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The Spotlight Is On Murder At The Pontchartrain by Kathleen Kaska @dollycas

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Murder at the Pontchartrain by Kathleen Kaska

About Murder at the Pontchartrain

Murder at the Pontchartrain
Cozy Mystery (Humorous)
6th in Series
Setting – New Orleans, Louisiana
Anamcara Press LLC (June 15, 2023)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 280 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1941237940
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1941237946

Synopsis

Private detective Sydney Lockhart and her boyfriend/partner, Ralph Dixon, are headed for New Orleans to tie the knot—again. Having been stalled on their first attempt by some unfinished business dealing with their last case, Sydney and Dixon are now in the Pontchartrain Hotel in the Big Easy. While their marriage license rests at the courthouse for its 24-hour waiting period, they stroll to the French Quarter to visit Rip Thigbee, Sydney’s friend from her previous investigation. Rip owns Finder of Lost Souls, a detective agency dealing with the spirits of murder victims whose cases remain unsolved. 

           When Sydney and Dixon are at Rip’s office, they learn he went missing after investigating the disturbance of local businessman Frank Threadgill’s crypt. Voodoo Queen Frida Mae, whose shop is located next to Thigbee’s, fears that bad juju led to Threadgill’s death and has now infiltrated Rip’s business. Upon returning to their hotel room, to plan their next step, they find Threadgill’s wife, Mildred, waiting for them. Unfortunately, Mildred has been murdered. The police haul the couple down to the station. Their alibi checks out, but they are told to stick around for a few days. Soon a hotel housemaid is murdered, and this time Dixon is arrested, and Sydney is on her own to find the killer.

           Hearing of their predicament, Sydney’s bubble-headed cousin, Ruth, and Sydney’s young charge, twelve-year-old Lydia LeBeau, show up to lend an unwelcome hand. Ruth goes undercover as a chef at the hotel. Lydia, who can talk the Pope into letting her assist in saying Mass, talks her way into the famous Pat O’Brien’s bar, where the locals are eager to share what they know.

           After interviewing Mildred Threadgill’s family, Sydney begins her investigation by delving into Frank Threadgill’s mysterious past and discovers that he isn’t who he claims to be. The business he once owned was a cover involving an organization of WWII war criminals and the local Ku Klux Klan. As Sydney gets closer to the truth, she is attacked and left for dead in a nearby swamp. With the help of a few jaunty Cajuns, Sydney makes it back to the city with enough evidence to get Dixon released. Ruth thinks she knows who the killer is. Lydia has her own theory and is convinced Ruth is wrong. Sydney doesn’t know who to trust, convinced that every witness she’s interviewed has lied. But her most shocking realization is that the biggest liar is her own future husband.         

Excerpt from Murder at the Pontchartrain

  Dixon and I were sitting in the interrogation room in the downtown police station when we got word that the dead woman was Mildred Threadgill. Dixon explained our interest in Mrs. Threadgill, as well as the damage done to her husband’s tomb, and that our friend Rip Thigbee was missing and last seen with Mrs. Threadgill. None of which made a rat’s ass difference to Detective Bergeron who was questioning us. Luckily, our alibi checked out. The people staying in the room next to ours said they heard a commotion and then a scream at the time we were talking to the attendant at the cemetery. Nevertheless, the woman was killed in our room. There was a knife missing from our breakfast tray, possibly the murder weapon. The only person in New Orleans who knew we were staying here was Betsy Radley. We were released, but told to stick around.

            “Are we on a case?” I asked.

            “We’re on a case. What choice do we have? Deal with a murder today. Get married tomorrow.”

            “Does that marriage license have an expiration date?”

            “It’s good for two weeks. Maybe we should have kept the rental car.”

Betsy was a little more forth coming with information when we returned to Rip’s office to tell her that Mildred Threadgill had been murdered.

            “Oh, my,” Betsy said. “Mrs. Threadgill was here after you left, demanding to see Rip. I told her I didn’t know where he was and that the last time I saw him he was with her. She became livid. She said he was supposed to call her a couple of days ago.”

            “And you sent her to us?” Dixon asked.
            “She wouldn’t leave,” Betsy said. “I didn’t know what else to do. You said you’d help, so I told her where you were staying.”

            “Any idea who would kill her?” Dixon asked, adding a hardness to his voice. When he did that, I knew he was losing his patience.
            “I . . . I don’t know,” Betsy stammered.
            “I’ll look through Rip’s notes again,” I said.
            “So the last time you saw Rip he was headed to the cemetery with Mildred Threadgill, and you haven’t seen or heard from him since?”

            “Yes, yes that’s right,” Betsy whispered.

            “You’ve been here all week and you haven’t heard from anyone? No one’s called or come in? Just Mrs. Threadgill after we left?”

            Betsy began blubbering, which turned to sobs, then to hiccups. Finally, she managed a vigorous shake of her head.

            “I want Rip’s home address,” Dixon said.

            “He lives upstairs in the apartment on the left. I don’t have a key, but Frida Mae is the landlady. She has one. Wait here. I’ll get it.”

We walked into Rip’s apartment. You wouldn’t think a single guy, an ex-bouncer to be so immaculately neat. Rip didn’t own a lot of possessions, but what he had was clean and orderly. A stack of dinner plates sat on the kitchen counter next to two coffee cups in perfect alignment. Clean silverware stood in a drinking glass. The toaster, minus crumbs, shone like a beacon. Two spotless sauce pans and a skillet were arranged on top of the icebox. What little space he had in the kitchenette he made good use of. The cabinet held a can of sardines, a can of pinto beans, and a box of Wheaties. On the top shelf inside the icebox, sat a package of bacon, carton of eggs, and a stick of butter. The lower shelf held a case of Falstaff beer cans, also aligned with each label showing out. I looked over to find Dixon staring off into space.

            “What is it?”

            “Betsy’s lying. She knows more than she’s telling.”

            “She’s scared. You should have pushed her harder.”

            “Let her stew for now. Was Rip in the military?”
            “Not that I know of. Why?”

            “I can’t find one wrinkle in his bed sheets. His pillow case smells freshly laundered. There’s no dust on the floor under the bed. His dresser contains the usual undershirts, socks, underwear, and handkerchiefs.”

Dixon opened the closet door. Two dress shirts, a pair of slacks, a sport coat hung neatly, each in their proper category. “Look at this. A pair of scuffed cowboy boots.”
            “Don’t sound surprised. Any self-respecting Texan has scuffed cowboy boots, even me.” I looked down at his wingtips.

            “What?”

            “This entire time I thought you were perfect, but I just realized you’re not.”

            Dixon straightened his tie. “You’re questioning your assessment of me?”

            I held up Rip’s boots.
            “Wait. I’m not ever going to wear cowboy boots. I don’t have to, I’m not a Texan.”
            “You will soon be one by marriage. I suggest black boots, slightly rounded toes, modicum amount of stitchery. I’ll shop around.”

            “No.”
            “At least you can wear them around the house.”
            “No.”
            “Wearing nothing else, just your boots.”
            “Well, maybe.”

About Kathleen Kaska

Kathleen Kaska is the author of the awarding-winning mystery series: the Sydney Lockhart Mystery Series set in the 1950s and the Kate Caraway Animal-Rights Mystery Series. Her first two Lockhart mysteries, Murder at the Arlington and Murder at the Luther, were selected as bonus books for the Pulpwood Queen Book Group, the country’s largest book group. She also writes mystery trivia. The Sherlock Holmes Quiz Book was published by Rowman & Littlefield. Her Holmes short story, “The Adventure at Old Basingstoke,” appears in Sherlock Holmes of Baking Street, a Belanger Books anthology. She is the founder of The Dogs in the Nighttime, the Sherlock Holmes Society of Anacortes, Washington, a scion of The Baker Street Irregulars. Watch for Murder at the Pontchartrain: the 6th Sydney Lockhart Mystery in June 2023.

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Giveaway – Grand Gestures by Lynne Hancock Pearson @XpressoTours

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Grand Gestures
Lynne Hancock Pearson
Publication date: April 15th 2023
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

She will grit her teeth and smile at the snobby and suspicious CFO if it means landing the contract. But she won’t put on a dress and definitely not heels.

Event planner Jane Beckett has big dreams for her small company and is bending over backward to accommodate demanding clients. Jane doesn’t have to like them. She doesn’t have to spend her free time with them. But she wants to tease the grumpy pencil-pushing executive who always seems to be in her way, muss up his hair and show him that there’s more to life than boardrooms and bottom lines. That is, when she doesn’t want to yell at him. Or punch him.

Liam Cross believes every woman has a hidden agenda, one that involves taking advantage of big hearted, clueless billionaires like his best friend and co-worker. He’s watching Jane and her sister to ensure that party-planning is all that’s going on. Even though she manages to steal his assistant, he likes what he sees in the smart-mouthed brunette, admires her stubborn independence, and wants to help her fledgling firm succeed despite his misapprehensions.

Paintballs, punches, and sparks fly when inflated egos and miscommunication threaten relationships between friends, family, and partners.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

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EXCERPT:

With whiskey warming his belly and muddling his mind, signing up for a paintball session seemed like a great idea, in the light of day and with a pounding headache, not so much. He intended to argue his way out of the non-refundable fee he’d paid in his drunken state. Settling his sunglasses firmly over his eyes, Liam hauled his sorry ass out of the car. His back hurt, his head hurt, and his hands hurt.

Fingering a fresh blister on the palm of his hand, he cursed himself for not wearing gloves at the batting cage the night before. He’d gone directly from the office to the sports field in Magnuson Park. For two hours, he’d slugged away at balls. Personal day. Liam had never taken a personal day. Other than dental and medical checkups, he never took a day off. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything fun without Chuck. He’d whacked the ball time and time again, thinking about his best friend potentially getting his heart stomped on. Again. Worn out from swinging the bat, he’d stopped for booze and takeout, then headed home to stalk Jane Beckett online.

Bullseye Paintball was located in an old salvage yard off Aurora. Whooping with glee, kids erupted out of SUVs and mini vans in the parking lot. Wincing at the noise, Liam made his way to the office and pulled open the heavy door.

“What are you doing here?”

Shit!

Wearing black cargo pants tucked into combat boots and a black hooded sweatshirt, Jane Beckett lounged against the registration desk. She flicked her bangs out of her eyes with a toss of her head and smirked at him. “You’re not playing, are you?”

Her dismissive tone rubbed against his raw nerves. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

Sipping from a travel mug, Jane’s gaze roamed up and down his body, taking in his khaki shorts, fresh white collared shirt, and sneakers. Her lips twitched. “Oh, no reason at all.”

The door opened, and the small office filled with kids, backing Liam into a corner and saving him from having to reply. Jane shifted her attention to the kids and raised her arms in the air.

“Who’s ready to have fun?” she yelled.

“Yay!” the kids replied at the top of their lungs.

“Who’s ready to get dirty?”

They yelled louder.

“Who’s ready to plant a garden?”

The kids looked confused.

“I’m just messing with you!” Jane grinned and opened the door to the playing field. “Head out and find Jason. He’s going to fit you with safety equipment and guns.”

The kids stampeded out, leaving two dads dressed in camo-chic, looking both excited and nervous. One of whom wore an air cast on one leg. “Oh dear,” Jane said, “you’re not going to be able to play with that.”

The man in the cast replied, “Stan and I discussed strategy. I figured I’d prop myself up in a corner and shoot from behind cover.”

“Yeah,” Stan said. “You and I can run and juke, draw their fire, and Carl can pick them off. He can as well.” He looked toward Liam. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Whose dad are you?”

Three pairs of inquisitive eyes turned toward him. “Nobody’s. I’m not part of the party.” He felt like a fool. How the hell to get out of this while saving face?

“Liam’s never played before. He’s here to scout the place for a team-building event for his company.”

Carl and Stan nodded at Jane’s remarks. Liam shot her a quick smile of thanks.

Then she cocked one hip, crossed her arms, and threw him under the bus. “We’ve got tactical gear you can borrow for firsthand experience, Mr. Cross. How about it?”

“Yeah,” Carl said. “You’ll be able to see how much fun it is. And help us out. There’s twelve of them, and with my bum leg, they’ll make mincemeat out of us.”

Stan nudged Carl’s shoulder. “Don’t scare him.” He turned to Liam. “It won’t be that bad. The girls are experienced. We’ll tell Jessica, that’s our daughter, to tell them to go easy on you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Liam caught the grin Jane was attempting to hide behind her hand. Great. She was laughing at him. There was no way he could get out of this and still keep his man card. “I’m in.” He extended his hand to Carl but glared at Jane.

Thirty minutes later, he found himself cowering behind a stack of wooden pallets with a barrage of paintballs coming at him. What the holy hell?! This was not fun. This was terrifying. He looked back and spotted Carl wedged between empty oil drums, cackling maniacally as paintballs pinged off the metal. What was wrong with these people?

Author Bio:

Lynne Hancock Pearson writes fun, flirty, feel-good fiction set in the Pacific Northwest. Stories of people finding their way, even if it takes a while to get there.

She lives near Seattle with two and a half finicky felines and one long-suffering husband. She is a left-handed middle child who grew up in the Great White North.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram


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Books From The Backlog – Lady Justice And The Avenging Angels @booksbybob

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Books from the Backlog is a fun way to feature some of those neglected books sitting on your bookshelf unread.  If you are anything like me, you might be surprised by some of the unread books hiding in your stacks.

If you would like to join in, swing by Carole’s Random Life in Books.

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GOODREADS BLURB

Lady Justice has unwittingly entered a religious war. Who better to fight for her than Walt Williams?

Walt and his sweetie, Maggie, have just returned from a honeymoon that was packed with love, fun, mystery, and danger. Now it’s time for them to adjust to living under the same roof—quite the challenge for a couple in their sixties, both of whom have never been married before! Suddenly Maggie’s feeding Walt fiber—lots of fiber—taking up almost all the closet space, and even getting rid of Walt’s favorite old recliner. But nothing could be better than having Maggie by his side when a great threat arises and Walt is, as usual, smack dab in the middle.

When Walt and his partner, Ox, are patrolling the Gay Pride Parade, a bomb goes off near them. They come out okay, but many are dead or seriously injured. Shortly after, the police squad learns the bombs are homemade by a group of religious fanatics calling themselves God’s Avenging Angels. The Avenging Angels believe it’s their job to rain fire and brimstone on Kansas City, their Sodom and Gomorrah. The next attacks could be anywhere in the metro, so all cops are needed to comb the city and find the perpetrators. Walt and Ox are on the case, which continues to be explosive.

In this compelling addition to the Lady Justice series, Robert Thornhill brings back all the characters readers have come to love for more hilarity and higher stakes. You’ll laugh, and you’ll be on the edge of your seat until the big finish. Don’t miss Lady Justice and the Avenging Angels!

  • Mystery, fiction, humor

181 pages, Kindle Edition

First published December 6, 2011

Goodreads Ratings: 4.52 – 204 ratings – 46 reviews

I added Lady Justice and the Avenging Angels by Robert Thornhill to my TBR on 3.7.13. Fun and mystery…makes for a good time. Have you read any of his prolific work?

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Review – Mermaid Beach by Sheila Roberts #sheilaroberts @pumpupyourbook

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Amazon / Audiobook

Title: Mermaid Beach (Moonlight Harbor Series Book 7)

Author: Sheila Roberts

Publisher: MIRA

Pages: 384

Genre: Women’s Fiction/Romance

MY REVIEW

I must admit, it was the title for Mermaid Beach by Sheila Roberts that gave me pause. Mermaids are one of my favorite supernatural creatures, even though I know these mermaids won’t have fins and tails, and anything happening on the beach has to be a good thing….right?

This is a fantastic book to grab for your summer reading…or any time, really. My visit to Moonlight Harbor was wonderful. Though it is my first time, this is the seventh book in the series. We have three lovely ladies that cover three generations, singing in a band called the Mermaids. They are the house band at The Drunken Sailor. How much fun is that?

I found myself cracking up at some of the dialogue, especially once Bonnie meets a love interest and Team Estrogen urges her to go for it.

Nothing is smooth sailing for this fabulous trio. Like real life, there are plenty of bumps in the road when falling in love, making life choices for their future, and chasing their dreams. An old secret will be exposed, causing a rift in the family.

I find most, if not all, small town romances have unique characters that make a visit fun and exciting, as we get to know them. It will not be all sunshine and rainbows in Moonlight Harbor. Hearts will be broken, new love will blossom, other times wilting on the vine. Can there be a happy ever after for all three of them? Will their dreams come true? Or, will they find that sometimes what we seek the most is right in front of us?

Many times I am surprised by how much I can enjoy a novel, a clean story, that has no serial killers, murderers, or supernatural creatures out to kill us all. Mermaid Beach by Sheila Roberts is one of those. I was out of town, but could not stop reading. The more I read, the more I enjoyed it. Well done, Sheila! I hope to be back for another visit to Moonlight Harbor.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Mermaid Beach by Sheila Roberts.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 stars

BOOK BLURB

Bonnie Brinks and her all-woman band, The Mermaids, are the pride of Moonlight Harbor. They’re the house band at The Drunken Sailor, and that’s just the right amount of fame for Bonnie. A lifetime ago, she went to Nashville to make it big, but she returned home with a broken heart and broken dreams. Now she’s got a comfortable life and a brilliant daughter, Avril, who plays for The Mermaids alongside Bonnie and Bonnie’s mother, Loretta.

Avril has big dreams of her own. Her life in Moonlight Harbor is good–she loves singing and playing guitar with The Mermaids, and she has the sweetest, most loyal boyfriend a girl could ask for–but it all feels so…small. She can’t help wondering if there’s something more out there for her. And she doesn’t understand why her mom won’t support her going to Nashville to find out.

Meanwhile, Bonnie threw in the towel on her love life long ago, but Loretta sure hasn’t. She’s determined to be swept off her feet, and she wants the same for her daughter. When the hunky new owner of The Drunken Sailor turns the tables on the band and Avril announces she’s leaving Moonlight Harbor, Bonnie’s comfortable life seems to be drifting away. Will these three generations of Mermaids find their happy endings on the Washington coast? Or will the change in the winds leave them all shipwrecked?

“Blooming with heartfelt charm and swoon-worthy moments…” Woman’s World Magazine

Release Date: April 25, 2023

 

EXCERPT

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? MEET J.J. AND BONNIE

It was a pleasant ride to the beach. Once he was off I-5 he was on highways that took him through stands of evergreens and logging towns with small houses, many of them forty years old, many of which were being refurbished.

Then he hit Moonlight Harbor with its crazy stone pillars at the entrance, still standing from when the town was first developed in the sixties. The place was a mixture of funky old and upbeat new, the buildings from both eras catering to visitors with restaurants, moped rentals, shops and a fun plex that offered bumper cars and go-carts for entertainment. A family of deer grazed on the grass in the meridian between the two one-way streets running through the town.

Another ten minutes and he was pulling into the driveway of Lee’s beach digs, a three-bedroom rambler with rock for lawn encased in a white picket fence. Lee and his wife were ready for him with a proper Thanksgiving leftover meal of turkey sandwiches, dressing and gravy, and cranberry sauce. Seeing the way they looked at each other about gave him heartburn.

His ex had looked at him like that about a million years ago. Stupid, fool him. He was a walking morality tale, an example of what happened when a man wound up married to his job instead of his woman. If only she’d given him a fair chance to right that ship.

“How’s your sandwich?” Glinda asked.

“Great,” he said. “Thanks. And thanks for inviting me down.”

“Sometimes a man’s gotta get some new scenery,” said Lee.

After they ate Glinda made them clean up the kitchen and left to check on things at the pub for Lee and hang out with some girlfriends.

“She’s a great woman,” J.J. said.

“That she is,” agreed Lee. “They’re still out there, dude.”

J.J. gave a cynical chuckle. “Yeah, I’m holding my breath.”

“While you’re holding your breath let’s play some cribbage. Tomorrow I’ll take you out to eat.”

They settled down with whiskey and cards and it was a pleasant evening. It sure beat sitting around the condo wondering if he ought to check out an internet dating site.

Saturday found him out on the beach in boots and a thick jacket with his buddy, working a clam gun to capture the elusive razor clam. A weak sun was out and the sand was damp and muddy and the air was crisp. A perfect day. They weren’t the only ones who thought so. The beach was thick with people, all in search of the same delight.

“You should move down here,” Lee said, as he tossed a clam in their bucket. He wasn’t much taller than J.J. and was built like a tank. In their college days he’d mowed down his opponents on the football field just like one. He’d gotten his education thanks to a college scholarship. J.J. had waited tables and worked in restaurant kitchens. Glinda had already informed him he would be in charge of making the clam chowder for lunch.

“Yeah? So I can grow moss like you? It’s always wet.”

“Not in the summer.”

“Yeah, well let me know when you figure out how to make it summer all year long,” J.J. said.

“Oh, come on. You know you loved it when we went over to Westhaven and went fishing.”

“Just thinking about that halibut we caught makes my mouth water,” J.J. said.

“Fishing, clamming, kayaking on the canals, golfing – it’s the life.”

J.J. brushed the sand off his hands and studied his friend. “Why do I feel like I’m sitting in on a time share pitch?”

Lee shrugged and chuckled. “Just sayin’ it’s a good life down here.”

“For you. You got a great wife and your daughters live nearby.”

Lee sobered. “It sucks that things went sideways with Eloise.”

“It’s been three years. I’m over it.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. My life’s good. I like my freedom. Got no woman nagging me, no obligations.”

“That bad, huh?”

J.J. gave a rueful smile and shook his head. “Okay, so it’s not perfect.”

“Maybe you need a change.”

“Okay, what’s the hidden agenda?”

“No hidden agenda,” Lee said and suddenly got busy checking to see if they’d reached their limit of clams.

Yep, there was a hidden agenda.

Glinda proved it when, after lunch she said, “Aren’t you tired of city living yet, J.J.?”

He set down his glass of beer and looked from one to the other. “Spill, you two. What’s up?”

They exchanged guilty looks. “Well,” Lee said, “Just thought you might be interested in a new business opportunity.”

“Oh, no. You got sucked into a pyramid scheme,” J.J. said in horror.

Lee made a face. “No.”

“The pub’s failing. You need a silent partner. No problem.” It would be the least he could do. He’d helped his buddy get into this mess.

J.J. had come down to Moonlight Harbor ten years earlier when his pal had told him about the little beach town pub he wanted to buy, had looked over the books with Lee and the owner, then given it a thumbs up, although he’d been concerned about Lee getting into the restaurant business.

“It’s a tough business,” he’d cautioned. “When you buy a restaurant, it owns you.” He knew that from personal experience.

“I can make a go of it,” Lee had said. “We want out of the city and Glinda’s up for it.”

“Okay, then,” J.J. had said.

He’d shared his expertise with his friend and Lee had done okay. But they hadn’t talked much in the last couple of years. Between getting divorced and getting his feet back under him J.J. had been a little distracted. Obviously, Lee’s investment had gone south.

“The pub’s doing great,” Lee said.

Well, so much for that conclusion. “Then what’s up?”

“What’s up is that it’s time to sell the business. The girls are grown and one’s had the nerve to move out of state. Glinda wants to start traveling.”

“You want your life back.”

Lee chuckled. “Something like that. I was thinking maybe you might want yours back, too.”

So this was where they were going. J.J. held up a hand. “Oh, no. No more restaurants. Too much work.”

“Yeah, and you’re so busy.”

“I’ll admit I’m kind of at loose ends, but I don’t think I want to work that hard.”

“I’ve already done all the hard work.”

“Yeah, right.” When you owned a business, it owned you. And restaurants …

“Never mind,” said Lee. “Let’s go play some pool. You can check out the house band.”

“You got a house band? What are they, a bunch of grungy kids in their twenties?”

Lee smiled at that. “Not quite. It’s a chick band.”

“A chick band. Interesting. So, three grungy chicks in their twenties.”

“Nope. Mother, daughter and granddaughter. They had another but she’s off to Nashville to try and become a star. They’re still good though, especially the lead singer. That woman sings like an angel, sometimes like a little devil. And she is something fine to look at. They’ve really been packing in the crowds on the weekend.”

“That’s good.”

“The place is doing well,” said Lee. “I know you shouldn’t do business with friends, but since you were in the restaurant business and since you’re the man with the business degree, I thought I’d give you first crack at it.” He suddenly looked wistful. “I kind of hate to let the place go. It’s like losing a part of me.”

J.J. nodded. “I know how you feel. I hated to let go of my places. Did it all for nothing,” he said bitterly.

His words brought on an awkward silence. He should have kept his shit to himself. He shook off the downer moment. “Let’s shoot some pool.”

“Good idea,” said Lee. “And, J.J., I get you not wanting to get sucked into this business again. I’d have liked you to be the one who takes over The Drunken Sailor, but no worries. The right owner will show up.”

Maybe the right owner had showed up, J.J. thought as they drank beer and waited their turn at one of the pool tables. The place was packed. Lots of out of towners, but Lee said he had a ton of regulars who came in during the week as well. Line dancing lessons were offered on Sunday afternoons followed by line dancing. A lot of the old guys came in mid-week to play darts and Lee had recently started a Ladies night, with half-off on drinks on Tuesdays and pool lessons taught by some of the better players, including a guy named Seth Waters, who had been regular before he got married. According to Lee, he still came in to play pool on Sundays while his wife and her girlfriends line danced.

“You’ve done a great job of making this the place to be,” J.J. said as they moved to take their turn at a table that had opened up.

“I like to think so,” said Lee. “Thank God I got lots of good free advice from a pro when I first started.

“What are friends for?” J. J. responded. He selected a cue stick and chalked it up.

“Go ahead and break,” Lee said.

J.J. took aim at the cue ball, sending it clacking into the others. He sunk one of the striped ones and then proceeded to clean the table.

“Save some for me,” Lee protested.

“Oh, yeah, I can’t let you lose. It would hurt your delicate feelings,” J.J. taunted.

“And then I’d hurt your delicate nose,” Lee shot back.

J.J. did miss the next ball. He stood back and let Lee take his turn.

It was the end of the game for him because he caught sight of a woman with long, red hair, a face that would launch a thousand ships, and legs that wouldn’t quit walking into the place. She wore a short black leather jacket, hanging open to reveal a lowcut green top cover a very nice rack. Those fine legs were encased in tight jeans. She wore black boots that made him think of pirates and was carrying a guitar case. Holy Moly! Was that a member of the band Lee had told him about?

Lee caught him staring. “That’s Bonnie Brinks, one of The Mermaids.”

“I wouldn’t mind hooking her on my line.”

“Fat chance. She’s a smiling ice maiden. Been single for years.”

“Maybe she’s tired of being single,” J.J. mused.

“Don’t hold your breath. But hey, she sure dresses up the place.”

“That was probably about all she did. Lee had a tin ear. He’d probably hired the woman for her looks.

Behind her came a younger woman, tall like Bonnie but with darker coloring. Also a looker. And next to her walked a woman who’d never gotten the memo that she was a senior citizen, also wearing tight jeans and heels high enough to trip Tina Turner. She sported spiky white hair and the tips of the spikes were colored green. The mother. His mother sure didn’t look like that. This woman probably had every old geezer in the place ready to take her out. With all three women being so striking maybe nobody cared what they sounded like.

“Had enough pool?” asked Lee.

“I think I’ll go over to the bar and get another drink,” J.J. said.

He snagged the last seat at the bar, one near the end next to a scruffy old dude in faded jeans and a peacoat, ordered another beer, and watched as the women tuned up. They couldn’t sound as good as they looked.

“The band’s good,” the old guy said. “They sing good, too,” he said and chortled over his crack.

“You know them?” J.J. asked.

“Of course. Everybody knows everybody here,” the old guy informed him.

“Looks like this is a popular place,” J.J. observed.

“Best burgers in town. Plus they have a senior menu.”

Lee came up behind J.J., hovering like a salesman in a used car lot. “Hey there, Pete. I see you’ve met my pal J.J. This is Pete,” Lee said to J.J. “He’s one of our regulars. He won our last darts tournament.”

“Beat out all the young pups,” Pete bragged. “You play darts?” he asked J.J.

“Don’t take the bait,” said Lee. “He’ll just sucker you into a friendly wager and take your shirt.”

“Aw, there you go, spoilin’ my fun,” Pete complained.

A full house and steady patrons. It would be kind of cool to own this pub. A lot of work and time consuming, but it wasn’t like he had much going on in his life anyway other than some day trading, hitting the gym and reading. In the last year he’d bought enough books to stock a small library. He needed something more to do. Lately, he felt like he was drifting with no purpose, no adventure on the horizon. What kind of adventures could he have here in Moonlight Harbor?

At nine on the dot the hot redhead stepped up to the mike and said, “Hey everyone, let’s get this party started.” She looked back at the granny on the drums, who began to bang her drumsticks together, counting off the beat, then the young girl hit the bass and the redhead began to bend those guitar strings all to hell. People rushed to the dance floor as she started to sing. “Get off your chair and get out here and shake your booty. You gotta start this party, so get out there and do your duty.”

J.J.’s heart went into overdrive. This place was a goldmine and Bonnie Brinks was the gold. What a voice! The woman was a super star. He wondered what she was doing buried in the sand of a small beach town.

“So whaddya think? The place is a good investment, right?”

“I’d say so,” said J.J. “Looks like the band is bringing in a lot of customers.”

“We had a lot of customers even before the band,” Lee said. “People want to eat at a casual place with lots of atmosphere when they’re at the beach.”

“You definitely got the atmosphere,” J.J. said. The goofy carved pirate statues were an obvious hit. He’d seen several people taking pictures with them. The pool tables had been in constant use since they’d walked in and the beer was flowing. Lee did have a going concern. The band and dance floor were a bonus. And what a bonus it was.

The women finally went on break, the older one stopping at a table to say hello to some people. The younger one went to plop down next to a super -sized young buck at a table near the band stand where a glass of pop was already waiting. A boyfriend, of course. The guitar queen headed for the bar, stopping for a quick word here and there, deflecting a fat lounge lizard, nodding and smiling at something another patron said.

She came up to the end of the bar next to J. J. and Lee. “Great job as always, Bonnie,” Lee said.

“Thanks,” she said. Then to the bartender, “Got my Diet Coke, Madison?”

“On its way,” the woman said and got busy getting her drink.

“You’ve got a great band,” J. J. said to Bonnie.

“Thanks, we try,” she said. Her smile was stop sign. Not Interested so don’t even try.

What did he look like? Some middle-aged, desperate horn toad? He was just being friendly. There was no need to give him the ice treatment.

He decided to turn the charm up a notch. “I always wanted to meet a mermaid.”

“Now you have,” she told him, still with the stop sign smile. The bartender set down her glass and Bonnie thanked her, the ice melting from her smile. But it was back again for J.J. “Try the garlic fries here,” she said to him. “They’re great.” Then she left before he could get in another word.

Mermaids were not so easy to catch.

“Don’t put her on the welcoming committee,” J.J. muttered.

“Told ya,” said Lee.

Slick and charming and no ring on his finger, which, considering his age which she figured to be somewhere around hers, probably had to mean he’d ditched a wife somewhere along the way, Bonnie decided as she walked to the band table. With those blue eyes and that red hair and matching, neatly trimmed beard, he looked like some kind of troubadour from the Elizabethan era. Add broad shoulders and a well sculpted chest and he was a regular pheromone factory.

And that stupid line about catching a mermaid. Oh, yes, he was a charmer.

Who did that remind her of? Rance Jackson, of course.

Let’s get to know him, urged her sex-starved hormones.

Not happening, she informed them. This was the kind of man who broke hearts – trouble in Levis. There would be no getting to know him.

Put a Mr. Yuck sticker on him and stay far away.

ABOUT SHEILA ROBERTS

USA Today and Publishers Weekly best-selling author Sheila Roberts has written over fifty books under various names, ranging from romance to self-improvement. Over three million books have been sold to date. Her humor and heart have won her a legion of fans and her novels have been turned into movies for both the Lifetime and Hallmark channels. When she’s not out dancing with her husband or hanging out with her girlfriends, she can be found writing about those things near and dear to women’s hearts: family, friends and chocolate.

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Giveaway – Faking It With The Grump by Kate O’Keefe @XpressoTours @kateokeeffe4

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Faking It With the Grump
Kate O’Keeffe
(Second Chance Café, #1)
Publication date: March 14th 2023
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

He’s grumpy, boring, and thinks it’s okay to wear a suit and tie to a smalltown bar full of lumberjacks. But when I kiss him? Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting THAT.

Harper Cole

It’s one thing to be dumped by the huge Hollywood star you thought you were going to marry. It’s quite another to move back to the small town you’re both from.

As a booby prize for being shown the door by Dex Ryan, everyone is trying to set me up with their son, their nephew, or their long-lost cousin’s gardener. Either that or they’re throwing me pitying looks that say, “You’re a big loser.”

I’m not going to put up with their patronizing sympathy anymore.

So, when I spot new-guy-in-town Christopher Young, I set out to make him mine. Or you know, pretend to make him mine. I’m still in a horrible funk over Dex, and Christopher is an uptight grump. Not exactly my type.

The fact that despite appearances, he’s gorgeous and doing weird things to my blood pressure doesn’t mean a thing.

Really.

Not. A. Thing.

Christopher Young

Hunter’s Creek, population next to nothing, is the reason I work all the time. I’m solely focused on buying the town’s lumber mill so I can go back to NYC and get my big promotion. This small town is a means to an end. Nothing more.

That is until the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen superglues her lips to mine in an unexpected and very public way. She’s not the kind of woman I usually go for with her boho dress and ankle boots, but that kiss…

I’m disappointed when she comes up for air and tells me it’s all for show. But if Harper Cole wants me to be her fake boyfriend while I’m here in town, who am I to turn her down? Being attached to a local might ingratiate me to the townsfolk and make my job that much the easier.

After all, dating Harper can only be make believe. Nothing more. Not when my entire future is at stake.

Faking It With The Grump is a grumpy-sunshine, opposites attract, fake relationship romance set in the small town of Hunter’s Creek, Washington. It’s the first book in the new Second Chance Café series. Each book follows a different sister’s love story and can be read as a standalone novel or as part of a series.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

She looks suddenly nervous. “Okay, here’s the thing. I kind of told some people today that you and I are…well, that we’re…”

When she doesn’t complete her sentence, I lean in and ask, “You and I are what?”

She glances around nervously before she says, “Dating.”

I straighten, shocked.

As my brain tries to comprehend what she just said, I blink at her a few times.

I need clarification. In my experience, beautiful women don’t usually go around telling people they’re dating you without your knowledge.

Well, not sane, beautiful women, anyway.

“Did you say you’ve told people you and I are dating?” I ask.

She nibbles on her lip, reminding me of a rabbit. It only adds to her appeal. Despite my concern, she’s confirmed she’s not exactly sane. “I did warn you it was weird.”

“That’s true, you did. But that doesn’t explain why, exactly.”

She clasps her hands together, clearly uncomfortable.

I’m overcome with the strangest sensation, wanting to reach out and place my hand over hers to reassure her it’s okay.

I don’t.

She takes a breath. “I know this makes me sound crazy. And I’m not crazy. Really, I’m not.”

Said no crazy person ever.

“I don’t know if you recognize me or know what happened, but even if you don’t, I really, really need you to pretend to date me because—”

Wait. Pretend?

Her eyes dart to something behind me, and before I fully realize what’s happening, she’s pushed the bar stool to one side, closed the distance between us, a decidedly wild look in her eyes.

“Everything all right?” I ask her tentatively.

“Okay if I kiss you?” she murmurs out of the corner of her mouth.

I blink at her. “Now you want to…kiss me?”

She nods, her eyes darting behind me and then back to my face. “That okay with you?”

This gorgeous woman who smells like a meadow, the double threat, the woman who only just told me she wants to pretend to date me, now wants to kiss me.

As confusing as this situation may be, I’d be an idiot not to leap at this.

“Sure,” I tell her, the thought of having her soft lips pressed against mine making my belly clench.

It would appear she’s not a woman to be told twice.

Immediately, she pulls herself up onto her toes, places her hands at the back of my head, and before I can utter another word—like “why?”—she leans in toward me and kisses me.

I don’t move for fear this is some kind of mirage. Not that I think mirages are all that common in Washington, what with it not being a desert. But seriously, this sort of thing doesn’t happen to me a whole lot. Or, you know, ever.

And I’ll be honest, as far as kisses go, it’s easily the most surprising of my life, hands down. One second, she’s explaining to me why she wants me to fake date her, and the next she’s kissing me, like it’s no big deal at all.

The problem is, for me to kiss someone like Harper Cole, it should be a big deal.


Author Bio:

USA TODAY Bestselling Author Kate O’Keeffe writes exactly what she loves to read: laugh-out-loud romantic comedies with swoon-worthy heroes and gorgeous feel-good happily ever afters. She lives and loves in beautiful Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand with her family and two scruffy dogs. When she’s not penning her latest story, Kate can be found hiking up hills (slowly), traveling to different countries, and eating chocolate. A lot of it.

Visit kateokeeffe.com to sign up to her newsletter and you’ll receive a FREE romcom.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub


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Giveaway – What’s Not Lost by Valerie Taylor @ireabooktours @valerieemtaylor

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Book Details:

Book Title:  What’s Not Lost by Valerie Taylor
Category: Adult Fiction 18+  
Genre: Women’s Fiction, Contemporary Romantic Comedy
Publisher:  Aspetuck Publishing, 324 pages
Release date:  February 7, 2023
Content Rating:  PG-13 + M. There is some bad language and references to sex scenes, but no explicit sex scenes.
Book Description:

Through the eyes of an overachiever, the schemes of a homewrecker, the magic of a bottle of wine, and a CAT, award-winning author Valerie Taylor propels this captivating and heart-warming romance to an unpredictable and delightful conclusion.

Kassie O’Callaghan is searching … for herself and for answers. With her husband six feet under and an engagement ring on her finger, Kassie is convinced managing a company merger in Paris will complete her quest for recognition on her own terms. When she learns her fiancé’s ex-girlfriend is pregnant, Kassie’s dreams come tumbling down. At least for the moment.

Despite pleas from her younger fiancé to stay in Boston and a warning from her best friend forever of what’s at stake should she leave, Kassie heads to Paris with courage and perseverance. There, she stumbles into a world of wine and roses as she tries to put the wisdom of her experience to the ultimate test.

When a Greek businessman tries to rescue her, Kassie discovers-in life-it’s not whether you win or lose, it’s the way you love that counts.
BUY THE BOOK:
Amazon
Bookshop.org ~ B&N 
Add to Goodreads
Meet the Author:

Six years retired, three years a published novelist, always a reader of good stories. Valerie Taylor was born and raised in Stamford, CT. She had a thirty-year career in the financial services industry as a marketer and writer. After her divorce, she spread her wings and relocated her career to Boston and then to Seattle. When she retired, she resettled in her home state to be near her two grown children and granddaughter. Taylor’s a member of the Westport Writer’s Workshop, the Independent Book Publisher’s Association, the CT Authors and Publishers Association, and the Women’s Fiction Writer’s Association. She’s a published book reviewer with BookTrib.com. She enjoys practicing tai chi and being an expert sports spectator. With the expected release in February 2023, What’s Not Lost is the final season in the What’s Not trilogy. Her debut, What’s Not Said, was published in 2020, with the sequel, What’s Not True, following closely in 2021. Taylor’s next journey will be into the world of cozy mysteries.

connect with the author: website ~ twitter ~ facebook ~ instagram ~ bookbub ~ goodreads

WHAT’S NOT LOST Book Tour Giveaway



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Giveaway – Ale’s Fair In Love And War by Sylvie Stewart @XpressoTours @sylvie_stewart_

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Ale’s Fair in Love and War
Sylvie Stewart
(Love on Tap, #1)
Publication date: March 2nd 2023
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Hollis Hayes is the worst neighbor in the entire history of neighbors.
She’s also the hottest.
F.M.L.

I don’t have time to fight with the dog groomer next door. There’s a brewery to run, siblings to rein in, and a mom to look after. So if Hollis thinks I’ll roll over and let her drive me out of business, she’s not nearly as smart as she thinks she is.

Sure, I enjoy the little pranks we play on each other, and I don’t hate watching her prance around in those tight leggings. But she’s gone too far this time, even if she pretends to know nothing about it.

I’ll do whatever it takes to save my business from going under, and if that means playing dirty with the girl I love to hate, game on.

If you like snarky banter, sizzling chemistry, big crazy families, and evil geniuses, Ale’s Fair in Love and War is your next weekend read. It is a standalone steamy romantic comedy with tons of heart and an HEA.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks

—

EXCERPT:

CHAPTER TWO
A VIGILANTE’S WORK IS NEVER DONE

HOLLIS

The bell rings over the door again, and my eyes flash to the brawny figure darkening my doorway.

Speak of the devil—literally.

His scruffy jaw is locked tight, the tension in his shoulders telling the story of his less-than-ideal day. As those piercing blue eyes drill into mine, it occurs to me, not for the first time, what a crying shame it is that such beautiful eyes are wasted on a troll like Cash Brooks.

“Well, hello, neighbor.” I paste on my brightest smile. “What brings you to my salon today? Need a cold shower?” My tone is drenched in so much syrup I might give myself an actual cavity.

Cash stalks toward my counter, worn work boots scuffing the tile as he approaches. I purposely ignore the way his thigh muscles strain the denim of his jeans.

When he stops just across from me, chest heaving and lips curled into an angry snarl, I respond by wrinkling my nose and waving a hand in front of it. “I’d say so. You smell like a brewery.”

This is simply too easy.

A growl spills from his curled lips, indicating that my latest prank has rendered him incapable of speaking in human. Just as well, considering what a giant bull-headed caveman he is.

A crimson flush licks at the skin just under Cash’s stubbled chin. “You posted an ad for my virginity?!”

My brows draw together as I fix a pout to my lips. “Oh, did nobody take you up on the offer?” I reach over the shiny pink counter separating us and pat his shoulder, ignoring its muscular firmness. “Don’t be embarrassed. Virginity is just a social construct anyway.”

He shakes my hand off with a jerk of his arm, and I cover my pout with a contemplative finger. “Although maybe I shouldn’t have said anything about your looks.” I lean closer to whisper, “I just didn’t want anyone to be disappointed when they met you.”

He jabs the air in front of my nose with his finger. “You’d better prepare yourself, lady.”

I slap his hand away without missing a beat. “Lady? Oh, you are cruel, aren’t you?” I coo at him, causing his jaw to do that clicking thing I so enjoy.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Cash grinds out through clenched teeth.

With that, he whips around and stalks back to my front door, giving me a prime view of his inconveniently nice ass.

“I haven’t seen anything yet,” I correct him but don’t get the pleasure of his responding expression. “Have a wonderful day!” I shout.

His growl is just barely audible as he disappears out of sight.

Ah, it is, indeed, a most wonderful day.


Author Bio:

USA Today bestselling author Sylvie Stewart loves bad jokes, dirty rom-coms, country music, and baby skunks—preferably all at the same time. Most of her steamy contemporary and romantic comedy novels take place across her favorite state of North Carolina, and her characters never run out of snarky banter or snacks. When her laptop closes, Sylvie is a sucker for hugs from her twin boys and a good laugh with her hot-nerd hubby. If you love smart Southern gals, hot blue-collar guys, and snort-laughing with characters who feel like your best friends, Sylvie’s your gal.

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Amazon / Pinterest / Bookbub / Book+Main Bites / Newsletter


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Giveaway – The Matchmaker’s Royal Mess by Frieda J Downing @XpressoTours

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The Matchmaker’s Royal Mess
Frieda J. Downing
Publication date: November 25th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

She’d rather give a mountain lion a bikini wax than mess with love again.

Been there, went viral, never going back. Hattie Montague’s life as a backcountry guide for the spoiled and famous suits her just fine, thanks. It’s the only place she feels completely safe being herself. So what if she has nightmares that she can only speak squirrel and craves pine cones for breakfast? It beats leaving yourself vulnerable to humans. Fine, all of them aren’t bad. She likes probably three, so when one needs her help, she drags herself back to civilization. If she can navigate white water rapids, she can babysit a matchmaking office for a weekend. It’s not like she’ll have to deal with people or, you know, be nice. Ew.

Alexander Greye ruined her life ten years ago. Not his proudest moment. Known as the Winter Warlocke, he’s a man born and raised to lead a country with logical precision. Yet around her, he can’t seem to think rationally. He’s never met anyone who dives into the unknown like she does or tames chaos like she can. In a world as perfectly controlled as his, that makes her irresistible and utterly dangerous. And he’s willing to risk it all to thaw his frozen heart.

It’s half past too late when he realizes his carefully laid plans to win her over covered everything except the theft of the Crown Jewels, an abandoned mine where they’d have to face their deepest fears, and the betrayal that forces them to let go.Quite literally.

Warning: Not for the faint of heart. Sassy romantic adventure, with instances of chaos, misunderstandings, and feels. Oh, and the occasional sheep. Sparks will fly, it’s gonna get awkward, and the Happily-Ever-After will be well-earned.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT

The Matchmaker’s Royal Mess by Frieda J. Downing

Bath bombs…

Since the office doesn’t have a bathtub, I get resourceful. The closet, unfortunately, is a disaster of pillow guts and shelving covered in sheep-sized bite marks. No one would confuse me for a sheep expert, but I always thought it was goats that chewed everything to pieces. Maybe Calambity is part goat. Thankfully, the blue pillow tub is in one piece.

I carry it to the kitchenette and place it on the tile next to the sink. Once I have it situated, I pull the large plastic dustpan off the broom and place the wide bit under the faucet of the tiny sink with the narrow handle hanging off the side. When I crank the hot water, I watch the makeshift waterfall begin to fill my soon-to-be luxurious bath. I shut the curtains in Zoe’s office, then lay out the single towel I had packed. After I strip down, I test the water one more time. A quick soak to freshen up, then I’ll curl up with my pizza and catch up on some Netflix until CataXanderclysm shows.

I snort, rather pleased with myself for that one, then put some tunes on my phone. A summery, reggae sounding track fills the office. With arms overhead, I dance over to Zoe’s desk and snag the bath bomb I found earlier when I was looking for printer ink. Since Zoe said help yourself to anything, I’m doing just that. I’ll replace it tomorrow, along with everything else.

At long last, I get the thin, clingy plastic off the blue ball and, lifting it in a toast to the peace and quiet, I ease myself into the oversized bucket. If I were a tall girl, this could’ve been problematic. As it is, I have to bend my legs all the way for them to fit. It mostly works; only my knees poke out of the water. Despite that, it’s pure bliss. I drop the bright bath bomb in with a satisfying bloop. Tiny bubbles escape and an indigo cloud disperses. To my delight, it also appears to be a low-powered bubble bath. It doesn’t produce heaping mounds of fluff, but it’s enough to cover the surface with bluish white foam and fill my nose with the tantalizing fragrance of cupcakes. I close my eyes, inhale, and settle in as far as my coiled up appendages will let me. I savor the warmth and scent as they wrap around me. Since I don’t know the upbeat song playing, I make up words so I can sing along my way.

I can feel my hair still sticking up in all directions, so I tip first to one side, then the other to wet it down. However, I can’t get the middle strip, so I take a scoop of bubbles and form the remaining dry hair into a floppy fauxhawk. After that, I splash some of the scented water across my face. In the midst of one of those scrubbing sessions, the door to the office opens. Surprised, I suck in bath water and spend a solid ten seconds coughing and sputtering.

Lo-and-behold, my Personal Pain in the Stuff Sack leans against the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest, one ankle casually crossed over the other. Too bad GQ isn’t here with cameras because Xander is cover model material in the flesh. The navy, single button suit he wears looks more expensive than most of the furniture in this office. Unfortunately, it also sets off his stormy eyes, making it practically impossible to notice anything but him. A smug grin creeps over his arrogant mug. “You look a little crazy right now.”

I scowl and hug my arms to my chest, doing my best to hide my panic. Natalie’s reminder to lock the door chooses that moment to waft through my brain, taunting me. “Why thank you. I owe it all to you. What on earth are you doing here?”

His grin grows. “I love what you’re wearing for our date.”

I hunker down deeper in the plastic storage tub and pull my knees a little tighter to my breasts. My heart’s pounding so hard it may be enough to churn more bubbles all by itself. How can he just stand there and flirt? “You act like you’ve never seen a woman having a bath before. Do us a favor and grow up.”

His lips twitch. “I’ve never seen you having a bath before. There’s a very important difference. Also, in all fairness, I’ve never seen any woman bathe in a storage bin, nor turn herself blue doing so.”

“Blue?” I glance down, then hiss. “Son of a cupcake scented bath bomb.”


Author Bio:

Nice to meet you. I’m Frieda. I write sweet contemporary romance as well as romantic adventure.

I blame it on my childhood babysitters. For some reason they thought I shouldn’t ride our family’s buffalo. Believe me, I was just as shocked as you. Though I never did get that buffalo ride, I found plenty of other creative outlets for my adventure needs. Some were good clean fun, some got me kicked out of various and sundry events, and others ended with me getting lost in catacombs. (Not metaphorically speaking. Somewhere there’s an Austrian catacomb caretaker? guy whom I owe dinner and a large apology.)

I like to think I’ve gotten a tiny bit wiser.

I married my best friend and dove head first into the magnificent cyclone known as raising kids. I mountain bike every chance I get, lose my coffee cup daily, and bake a mean lemon merengue pie, if I do say so myself. I may indulge in shenanigans on a regular basis, but I plead the fifth every time.

I suppose it’s important to me that you know how very much I love us crazy, broken humans. We dream so big. We try so hard. Yet somehow, so often, things just go terribly, horribly wrong.

That’s where my books begin… because that’s where the real love story’s found. I hope you enjoy reading them. Most of all, I wish you adventure, joy, and more love than you knew was possible,

Frieda

You can find more at www.friedajdowning.com

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Giveaway – The Accidental Spy by David Gardner @partnersincr1me

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The Accidental Spy by David Gardner Banner

The Accidental Spy

by David Gardner

January 9 – February 3, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

SYNOPSIS

Harvey Hudson is an emotionally scarred, fifty-six-year-old history professor who has lost his job, his wife and his self-respect. In desperation, Harvey takes a high-tech job for which he is totally unqualified.

So he outsources it to India.

Then Harvey discovers that a Russian intelligence agency owns the outsourcing company and are using him to launch a cyberattack on the U.S. petroleum industry.

Harvey now finds himself in a world of trouble with the Russians and the FBI, and he has fallen in love with the woman from New Delhi who’s doing the job he’s outsourced—who might be a Russian agent.

The Accidental Spy Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Humorous Thriller with Literary Pretensions
Published by: Encircle Publications, LLC
Publication Date: November 2, 2022
Number of Pages: 274
ISBN: 9781645994206
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Encircle Publications

Read an excerpt:

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

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

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

Chapter 1: Bunny Ears

Summer, 2019

Harvey Hudson released the steering wheel and swatted at the blue balloon (“Congrats! You Did It!”) that was banging against the back of his head.

What was the ‘It’ for? Someone earned a law degree? Pulled off a bank heist? Successfully underwent potty training? All three?

One day before turning fifty-six, and here he was, delivering balloons. How had he let this happen to him?

He chewed on the last of the Skittles he’d swiped from a bulky candy basket attached to a red balloon shaped like a birthday cake. Too many sweets for some spoiled kid. He was doing the pudgy brat a favor. The Snickers bar was tempting. Maybe later.

Harvey reached across the front seat, grabbed a handful of candy bars from the Skittle-less basket ($149), and dropped them into its modest neighbor ($39). He often shifted candy from larger baskets to lesser ones. He thought of himself as the Robin Hood of balloon-delivery individuals.

He’d had just $87 in the bank a few weeks ago when he’d shambled past a help-wanted sign in the front window of the Rapid Rabbit Balloon Service. He paused and reread the sign. “Part-time Delivery Person Needed. Become a Rapid Rabbit!” Yeah, what the hell. He hurried inside before he came to his senses. He would have taken any gig—balloon-delivery specialist, male stripper, or get-away driver for a grizzled bank robber.

With his part-time job delivering balloons and his full-time work as a beginning technical writer, Harvey could just stay afloat. His ex-wife had cleaned him out.

He double-parked on a smart street of brick-front homes on Boston’s Beacon Hill. Hesitating, he clamped the hated bunny ears over his head and attached the spongy red nose. Sighing, he grabbed the $149 basket and, head down, ambled up the walkway and rang the bell. The balloon bobbed overhead, taunting him.

The woman who opened the door was a slim and pretty brunette in her fifties. She had a narrow face and large, dark eyes.

She was his boss at his day job.

Also his high school sweetheart.

Harvey wanted to disappear into the ground.

Margo took a step back. “Oh.”

Harvey pulled off the bulbous red nose and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. “Uh…this is where you live?”

Margo shook her head. “I’m here with my daughter for a birthday party.”

Harvey shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m…um…delivering balloons just for tonight to help out a buddy who had two wisdom teeth pulled this morning, a professor who lost his job the same time I did.”

Margo blinked twice.

“A sociologist,” Harvey added.

Margo gripped the edge of the door.

“Named Fred,” Harvey said.

Margo nodded.

“The guy took the job in desperation because he’s broke, recently divorced, and down on his luck,” Harvey said and realized he was describing himself.

He handed the basket to Margo.

Did she believe him? Probably not. Did the company have a rule against moonlighting? He’d soon find out.

Margo poked around inside the basket. “There’s too much candy in here.”

“At least there aren’t any Skittles.”

Margo selected a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. “I’ve moved tomorrow’s team meeting up to 10:00 A.M. Did you get my email?”

Harvey nodded.

Was that her way of telling him that moonlighters don’t get fired? He hoped so. He was pathetically unqualified as a technical writer, and his job was in jeopardy.

Harvey hated meetings. Sometimes he thought the software engineers asked him questions he couldn’t answer just to see him squirm. Many were kids in their twenties, making double his salary.

And he hated lying to Margo. At least he could be honest about one small thing. “Actually, this is my night gig. I’ve had it for a few weeks.”

Margo unwrapped the Reese’s, nipped off a corner, chewed and said, “Is that why I caught you asleep at your desk yesterday?”

No, it’s because the job is so goddamn boring. He shook his head. “I wasn’t sleeping. I have the habit of relaxing and closing my eyes whenever I’m searching for the perfect way to convey a particularly difficult concept to our worthy customers.”

“And snoring?”

Margo was smiling now. That same cute smile from high school. He remembered it from the time they’d sneaked a first kiss in the back row of calculus class. The girl he’d loved and lost.

She set the basket down and pulled a twenty from the side pocket of her slacks. “Um…would you…uh…accept a tip?”

“No.”

She shoved the bill into his shirt pocket. “Yes, you will.”

Harvey shifted his weight to his left foot. A liar doesn’t deserve a $20 tip. At most, a few dimes and nickels, couch-cushion change.

Margo finished the peanut butter cup in silence.

He didn’t quite know what to say now.

Yes, he did know. He should tell her the truth.

He’d outsourced his job to India.

Was that illegal? Probably not. But highly unethical. Would she protect him after he’d confessed? Unlikely, which meant he would lose his job. But living a lie was exhausting and just plain wrong. She’d hired him and trusted him. She deserved better. He cleared his throat, once, twice, a third time. “Margo, there’s something I have to tell you. It seems I—“

“Is that the balloon guy?” a young woman called from inside the house.

“That’s my daughter,” Margo said and picked up the basket. A blue balloon bobbed on a string attached to the handle. “I’ll be right back.”

Harvey stood at the open door, trying to think of some way to soften his upcoming confession. Or maybe just blurt it out and get it over with?

“Happy birthday, Dad!”

The daughter’s voice again from inside.

“Candy and a kid’s balloon again this year! Are you trying to tell me something?”

The daughter laughed.

Harvey recognized the man’s voice.

Tucker Aldrich was the CEO of the company where Harvey worked. He was also Margo’s ex-husband and a first-class dickhead.

So, it meant the balloon and candy basket were for Tucker and not some child. Harvey was sorry he’d passed on the Snickers bar.

The hell with telling the truth.

Margo came back out, holding a glass of white wine. She leaned against the door frame. “What were you going to say earlier?”

“Uh…that you’re an over-tipper.”

“Only when the delivery person is a cute, curly-haired guy with a spongy red nose,” she said and sipped her wine. “Did I mention that the meeting’s moved to 10:00?”

“Yes.”

Silence, then Margo said, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She closed the door behind her.

Harvey stared at the bronze horsehead knocker. He wanted to rip it off. The door too. He in fact wanted to tear the whole damn building down on Tucker’s head.

Margo hadn’t forgotten that she’d told him about the meeting. Margo was incapable of forgetting. She was warning him to show up.

Team meetings were a nightmare. The scruffy programmers spoke computerese, argued over stuff Harvey didn’t understand, and gleefully pointed out errors in his documentation.

But way off in New Delhi, lovely Amaya understood, and with luck she might save his job.

Tomorrow’s meeting would make or break him.

Harvey shuffled down the walkway, his head lowered, his bunny ears slipping down his forehead. He’d been so shocked to see Margo that he’d forgotten to take them off. One of life’s bad moments.

Still, she had called him cute.

Yeah, sure. He was just hours from turning fifty-six, had found addional gray hairs while shaving that morning, and was thickening around the waist from too many Skittles and Snickers.

Harvey climbed into his car and slumped in the driver’s seat. He was angry with Tucker for stealing Margo and angry at Margo for not offering him a glass of wine. But most of all, Harvey was angry with himself for letting her see him in bunny ears.

When he’d first started making deliveries a few weeks earlier, he’d refused to wear them, then thought, what the hell? Doesn’t everyone at some time want to play the fool? There was no pressure to succeed, to show off, to one-up a colleague.

What if everyone from a prisoner sitting out a life term to the President of the United States had to set aside one day a year and play the fool, to go out in public wearing a spongy red nose and bunny ears?

What-Ifs and Whys had obsessed Harvey as a child, who from morning to night had trailed behind his father and mother and pestered them with questions. (What if there was a ladder to the Moon? What if everyone had four arms? Why is cousin Alice getting those bumps on her chest?)

Later, he would turn his pestering curiosity into a profession. He thought of himself as a ‘speculative historian.’ (What if the Allies had lost the Second World War? What if Caesar hadn’t crossed the Rubicon? What if no one had invented the computer?)

Harvey started the engine, reached over to tap the next address into the GPS, then leaned back.

Why humiliate himself like this? His ex-wife had always insisted he was punishing himself in guilt over his younger brother. Harvey denied this, but he knew she was right.

Enough. He had reached his lifetime quota of humiliation.

Here’s another What-If: What if he quit this goddamn job?

Harvey shut off the engine, climbed out of the car, went around back, and popped the trunk.

A dozen balloons bobbed on basket handles, aching to go free.

Harvey tied the spongy red nose to a balloon that read “Get Well Soon!” He cut it loose. Next, he liberated a black balloon picturing a racecar (“Turning Ten!”). Finally, he tied his rabbit ears to a cluster of white orbs trailing a banner that read, “Congrats, New Parents!” and set the bunch free.

He watched until the last of the balloons caught the breeze and disappeared into the night sky.

He slammed the trunk closed, climbed into his car, and right away started to fret. What if a balloon floated to the harbor for some sea creature to swallow (Headline: “Reckless Ex-Professor Kills Orca!”).

Just one more reason to be angry with himself.

***

Excerpt from The Accidental Spy by David Gardner. Copyright 2022 by David Gardner. Reproduced with permission from David Gardner. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

David Gardner

David Gardner grew up on a Wisconsin dairy farm, served in Army Special Forces and earned a Ph.D. in French from the University of Wisconsin. He has taught college and worked as a reporter and in the computer industry.

He coauthored three programming books for Prentice Hall, wrote dozens of travel articles as well as too many mind-numbing computer manuals before happily turning to fiction: “The Journalist: A Paranormal Thriller,” “The Last Speaker of Skalwegian,” and “The Accidental Spy” (all with Encircle Publications, LLC).

He lives in Massachusetts with his wife, Nancy, also a writer. He hikes, bikes, messes with astrophotography and plays the keyboard with no discernible talent whatsoever.

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Review – Baby Talk, Book III, The Exorcism by Mike Wells @MikeWellsAuthor #Horror

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Baby Talk, Book I is FREE, or you can get Books I & II for $4.99

Below is the Kindle cover for Baby Talk Book III by Mike Wells. Below that is the book cover from Goodreads and the audiobook cover. Which do you like best?

Amazon / Audiobook / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

We open with Neal at the Central State Psychiatric Hospital in Midgeville, Georgia. General Sherman’s troops had camped there during the Civil War, and it has been all downhill since. He is housed with a couple hundred other criminally insane patients, BUT…

Neal knows exactly what’s going on around him, though they think he is catatonic. He is silently plotting and planning his escape. He must find Natasha and stop her.

The courts had given the baby to Susan, a nurse who had saved baby Natasha from her criminally insane father. Her mother had left her in a car with the motor running, and it didn’t end well for her either. Susan is in for a rude awakening…

I thought it was ‘funny’ that Dunwoody, Georgia was mentioned. I lived there for a short time.

Neal recruits Father Meginnis to perform an exorcism, and this is where the book took a twist I didn’t see coming…and I LOVE IT! I had to laugh.

The Baby Talk series by Mike Wells never let me go once I started reading it. Thank goodness, or should I say Mike, because I had all three books. The first is free and I highly recommend dipping your shoes into the fire.

The Baby Talk series had me thinking of Damien in the Omen, Rosemary’s Baby, Chuckie… brace yourself for the an adventure in Hell on earth. And, if Mike wanted to, the series could continue. Is Natasha still talking to you Mike? Whispering in your ear?

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Baby Talk, Book II by Mike Wells.

4 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

It’s been six months since Neal Becker was convicted of the murder of his mother-in-law.

He’s been committed to the Central State Psychiatric Hospital for life.

Meanwhile, ‘poor, innocent’ Baby Natasha is in the custody of Susan Matlow, the compassionate nurse who helped ‘rescue’ her from her criminally insane father.

Neal knows what his daughter is. And he knows he only has one chance to stop her from causing more death and destruction.

He has to break out of the asylum, avoid the intensive statewide manhunt, track down Natasha, kidnap her…

…and take her to an exorcist.

ABOUT MIKE WELLS

Email me at mike (at) mikewellsbooks.com or follow me on Twitter (@MikeWellsAuthor) and get a FREE copy of one of my bestselling books. I’m an American author best known for my Lust, Money & Murder series and and written more than 25 other thriller and suspense novels. I also have taught in the Creative Writing program at Oxford. I’m known for my super fast-paced, ‘unputdownable’ books.

Please visit my website/blog at: http://www.mikewellsbooks.com/

And please join me on Twitter and Facebook

MY MIKE WELLS REVIEWS

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  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
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