literary poems. If you often find yourself steering toward a dark, mysterious, isolated location; if family curses haunt you and unreliable narrators keep you in suspense, you won’t want to miss a single volume in this gripping collection.

Perfect for fans of T. Kingfisher, Simone St. James, Stephen King, and Shirley Jackson.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

“I think somebody did something,” Mr. Taylor announced suddenly, voice raised. “My wife, my children. Not right. Not right at all.” He started crying. “I can’t convince anybody to listen to me.”

I got up and kneeled by his chair. “I’m listening, Mr. Elijah.” It didn’t dawn on me that I might have overstepped. The pain in his plea just pulled at me. I understood the feeling of being lost so well, growing up in a home filled with abuse and no one listening to my own cries for help.

He looked down at me. “I appreciate that. You find ’em. You find the one that took my Mary. She was the only woman I ever loved. And our children. Godsend. No matter what that man told her at the crossroads.”

“What man?” I asked, my blood running cold. Of course, I knew what man he was referring to, but I didn’t dare say it out loud.

He flapped his hand in the air again.

I looked at Gautier and dipped my head toward my bag. I didn’t want to upset him further, but I needed to confirm what I already suspected. Mary had met Papa Sin at the crossroads.

Gautier pulled out the book Odette gave us, still in an evidence bag, and came over and gave it to me. I pulled it out and Mr. Taylor gasped.

“Get that evil book out of my house!” He tried to get to his feet and ended up falling back in the chair. I straightened and, after thrusting the book at Gautier, helped Mr. Elijah right himself.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Cherie asked, rushing over. “What evil?” She looked at the book. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but it’s upsetting my daddy.”

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. But your sister Natalie sent this book to Odette along with a letter claiming she was going to…” I looked down at Mr. Taylor. His eyes were wild.

“She swore she’d gotten rid of that book. She swore.” He let out a sob. “That man told her she’d birth evil. That twins were broken.” He caved in on himself, chest heaving as he cried.

“I better take him to his room,” Cherie said, her face filled with concern.

Gautier got up and helped her take him in the back. I stood there berating myself for upsetting him. I shouldn’t have asked about the book. But I had to get answers, right?

Author Bio:

Carla Vonzale Lewis likes her martini’s shaken…never stirred. Though she was born in Georgia, please don’t mistake her for a Georgia peach. She’s more like a prickly pear. Speaking of being born, someone asked her recently if she remembered her birth, and all she had to say was, “Yes, I do remember that handsy doctor pulling me out into the cold. Right Bastard!!!”

Despite being born in the South, she grew up in the North. California to be exact. And every once in a great while, she gets to experience all four seasons. But mostly, it’s just heat.

Her debut novel, LINEAGE, was released July 16, 2019 and she fully intends to ride that joy for the rest of her life.

When she’s not concocting her next contemporary fantasy story, she enjoys reading, binge watching shows on Netflix, and trying to convince her husband that getting a dog is a wonderful idea.

Website / Facebook / Instagram / Bookbub / Pinterest

GIVEAWAY!

Descendants of the Big House Blitz

—

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$25 GC – Forewarned by Tracey S Phillips @partnerincr1me #traceysphillips #forewarned

Posted on October 12, 2025 by fundinmental

FOREWARNED

by Tracey S. Phillips

September 29 – October 24, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

For 15-year-old Daphne Ann Post, the summer of 1976 at Lake Carlson should be filled with new friendships and carefree late-night parties. But something darker lurks beneath the surface—her chilling premonition that someone is going to drown.

Wishing she could escape the shadow of her fractured family and her mother’s too-soon rebound relationship, Daphne reluctantly heads to the family lake house in Northern Indiana. The tension with her mother is thick—especially when Daphne is the only one who knows her mom’s boyfriend is hiding a dangerous secret. But Daphne’s burden is far heavier than family drama. She harbors an unsettling gift—an ability to know the hidden truths of anyone she touches.

Last year that same intuition failed her when her best friend ignored Daphne’s warning before a tragic accident. Now everyone at school blames Daphne for what happened. Haunted by guilt, Daphne is determined to keep her ability a secret.

When she meets the Vaughans—cool, popular, and effortlessly perfect next-door neighbors—Daphne is drawn into their world, seduced by the thrill of fitting in. Over the summer, whispers of danger from the lake grow louder. Her intuition screams someone will die, and not even the haze of weed can numb her fear.

The clock is ticking. Daphne knows that to save a life, she’ll have to confront her darkest secret and risk losing everything she’s worked so hard for. Can she stop the inevitable without exposing her truth? Or will the lake claim a victim—this time, someone she loves?

Praise for Forewarned:

“Readers of authors Jess Lourey and William Kent Krueger should enjoy this atmospheric mystery featuring a young protagonist.”
~ Christine DeSmet, mystery author, writing coach/developmental editor

“Even though the fabulous storytelling hints at the terrible thing that’s coming, you still won’t be ready for the heart pounding finish. Simply terrific!!”
~ Valerie Biel, award-winning author of Beyond the Cemetery Gate

“The summer of 1976 setting comes alive, nostalgic in its innocence and heartbreakingly accurate in its crumbling family values, sucking the reader in and never letting go.”
~ Sharon Lynn, Award-winning author of A Cotswold Crimes Mystery series

“Tragic, troubling, and immersive, this deep dive into the choices we make left me roiling long after I turned the final page.”
~ Silvia Acevedo, award-winning author, The Haunted States of America

“The stakes are high and menacing in Phillips’s impeccably paced and vividly imagined paranormal thriller.”
~ Robert Gwaltney, award-winning author of The Cicada Tree

Forewarned Bonus Content:

Unlock the ultimate reading experience with the Bonus content of this Amazon Music Playlist to accompany Tracey S. Phillips’ Forewarned!

Book Details:

Genre: YA Paranormal Suspense
Published by: Three Elements Publishing
Publication Date: August 1, 2025
Number of Pages: 320
ISBN: 979-8-9908191-1-5
Book Links: Amazon | KindleUnlimited | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

1

A Monotone Song
Carlson, Indiana; June 4, 1976: Daphne Ann Post

“Who’s gonna see the lake first?” My mom sang the monotone song ending on a mystery note with a minor third. It conjured the kind of anticipation and excitement I felt watching scary movies. And this time it triggered a new dark melody. I heard it in the sinister thrum of the car’s engine and in the wind roaring through the windows.

Nothing seemed to have changed along East Lake Shore Drive. The winding narrow road that led to Nana’s cottage in Carlson, Indiana was treelined on the lakeside, farmland on the other. Lush greenery and sprouting corn grew beneath cloud-specked Indiana sky as far as the eye could see. On the breeze, faint smells of cornflowers, manure from nearby farmland, and lakeweed.

Wind from the open car window blew my short haircut, styled like the Olympic ice skater Dorothy Hammill, in every direction. I searched between the trees for the telltale reflection of the sun on the lake. I wanted something happy to cheer me up. Today was my fifteenth birthday.

“Who’s gonna see the lake first?” my mom repeated.

“It’s right there, Marianne.” I’d been calling my mom by her first name since she divorced my dad last year.

“I saw it!” announced my younger brother Brandon. “I saw the lake first!” Brandon was nine and a half. He was born when I was five, and from the moment he could walk, Marianne and Dad expected me to help look after him. Most days it took all three of us to keep track of him.

“Why are you still calling me that, Daphne?” Marianne asked.

I shrugged. The only way I knew how to deal with my rage about the recent divorce was to disassociate from her. To pretend she was just a friend. To call her Marianne.

Despite knowing I’d be expected to babysit my brother and two younger cousins, I usually felt excited about our yearly summer trip. But this year, I resented Marianne for pulling me away. I wanted to celebrate my birthday with Dad. I wanted to start driver’s ed. I wanted to be with my friends.

Who was I kidding? I didn’t have any friends. Not after Ruth turned everyone against me.

Icy dread laced with a sense of danger crept up my arms. Not my typical reaction to approaching the lake for the summer. I loved to water-ski, and I was good at it. I loved to lie on the dock and listen to the water lap against the pillars. I loved the musty, mildewy smell of the cottage. I loved searching for fossils and beads in the clear shallow water.

This chill skittering from my elbows to my hairline evoked a sense of déjà vu. It reminded me of the day my best friend Ruth stopped being my friend.

It’s all your fault, Ruth had said. I’d believed it. My stomach flipped and I wanted to throw up. Ruth made me feel so guilty.

Marianne said, “When we get there, I need help unloading the car before you can play with your cousins.” She glanced in the rearview mirror at Brandon in the back seat. After the divorce, my mom changed her look and started dating again. Today she wore a paisley lace-up top and bell-bottom jeans. Her new shag haircut showed off bright green eyes and long hoop earrings accentuated her high cheekbones.

I looked nothing like my mother.

Between the trees the lake glittered as if sprinkled with shards of broken glass. Lavish summer homes with three- and four-car garages lined the shore. Some, newly remodeled, towered above the rest with third-story additions. Others behind the trees were unpretentious cabins, blending in with the forested shore. An adjacent golf course with green carpet-covered hills smelled like fresh-mowed grass.

Trespassing on the golf course was forbidden. I imagined what it would be like to run on the soft grassy hills in bare feet. I wanted to sit in the gazebo high on the hill on the far side of the fairway. Though I’d never been there, I imagined it had a wonderful view of the lake.

As we drew closer to our cottage, the prickles had fled my arms to reside in my scalp. I tried to ignore the sensation and the feeling of dread. The last time I had feelings like this, my friend Ruth almost died. It happened when I touched her. She had welcomed me into her house, and she’d hugged me. The warning had become so clear in my mind—like the developing image of a Polaroid picture—that I had to tell Ruth. I pleaded with her and tried to stop her from skating on the ice.

Now I wished I’d never said anything. Because maybe then it never would have happened. Maybe if I hadn’t told Ruth, we would still be friends. My cheeks heated with shame and embarrassment, and I turned my face to the open window.

Weirdo. Freak. It was all my fault.

The road wound down a steep hill. At the bottom on the left, our sky-blue Victorian cottage, with its peaked roof and scroll details, was the oldest home on the lake. White window trim popped against the pale blue siding and dark gray shingles. Mowed grass full of pink clover and rows of orange and yellow lilies blooming along the sidewalk led to the familiar screened porch. Gabled windows and a spire on the crest of the roof gave it charm like no other house on the lake.

Duke, our half golden retriever, half collie mutt, knew this road as well as we did. He stuck his long nose out the back window of the Volkswagen bus and the wind blew back his floppy ears. When he snorted into the wind, Brandon cried out, “Gross. Duke blew snot all over my face.” He wiped his face on his shirt sleeve.

“Look, your cousins are already here.” Marianne pulled into the carport, where Auntie Beth and my cousins were unloading their station wagon.

We piled out of the VW bus, and Duke led the way.

“I’m going to play with Sammy,” Brandon said.

“No, you’re not. You need to help unload the car first,” Marianne said.

Brandon opened a white-painted wrought iron gate leading to the yard and ran to Sammy. The two boys body-slammed each other in a frenetic hug, Brandon’s wild blond hair contrasting with Sammy’s neat brown military cut. They chattered and ran toward the lake with Duke at their heels.

“Brandon, what did I say?” Marianne called.

“Happy fifteenth birthday, Daphne.” Auntie Beth pulled a suitcase from the back seat and set it on the driveway. A brown-leather barrette held back her long red hair. She wore a light-orange flower-print T-shirt and overalls. She gave me a warm hug.

“Thanks,” I said. She reminded me that I’d rather be with my dad.

“You’ve grown six inches since I saw you.” Auntie Beth was exaggerating but not by much. I’d grown taller than Marianne this spring. Now I could see the top of my aunt’s head too.

“She’s growing up before our eyes.” Marianne sparkled with something like pride. I chose to ignore it.

My aunt picked up a laundry basket full of bedding and headed toward the house. “Aubenaubee Lodge is open, so come on inside.” Years ago, Nana had named the house after Aubenaubee Creek that ran beside it and into the lake.

“Happy birthday.” Margot, who was twelve, brushed a lock of straight, walnut-brown hair away from her face. “It never feels like summer until we get here.” Her awkward, open-mouth smile revealed a flash of silver from the metal in her mouth.

“You got braces!” I said, “let me see.”

Margot showed them off with a grin more like a grimace. “They hurt and I have headgear.”

“Look what I got.” I tossed my head and pointed to two new, gold-post earrings. Marianne had finally let me pierce my ears.

“I know everyone does it, but I don’t want mine pierced.” Margot held a small gray-blue suitcase. “Did you bring your Breyer horses? Misty of Chincoteague and her foal?”

“Yeah. The two you like best.” I smiled.

“Dad got me a new Breyer horse. She’s a bay with a long mane and tail. I can’t wait to show you.” Margot was on the cusp of putting childish games away, but for some reason she wasn’t quite ready to.

Marianne opened the tailgate of the VW bus and handed me my suitcase. “The house is unlocked. Take your things up to your room and come help with the rest, please. I’ve no doubt the boys aren’t coming back.”

“Okay.” I longed to see the familiar cottage. It reminded me of happier days when my parents still loved each other. Days filled with summer sports and sunshine. Lately, the only activity that gave me joy was playing the piano. “Did Nana tune the piano this spring?”

“I asked Nana about it,” Marianne said. “That old console has seen better days. The technician said it needs too much work.”

My hopes to improve the Chopin Étude crumbled. “How will I practice?”

“There will be other things to do, Daph. You’ll be so busy you won’t even miss it.”

“You don’t know anything!” I pushed open the wrought iron gate and slammed it. This summer was quickly becoming the worst ever. It was Marianne’s fault. No Dad, no friends, and now, no piano. Life sucked.

I passed the little house attached to the back of the carport on the way to our big Victorian cottage and looked over my left shoulder. The neighbor’s house was still dark. The summer renters hadn’t arrived yet. But from the black windows, in the quiet stillness, I heard whispered warnings, and I knew, I just knew, someone in that house would die this summer.

***

Author Bio:

Award winning author, Tracey S. Phillips has played the piano since age three. She considers herself a serial artist who is an avid gardener, musician, piano teacher, artist, and author. She writes psychological thrillers and romantic suspense. BEST KEPT SECRETS won a Hugh Holton Award and she is a two-time finalist for the Claymore Award. In 2020 she created Blackbird Writers, a community of like-minded mystery authors. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband and like some of her characters, she occasionally speaks with spirits on the other side.

Catch Up With Tracey S. Phillips:

www.TraceySPhillips.com
Amazon Author Profile
Substack Newsletter – @traceysphillips
LinkedIn
Goodreads
BookBub – @tracey64p
Instagram – @traceys.phillips
Threads – @traceys.phillips
Pinterest – @traceyspnovelist
Facebook – @Traceys.phillipsauthor

Tour Participants:

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Sherry’s Shelves 9.7 – 9.13.25

Posted on September 14, 2025 by fundinmental

Sunday Post is hosted by Caffeinated Book Reviewer
Sunday Salon is hosted by Readerbuzz
Stacking The Shelves by Reading Reality
**images are linked to Amazon (I am an affiliate)**

Hi Everyone. Wow. I didn’t know I had so much scheduled for next week. I don’t know how that happened. LOL Hope you are enjoying the fall weather. Do you live where the trees celebrate fall by showing their colors? I miss that about the north. Have a great week.

LAST WEEK ON fundinmental

COMING UP ON fundinmental

Sherry’s Shelves
The Spotlight Is On Open To Death by Sophie Mattis
Review – To Cage A Wild Bird by Brooke Fast
$15 GC – The Girl In The Maze by R K Jackson
$25 GC – You Can’t Hide by Katherine Ramsland
Review – The Human Hybrid Odyssey by A McDonald, K Witt & K Jatta
Review – Muscat And Motorcycles by Sandra Woffington
Review – The Fruit Tree by Sabir Ahmed
Giveaway – Ride A Dark Trail by Winter Austin
Giveaway – The Champagne Crush by Caroline O’Connell
$25 GC – Mild Mannered Men by Walter Horsting

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Review – Deadly Sanctuary by Shannon Hollinger @thiswritersays #deadlysanctuary

Posted on September 8, 2025 by fundinmental

Amazon / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

I have a weakness for books that have a Florida setting, especially in the Everglades. It’s not just the people that can be dangerous, so can your surroundings. So, that being said, welcome to Gator Glade and FBI Agent Cassidy Knox’s nightmare.

Cassidy had left Gator Glade in the dust, but when her grandfather dies, she returns to her home town. She is recovering from her confrontation with a serial killer. and she is the only one left to take care of her grandfather’s affairs. Will she stay? Will she be able to conquer the demons that drove her away?

Things are not as they first appear. Danger surrounds the animal sanctuary, which puts Cassidy in danger too. There is a subtle hint of menace that mounts with each page I turn and I anticipate something bad happening. We have a romance slowly developing, but characters that have baggage tend to make for complicated relationships. Will there be a happy ever after? I’m not telling.

I want to thank Shannon Hollinger for the opportunity to read and review for the first book in the Cassidy Knox series, Deadly Sanctuary.

GOODREADS BLURB

She’s no stranger to trouble…

Deep in the heart of the untamed Florida Everglades lies a web of secrets, danger, and deceit. For FBI Agent Cassidy Knox, it’s the only home she’s ever known—one she vowed never to set foot in again. But after a harrowing confrontation with a serial killer, Cassidy finds herself with no choice but to return to the animal sanctuary of her youth. Grieving the recent death of her beloved grandfather, Butch, on top of her own trauma, she hopes for a brief respite to heal her wounds.

Only the swamp, where the past lurks just beneath the surface, has other plans. When a neighbor is found murdered, the suspicion surrounding her grandfather’s death intensifies, drawing Cassidy into a chilling investigation that threatens everything she holds dear. With old friendships rekindling and new betrayals surfacing, the lines between ally and enemy blur.

As Cassidy races against time to uncover the truth, she clashes against her inner demons—and the boy who once stole her heart. With danger lurking around every corner, the only thing she knows for sure is that she can’t trust anyone. Because the killer’s taking aim… and they have her in their sights.

Get ready to dive into a heart-pounding mystery where trust is a luxury and survival is a game of wits. A gripping, heart-racing thriller that will leave you breathless.

Genre: Fiction, Suspense, Thriller
256 pages, Kindle Edition
Expected publication September 8, 2025 by Scene Of The Crime Publications

ABOUT SHANNON HOLLINGER

With degrees in Crime Scene Technology and Physical Anthropology, Florida writer Shannon Hollinger hasn’t just seen the dark side of humanity—she’s been elbow deep inside of it! She’s an avid animal lover, reader, and hiker, and has been known to use her forensic skills to figure out who ate the last cookie in the house.

A multi-genre, Amazon charts top 20 best-selling author, Shannon writes psychological thrillers filled with jaw-dropping twists and shocking endings, the police procedural Chief Maggie Riley mysteries, where the darkness of the Maine wilderness is rivaled only by the deadly secrets it conceals, and the romantic suspense Cassidy Knox mystery thrillers, where the animals will steal your heart and the nights are as hot as the days.

Her novels have been translated into multiple languages, and her short fiction has appeared in Suspense Magazine, Mystery Weekly, and The Saturday Evening Post, among many other magazines and anthologies.

Shannon is a member of the International Thriller Writers and the Short Mystery Fiction Society.

To keep current on book news and to enter monthly giveaways, sign up for Shannon’s newsletter through her website, www.shannonhollinger.com.

Find Shannon on social media:

https://www.facebook.com/thiswritersays
https://www.instagram.com/thiswritersays
https://www.tiktok.com/@shannonhollinger
http://www.pinterest.com/thiswritersays
http://www.bookbub.com/profile/shanno…
https://www.amazon.com/author/shannon…

You can see my Giveaways HERE.
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$25 GC – Burying Ben by Ellen Kirschman @partnersincer1me

Posted on June 28, 2025 by fundinmental

BURYING BEN

by Ellen Kirschman

June 23-29, 2025 Book Blast

Synopsis:

The Dot Meyerhoff Mystery Series

As her police department’s newest hire, police psychologist Dot Meyerhoff has much to prove. No one on the force sees any reason to have a shrink on staff. When a rookie cop commits suicide, everyone blames Dot—even Dot herself. How had she missed the signs that he was at the end of his rope?

With her reputation on the line, Dot searches for answers. What she discovers is the dark underbelly of a police force that has no patience for a woman who asks too many questions. Determined to get to the truth behind the young officer’s tragic death, Dot risks losing both her job and her life. . .

Burying Ben is on Sale, June 23-29! Click Here and Start Reading the Series Today!

Praise for Burying Ben:

“A deftly crafted novel of compelling complexity,” this first book in the mystery series featuring cop therapist Dr. Dot Meyerhoff is “absorbing”.
~ Midwest Book Review

“Riveting, compelling and authentic! Ellen Kirschman’s been-there done-that experience makes this a real standout.”
~ Hank Phillippi Ryan, USA Today-bestselling author of The House Guest

“Psychological thriller writing at its finest.”
~ D.P. Lyle, award-winning author of the Jake Longly series

“Highly satisfying . . . Perceptively treats complex racial, feminist, personal, and political issues while providing intimate knowledge of cops’ shop procedure.”
~ Publishers Weekly

“Gutsy and emotionally anchored in real life.”
~ Hallie Ephron, New York Times–bestselling author of Careful What You Wish For

“Ellen Kirschman is one to watch.”
~ Bookreporter.com

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Psychological Suspense, Domestic Suspense, Amateur Sleuth, Woman Sleuth, Police Procedural
Published by: Open Road Media
Publication Date: April 23, 2024
Number of Pages: 280
ISBN: 9781504094160 (ISBN10: 1504094166)
Series: The Dot Meyerhoff Mystery Series, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Open Road

The Rest of The Dot Meyerhoff Mystery Series

The Right Wrong Thing, #2

The Fifth Reflection, #3

The Answer to His Prayers, #4

Call Me Carmela, #5

Read an excerpt:

From Chapter 1

It is a day of ﬁrsts. My ﬁrst day on the job and my ﬁrst dead body. Chief Baxter wants me to see it. His whole face is concentrated with the eﬀort to make his point, as though he were explaining blood spatter analysis or the biomechanics of tasers. He is wearing gold cuﬄinks shaped like barbells. Short and barrel chested, he looks like a well-dressed ﬁreplug. I can imagine him as a street cop, pugnacious and badge heavy.

“Don’t sit around your oﬃce and wait for cops to come to you. That’s why I’m giving you a car and a scanner. Get out in the ﬁeld.”

He speaks in short staccato bursts as though he is transmitting over the radio, dropping any unessential words. A slight spray of saliva leaves shiny droplets on his desktop. He walks around the desk and stands close to me. I smell his pine-scented aftershave and mouthwash.

“This is why I have credibility. I make it my business to suit up and get out on the street once a month. I stay in shape. And I always carry.” He opens his jacket and shows me his shoulder holster. He is wearing “a custom ﬁtted dress shirt that shows oﬀ the inverted triangle made by his broad shoulders and narrow waist. “Street cops are the lifeblood of this organization. The street is where I started. I’ve never forgotten that and I don’t want anyone else to.”

He leans against the edge of his desk, his arms folded over his chest. “I have a rookie on scene at a suicide. Ben Gomez. He’s been having trouble. Talk to his ﬁeld training oﬃcer. See what you can do to help him. I’ve met the kid. Not my best hire, but I think he’s salvageable.” He lifts his index ﬁnger. “I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Dot. I’ve had a lot of trouble in my organization since I took over as chief. Some days I feel like Typhoid Mary. I’ve got four oﬃcers on stress leave and three on admin leave under investigation. No telling when any of them will come back to work. I have a small organization—seventy-ﬁve oﬃcers. I can’t aﬀord to lose this rookie, too. It’s bad for morale plus my overtime budget is oﬀ the charts.”

He extends his hand to me. “It’s one thing to study us and write books about us. It’s another thing to hit the streets with us. You come highly recommended by Mark Edison. That says a lot. Most men don’t have much good to say about their former wives.”

He laughs a little too loudly. I wonder if he has an ex and, if he does, what she was like.

“So, welcome aboard. I know this is a tall order, but Dr. Edison said you’re the one for the job. Don’t disappoint me or him. Now, get in your car and get out in the ﬁeld.” He opens the door to his oﬃce and shows me out.

As the new department psychologist, I am in no position to protest or to tell him that I’m scared to death because I’ve never seen a dead body before. Not even my father’s. What if I embarrass myself, faint or, God forbid, get sick to my stomach? I wonder how he expects me to suit up. Maybe I should put wheels on my “couch and tow it behind my car?

The radio traﬃc on my scanner crackles briskly, drowning out my thumping heart. Listening to it is a guilty pleasure, like eavesdropping. This is the best of two possible worlds, close to the action but at a safe remove– the unobserved observer listening to the breathlessness of the chase, the escalating octaves that betray fear, the barked commands, the unnatural calm of the dispatcher, and the ﬁnal “Code 4” signaling that the short reign of terror has given way to hours of report writing and investigation.

I drive under a cool green canopy of old oaks. Light ﬁlters through the leaves dappling the street. Fifty years ago this old northern California neighborhood was considered the ultimate in aﬀordable, architect-designed family houses. Now the current selling prices are beyond my reach and the reach of any Kenilworth cop, ﬁreﬁghter or schoolteacher. Neighbors are congregating in small worried clusters on the sidewalk in front of a uniquely shabby one story home. They watch as I park my car. I take ten slow deep breaths and step to the sidewalk. Spindly trees ﬂank the walk that leads to the front door. The grass on either side of the cracked concrete path is brown and freckled with splotches of hard, dry dirt. The front door is open. I grit my teeth and walk in.

***

Author Bio:

Ellen Kirschman, Ph.D. is a police psychologist. and clinician at the First Responders Support Network. She is a member of the International Association of Chiefs of Police, The American Psychological Association, Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and the Public Safety Writers Association. She is the recipient of the California Psychological Association’s award for distinguished contribution to psychology as well as the American Psychological Association’s award for outstanding contribution to the practice of police and public safety psychology. Ellen brings her expertise and decades-long experience to both fiction and non-fiction. She is the author of three non-fiction books and a five-book mystery series featuring police psychologist Dot Meyerhoff.