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$25 GC – I Can’t Get No Satisfaction by Teresa Trent @partnersincr1me

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I CAN’T GET NO SATISFACTION

by Teresa Trent

April 7 – May 2, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

I Can't Get No Satisfaction by Teresa Trent

The Swinging Sixties Mystery Series

 

After finding herself in the middle of murder investigation in her last two secretarial jobs, Dot finds the only place that will hire her is her local funeral home.

Why not? At least there all the clients are safe from what the town calls her murderous “Curse of Camden”. It is 1965 and Dot is planning her wedding with a Twiggy like mini-bridal gown, but secretly she’s not so sure it’s a good idea. If she really is cursed, what might happen to the one she loves? Is she willing to put him in danger? She and Ben put wedding planning on the back burner when one of the town’s teenage girls gets hit by a drunk boater who gets away. The closer they get to the answers, the more Dot feels the curse is coming for Ben.

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Historical Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: February 2025
Number of Pages: 215
ISBN: 978-1-68512-870-8
Series: The Swinging Sixties Mystery Series, Book 4 | Each is a Stand Alone Novel
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

After leaving Oliver, I decided to speak to the marina owner one more time to try to figure out who took the boat used in Henry’s murder. Grabbing a sandwich at my apartment, I called Ben to see if he would like to go along with me. He was covering court this week for a reporter on vacation, so I was lucky to catch him at his desk.

“Yes, I’d love to go with you, and as luck would have it, the judge rescheduled the court case.”

Even though some people might think a reporter’s life is glamorous and full of intrigue, Ben was covering a case of stolen pigs for The Camden Courier. Shorty Wyckoff, a pig farmer, claimed Bill Wheeler, another pig farmer, snuck up in the cloak of darkness and loaded up an 1100-pound sow into the back of a pickup truck. What made her so valuable was her nickname, Fertile Myrtle. It was reported that she could get pregnant with only one try, and the results were dozens of little piggies. The newspaper had dubbed the case “Makin’ Bacon Caper.” It was a popular series of articles, considering it was one step up from the farm report and featured the sex lives of pigs.

“I’ll pick you up, but I have to warn you, ol’ Bernice isn’t doing too well. I think she’s on her last breath.”

“Ol’ Bernice, a 1955 Oldsmobile, had several dents, bald tires, and a constant wheezing coming out from under the rusty brown hood. “Should we take my car?”

“Nice of you to offer, but I want to take Bernice today. I have plans for her.”

Besides setting her on fire or pushing her off the nearest cliff, I wasn’t sure what he had in mind. I knew Ben had arrived when I heard the familiar wheezing and sputtering of Bernice in my driveway.

Ben and I returned to the marina, but this time the marina owner was nowhere to be found. The marina office and residence stood atop a small hill overlooking the glistening waters of the bay. Selma, the guard dog Shep had praised, did not bark or even growl, but playfully nudged her snout against my hand, her tail wagging vigorously in excitement. We knocked on the glass panes of the marina office, and after not getting an answer, I clasped my hands around my eyes and, leaning on the glass, looked inside. As I drew closer, I could hear the low rumble of jazz, heavy on the bass. It created a melodic backdrop with the gentle lapping of the waves. “I think he must be farther back in the house. I hear a stereo.”

Ben put his ear to the glass and then turned around to face the parking lot. “Hmmm. How many cars do you see parked here?”

I turned back and scanned the parking area. “Three.”

“Right. Ours, his, and whose is that?” He pointed at a wood-paneled station wagon. It was the kind of car a family with children would use.

“I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone else around here. Maybe someone has taken their boat out.”

“Maybe, but when we were here last, there were twelve boats in twelve boat slips. Today I only see eleven. Considering Bubba Jenkins’s boat – was just impounded for a murder investigation. I would say all the remaining boats are here.”

“Which means whoever is driving that station wagon is inside, listening to jazz with Shep. Let’s try knocking at the backdoor,” I said.

We made our way around, and as we did, the sound of the music grew louder, along with a few other sounds.

Ben smiled and blushed a little as we heard rhythmic moans coming from an open window. “They must be big music lovers.”

I giggled. “Regular jazz nuts.” There was no doubt about what they were doing, and from the sounds of it, things were going quite well.

Ben raised his hand to knock, but then stopped. “Not the best time.”

“Yeah. Maybe we can figure this out on our own. I don’t think I could erase a memory of hot and sweaty Shep, but I am curious about who he has in there with him.”

“Let’s go look at the boats.” We walked around the house to the parking lot. Selma followed along, her tail still wagging. As the jazz and the sound of other things faded in my ears, I asked Ben, “What exactly are we looking for?”

“I’m not sure, just something out of the ordinary. Maybe Henry’s killer left something important on the dock.”

“You mean like his I. D.? That would make things easier. Do you know a lot about boats? We didn’t do much boating at our house, although I have been waterskiing with friends.”

“A little.” He shrugged. “Not much. We need to concentrate, and hearing about you in a bathing suit is not making my thoughts flow.”

I giggled. “Billie Holiday will do that to a person.”

We walked on the wooden pier as the surrounding water was still. There was little call to take a boat out on a weekday. The boats were in a variety of sizes, but most were small speedboats, with a pontoon moored at the end. Inside a few boats, there were remnants of beer bottles and sandwich wrappers.

“Not very tidy, these boat people, and from the looks of the empty beer bottles, there are several drunk drivers out on the lake at the same time. No wonder Betty Weaver got hit,” I said, walking to the end of the pier. The pontoon was covered with a canvas drape. Looking underneath, the insides were as neat as a pin.

“Look at this,” Ben said, crouched down by the tip of a small speedboat. “It looks like they’ve sustained some damage here.”

On the side of the boat, a scrape had cut through the sleek paint, making a line through the boat name, Lucky Me. Not as lucky as the boat owner might have thought.

“So, somebody isn’t very good at putting the boat back into the dock. I hardly think that has anything to do with boat thefts.”

Ben nodded. “You’re probably right, but we know there has been a boat thief out here. What’s to say this person only used one boat?”

“You mean like a serial boat thief?” Could a person get away with stealing different boats periodically from the marina? Was starting one boat as easy as starting another?

“Think about it,” Ben said. “Just how many days a week are Romeo and Juliet in there playing Billie Holiday on the stereo?”

The boat dock was at least fifty yards from the combined house and office. Someone could be out here starting a boat, and if the marina owner was busy, he would hear nothing. “He wouldn’t hear it, and Selma, the guard dog, gets put outside on occasions, so happy for a visitor, she doesn’t even bark.”

Ben snapped his fingers. “Bubba Jenkins is Al’s friend, right? We need to talk to him. He might be sitting on information.”

“You know, Al has mentioned him, but I’m not sure what he does.”

“Then we’ll have to ask him.”

As we turned to head back to Ben’s car, the sound of a screen door opening peeled through the air. Shep, his cheeks rosy and his shirt half on, edged around from the back of the house and immediately spotted Ben’s car. His gaze shifted to the dock.

“Can I help you, folks? How long have you been standing out here?”

I walked forward. “We tried knocking, but there was no answer.”

“Yes, you must have been busy,” Ben said.

Shep lifted his chin slightly. “Working on the books. Guess I got involved. Numbers are not my thing.”

We knew just what his thing was.

Ben walked forward and extended his hand. “Ben Dalton, Camden Courier.”

Shep reached out with a measured amount of enthusiasm. “I remember you. What can I do for you this time?”

“We were wondering if you could provide a list of the boat owners here at the marina. I would also like to get in touch with Bubba Jenkins. Ben said this with such efficiency. Shep let go of his hand and stepped back.

“Why would I do that?”

Ben swept his hand back toward the boats. “In the interest of the investigation. Two deaths on the water don’t exactly put the security of your marina in a good light.”

Shep raised a single finger in the air and shook it at Ben’s face. “Lookie here, son. If I hand over a list like that, it will be to the police, and only the police will get it. Hear me? You and your lady friend need to quit nosin’ around here. If I see you again, I’ll call the cops on you for trespassing. Get me?”

“This is public property. There’s not much you can do.”

“Watch me.”

“You seemed more than willing to let people nose around and steal other people’s boats. I think you’re a little late with your righteous indignation,” I said.

“Yeah, well, a tiger can change its spots. I don’t need a lot of folks here getting into my business.” He glanced up at the house. “Talking to you has been a mistake, and now I’m fixing it. Out with you.”

As we made our way to the car, Ben turned and spoke. “We’re leaving, but remember, if you ever want to talk…”

“Out!”

***

Excerpt from I Can’t Get No Satisfaction by Teresa Trent. Copyright 2025 by Teresa Trent. Reproduced with permission from Teresa Trent. All rights reserved.

 

 

 

Author Bio:

Teresa Trent

Teresa Trent started out teaching English in Colorado, but life and children intervened, and with all that new spare time, she began writing. Besides The Swinging Sixties Series, Teresa has penned the Pecan Bayou, Piney Woods and Henry Park Mystery Series and always has a little idea in the back of her mind for the next one. She is also the author of several short stories and is teaching writing at her local library encouraging new writers. Teresa lives in Houston, Texas with her husband and son. Her podcast, Books to the Ceiling, features authors with new mysteries on the market.

Catch Up With Teresa Trent:

TeresaTrent.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub – @TeresaTrent
Instagram – @teresatrent_cozymys
Threads – @teresatrent_cozymys
X – @ttrent_cozymys
Facebook – @teresatrentmysterywriter

 

 

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

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Giveaway – The Organ Broker by Deven Greene @partnersincr1me

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THE ORGAN BROKER

by Deven Greene

March 31 – April 25, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Organ Broker by Deven Greene

A devoted wife and mother faces the unimaginable as her life crumbles.

Crystal Rigler seems to have a perfect marriage. Derek, her handsome and charismatic husband, and their adult daughter, Cordelia, are her whole world. In addition to her already busy life, Crystal supports the volunteer organization she and Derek started: STOP (Stop Transplants of Organs from Prisoners).

STOP aims to end a new government policy of harvesting organs from executed prisoners. They learn that these organs are not distributed by the national transplant list, established to allocate organs fairly. Instead, a shadowy figure known as Broker Al pulls the strings. He expedites the execution of young and healthy prisoners and sells their organs at a high price to the rich and well-connected.

After Crystal learns a disturbing secret, events are set in motion that will potentially dismantle STOP, change her life, and cost her everything. Unless she is willing to do the unthinkable…

Praise for The Organ Broker:

“The Organ Broker by Deven Greene was intricate and captivated my attention from the first page. The story was fast-paced with not a single dull moment.”
~ Readers’ Favorite

“If you enjoy moral dilemmas, complex characters, and a plot that feels uncomfortably plausible, this book will leave you thinking long after the ending.”
~ Literary Titan

“…electrifyingly intense… Introspective and entertaining, The Organ Broker navigates the delicate balance between principles and priorities.”
~ Indies Today

“The Organ Broker … teeters between thriller, novel, a story of medical and social challenge, and more. It stands out from others about organ harvesting simply because it evolves a complex plot that engages characters and readers in a moral and ethical dance spiced with intrigue and the unexpected.”
~ D. Donovan, Sr. Reviewer, Midwest Book Review

THE ORGAN BROKER Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Suspense
Published by: Panthera Publishing
Publication Date: April 2025
Number of Pages: 321
ISBN: 9781964620060 (ISBN10: 1964620066)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Google Books | Apple Books | Kobo | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

The East Texas sun was hotter than usual for September, the few clouds high above providing no relief. A half-hour earlier, overcome by heat and exhaustion, Crystal had let her sign reading “Save Kwami” slip to the ground. Standing near the front of the crowd, Crystal pushed up the visor on her baseball cap to get a better look at her surroundings. She was pleased with the impressive turnout which she estimated to be close to one thousand people. It was the largest they’d ever had. Most of the other protestors continue to hold their placards high, displaying myriad slogans such as “Justice for Kwami,” “Let Kwami Live,” “Impeach Gov. Percy,” and the most popular, “STOP.” She took a deep breath and lifted her sign again, fighting the pain in her fingers as she held it as high as she could.

The crowd of protestors was comprised of a cross-section of the community— young, old, couples, families, Black, White, Hispanic, and Asian. A colorful array of baseball caps, bucket hats, visors, straw hats, and cowboy hats protected most of the heads from the constant flood of the sun’s rays.

The makeshift podium and public address system were rudimentary, and there was the usual milling around often seen in large gatherings, but the audience, for the most part, was paying attention to the pudgy young man with a man bun speaking to them. At times, the crowd burst out in synchronous claps and hoots of approval. The assembly was peaceful, with only a few skirmishes breaking out at the edges where police stood watch.

Still thirsty after having finished her bottle of water, Crystal let her mind wander as the speaker droned on about the immorality of what was about to take place. Her clothes clung to her sweaty body, and despite wearing sunglasses with polarized lenses, the bright sun hurt her eyes. Looking down, she swatted away a bug that landed on her arm. Uncomfortable and impatient, she was eagerly awaiting the next speaker.

Finally, the man at the podium looked up and announced, “And now, the man you’ve all been waiting to hear, the leader of our organization, Mr. Derek Rigler.”

The mood of the crowd changed, and participants started chanting “STOP” in unison as they raised and lowered their signs. A tall, muscular man with tan skin and wavy blond hair, took to the stage next to the previous speaker and scanned the crowd with his magnetic blue eyes. Crystal looked up and smiled. His handsome, chiseled features gave him the look of a confident leader. Although he was nearly fifty years old, he looked at least ten years younger. He hasn’t lost the ability to attract attention whenever he enters a room.

Derek took his place on the podium and held out his arms as if to give a benediction. After almost a full minute of roaring applause, he raised and lowered his hands several times to quiet the crowd.

Crystal looked around, energized by the enthusiasm bubbling over. She noted more press vans set up around the perimeter than in the previous protest. Their organization, STOP, was gaining traction.

She wondered if Derek had picked her out of the crowd. If she were taller, he’d probably see her—she wasn’t far from the front—but she imagined her five-foot two-inch frame made her visage difficult to identify in the sea of people. From what she could glean, Derek hadn’t spotted her. After all, she was just another brunette under a baseball cap, surrounded by many others. Even so, Crystal smiled widely, wondering if anyone nearby recognized her. After all, she was notable as Derek’s wife and the mother of his child, Cordelia.

As Derek started his familiar diatribe against the Texas death penalty laws, Crystal tried to lock eyes with him, but his eyes never found her. Instead, he focused on members of the audience near and far, concentrating his gaze on one person for several seconds before moving on to the next pair of waiting eyes.

Crystal recognized the usual arguments against the event that was scheduled to take place momentarily—the uneven death penalty sentencing, the ugliness of exacting revenge, and the irreversibility of the punishment once meted out. The speech was powerful, and she agreed with everything Derek said. She could recite the words by heart, not only because she had heard them during Derek’s practice sessions, but because she had written them herself. Every time the crowd reacted with hollers and claps, she felt taller, each breath a bit more satisfying. She’d been to over six of these rallies in the past year, each protesting the execution of a prisoner found guilty of a crime deemed fitting for capital punishment.

The death penalty had never sat well with Crystal, but over the past two years, the practice had escalated, with four more executions scheduled over the next six months in Texas alone. Not only was the ultimate punishment meted out more often, but the evidence leading to convictions was frequently less convincing. She’d made up her mind to do something to stop the injustice and had established STOP almost a year earlier. A small, grass-roots collection of like-minded people, it was taking hold, thanks to her speech writing, community outreach, and organizational skills, bolstered by her husband’s charisma. He was the face of the organization.

Derek’s address was interrupted by a loud commotion as the officers stationed around the perimeter began to forcefully clear a path through the protestors to the entryway of the large building looming behind the speaker. Despite shouting and resistance from the crowd, with the most passionate demonstrators being handcuffed and dragged away, the police were able to open a wide berth.

“We are nearing the time,” Derek shouted above the commotion, “the time when our brother Kwami will be taken from us in an act that can only be described as state-sponsored murder. Let all those who have participated in this mockery of justice one day pay for their crimes, and let all those who directly benefit from this violent act realize the wrong they have participated in.”

A police transport moved through the clearing in the crowd as demonstrators chanted “Kwami, Kwami” in unison. Although the windows of the vehicle were covered, all knew who was inside—Kwami McKinney, sentenced to be executed that day. The van didn’t stop until it was a mere five feet from the door to the building. A massive construction of cement and glass six stories high, the structure dwarfed the trees and other buildings nearby. Derek was silent as he turned to watch the Black prisoner, his head shaved, exit the van’s side door.

Dressed in an orange jumpsuit accessorized with ankle and wrist shackles, Kwami was escorted by two armed guards, each holding onto one of his arms. Two more prison officers took up the rear. As the party of five walked towards the glass doors of the building, a Black woman around fifty years old ran towards them screaming. She was forcibly stopped by police, who grabbed onto her arms long before she could interfere.

Everyone there knew the woman was Sally McKinney, Kwami’s mother. She yelled and cried hysterically, flailing against those restraining her as her son was led through the automated doors that opened before him and the guards. They disappeared inside the structure as the glass doors shut.

People in the crowd yelled and cried, drowning out Ms. McKinney’s wails. Frustrated tears filled Crystal’s eyes; their protest had done nothing to dissuade the authorities from carrying out their sentence. She hadn’t expected the proceedings to be halted, but held onto a glimmer of hope until now, irrational as it was.

She looked to Derek for comfort, hoping they might finally lock gazes and convey their sadness to each other, but Crystal’s thoughts were interrupted by a female acquaintance. “Fantastic speech,” the woman said.

“I can’t disagree,” Crystal answered, buoyed momentarily by the woman’s words.

“You must be very proud, being his wife. He’s so handsome, and brilliant to boot. You two are the perfect couple. I’d sure like to be a fly on the wall at your dinner table to hear about all his great ideas.”

The words stung slightly, as Crystal chuckled politely. She was accustomed to being thought of as a mere appendage of her charismatic husband, but, she’d tried to convince herself that a successful protest, with Derek delivering a resounding speech, was all that was important. She didn’t need the admiration of others like he did. “Our dinners aren’t as interesting as you might think. Mostly, we talk about how we’re going to pay our bills.”

Members of the press, who until now had been scattered amongst the protestors while taking notes and silently recording videos, were now talking and interviewing people on camera. The crowd thinned, but Crystal didn’t want to leave. She’d have liked to remain until she knew Kwami had taken his last breath, but that moment was hours away.

She listened as a nearby male telecaster spoke into a camera. “Emotions are again high as another execution is about to take place. While many people feel that the crimes Kwami McKinney was convicted of, armed robbery and hostage-taking, justify the death sentence, some feel the punishment is too severe for the crimes the prisoner was convicted of. Still others believe he is innocent of the charges against him.”

The reporter turned to a middle-aged female bystander and asked, “What do you think of today’s events? Do you think justice is being carried out today?” After posing the question, he shoved the microphone close to the woman’s mouth.

“This is a travesty of justice,” she answered. “The real criminal was wearing a ski mask during the robbery, and escaped capture immediately following the crime. That was made clear during the trial. We also learned that Mr. McKinney was picked out in a lineup by two unreliable witnesses days later. There was a boatload of evidence that the so-called witnesses had drug charges against them dropped shortly after identifying Mr. McKinney. What kind of justice is that?”

The telecaster quickly turned to the camera and continued his reporting. “Despite the controversy, Kwami McKinney is still scheduled to be executed here and now at New Lake Hospital. While we are happy for the families of the six unnamed individuals who will be the recipients of much-needed organs, many are questioning the legality and morality of what is now becoming a common method of organ procurement. The objections are being led by the organization STOP, which stands for Stop Transplants of Organs from Prisoners.”

***

Excerpt from The Organ Broker by Deven Greene. Copyright 2025 by Deven Greene. Reproduced with permission from Deven Greene. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Deven Greene lives in Northern California, where she enjoys writing fiction, most of which involves science or medicine. She has degrees in biochemistry (PhD) and medicine (MD), and practiced pathology for over twenty years.

She has previously published the The Erica Rosen MD Trilogy (Unnatural, Unwitting, and Unforeseen), and Ties That Kill, as well as several short stories.

Catch Up With Deven Greene:

www.DevenGreene.com
Subscribe to Deven’s Blog
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub @Deven_G1
Facebook @DevenGreeneFiction

 

 

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Don’t Miss Your Chance to Win! Enter Today!

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

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$20 GC – Someone Had To Lie by Jack Luellen @partnersincr1me

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Someone Had to Lie by Jack Luellen Banner

SOMEONE HAD TO LIE

by Jack Luellen

March 31 – April 25, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Someone Had to Lie by Jack Luellen

THE JAMES BUTLER MYSTERIES

 

Some cases never let you go.

Reeling from the sudden death of a close friend, James Butler and Erica Walsh are pulled back into the shadow world of Mexican cartels and the CIA. Seeking to avenge the murder of their friend with only his haphazard notes to guide them, they puzzle through the possible connections searching for anything concrete. As they investigate his murder, and his notes, they find unsettling links between drug trafficking, American gangs, the CIA, and the opioid epidemic.

Determined to find the truth hidden among cases they thought were long closed, Butler and Walsh call on friends and colleagues to help them survive the crosshairs that got their friend killed. With the threat spreading across more of their contacts, they must uncover the truth before they are buried in lies.

The James Butler mysteries from Jack Luellen seamlessly weave fact with fiction, introducing nonfiction material in the midst of fast-paced murder mysteries.

Praise for Someone Had to Lie:

“Jack Luellen crafts an intriguing tale, interwoven with proven facts about the deadliest drug in our society, Fentanyl. Someone Had to Lie takes the reader on an educational journey into the biggest cartels and Narcos in the world and provides a behind the scenes glimpse of cartel operations through his lead character James Butler. Gripping storytelling! A must read!”
~ Leo Silva, Author of Reign of Terror, Former DEA Supervisory Special Agent

Book Details:

Genre: Crime; Mystery
Published by: Torchflame Books
Publication Date: March 11, 2025
Number of Pages: 294
ISBN: 9781611533705 (ISBN10: 1611533708)
Series: The James Butler Mysteries, Book 2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Torchflame Books

Read an excerpt:

“Is that music playing in your office? You never listen to music at work?”

“I do on rare occasions.”

“That’s Alice Merton. How are you even aware of her music?” Erica asks, gobsmacked.

“I’m not, but I met Detective Torres at a Starbucks this morning and it was playing, and I liked it. I asked a Gen Z barista who the artist was and played it when I got in,” James says.

“I’m in shock.”

“I’m evolving,” James says, his words interrupted by the playing of the Johnny Rivers hit “Secret Agent Man” from his cell phone. “Alexa, off. Tim, hi, thanks for calling back. Erica is here with some information to share.”

“Hi, Erica. What’s going on?” Tim says.

“After we left the jail today, I went back to the office to work, and a few minutes ago, Belmonte called me to tell me that the DEA had been quote, ‘Requested,’ end quote to refrain from investigating or prosecuting Javier and that Javier was being moved to a different facility. Belmonte said the directive apparently came from the DNI. He called me from a burner phone and suggested we keep the circle of information as small as possible,” Erica explains.

“Holy crap,” Tim says.

“Any idea who could have that kind of juice?” James asks.

“None in particular,” Tim says.

“You didn’t tell anyone about meeting Javier?” Erica asks.

“Of course not,” Tim replies.

“Then how did anyone—” Erica begins.

“I have no idea,” Tim interrupts.

“One thing seems certain,” James says. “Aguilar was spot on. It is bigger than we knew.”

***

Excerpt from Chapter 24 of Someone Had to Lie by Jack Luellen. Copyright 2025 by Jack Luellen. Reproduced with permission from Jack Luellen. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

author

Jack Luellen is a Denver, Colorado, attorney with more than 30 years of experience. In practice, Jack has tried cases to courts and juries, and has written hundreds of briefs, motions, and memoranda, to state and federal courts, including federal courts of appeal and the United States Supreme Court.

In 1990, Jack first started working on cases related to the 1985 kidnapping and murder of DEA Agent Enrique Camarena and has investigated the case in the years since that time. Jack’s investigations have taken him to foreign countries and included interviews with witnesses both notorious and infamous. This work has been the background to Jack’s upcoming novel Someone Had to Die.

Jack is the proud parent of an amazing daughter and is a weekend warrior on the tennis courts.

Catch Up With Jack Luellen:

LuellenWriting.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub
Instagram – @luellen_writing
Threads – @luellen_writing
X – @jack_luellen
Facebook – @Luellen Writing

 

 

Tour Participants:

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

Click here to view the Tour Schedule

 

 

JOIN IN ON THE GIVEAWAY!

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

Can’t see the giveaway? Click Here!

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

$20 GC – Murder On The Steel Pier by Rosie Genova @partnersincr1me

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Murder on the Steel Pier by Rosie Genova

MURDER ON THE STEEL PIER

by Rosie Genova

April 1, 2025 Book Blast

Synopsis:

Murder on the Steel Pier by Rosie Genova

THE TESS MANCINI TIME TRAVEL MYSTERY SERIES

 

Greetings from the Nifty Fifties…

The morning after a blowout birthday celebration in Atlantic City, crime reporter and party girl Tess Mancini wakes up in an unfamiliar place—1955. Bread is eighteen cents a loaf, Ike occupies the White House, and the Boardwalk is crawling with vintage cars and vintage wise guys. A bewildered Tess is sure of only two things: One, she’s not crazy, and two, the clothes are fabulous. Somehow, she’s living the life of her Great-Aunt Theresa, who disappeared decades before Tess’s birth.

In her 1950s existence, Tess is a reporter at the local newspaper, living at a boarding house owned by her Zia Antonetta, an Italian immigrant with a big secret. It turns out Theresa has a kid brother, teenaged troublemaker Val Mancini—aka Tess’s paternal grandfather. Though determined to return to her own time, Tess’s curiosity takes over. What happened to the first Theresa Mancini? And is Tess’s trip through time connected to her aunt’s fate?

But when young Val is accused of murdering a boarding house guest, a Nazi in hiding, Tess ends up with two investigations on her hands—and now stuck in time until she can prove Val’s innocence. As she searches for answers, she finds allies in a dishy police detective and a suspiciously charming fellow reporter. The clock is ticking for Tess to find a way home, but first, she has to keep her grandfather off Death Row.

Because before Tess can get back to the future … she needs to make sure she has one.

Praise for Murder on the Steel Pier:

“Murder on the Steel Pier is impossible to put down, offering an irresistible blend of mystery, history, and time travel. I felt like I was in 1950s Atlantic City along with heroine Tess. Unlike her, I didn’t want to leave! I absolutely loved this book and can’t wait for Tess’s next adventure.”
~ Ellen Byron, Agatha Award-Winning Author

“Awesome book! This stylish, creatively written and highly entertaining mystery will keep you turning pages long past bedtime.”
~ Terrie Farley Moran, award-winning author of the Murder, She Wrote series

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Two Roses Books
Publication Date: March 31, 2025
Number of Pages: 340
ISBN: 979-8-9911241-1-9
Series: The Tess Mancini Time Travel Mysteries, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | AppleBooks | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

From Chapter 1

Someone was smoking a cigarette. I sniffed, and spikes of pain started at my chin and shot through the top of my head. Oh God, make it stop, and I promise I’ll never touch another drop of tequila. Being another year older was bad enough—did I have to be punished for it, too? My nose twitched as the smoke teased my nostrils and caressed my olfactory nerves. I’d quit a month ago, but the longing for a cig came roaring back.

With my eyes still closed, and my head nailed to the pillow, I had one coherent thought: This is supposed to be a smoke-free hotel. As far as I knew, it was also bird-free, but the chirps and twitters assailing my ears were clearly coming from feathered creatures. Then again, it’s Atlantic City. Maybe the birds were part of the hotel show. Ever so slowly, I slid my hands from under the covers and cupped them over my ears.

“Please, birdies,” I whispered. “Stop singing.” Geez, they sounded close enough to be in my room. I exhaled, yoga style. C’mon, Tess, time to open your eyes. You can do it. Actually, I couldn’t, as my lashes were glued together. (Had I slept in my make-up? Not a good sign.) Still covering my ears against the piercing bird song, I fluttered my left eyelid and squinted.

Big, fuchsia-colored roses seemed to scream at me from the wall. And sun—blinding, eyeball-searing sun—streamed in through an uncovered window. And not a hotel window bolted shut and draped to keep out that awful light, but a wooden one with glass panes. And across the top, a ruffly white curtain.

Okay, not my hotel. So where was I? My empty stomach grew queasy; I wouldn’t have gone home with a stranger. Though I did remember a cute blond guy playing the slots next to me, but it was all so … blurry. I eased open the other eye. Across the room was a vanity table draped in more white ruffles. Somehow, I doubted the blond guy lived here.

This place was obviously some kind of historic inn or something, but that still didn’t explain how I’d gotten here. I looked down at the sheets, also decorated with roses. Only these were little yellow ones. Somebody sure liked her florals.

“So weird,” I muttered. Hands shaking, eyes half closed, I felt around for my phone, but my fingers landed on a string of beads. I let go of the necklace and blinked hard, trying to ignore the little flashes of pain behind my eyes. Next to me was an old-fashioned nightstand; on it was a lamp with a frilly pink shade, an analog alarm clock ticking loudly, and the “necklace,” which had a cross hanging from it. A face stared at me from a black-and-white photo. I shifted closer, peering at a guy with slicked-back hair, thick brows, and dark-lashed eyes. Across the bottom of the picture was a name, signed in blue ink. I frowned at the image. Who the heck was Tyrone Power? Was he someone’s boyfriend? Or part of the décor?

Hangover and rubber legs be damned, I had to get moving and find my phone. But before I could get a big toe out from under the covers, a knock sounded at the door. I sat up in the strange bed, holding my throbbing head as though it were a soft-boiled egg.

“Tess? Are you awake yet?” The voice on the other side of the door had a slight Irish brogue. “Can I come in, then?”

“Yes,” I croaked. Whoever she was, she knew my name. Despite the sunlight, the room was chilly, and I huddled under the cotton blankets as the woman bustled in holding a small tray. I sniffed coffee and toast, and when she set it down on the nightstand, my stomach gurgled audibly.

“Now,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron, “we served breakfast some time ago, and when you didn’t come down, I knew you’d be oversleepin’ again. Your auntie will have my hide and your own if you don’t get down to that kitchen.” She crossed her ample arms and sent me a stern look. “You know we don’t serve anyone in their rooms, guests or otherwise, but Carolina insisted I bring you your coffee. Said you’re no good without it.”

I looked up at a broad-shouldered woman in a green housedress. Over that was an apron in a loud, orange-and-green pattern of forks and spoons. Her thick white hair, twisted into a bun, was bright against her weathered skin. Her small dark eyes gave the impression of two raisins set in a gingerbread face. I’d never seen her before in my life.

“Sorry, Mrs. Flaherty.” How did I know that? It surely must have been her name because she didn’t correct me. I sat up quickly, my mouth hanging open in shock, and the blankets slipped to my waist.

Mrs. Flaherty took a step closer to the bed and narrowed her eyes at me. “Just what are you wearing, missy?” What was I wearing? I glanced down at the cursive “T” stitched on the pocket of my favorite monogrammed PJs. Expensive ones. And why did she care? I opened my mouth to answer, but Mrs. F got there ahead of me. “They’re silk,” she hissed. “And black, for the Lord’s sake.”

“Uh huh,” I said slowly, wondering if she commented on the nightwear of all her guests. Still, I pulled the blankets up to my chin.

“Best not let your auntie see them. Don’t know how in the world you afford such things,” she grumbled. “Eat up quick now, and bring down that tray when you’re through.”

“Okay,” I whispered, staring at the door she closed behind her…

***

Excerpt from Murder on the Steel Pier by Rosie Genova. Copyright 2025 by Rosie Genova. Reproduced with permission from Rosie Genova. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Rosie Genova

Proud Jersey girl Rosie Genova is a multi-genre author. Her work includes a Jersey shore cozy series, The Italian Kitchen Mysteries, and The Tess Mancini Time Travel Mysteries, set in 1955 Atlantic City. She is also the author of standalone suspense and a couple of rom-coms that presently live in her computer files (but are longing to be released into the wild). A former teacher and journalist, Rosie’s non-fiction has appeared in a variety of publications, including Entrepreneur magazine and The New York Times. The mother of three sons, Rosie still lives in her favorite state with her husband, too many dusty antiques, and a charming mutt named Lucy.

Catch Up With Rosie Genova:

www.RosieGenova.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub – @RosieGenova
Facebook – @RosieGenova

 

 

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$25 GC – Love & The Divorce Lawyer by Barbara Newhart @partnersincr1me

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Love & the Divorce Lawyer by Barbara Newhart Banner

LOVE & THE DIVORCE LAWYER

by Barbara Newhart

March 24 – April 18, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Love & the Divorce Lawyer by Barbara Newhart

If you love mystery, with a hint of humor and romance, you’ll want to read Love & the Divorce Lawyer

Josephina Jensen, a feisty, justice-seeking divorce lawyer, reluctantly returns to the courtroom after a four-year absence, to help a woman collect an award worth several million dollars from her unscrupulous ex-husband. This decision forces her to cross swords with the brilliant, infuriating, yet ever-so-charming attorney, Richard Diamond, and the ex-husband who will stop at nothing to prevent the dismantling of his empire. Little does anyone know that someone from Josephina’s past is also at work, intent on taking care of unfinished business by stopping her permanently.

Praise for Love & the Divorce Lawyer:

“From its slam-bang opening to its unexpected yet inevitable conclusion, Love and the Divorce Lawyer is a twisty, suspenseful, romantic legal thriller. Author Newhart’s legal background serves her well as she leads the reader through the fascinating strategies that high-end practitioners of family law employ to protect and reap the best possible benefits for their clients. But it is the mystery of who is sending increasingly ominous threats to Attorney Josie Jensen that drives the action of the novel. Filled with complex and genuine characters with understandable but conflicting motives, Newhart masterfully creates tension scene after scene. Attorney Jensen’s growing attraction to her opponent in an important divorce case unfolds naturally as she anticipates her crafty adversary’s next move and what she must do to counter it, all the while finding herself drawn to him on a personal level. Superbly written and expertly plotted, Love and the Divorce Lawyer is a winner.”
~ Brian Anderson, author of Yule Tide and the Lyle Dahms Mysteries

“Josie Jensen is back. Four years ago, a client’s bullet shattered her pelvis and nearly ended her legal career. Now, against her better judgment, she’s reluctantly agreed to represent Amy Castle, a woman entangled in a bitter financial battle with her ex-husband.
But the case isn’t as simple as it seems. Josie’s ongoing divorce is a constant reminder of the pain she’s endured, and her physical limitations make the courtroom a challenging arena. To complicate matters, she’s locked in a legal duel with Richard Diamond, a brilliant and undeniably attractive attorney.
Danger lurks around every corner as Josie digs deeper into the case. A near-miss on the road, a sinister floral delivery, and a persistent sense of being followed signal that her troubles are far from over.
Barbara Newhart has crafted a complex cast of characters and a captivating narrative that will keep you on the edge of your seat. This is one for the keeper shelves. 5 out of 5 stars”
~ Kate Damon author of Jury Duty is Murder

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, with a hint of humor, romance, and family
Published by: The Wild Rose Press
Publication Date: December 11, 2024
Number of Pages: 276
ISBN: 978-1-5092-5925-0
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | The Wild Rose Press | Waterstones

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

Anne Compton, Almost Four Years Ago

Anne placed the empty gun carefully on the table, then folded her hands next to it. Moments earlier, to prevent the judge from granting their divorce, she fired it at her husband. She and Peter had shared such wonderful dreams of their lives together. But that was a long time ago—before he broke their vows. For that, there could be no forgiveness. And yet, he escaped his sentence.

All because of her interfering lawyer.

Anne peered down at the floor at Attorney Josephina Jensen, the woman she hired to prevent the divorce, and who had failed her. To add to her treachery, Jensen stepped in front of the bullets meant for Peter. Now, the divorce would go forward, thrusting Anne with him into eternal damnation for his sins.

In the hallway outside, footsteps pounded the marble floors. The courtroom’s double doors burst open, shattering glass and splitting wood.

Anne met the panicked eyes of her former fiancé, followed by the first responders. She smiled as a single tear dropped to her cheek.

Chapter Two

Present Day, Josie Jensen, Thursday Afternoon

“Face it, Josephina Jensen. You’re a divorce lawyer.”

“No, brother dear,” the almost forty-one-year-old corrected as she twirled the stem of her wine glass on the bar. “I have a shattered pelvis and an assortment of scars from a couple bullet wounds to prove I was a divorce lawyer.” She held her cane up in the air. “I am now a law school professor.”

Reaching for his beer mug, Dan Jensen flashed his perfect bachelor-of-the-year grin. “I’ve got a great case for you. The divorce part is over. Judge Myers awarded the wife six million, plus a few million more in assets that are all in the husband’s name.”

“Let me guess,” Josie interrupted, concentrating on opening the package of oyster crackers that arrived with her fish chowder. “The husband refuses to authorize the transfers.”

“Correct. All you have to do is help the wife, now the ex-wife, collect.”

Out of patience, Josie yanked the cellophane hard, spewing the contents in all directions. “Oh, good grief.”

Dan swallowed a forkful of baked scrod and rice pilaf as she retrieved the crackers. “The couple has a chain of high-end grocery stores. They made a ton of money over the years. Plus, the stores are still operating.”

When Josie didn’t respond, he stilled her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. “You got this. You’re a bloodhound when it comes to cases like this. It’s easy money for you.”

She glowered at him over her gold-rimmed glasses. “I remember you flying around the house in superhero costumes.” She removed her hand. “Those gorgeous eyes and that infamous charm get you nowhere with me.”

Deadpan serious now, Dan leaned in close, speaking fast. “The wife is Amy Castle. She’s a cousin on my mom’s side. Two years ago, I referred her to Barry Woodward because you were still recovering from your injuries. Barry did a fantastic job on the divorce. Sadly, he also put the moves on Amy, and they had an affair.” Dan shook his head. “Really poor form. She learned over the weekend that he was married, and she fired him. So, would you please help her?”

Josie sat back and tackled one piece of information at a time. First, their family tree. She and Dan shared the same father but had different mothers. Yes, that could result in unknown cousins. Next, she considered the aforementioned lawyer. “Isn’t Barry on his third wife?”

Dan resumed eating. “The fourth. She knows about the affair too. It’s a disaster.”

Josie balanced a piece of salmon on her soup spoon. “So, I’d really be doing this for you, right? To help ease your guilt over referring a family member to a brilliant, sex-addicted lawyer with commitment issues?”

He tilted his head. “Well, yes. And for Amy, an innocent victim of love, taken advantage of by her now ex-husband and deceived by her lover.” When Josie didn’t respond, he added, “She’ll pay you a hundred thousand dollars, upfront, and you can bill her a c-note an hour. There’s plenty more after that if you need it.”

As if on automatic pilot, Josie’s mind started listing each step of the process needed to hang the ex-husband. Then the sane, less greedy side of her brain kicked in.

Stop. You don’t do that kind of work anymore.

Dan squeezed her hand again. “Please?”

Her resolve wavered. This not-so-humble, lawyer-of-the-year-type guy who just offered her a case other lawyers would beg for, was her life-long best friend and confidant. He also rarely said please. Twice. She pushed aside the chowder and swiveled in the bar stool to face him. “I hate you.”

His broad smile beamed. “You love me.” He picked up his cell. “Can I call her? She’s waiting in the parking lot to meet with you.”

Josie grabbed his hand. “I’m making no promises.”

“Agreed. Just speak with her.”

She scratched the scar on her chest. “Who’s representing the ex-husband?”

Dan’s cheeks and neck blotched red. “Oh yeah. About that.” He rose and tossed a bunch of bills on the bar.

Warning bells erupted in Josie’s brain. She grabbed the hem of his designer suit jacket. “Daniel Gabriel Jensen. Who is it?”

“Um, do you remember Richard Diamond?”

Chapter Three

Richard Diamond, Thursday Afternoon

“Mr. Castle is holding on line two.”

“Thank you, Dana.” Attorney Richard Diamond ended the intercom connection and drained a bottle of water.

Divorce caused even the most reasonable people to act unreasonably. And yet, Richard suspected his client, Malcolm Castle, displayed his “unique” form of unreasonableness long before his divorce commenced. To date, he held the record for the longest divorce case in the county, and the pandemic had nothing to do with the delay.

Richard didn’t need to review Castle’s file to recall the judge’s final decision when he granted the divorce. With millions of dollars up for grabs, Mr. Castle was ordered to transfer six of them in investments, plus a beach cottage, a boat, and a car, to his former wife within thirty days. And here they were, a hundred days or so later, and no transfers. Richard wondered if his client intended to break the record for this post judgment phase of the divorce as well.

Was Richard ruffled? Not at all. Malcolm already paid him close to two million in legal fees for the divorce. And he said he would commit to spending another two million for Richard to run circles around his ex-wife and her lawyer in order to hold on to his fortune until the last possible moment. And then, only then, would he direct Richard to make a deal. He was not going to pay anything close to six million and it was up to Richard to make sure of it.

Richard inhaled a deep breath and held it for five seconds. Then he released a slow exhale. It had been a long day, and it was about to get longer. After another second, he pushed the phone’s button for line two. “This is Attorney Diamond. How may I help you?”

“Hey there, Dickie Baby. It’s me, Mal. I hear Amy’s getting a new lawyer. A broad this time. She must have figured out, with some help, that this last one, who she was screwing, Wood something or other, was married. She gave him the boot Tuesday night.”

Richard never asked why or how his client always had up-to-date details about his ex-wife’s life. He didn’t want to know. Malcolm Castle may be slick, but more important, his skewed beliefs about how the world should operate, including his marriage and his divorce, created the type of no-holds-barred challenge that Richard relished.

And Malcolm, along with Richard’s other character-flawed clients, often expressed many prejudices, but they were not stupid. They ignored Richard’s dark skin because of the favorable results he produced. As for being Jewish, the topic never came up. Black Jews were not common in this country. Black Jewish lawyers of Ethiopian descent were even less common.

Richard gave his well-appointed office an appreciative glance. Mal wouldn’t pay his ex-wife, but he always paid his legal bills without question or delay. And the instant he didn’t, Richard would fire him.

“What’s the lawyer’s name?” he asked, disappointed that Barry Woodward couldn’t keep his pants zipped, or at least avoid getting caught.

There were few other lawyers left in the state who could handle a case of this magnitude. Like him, they treated the law as a game. The goal was to define the rules in each case, then be the best at figuring out how to enforce them or bend them. Which strategy depended on whose side you were on and how much money your client was willing to pay you.

“Some fat bimbo named Josephina Jensen,” Castle answered. “I already checked her out. She teaches at the damned law school. She quit going to court a couple years ago after her wacko client, the wife, mind you, got a gun into the courthouse. Jensen tried to stop her from shooting it off and she got hit pretty bad. If she represents Amy, it will be her first time back in court, in the same building. With all that emotional garbage and you in my corner, I doubt she’ll last a week. What do you think?”

Castle kept talking as Richard’s memory replayed the nightmarish scenes that came to be known as the Compton Catastrophe around Hartford’s Hall of Justice. He’d been down the hall when he heard the shots.

“Hey, Dickie, answer my question,” Castle demanded, drawing Richard back to the present.

Richard typed Jensen’s name into the attorney directory located on the state’s judicial website, confirming what he already suspected. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Malcolm.” He noted the calendar hanging on the wall and changed topics. “Are you all set for next Thursday?”

“You mean when I become unavailable?”

Richard cleared his throat. “Court starts at ten. It is my obligation to tell you to be there and on time.”

“Consider me told. Just be sure to cover my ass at all costs.”

“Consider your ass covered, Malcolm.” Richard hung up and jotted down the time spent during the call and its content. Next, he returned his attention to Josephina Jensen.

Holding his chin between his forefinger and thumb, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He recalled her body, wrapped in a white sheet and packed onto a gurney with an oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth. Two silent paramedics, ignoring the media’s flashing cameras and shouted questions, wheeled the stretcher out of the courthouse and down the ramp near the steps. They lifted her into the waiting ambulance and raced off, lights and sirens blaring at full blast.

The image, along with one other, never left Richard’s mind. Over time, they had faded, but now they reemerged fresh as the day they happened.

Could Castle be right? Was she back?

Chapter Four

Josie

“Sit back down,” Josie insisted, tugging at Dan’s jacket.

The waiter returned just as her brother reclaimed his bar stool, interrupting the rant Josie was about to launch. “Shall I wrap your meal, madam?”

She looked at her barely eaten chowder and sandwich. “Do you want it?” she asked Dan.

He crinkled his nose. “After you played with it for the past half hour? No thanks.”

When the waiter left, Josie reduced her voice to a near-threatening level. “Richard Diamond is a monster, Daniel. Thirteen years ago, he roasted us alive in that Masterson case. Do you remember what happened when the judge read his decision, after that awful eight-day trial? Our client burst out of the courtroom and howled through the halls like a mama orangutang searching for her missing babies. And what did Diamond do? He stood there in his thousand-dollar suit, preening like a peacock, his feathers spread in full bloom.”

Straight faced, Dan pretended to study the dessert menu. “It’s not that we lost. The judge just didn’t give our client everything she wanted, the way she wanted it. Over time, the parents settled down and worked things out. And keep in mind, the playing field between you and Diamond is even now. You can take him. In fact, consider it your opportunity for payback.”

“We lost, Daniel,” Josie spat back. “And I don’t want payback. I haven’t handled a divorce case or any case for almost four years, and I don’t want to, ever again.” She hated that her voice started to crack mid-sentence.

Dan clutched her forearm and sought her tear-filled eyes. “Stop letting Anne Compton ruin your life. You’re an amazing lawyer and Amy needs you.”

Josie darted her attention to the nautical paraphernalia covering the bar’s walls. Even if he was right, she didn’t want to do it. “I doubt very much Richard Diamond has mellowed over the years. He’s like a clump of Roquefort cheese, its blue and green moldy disgustingness growing more and more pungent over time.”

Dan laughed. “That just makes it more challenging.”

Picturing Diamond in his element, Josie curled her upper lip. “He only represents wealthy, evil, greedy husbands and vengeful, spoiled, gold-digging wives. Their divorce proceedings last for years and always end with a trial. And for the rare times he loses, he files an appeal. There’s no end.”

“I agree.” He hugged her. “That’s why Amy’s divorce took so long.”

“And you want me to join that circus?”

He showed her his calendar on his phone. “Did I mention the contempt hearing against the ex-husband is scheduled for next Thursday?”

Josie straightened. “Are you listening to me at all? You act like we’re discussing a sale on one of your fancy suits.” She tapped her watch. “Luke and I are leaving for the Bahamas at eleven-fifty tonight. It’s his birthday present to me. We won’t be back until late Monday night.”

Dan’s grin and his eyes widened. “Then you’d better get started.”

Before she could stop him, he sent a text.

“I’m not doing it, Dan. I’m not stepping one foot into any courtroom with that fiend.”

Ignoring her, he stood and drained his beer mug. “You’re gonna love Amy.”

“I’m only agreeing to talk with her, Daniel.”

He waved. “There she is.”

Josie followed his gaze to the bar’s entrance.

A pretty, well-endowed and well-dressed older brunette stood in the doorway. With a worried smile, she waved back.

Perfect. Just perfect.

***

Excerpt from Love & the Divorce Lawyer by Barbara Newhart. Copyright 2025 by Barbara Newhart. Reproduced with permission from Barbara Newhart. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Barbara Newhart enjoys reading and writing stories that contain at least a sprinkle of romance, tossed into a great mystery or thriller where the characters dodge and weave their way through this crazy adventure we call life. In addition to Love & the Divorce Lawyer, Barbara has written Legally Yours and Finally Yours as Kimberly Whitmore.

Catch Up With Barbara Newhart:

www.BarbaraNewhart.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
Instagram – @barbara.newhart.mysteries

 

 

Tour Participants:

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

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  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
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$20 GC – Shake Speared In The Park by Joy Ann Ribar @partnersincr1me

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SHAKE-SPEARED IN THE PARK

by Joy Ann Ribar

March 17th – April 11, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Shake-speared in the Park by Joy Ann Ribar

A BAY BROWNING MYSTERY

 

When Bay Browning helps direct the Flourish College summer theater production, “Shakespeare’s Couch,” she doesn’t plan for murder at the first practice.

Someone wants revenge against the elite cast members, as more terror unfolds on stage and backstage with each rehearsal. What should be a lighthearted parody on The Bard and his characters is cursed from the start, even without someone shouting “Macbeth” in the theater. Detective Downing takes charge of the crime, but Bay and her puzzle-solving cohort, Jen Yoo, follow their own script behind the scenes. Cassandra, Bay’s extraordinary sister, makes her own dramatic entrance on the case. After all, Cass is now the personal assistant to one of the elites living the high life on the bluff above Prairie Ridge. How many tragic scenes will be scripted before the villain faces the final curtain?

Praise for Shake-speared in the Park:

“A clever cozy that reads like an elusive buried treasure, that, once uncovered, shines with a burnished gold. Shakespearean scholars can revel throughout, as a college summer play, Shakespeare’s Couch, features a myriad of familiar characters, representing their plays. A costume party with more Shakespearean identities milling about provides sheer fun and frolic. The best part, however, is the thorough depiction of humanity, characteristic of Ribar’s writing. Even secondary characters come alive with strengths and foibles that delight and endear.”
~ Saralyn Richard, author of the Detective Parrott mystery series, Bad Blood Sisters, and Mrs. Oliver’s Twist

“Ribar serves up wicked, clever fun in ‘Shake-speared in the Park,’ the second installment in her Bay Browning mystery series. A young man with much promise falls from a stage-prop balcony. He’s dead when he lands, but that’s not what killed him. Was his brother, the wayward son, involved? His best friend? Or one of the wealthy equestrian crowd? Then, another death, this time in a greenhouse. It’s like ‘Knives Out’ meets Agatha Christie. Suspects abound. Two sisters—one a killer magnet, the other an ex-con—are determined to find out. The escalating tempo keeps readers on the edge of their seats until the end!”
~ Laurie Buchanan, author of the Sean McPherson crime thriller novels

“In this fast-paced mystery and nod to Shakespeare, the murderous shenanigans would please the Bard himself! Professor Bay Browning’s play rehearsals go awry with deadly weapons, poisons, and just about anything else a playwright might use to scare or ‘off’ someone in dramatic fashion. As in ‘Romeo & Juliet,’ differences of class and money between families put a small Wisconsin college and Bay in the crosshairs. Replete with a twisty costume party, this novel opens the curtain on an entertaining theater production with actors poised to take their final bow, pun intended. Ribar balances scenes effectively between amateur detectives Bay and her sister Cass, the latter a plant aficionado and former prison inmate. To borrow from the Bard, ‘To read or not to read?’ The answer is easy: This is fun.”
~ Christine DeSmet, author, Fudge Shop Mystery Series and Mischief in Moonstone Series

Book Details:

Genre: Blended Mystery: Traditional Mystery with Paranormal Twists
Published by: Wine Glass Press
Publication Date: February 2025
Number of Pages: 359
ISBN: 9781959078272 (ISBN10: 1959078275)
Series: Bay Browning Mysteries: Book Two
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Carillon Tower Park was buzzing with activity when Bay arrived for rehearsal. Desmond Carver, the director, was only steps ahead of her, so she dashed to catch up. Bay smiled at his signature bobbing walk on those extra-long legs that might belong to a pro basketball player instead of a theater professor.

“Desmond, hey. Looks like the students are psyched about the show.” Bay nodded toward the outdoor theater area where a portable tech booth had been set up. People inside were testing spotlights and sound effects.

The stage was midway through set construction showing false stone walls and two framed second story balconies. Someone was sweeping the stage free of pine needles, while a couple of others were taping the floor where furniture would go. Bay waved at Jen Yoo, her art professor friend, who was painting a flat with some students.

“It’s a positive sign when they show up early. Believe me, once we’re in the trenches, some will find reasons not to show up at all.” Desmond set a stack of scripts on one of the seats near the middle of the theater. “Actors,” he said using air quotes around the word.

Bay’s optimism didn’t dwindle. She was pleased with the turnout for auditions, considering it was a summer production, meaning many students were gone or working. The fact she and Desmond had backups for the main roles revealed enthusiasm for the show.

Desmond handed her a theater badge and key for the rooms beyond the stage. “By the way, in case I forget later, thanks so much for volunteering to help with the play. It can be a thankless job.”

Bay grinned but wondered why Desmond was being so pessimistic. He wasn’t close to retirement, maybe ten years older than Bay, and she’d pegged him as carefree and upbeat. Then again, in the two years she’d been a Flourish professor, she’d had a handful of short conversations with him.

At seven p.m. on the dot, the clock tower bell rang out the hour and Desmond spoke through a megaphone he’d brought to rehearsal. “Let’s get going. We start on time. We end on time. That’s my number one rule.”

To Bay’s surprise, every student hushed without delay. She’d heard Desmond was respected, and he knew these students from past plays. Many were seniors doing a final postgraduation show before entering the real world.

“For the first few rehearsals, we’re going to need to work around the set builders and the tech crew setting up lights and testing sounds. This isn’t a typical show. Summer theater is a shortened schedule, so we’re putting an entire production together in short order.” Desmond handed printed schedules to Bay, who passed them out to the actors and crew.

It wasn’t quite June, thankfully, because performances were marked for the last week of that month, just past the celebration of Midsummer on June twenty-fourth.

“You’ll notice on the schedule that all lines must be memorized by June tenth. That’s two weeks, my friends. Let’s make it happen.” Desmond used his teacher voice. Even Bay snapped to attention.

“Places everyone. We’ll start with the prologue and go straight through from act one as far as we can until eight-thirty. The script notes some introductory music, but we won’t add that for a couple of weeks. Proceed, Kitt.”

Bay and Desmond watched from the back third of the theater, taking notes as lines were delivered, stopping when necessary to help with enunciation or cadence. At the end of the second act, Desmond announced a seven-minute break, then headed to the tech booth to talk about lighting.

Bay noticed he seemed nervous about the tech crew being run by an intern. His normal production partner, Leo, another theater professor, was spending summer break in New York City at a Broadway intensive master class. Leo recommended a theater grad student from Madison to take his place.

As lights flashed on and off in different positions, Bay watched the techies at the booth. Desmond pointed at the script as intern Evan made notes, then flashed the light Desmond asked for. Bay noticed Evan’s body posture: alert, attentive, like a golden retriever eager to please. In contrast, Desmond alternated running a hand through the twists on top of his head, placing his hands on his hips, then rubbing the back of his neck before repeating the moves again.

“That looks intense.” Jen Yoo was sitting by Bay, a clean paint brush in one hand.

“Hey, Jen. Yes, I’ve never seen this side of Desmond. How about you?”

Jen shrugged. “I haven’t worked on a summer production in some time. The younger Desmond was laid-back. But some of us lose our patience as we age. Thankfully, I don’t have that problem.” She snickered.

Bay turned her full attention to Jen. “Why are you working on this production, anyway?”

“Two reasons. One: It fulfills my volunteer hours for the whole year. Two: It’s a show you wrote. I’m proud of you and want to see how it turns out.” Jen leaned her head over to meet Bay’s.

With break wrapping up, chatter from the stage echoed around the quiet outdoors. When a commotion ensued, Bay chalked it up to high energy from a new show, the honeymoon period. But then a loud thud sounded, someone began shrieking, and a cacophony of shouts and running feet ensued.

Bay, Jen, and Desmond ran to the stage, with the tech crew close behind. The adults vaulted onto the stage where the lead actor, Talon Hunt, lay crumpled in a twisted heap.

“Everybody back up,” Desmond shouted.

“He fell off the balcony,” one of the students called out.

“I didn’t mean to. We were goofing around, practicing a duel.” Jackson Lange knelt over Talon, his chest heaving, his face distraught.

Desmond, Jen, and Bay knelt beside Talon too, and Jackson stood up and looked away. Desmond checked Talon’s pulse, shook his head, listened for a heartbeat, and shook his head again. Bay called 911.

“Let’s straighten him a bit so I can do CPR.” Desmond motioned for Jen and Bay to get on either side of his legs and they gingerly turned him.

Desmond was still administering chest compressions and breaths when the emergency team arrived to take over. Thirty minutes later, the EMTs pronounced Talon dead.

***

Excerpt from Shake-speared in the Park by Joy Ann Ribar. Copyright 2025 by Joy Ann Ribar. Reproduced with permission from Joy Ann Ribar. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Joy Ann Ribar

Joy Ann Ribar is an RV author, writing on the road wherever her husband and their Winnebago View wanders. Joy’s cocktail of careers includes news reporter, paralegal, English educator, and aquaponics greenhouse technician, all of which prove useful in penning mysteries. Her cozy Deep Lakes Mysteries, feature baker/vintner Frankie Champagne, who moonlights as an investigative reporter. Joy’s Bay Browning Mysteries blend edgy, traditional, and paranormal elements twisted around classical literary themes. Joy loves to bake, read, research wines, and explore nature. Her writing has received awards and recognition from WWA, PenCraft Book Awards, Book Fest, Reader’s Favorite, and Chanticleer Cozy and Not-So-Cozy awards.

Catch Up With Joy Ann Ribar:

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BookBub – @ribarjoy
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Facebook – @JoyRibarAuthor

 

 

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$15 GC – Shattered Sight by Liz Milliron @partnersincr1me

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SHATTERED SIGHT

by Liz Milliron

March 10 – April 4, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

SHATTERED SIGHT by Liz Milliron

The Jackson Davis Mysteries

 

Niagara Falls Police Detective Jackson Davis is living a lie.

He has the perfect life: married, two children, a home, a promising career.

Underneath, however, he battles self-doubt and guilt over the incident that cost his partner her sight and her career in an explosion during the pursuit of a suspect. He denies having PTSD or any trauma related to the event, but those around him know better.

When Jackson returns to active duty and is tapped to lead the investigation into the death of a prominent local business woman, all of this comes to the forefront. He must learn to work with a new partner and deal with his personal demons if he is to catch the killer — or he risks losing it all.

Book Details:

Genre: Police Procedural
Published by: Harbor Lane Books
Publication Date: March 2025
Number of Pages: 402
ISBN: 978-1-963705-05-8
Series: The Jackson Davis Mysteries, book #1
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

I stood in front of my open closet and shuffled through my tie selection. “Amy, have you seen my red tie?” I called to my wife.

No answer.

“Amy!”

She came into the bedroom, dark brown hair in a messy knot, stray strands stuck to her face. She held our six-month-old son, Christopher, over her shoulder as she rubbed his back. “What are you yelling for?” She glanced at the jacket on the bed. “I thought you only wore that suit to court.”

“I need to look sharp today, which means I need my lucky red tie.” I went over the ones on the rack for the third time. “The one with the dark gray pinstripes. It should be here.”

“For crying out loud. Let me.” She held Christopher out, forcing me to take him.

Before I could turn him around, he burped, a wad of spit landing on my chest. “Grab me a clean shirt, too.” I didn’t have time for this. “I need to make a positive impression today.”

“Jackson, you’re coming off desk duty. Not starting a new job.”

“All the more reason to look good. I need to remind the guys I’m an investigator, not a glorified secretary.”

Whatever Amy said was lost in the rattle of hangers. “Here.” She held out the tie. “It was with your other court suit, still in the bag.” She tossed it, along with a clean shirt, on the bed.

I handed back our son. “You’re an angel.” I leaned over and kissed her. Even wearing an old T-shirt and jeans, she put any supermodel to shame. At least in my mind. If I hadn’t been determined to be early, I would have demonstrated my gratitude with a little more emphasis.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t you forget it.” She disengaged Christopher’s hand from her hair.

I slipped into the shirt, buttoned it, and swiftly knotted the tie. Then I shrugged into my jacket. I held out my arms. “Well, how do I look?”

She smoothed my lapel. “Like one of Niagara Falls Police Department’s finest homicide detectives, which you are.” Her voice was light, but I caught the worried glint in her beautiful deep blue eyes.

“It’s going to be okay, Amy. I’m ready to get back to work.”

“I know.” She kissed me. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

I arrived at HQ and waved to the desk sergeant.

“Detective Davis, you going to testify today?” he asked.

“Nope. I’m back in the rotation, Herb.”

He smiled. “It’s about time.”

I took the elevator up to the floor where the Criminal Investigation Division was located and went to my desk. As always, I avoided looking at the empty one facing mine. I briefly wondered how long that would last.

Hopefully for a while.

From across the room, a voice said, “Davis. You’re here.”

I looked up to see Captain Yannick striding toward me. Trailing him was an unfamiliar Black man. He was in his mid-thirties, close-cut hair, nice suit. Really nice suit. He held the largest-sized cup of coffee Starbucks sold in one hand and a cardboard box under the opposite arm.

I focused on the captain. “Morning, sir. You get the paperwork?”

“I did.” The captain shook my hand. “I’m glad to have one of my ace investigators back in the rotation. I want you to meet Rodney Kirke. He’s a new detective for homicide. This is his first day.”

I nodded. “Welcome to the looney bin. I’d shake your hand, but looks like they’re full.”

He put the box and Starbucks on Max’s empty desk. “Captain Yannick told me all about you.”

“Only the good stuff, I hope.” I refrained from saying anything about his stuff on that desk. “Who’d you get partnered up with?”

Yannick pointed. “You. Meet your new partner.”

What the actual? I forced myself to remain calm. “Oh. You didn’t mention anything on Friday before we left.”

“And I apologize. I meant to and the day got away from me.”

I glanced at Rodney. “Captain, can I talk to you?”

“What about?”

“Nothing major. A few details and then I can get to work.” Like how he’d forgotten to say he’d assigned me a new partner.

“Unpack your things.” Yannick pointed to the new guy. He nodded toward me. “My office.”

Once inside, I closed the door. “Sir, what the hell? A new partner on day one?”

“I understand you feel blindsided. I should have called over the weekend. Mea culpa.” His expression told me he’d expected this response. “You had to know this was coming, though.”

I did. But the speed unsettled me. “I guess I expected more notice. Not to walk in on Monday and be introduced to the new guy without even a hint of noticed. And I didn’t realize Max was so easily replaced. I thought you’d take more time.”

Yannick’s gaze and voice held sympathy, but firmness at the same time. “Her position has been open for six months. Kirke’s recently passed the detective exam. You’ll work well together. You can show him the ropes.” He leaned back. “I spoke to Kirke’s commander from patrol, who said he’s top-notch. I think you’ll get on well together.”

Seeing the empty desk every day had been hard. Having a stranger occupy Max’s chair was worse.

Yannick seemed to read my mind. “Look, I can’t replace Max. Oh, sure. I can hire a new body. It won’t be the same. I know. But give him a chance. You learned a lot from Max and she’d expect you to step up and pass it on. Next call is yours.”

What a cheat. Problem was, he was right. She would expect it. “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”

***

I returned to the desks and assessed the man who Yannick thought could fill Max’s shoes. He’d unpacked the box and was arranging everything to his satisfaction. Strike one, he drank Starbucks. I couldn’t stand the import from Seattle, much preferring Tim Horton’s, the Western New York alternative. Max had not much cared about where the coffee came from, as long as it was hot and black.

Strike two. He’d put a fancy brass nameplate in front of him, with a leather blotter, and matching pen and pencil cup next to it. I hoped the attention to office supplies didn’t mean anything except excitement for the new shield. Max had never bothered to have more than a jumbo calendar and her ever-present book of Sudoku puzzles on her desk. “Looks like you’re all settled in.”

His hand jerked and the cup of pens toppled over. “Just about.” He straightened everything and looked around. Very few of the battered desks held anything as fancy as his desk set. “Guess I overdid it a little with the office supplies, huh?”

“How long have you had your shield?”

“Two weeks.”

That explained a lot. “I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s natural to be a little nervous, especially starting a new job like this.” I sat down. “Where’d you come from?”

“Downtown. Spent a lot of time chasing pickpockets away from tourists.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and took his seat. “It’s not very often you meet a white guy named Jackson. No offense.”

It was what people said when they knew they’d been offensive. I could tell his clothes were new. The jacket and slacks were tailored and the tie shone like silk. “My mother was a horror fan and The Lottery was her all-time favorite short story. She loved it so much, she swore to name her first child after the author. I’m lucky I wasn’t a girl or I’d be called Shirley.”

He laughed, but stopped short. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

I held up my hand. “True story. My father tried to get the nickname Jack to stick, but it never did. I’ve gotten used to it.”

He shifted in his seat. “I, uh, heard about what happened to your old partner. Hope I can measure up. She sounds like she was quite the investigator.”

The words were a knife in my chest. “She was.” I had no intention of discussing Max with the new guy. “Why’d you become a detective?”

“It was time for a challenge. I also thought it would help in other areas.”

I waited, but he didn’t continue. “Such as?”

“What’s the scoop? Did Yannick give you an assignment when you talked to him or something?”

He has things he doesn’t want to discuss. We’re equal there. “Not yet.”

Yannick emerged from his office. “Davis, Kirke. Attempted bank robbery downtown. Get down there and take witness statements.”

I stood. “On it, sir.”

***

Excerpt from SHATTERED SIGHT by Liz Milliron. Copyright 2025 by Liz Milliron. Reproduced with permission from Liz Milliron. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

SHATTERED SIGHT by Liz Milliron

Liz Milliron is the Shamus-nominated author of the Homefront Mysteries, set in Buffalo, NY during the early years of WWII, the Laurel Highlands Mysteries set in the scenic Laurel Highlands of southwest Pennsylvania, and the Jackson Davis Mysteries set in Niagara Falls, NY. Her short fiction has been published in multiple anthologies including Murder Most International, Blood on the Bayou, and Murder Most Historical. Liz is a past president of the Pittsburgh Chapter of Sisters in Crime and the current Secretary, as well as the Education Liaison for the National Board of Sisters in Crime. She is also a member of International Thriller Writers, Pennwriters and the Historical Novel Society. Liz lives in the Laurel Highlands with her husband and a very spoiled retired-racer greyhound.

Catch Up With Liz Milliron:
LizMilliron.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub – @mary1414
Instagram – @LizMilliron
Threads – @LizMilliron
Facebook – @LizMilliron

 

 

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$20 GC – Cops & Robbers by Justin M Kiska @partnersincr1me

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COPS & ROBBERS

by Justin M Kiska

March 10 – April 4, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Cops & Robbers by Justin M Kiska

PARKER CITY MYSTERIES

 

Spring, 1985 . . .

Just north of Parker City in the small town of Wakeville, a string of robberies have the residents of the quiet community on edge. Then, when two homes in one of Parker City’s wealthiest neighborhoods are broken into on the same night, PCPD Detectives Ben Winters and Tommy Mason wonder if the crime wave has spilled into their jurisdiction. There’s one chilling difference, though. This time, the intruders left a dead body behind in their wake.

As Ben and Tommy delve into the investigation, what initially appears to be a robbery gone wrong soon unravels into something far more sinister. Their pursuit of the truth leads them down a path, uncovering ties to a crime spree that shook Baltimore fifty years earlier. As past and present collide, the young detectives must race to find a killer driven by a motive buried deep in the past.

Book Details:

Genre: Traditional Mystery – Police Procedural with a dual timeline element
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: February 18, 2025
Series: PARKER CITY MYSTERIES; 5 [Amazon | Goodreads]
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

1985

Tommy Mason sat in his beat-up, but much-loved, Bronco on the side of the road. His hands rested on the steering wheel as his eyes focused on the rearview mirror. Behind him, an unmarked police car with a red bubble light on its roof pulled up and parked. This certainly wasn’t how Tommy was expecting to start the day, being pulled over on his way to work. What he’d been pulled over for, he had no idea. He drove this stretch of road every day. He knew the speed limit. There were no stop signs or red lights to run. The Bronco was just in the shop, so he knew there were no lights out or any sort of violations that a cop would think it necessary to pull him over for. And his license plate tags were up-to-date. He was going to have some questions for whoever this patrol officer was.

Keeping his eyes on the rearview mirror, he watched as the door to the police car swung open and a square, rather unkept looking officer stepped out. Tommy raised an eyebrow as he watched him approach the Bronco. The officer was wearing a pair of dark Aviator sunglasses and a blue windbreaker with a badge pinned to his chest. He looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and could use a comb to run through his hair. As he sauntered up to Tommy’s window, he placed a traditional eight-point police hat on his head to complete the official appearance.

“Huh…” Tommy grunted, watching the cop giving the Bronco a thorough, yet overly exaggerated examination. “This is going to be fun.”

When he reached the driver’s side of the truck, Tommy rolled down the window and gave the officer his trademark thousand-watt smile. The same smile that had gotten him out of so many jams in the past. Incidentally, it had also been the cause of a few problems as well. But he preferred to think of the good his smile had done. And might do for him again.

“Good morning, officer. What seems to be the problem?” He tried to sound as cheery as possible.

Tommy expected some sort of response, but instead found himself staring silently at his own reflection in the officer’s sunglasses while the man chewed on an enormous wad of gum.

When he finally spoke, he said, “I’m Officer Smith with the Parker City Police Department. Do you know why I pulled you over this morning?”

“Officer Smith? I can’t say that I do. I don’t think I was speeding. But I guess I could have been. You see, I’m just traveling through Parker, so I don’t know the area all that well,” Tommy lied.

“Well, you were speeding back there, sir. Sorry to say. It happens sometimes. But unfortunately, I had to pull you over. It’s all about safety. You understand.”

“Dang, Officer! I really didn’t mean to be speedin.’” Tommy had suddenly taken on an accentuated southern drawl. “I guess it’s just such a nice mornin’ I wasn’t paying much attention. Look how beautiful that sky is. So bright blue. I just love the spring. Don’t you?”

“Spring is very nice but–”

“And I was just thinkin’ about all the flowers. It’s been a bang-up season for the flowers this year. Have you noticed how vibrant the flowers have been? I think that’s the best word for them. Vibrant.”

“I really haven’t–”

“I mean, I’m not much of a flower guy, to be honest with you. But something about them this year just got to me. My girlfriend’s always bringing home fresh flowers. I guess I’ve started paying attention to them.”

Trying to take control of the conversation, the officer raised his voice slightly. Tommy could hear a hint of irritation, but Smith was trying to keep himself in check. Tommy admired that. “Sir. If I could please see your license and registration card.”

“Officer…Smith? Was it? I really am sorry about this. Was I really goin’ that fast that you need to give me a ticket? I didn’t feel like I was goin’ too fast. Not that this old bucket of bolts can even get its giddy-up on to start with. I mean, maybe you could just give me a warning. And I promise the next time I come through Parker City I’ll drive real slow.”

“I need to see your license and registration, sir.”

Tommy leaned over and opened the glove box, rifled around looking for the Bronco’s registration for a moment, then popped back up and said, “Really, I’m very sorry. I must have been daydreamin.’ You see, I’m plannin’ on askin’ my girlfriend to marry me. I’m on my way home. I was in Baltimore for a job last night. And tonight I’m taking Suzanne out…Suzanne’s my girlfriend…I’m taking Suzanne out to dinner to pop the question. She’s gonna be so surprised. She didn’t think I was ever gonna ask her. But I am. I asked her father’s blessing and everything. It’s gonna be perfect.”

“Uh huh. Well, it sounds like you’re a man in love.” The officer’s stone-cold demeanor began to melt. A smile slowly spread across his lips. “Maybe there is something we could do.”

“That would be so great. I would really appreciate it. Because I really have to be going. But not too fast!” Tommy forced a laugh. He knew he must sound completely ridiculous.

“Let me think here. If I write you up and turn in the speeding ticket as is, it could be a few hundred dollars in fines. Plus, you’ll have to show up in traffic court. Nobody likes that. The judge might even say you have to go back to driving school.”

“You’re kiddin’?” Tommy’s eyes went wide, dutifully playing his part.

“Let’s see. What can I do?” Smith made a show of scratching his head while he looked off at some point in the distance. “What say you just give me fifty dollars to take care of the warning notice fee right here and we’ll be square. I’ll be able to let you get on your way and I’ll fill out all the paperwork later.”

“A warning notice fee,” Tommy repeated. “Well, fifty sounds better then three hundred any day.”

“Hey, not all policemen are hardasses. And you’re right. It’s a nice day. You caught me in a good mood,” Smith said, a smirk curling the side of his lip. “So, fifty dollars and it’s all taken care of.”

“Okay. I just want to make sure I got this. I just have to pay you fifty dollars for the warning notice fee and we’ll be all good? No ticket? No traffic court?”

“That’s right.”

“But you still need my license and registration so you can get my name for the paperwork. Right?” Tommy asked, reaching into his back pocket.

“Um. Yeah. Right. I need your name and address for the warning.”

Tommy handed over a black leather wallet and smiled. He watched intently as Officer Smith opened it. He could only imagine what Smith’s eyes looked like behind the sunglasses.

“Wha…what’s this?” Smith asked.

“You see, that is a real Parker City Police Department badge,” Tommy said leveling his gaze. “And you can see by my ID card that my name is Detective Thomas Mason. I know everyone in the PCPD. Who the hell are you?”

Before Smith could answer, Tommy raised his service revolver from beneath the edge of the window. The color drained from the imposter’s face. Tommy knew exactly what was about to happen, so he was fully prepared. As the fake cop dropped the badge wallet, Tommy flung open the driver’s side door, hitting Smith square in the hip. Losing his balance, Smith stumbled and fell to his knees. Tommy swung the door again, this time hitting him full-on in his side, sending him sprawling across the pavement. Before he could even think about getting up, still dazed from the unexpected blows, Tommy was standing over him with his foot firmly in the middle of his back.

“You, dipshit, are under arrest for impersonating a police office and ruining my good mood.”

***

Excerpt from Cops & Robbers by Justin M Kiska. Copyright 2025 by Justin M Kiska. Reproduced with permission from Justin M Kiska. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Justin M Kiska

When not sitting in his library devising new and clever ways to kill people (for his mysteries), Justin can usually be found at The Way Off Broadway Dinner Theatre, outside of Washington, DC, where he is one of the owners and producers. In addition to writing the Parker City Mysteries Series, which includes Now & Then (Finalist for the 2022 Silver Falchion Award for Best Investigator), Vice & Virtue, Fact & Fiction (Killer Nashville Top Pick and Finalist for the Chanticleer CLUE Award), and Black & White, he is also the mastermind behind Marquee Mysteries, a series of interactive mystery events he has been writing and producing for nearly twenty years. Justin and his wife, Jessica, live along Lake Linganore outside of Frederick, Maryland.

Catch Up With Our Author:

JustinKiska.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads – @JustinKiska
BookBub – @JMKiska
Instagram – @JMKiska
Facebook – @JMKiska

 

 

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Giveaway – Devious Web by Shelley Grandy @partnersincr1me

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Devious Web by Shelley Grandy Banner

DEVIOUS WEB

by Shelley Grandy

February 17 – March 14, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Devious Web by Shelley Grandy

Gone Girl‘s twists, The Social Network’s scheming, and Agatha Christie’s detective sleuthing coalesce in this suspenseful mystery fiction novel set in Toronto in a mid-pandemic business environment.

When Tom Oliver, a successful Canadian entrepreneur, is offered millions from a Silicon Valley company for his data analytics business, he believes his only challenges as he considers the offer will be deciding on next steps for his company and reconciling with his aloof wife. What could possibly go wrong?

Things escalate quickly when Tom is targeted by an unknown perpetrator and his inner circle of family and colleagues comes under scrutiny. Tom’s friend, homicide detective Jason Liu, strives to keep Tom safe while he investigates to find the truth. Who would want to murder a well-liked tech CEO at the top of his game, and why? A progression of intriguing plot twists takes this bingeworthy thriller through business, politics, social media, interpersonal relationships, and even equestrian scenarios. When the dust has settled literally motivations become clear, and Tom discovers that while some relationships are worthy of long-term investment, others have expiration dates.

Praise for Devious Web:

“Writing with aplomb about a corporate world she clearly knows, Shelley Grandy has come up with a pulse-pounding psychological thriller and whodunit, with political overtones, that fully captivates. She keeps you guessing until the very end, making this an impossible book to put down.”
~ Jude Berman, author of The Die

“A truly captivating read! Shelley Grandy weaves together a web of suspense and intrigue in Devious Web, leaving readers spellbound until the final page. With its engaging plot and well-drawn characters, this book is a thrilling must-read for any lover of suspense fiction.”
~ Kelley Keehn, best-selling author of Talk Money to Me and Rich Girl, Broke Girl

“A thrilling and well-crafted read that will captivate fans of tech-driven mysteries.”
~ Publishers Weekly BookLife Reviews

“Shelley Grandy builds a complex story packed with twists and turns. Tension, characters, and connections are so well-constructed that even savvy murder mystery readers won’t see many of these developments coming.”
~ Midwest Book Review

Book Details:

Genre: Thriller
Published by: SparkPress
Publication Date: October 15, 2024
Number of Pages: 272
ISBN: 9781684632749 (ISBN10: 1684632749)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Simon & Schuster

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

TOM AND LAWRENCE—JULY 29, 2021

The pandemic had not been kind to Lawrence Cameron, at least not to his waistline. As The Big Guy strode across the restaurant to join him for dinner, Tom could easily see that Lawrence had packed on a few more pounds while working from home. Toronto’s legendary finance guru and media commentator had earned his nickname for his investing prowess, but now the term was even more suitable for the six-foot-two-inch, 250-pound influencer.

When Tom stood to greet him at their table, Lawrence gave him his usual whack on the back and the now customary COVID-19 elbow bump. Even though Tom had played football in high school and was himself six feet tall, he always felt dwarfed by his main investor and personal mentor. Maybe it was also because of the gap in experience between them, as Lawrence was twenty years older.

“Tom, how’s my favorite entrepreneur doing?” Lawrence asked while settling into the comfortable leather banquette reserved especially for him by the manager of ONE, the see-and-be-seen restaurant adjacent to the Hazelton Hotel in Toronto’s upscale Yorkville enclave.

“Good, thanks, Lawrence, but crazy busy with all that’s going on with the business, as you can imagine,” Tom responded.

“No doubt. And I bet you never thought that seven years in, you would have brought Pellucid so far!” Lawrence said.

Tom agreed as he reflected on how truly surreal it was that the data analytics software company he had founded— Pellucid—was valued at over US $200 million, and a Silicon Valley company was now proposing an acquisition.

To have hit that milestone at the age of thirty-eight is honestly mind-blowing, Tom thought.

“I’m looking forward to hearing your updates today, Tom, but given that Grace just put me on a no-frills diet, I’m definitely ready to dive into this menu before we get started,” Lawrence joked.

Tom smiled, knowing that Lawrence’s second wife, Grace, did her best to keep her husband’s life—and his weight—balanced. He knew Lawrence would be eyeing the restaurant’s signature lobster spoons as an appetizer and something carb-heavy and definitely not on Grace’s diet plan for the main course.

While Lawrence ordered for them, Tom admired the contemporary styling of the chic restaurant.

It’s the little things everyone missed during the restrictions of the pandemic, like being able to get together with friends or enjoying this kind of ambience, Tom thought.

Yorkville, with its high-end boutiques and elegant hotels and restaurants, was where Toronto’s elite dined and shopped. It wasn’t part of Tom’s typical day-to-day, but he and his wife, Miriam, sometimes had drinks at ONE’s expansive bar because the art gallery she curated was just around the corner.

After the waiter had filled their glasses with a Chianti Classico wine, Lawrence leaned forward and spoke quietly so other diners wouldn’t overhear.

“So, what about the acquisition? What’s the latest from Crystal Clere?” he asked.

Tom confided that the California artificial intelligence company’s CEO had confirmed he would be offering US $250 million in cash and stock to acquire Pellucid. The next step would be for Tom to receive a letter of intent formalizing the offer, and then Pellucid’s board would have until September 15—about six weeks—to decide whether to approve the sale.

“I’m open to the offer, which is certainly substantial, but I still feel a bit reluctant, Lawrence. I always envisioned taking Pellucid to an IPO on the TSX and Nasdaq myself. On the other hand, it’s hard to turn down a huge payout from a well-established company like Crystal Clere that’s a great fit for our software,” Tom said.

“Not only that, Tom, but as they say, timing is everything. The pandemic has shown you never know what kind of economic climate you might encounter just when you’re ready to take the company public. Sometimes it’s good to take a profit and focus on the next opportunity,” Lawrence said, as he nodded to acknowledge a couple of people passing by their table who obviously recognized the Big Guy from media interviews.

“That’s a great point, especially after everything we’ve seen over the last year, from market volatility to the January 6 insurrection,” Tom agreed. “It definitely creates a more opportunistic mindset.”

“And of course, I wouldn’t object if my investment in Pellucid netted out to a nice-sized return,” Lawrence quipped.

“Ha, I’m sure!” Tom replied. “Well, for now, Winston is earning his CFO pay and then some, working through the due diligence to address all the financials, and Crystal Clere’s CEO and I are in discussions ensuring we’re well aligned. But so far, I can say that I like what I see. And that’s important because if we sell, they’ll probably want me and possibly a couple of my senior team to commit to working for a year or so as part of Crystal Clere.”

“Yes, it’s pretty standard for the acquiring company to want at least the CEO to stay on for continuity,” Lawrence agreed. “Overall, you’ve got this, Tom. Working through the process, making sure you have all the information up front, and doing the due diligence is the right approach. Then when you have all the facts and feel comfortable, I’m sure it will be easier to make your final decision. And, of course, whatever direction you decide to take, the board of directors must be onside with it as well.”

Tom nodded agreement as Lawrence twirled some of his impressively presented main-course seafood linguini onto his fork.

“Okay, so fill me in on Patrick,” Lawrence said. “I know you were having some issues with him last time we talked. How did that net out?”

Tom sighed. It had been a tough situation to manage. Five years before, Tom had met Patrick McGowan at the stable where they both boarded horses and had soon hired Patrick to be his business development manager. The two men were close in age but had vastly different personalities. While Patrick’s Irish flair and direct manner with prospects had proven helpful in building the business, his proclivity for partying had created problems.

Tom shared with Lawrence that he’d had no choice but to fire Patrick and, after a contentious final meeting with him, he suspected their friendship had been permanently shattered.

“That’s unfortunate, Tom,” Lawrence said. “But eventually Patrick’s shenanigans would have attracted attention and reflected badly on Pellucid. I know you hate being tough on people, but didn’t he lose an investor for you when he missed a key meeting?”

Tom indicated that had indeed been the last straw and agreed he had run out of options when it came to keeping Patrick on his payroll.

The two men lingered over coffee and liqueurs while reviewing Pellucid’s latest quarterly results, upcoming sales pipeline, and the company’s case study currently in development at Tom’s father-in-law’s business in North Carolina, one of Tom’s biggest early-stage clients.

“Are you staying here in Yorkville tonight or at your place?” Tom asked as he and Lawrence concluded their business.

“Next door at the Hazelton,” Lawrence replied. “Grace and I have been living up north at the cottage during the pandemic, and I’m more comfortable playing tourist here in Yorkville rather than rattling around our big house in Rosedale without Grace.”

Tom chuckled at Lawrence’s candor and, as always, admired the close relationship Lawrence had with his wife. The two men parted ways, with Lawrence going to the bar for a final nightcap before turning in and Tom heading for home.

***

Excerpt from Devious Web by Shelley Grandy. Copyright 2024 by Shelley Grandy. Reproduced with permission from Shelley Grandy. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Shelley Grandy

Shelley Grandy is a Canadian communications professional whose journalism degree from Ottawa’s Carleton University fueled a career that started in newspapers and progressed to a high-tech company, Nortel. She subsequently founded Grandy Public Relations Inc. and has supported tech sector clients in Ontario and Quebec for the past fifteen years. You can find her at the boarding stable with her horses, Chancey and Briosa. Shelley lives in Trenton, Ontario, Canada, with husband Roy, Husky dog Luka, and cat Otto, and within spoiling distance of her granddaughters, Emilia and Olivia Oulds.

Catch Up With Shelley Grandy:
www.ShelleyGrandy.com
Goodreads

 

 

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$10 GC – Beyond The Cemetery Gate by Valerie Biel @partnersincr1me @ValerieBiel

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Beyond The Cemetery Gate by Valerie Biel

BEYOND THE CEMETERY GATE

The Secret Keeper’s Daughter

by Valerie Biel

March 3 – 28, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Beyond The Cemetery Gate: The Secret Keeper's Daughter by Valerie Biel

When the police rule her dad’s death an accidental overdose, 16-year-old Chloe refuses to believe it and vows to find his killer. Alone against a potentially corrupt, small-town police force, a persistent social worker seeking proof that she has adult supervision, and precariously low funds, Chloe learns that her dad’s life as a cemetery caretaker masked a web of family secrets that quite possibly led to his death—and are now putting her in mortal danger.

Needing freedom to investigate, Chloe pretends that her only surviving relative, a famous war correspondent, has returned from an overseas assignment to be her guardian. But living alone in the caretaker’s house in the middle of the cemetery, mere feet from the crime scene, puts Chloe’s nerves on edge even before she unearths clues about the shadowy side of her small town. Help comes from unlikely and surprising allies: the colorful owner of the local retro diner, the quiet new classmate with his near-perfect memory, and a spirit who visits in her moments of greatest need.

But as Chloe gets closer to the truth, someone else is getting closer to Chloe, watching her every move. And when her aunt turns up on international news reporting from a war zone, Chloe’s cover is blown. Now the race is on to reveal her dad’s killer—but perhaps—Chloe isn’t as alone as she thought.

Praise for Beyond the Cemetery Gate: The Secret Keeper’s Daughter:

Recently voted Notable 100 Best Indie Book of 2024 (from Shelf Unbound) and a Semi-Finalist for the CIBA YA Fiction Book Award (Chanticleer International Book Awards)

“A stand-out mystery…offering readers an unforgettable journey.” ★★★★★ 5-Stars
~ Readers’ Favorite

“This taut, suspenseful mystery goes beyond the cemetery gate and settles, creaking, into our very bones.”
~ Silvia Acevedo, author of the award-winning God Awful series

“A gripping mystery that succeeds due to a headstrong protagonist who’s unwilling to fail.”
~ Kirkus Reviews

“… a must-read and recommended for fans of mysteries looking for a gripping and compelling story.”
~ 5-Stars – Reader Views Kids

“A haunting YA mystery. Touching on everything from police ineptitude and community solidarity to the endless frustration of being patronized as a young person, this paranormal thriller confidently combines timely and relatable themes within a page-turning storyline.”
~ Self-Publishing Review

“Not all secrets are buried in the grave. Beyond the Cemetery Gate is a nonstop read through a dark, twisting plot and the dangerous world of shadows and sinister people that 16-year-old Chloe must outrun and outsmart.”
~ Patricia Skalka, Author of the Dave Cubiak Door County Mysteries

Book Details:

Genre: Young Adult Mystery Suspense
Published by: Lost Lake Press
Publication Date: October 31, 2024
Number of Pages: 342
ISBN: 9780998173641 (ISBN10: 0998173649)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

CHLOE

In the space between sleep and wakefulness, a sound seeped into my consciousness. The sense that something wasn’t quite right pulled me fully awake. I listened beyond my own breathing for it to come again.

A wail pierced the silence. An animal in pain? Only it wasn’t. I knew it was human. I slipped from bed to stare out into the cemetery. The tombstones always made for fascinating or eerie shadows, depending on how you felt about graveyards. I never minded, which was a good thing, considering my house was smack dab in the middle of one.

The sound came again, more of a moan this time, followed by a murmur of voices. I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but people were definitely in the cemetery. One of them was scared or maybe hurt. Dad wasn’t going to like this. He locked the gate tight every night. The only way in was to scale the tall, spiked iron fence or pick the lock. Either one was going to piss him off.

In the distance, a pinpoint of light moved away from where I perched. It was too small to be a flashlight . . . maybe a cell phone?

I padded down the hall to Dad’s bedroom, calling for him. His door was ajar, and the hall light was enough to show his empty bed, the covers rumpled and thrown back as though he’d gotten up quickly. He must have heard the same thing.

His boots weren’t in their usual spot by the back door, so I knew for sure he’d gone to investigate. I had to help because Dad and I were a team, small and mighty, he said. We always made it through everything together.

In my hurry I forgot to stop the screen door from slamming behind me when I stepped out onto the porch, cringing when the sound echoed through the night.

I waited a moment and then whispered, “Dad,” as loudly as I dared.

No answer.

I angled toward the part of the cemetery where the small light had been, thinking I’d find him corralling some kids from high school pulling a prank. It happened once in a while but usually in a few weeks—closer to Halloween. I knew more than a handful of idiots my age who would think this was funny.

I hadn’t heard the wailing or voices since I left the house. Maybe whoever it was had left? That hopeful thought disappeared as a weird combination of worry and fear crawled up the base of my spine. Just in case it was something more menacing than kids, I hid my approach behind the cemetery’s largest and oldest tombstones. Maxwell, Bell, Ludington . . . I touched their cold granite and the mossy green lichen growing up their sides as I slid between them. I expected to find Dad by now. Where was he?

A terrible thought pushed me into full fear mode. What if the person making that horrible scream was Dad? It hadn’t sounded like him, but … what if he was out here somewhere and hurt? I had to find him!

My breath quickened and a damp sheen of sweat prickled my skin.

I sped up, more concerned with finding him than being seen. The cemetery was big, but I had to be close to where I’d spotted the light. I calmed myself long enough to pivot in a slow circle, my bare feet sliding on the dewy grass. The main gate was open, obviously where the trespassers came in—and hopefully where they’d gone out.

It was quiet and dark.

The cemetery had no lights of its own, and the glow of streetlights reached only to the second row of graves. Here and there, solar decorations shimmered for dead loved ones as cheerfully as possible but didn’t shine far enough to be helpful. The darkness didn’t hinder me. The cemetery had been my playground since preschool, so even in the dark I was able to avoid every tree root, odd stone, or divot that might trip me up.

I decided to be systematic and jogged a grid pattern, snaking through the rows. I stopped short and gasped at the next turn. A body was slumped against the base of my favorite statue, a white marble angel holding a sword and shield.

“Dad!”

He didn’t move. In two quick strides, I was at his side. “Dad!”

I gave his shoulder a gentle shake, and his head tipped sideways.

“Oh my god! Wake up!”

I needed a better look and found the light on my phone. What I saw scared me even more. Dad’s face was pale, his eyes unfocused. I needed help—fast!

Dialing 911 seemed impossibly slow for three simple numbers.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“It’s – it’s my dad. He won’t wake up.”

“What’s your location?”

“I’m in the city cemetery. My dad is the caretaker here.”

“What’s your name?”

“C-Chloe Cowyn.”

“Okay, Chloe, can you check whether your dad’s breathing?”

I bent low and placed my face close to Dad’s mouth. “I don’t think so. Please hurry!”

This didn’t make sense. Had someone hit him? I didn’t see any blood. I swept my eyes over his legs and arms—stopping abruptly at what I saw.

“Nooooo.”

At first, I thought the wailing had returned, until I realized that I was the one making the sound eerily like what woke me.

“Chloe, are you okay? I have help on the way. Stay on the line with me until they arrive.”

“No. No. No.” My cell phone dropped from my hand as I backed away.

Tears blurred my view until I could no longer see the needle stuck in my dad’s arm.

***

Excerpt from BEYOND THE CEMETERY GATE: The Secret Keeper’s Daughter by Valerie Biel. Copyright 2024 by Valerie Biel. Reproduced with permission from Valerie Biel. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Valerie Biel

Valerie Biel writes books for middle grade to adult audiences–stories inspired by her travels and her insatiable curiosity. Her award-winning, young adult fantasy series, Circle of Nine, was inspired by the myth and magic of Ireland’s ancient stone circles. She’s also the author of Haven, a contemporary middle grade novel, and Beyond the Cemetery Gate, a YA mystery suspense story. She helps other authors with their book promotion and marketing and frequently teaches writing workshops to students of all ages. When Valerie’s away from the computer, you might find her wrangling her overgrown garden, traveling the world, and reading everything she can get her hands on. Once upon a time, she graduated from the University of Wisconsin with degrees in journalism and political science. She lives with her husband on a (tiny) portion of her family’s century-old farm in rural Wisconsin, but regularly dreams of finding a cozy cottage on the Irish coast where she can write and write.

Catch Up With Valerie Biel:
ValerieBiel.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads – @valerie_biel
BookBub – @ValerieBiel
Instagram – @ValerieBielAuthor
Threads – @ValerieBielAuthor
X – @ValerieBiel
Facebook – @ValerieBielBooks
YouTube – @ValerieBielAuthor

 

 

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