Posted in Author, Bewitching Book Tours, blog, Book, Mystery, Paranormal, Writer

Poison my Pretty by Amity Allen – Release day Blitz

16/02/17

 

 
Poison My Pretty
Amity Allen
Genre: Paranormal Cozy Mystery
Date of Publication: February 16, 2017
ASIN: B01MYNTAE8
Word Count: 50,000
Cover Artist: Rachel Olson at No Sweat Graphics
Book Description:
As soon as Poppy Parker turns 21, the star of a popular TV show about witch detectives discovers she has supernatural powers off the set as well as on. When the show is canceled, she returns home to figure out how to harness the magic brewing inside her.
Freaked out by these recent paranormal gifts, Poppy just wants to fit in, so when she’s asked to serve as a judge for the annual Bloomin’ Belles youth beauty competition she readily agrees.
But when the pageant’s snooty director drops dead and Poppy’s friend is arrested,
the former TV sleuth sets out to uncover the real killer, only to find…
the business of beauty can be deadly.

Amazon

Excerpt:

Skylar’s twin
sister Mads called while I was driving to the convention center. “Are you
really going over there? I can’t believe they’re going to continue this
pageant.”
“So you heard
about the murder?”
“Yeah. Skylar
told me last night when she got home. It’s awful.”
“Yes, but you
know how it is. The show must go on! Surely you can’t be that surprised.” I was
only beginning to understand the importance of these competitions to their
participants, and I could picture pageant moms dragging their glitzed-up
toddlers over the dead bodies of fallen competitors. The way zombies climbed
over each other to get to the top of the pile in movies—only prettier.
“Are they sure
it was a murder? She didn’t just have a heart attack or something?” I could
hear the anxiety creeping into Mads’ voice, and I didn’t blame her. Our little
town was supposed to be safe. Murders didn’t happen here. That was the sort of
thing that happened in the city across the bridge, not in our sleepy little
bedroom community.

 

“That’s what
they said, Mads, but I don’t think you need to worry. If it was a murder, you
can bet it was personal. Certainly not the doin’s of a mad man or a serial
killer. If Heather Morgan was murdered, it was by somebody who knew her and had
something to gain from her death. This was no a random act of violence.”

About the Author:

Amity grew up reading every mystery she could get her hands on, burning through everything by Agatha Christie in record time and wanting to be Nancy Drew when she grew up. After writing books in other genres for the past few years, she’s finally come home to her true love – cozy mysteries.
Amity and her husband live in L.A. (lower Alabama) with a houseful of teenagers and a half dozen pets. Besides books, Amity’s favorite things are football, needlepoint, fried shrimp, and sweet tea.
Sign up for Amity’s Book Club: http://eepurl.com/coqgxX

Text MYSTERY to 24587 for new release alerts.


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted in #Giveaway, Author, blog, Book, Mystery, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, suspense, Thriller, Writer

The Girl at the Bar by Nicholas Nash – Book Tour + #Giveaway

15/02/17

The Girl at the Bar
By Nicholas Nash
Genre: Thriller, Suspense, Mystery
Rebecca, a brilliant cancer researcher, disappears after a one-night stand
with a neurotic man with a questionable past.
Her sudden disappearance in the midst of a high-stakes quest to cure
cancer between two rival billionaires sets into motion an
inexplicable chain of events as the bodies start to pile up.
No one knows why she disappeared. The race to find answers ensnares
everyone around her, one of whom is a deeply disturbed psychopath
lurking in the shadows.
Is Rebecca still alive? What happened to her? Who did it? And why?
Questions about her vex everyone looking for answers. No one can be
trusted and no one is above suspicion…

Please join Quill & Ink Book Tours in supporting Nicholas Nash’s debut release,

The Girl at the Bar.

http://thndr.me/fs6hw4

Nicholas Nash is the exciting new author of The Girl At The Bar, a
psychological thriller about the mysterious disappearance of a
brilliant cancer researcher and the quest to find what happened to
her. Nicholas resides in the concrete jungle of Manhattan in New York
City with his wife and three children and enjoys every moment of it.
An accomplished finance professional, he has a passion for reading
fiction and non-fiction books which inspired him to write an
intriguing thriller. Nicholas hopes you enjoy his work.
Nicholas can be reached at:
Posted in #Book, #Giveaway, Action, Author, blog, Book, Crime, Mystery, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Thriller, Tour, Writer

The Kramer and Shadow by Greg Smith – Book Tour+ #Giveaway

09/02/17

The Pits
Kramer and Shadow Book 1
by Greg Smith
Genre: Crime Mystery, Action, Thriller
THE PITS, a contemporary crime novel, tells the story of Captain Kramer,
USMC, a compassionate, intelligent man, who rescues a pup from the
scene of a car bombing while on deployment to Afghanistan. The pup is
named Shadow, and accompanies Kramer back to Oceanside, California.
They commit themselves to a campaign which has them fighting for
their lives during an FBI operation to bring down a crime boss based
in Florida.
 mt-excerpt

The Humvees sped past people milling about, pointing at the smoke still towering over the town of Gereshk and jabbering loudly among themselves. Women and children huddled together here and there away from the road, and the elderly gaped at the armored convoy racing into hell.

The town itself was quite built up but very poor and the sewage trails ran down the streets in open channels. Leathernecks would be covered in it when they finished their patrols. Kids ran around in it barefooted.

The Humvees arrived at the town’s central marketplace and instantly found themselves mobbed by hysterical townsfolk. The Marines dismounted and immediately secured the area as the corpsman pushed his way through the tumult towards the blast site. Captain Kramer, 1st Battalion, 1st Marines, Regimental Combat Team 6 held his ground against the terrified and angry locals wailing in his face, some even tugging at his uniform for attention.

He needed to assess the situation. Apart from his Humvees, no other vehicles occupied the square. His troops had rapidly secured the perimeter and a couple now assisted the corpsman. A gritty cloud of smoke and dust shrouded the entire area but drifted away over the rooftops, aided by a breeze that had mercifully sprung up.

Sure enough, a car bomb. A huge scorched crater marked where the car had been parked outside a building. The remains of the vehicle lay in a smoldering, mangled heap halfway across the square with the Explosive Ordnance Disposal technicians sifting through it. Rubble, pieces of metal, the dead, dying, and the injured lay strewn about the whole marketplace. Kramer’s boot bumped something as he stepped forward, and his eyes snapped to his feet. A bloody hand lay palm up. An innocent child’s hand.

His demeanor hardened, and the mob fell back as if it sensed the deadliness building up inside the warrior. Reports flooded in to him as his troops called in with updates. Without hesitation, the radio tech who kept close by Captain Kramer as he prowled the devastated marketplace flashed the news to base headquarters. Among the townsfolk still milling about, a few local officials, including the police chief, worked with the Marines to clear the area of unnecessary personnel.

Close by, a handful of weeping men loaded a civilian pickup truck with bodies, each wrapped in blood-soaked cloth. A group of distraught women mixed with them, wailing and grasping at each bundle being handled. Overwrought by their gruesome task, they were totally oblivious of the poor bewildered individual sitting quietly among their shuffling feet.

A runty tan pup sat sorrowfully beside one particular body. Occasionally it raised a paw and tentatively touched the bloody cloth, or prodded it with its nose. Kramer observed transfixed as the pup peered at the people, then at the small bundle of cloth, then at the people again. Then the pup nuzzled the bundle as if trying to awaken the person wrapped inside.

A grief-stricken man knelt and reverently lifted the tiny body. Judging by his age, he’s likely the father. As he stood, the pup whimpered as if to say, hey, wait a moment. The wailing increased as hands passed the body up to a blood-streaked villager standing in the back of the pickup. Just as he turned to place the bundle with the others, a gust of wind flipped up a corner of the cloth, revealing a tiny hand. Instinctively, Kramer felt that it belonged to a very young girl.

With the last victim onboard, the pickup started up and pulled away. The men and women mourners followed close behind trying to comfort each other as best as they could. The procession gradually left the square, disappearing from view as a waiting throng swarmed after it as it passed into a nearby street.

A strange silence fell over the square. It seemed as if the few remaining locals and all the Marines had their attention riveted on the lonely pup still sitting in the road. It hadn’t left that spot in all this time. Now it sat there staring after the pickup and those following it.

Captain Kramer crossed the street and gently lifted the pup. An expression of pure unadulterated love met his eyes. A light sparkled behind those dark brown eyes that he couldn’t describe. He just felt it.

“Well, hello there, little guy. Looks like everyone’s gone and left you all alone. Ain’t fair, is it? What say I do something about that.”

The pup didn’t squirm or attempt to get away. It merely fixed its eyes on him as if it knew that this person would care for it, keep it safe, and maybe even feed it occasionally. As the six-foot-six Kramer cradled the puny creature in his arms, he was oblivious to the gazes directed his way from all around the square.

 

You Can Run
Kramer and Shadow Book 2
Captain Kramer, USMC, and his faithful four-footer partner, Sgt. Shadow,
USMC, both survive their first operation assisting the FBI in
bringing down the empire of a major crime boss in America. But more
is in store for the two Marines in yet another FBI operation to tie
up loose ends from the previous op. This time the action is more
intense and proves too costly for the Marines.
 mt-excerpt

She scrambled on her hands and knees, worming her way deep into the thick underbrush. Her lungs and throat burned from frantic breathing. The pain of branches and rocks tearing and bruising her skin went unfelt. Terror coursing through her young body immunized her senses to any injuries.

She bumped into the base of a tree, its rough bark scraping her face. Her arms wrapped around the trunk welcoming the sense of security offered. The girl shuffled around and leaned her back against the tree and drew her knees up to her chest.

She squeezed her eyes tight and listened.

Blood pounded in her ears. She struggled to dampen the infernal noise and gradually her hearing cleared. At first there was nothing then suddenly she heard it—a distant crackling and popping. Her brow wrinkled in concentration as she worked to put a name to the sound. Her eyes flew open. Fire.

Despite the dense underbrush and the distance she had placed between herself and the house, she spotted the flickering light. Night lay thick and heavy all around her and there was no mistaking the flames reaching out through her bedroom window. Tears ran down her face and sobs racked her as images of her parents flashed before her mind’s eye.

“Sarah, time for bed, dear.” Her mother had sent her off to bed early tonight because her father wanted to leave at first light tomorrow morning. It was to be the family’s first vacation to Disney World and the young twelve year old was ecstatic, to say the least. She argued she didn’t think she could sleep a wink but her mother still insisted she try.

Sleep must have snuck up on her because the house was totally dark when the crash of splintering wood jerked her wide-awake. At first she thought she dreamt the noise, but as she sat up in bed wondering, sound of glass shattering came from somewhere downstairs, toward the front of the house. Then she heard the back door burst open.

She leapt out of bed and dashed to the bedroom door. Sarah remembered watching her mother ease it close and blowing her a goodnight kiss. Now she stood at the top of the stairs staring fearfully down into the darkness. Her parents’ room lay at the bottom of the staircase. Suddenly her father threw the door open, startling her. A shaft of light spilled from the bedroom throwing his shadow starkly against the opposite wall. He stared up at her wild-eyed for a second, and swiveled his head back and forth as chaotic sounds came from both ends of the house.

“Get back in your room and close the door, Sarah,” he hissed.

But before she could do as ordered something caught her father’s attention and he turned from her. He was a large man, strongly built, and his frame blocked the passage to the kitchen at the back of the house. Sarah took a tentative step down the stairs when her father must have noticed someone coming from the living room up front.

“What the dickens is going on?” her father shouted. “Who are you? What the hell do you want? You have no right—”

Everything seemed to happen at once.

Sarah’s mother appeared. Her face contorted with fear, her eyes snapping up at her young daughter. Sarah’s father braced himself as a figure charged at him out of the dark. As the two collided in a melee of swinging fists, another man joined the fray. He must have come from the kitchen.

Her mother screamed. Sarah screamed even louder. Her ear-piercing screech resounded in the house, now a scene of an ugly brawl.

“Get out. Now!” Father’s muffled command came from inside the tangle of bodies on the floor.

Sarah’s mother attempted to move to the stairs but a hand lashed out from the scuffle, seized her ankle, and brought her crashing down hard. The woman’s head struck the bottom hardwood stair with a dull crack. A trickle of blood seeped down her face as she stared up at Sarah in horror.

“Grab the kid.” The voice belonged to one of the house invaders.

A sudden thunderous roar rose out of the fighting and with herculean effort, father heaved himself up sending one of the strangers hurtling down the passage. The other pulled something dark and ugly from his belt.

An explosion filled the hallway. Sarah’s hands flew to her ears as she let out a long, high-pitch shriek. Her father toppled to the floor, but not before his shocked and sorrowful expression seared itself into the young girl’s mind.

She turned and bolted.

Toys and clothes littered her room but these she simply ran around or jumped over. She focused on her bedroom window—her only avenue of escape.

Her hands grabbed the wooden frame and, using all her youthful strength, she hefted the window up. Fear clutched her throat. She could barely make out the ground some twelve feet below. Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Sarah held her breath, said a very short prayer, and flung herself into the night.

Judo and gymnastic lessons at school came into play and she tucked and rolled as she hit the ground. She sprang to her feet and ran straight for the forest bordering the family property.

Now, hunkered down and shivering from shock and fear, the girl was mesmerized by the sight of her home burning. Regarded as inquisitive by everyone who knew her, Sarah always had a question to pose. Even as her tears glistened in the glow of the fire her mind raced.

If the strangers were after her why hadn’t they simply come through her bedroom window? Why did they break into the house so savagely? And why, oh why, did they have to hurt her parents like they did?

A man emerged from the house. Instinctively Sarah froze; every muscle taut. Only her eyes moved. They followed the man as he walked the edge of the flames, his figure silhouetted against the fiery glare. He reached the area where Sarah’s bedroom used to be and stared at the conflagration. He glanced up as his partner came from around the rear of the house and joined him.

The two men stood for a long moment, gesturing at the fire and each other. Sarah guessed from their body language they were angry, probably at how the night’s events had turned out. One of the men looked down, fingers scratching his chin as if he were in deep thought. Suddenly his whole body stiffened and he dropped to one knee. He touched the ground with his fingertips and his head turned slowly as his eyes tracked a line of some sort.

His arm rose and pointed straight at the tree. Right where Sarah hid.

Fear seized her. She could not breathe. Cold sweat appeared along her hairline and trickled down her chest. Her stomach lurched and the sudden urge to vomit swept over her as bile boiled up her throat. She shot to her feet. She had to run, had to—.

A man blocked her escape. Someone she hadn’t seen before. He grabbed a handful of her hair.

“Gotcha, ya little minx,” he hissed close to her ear, and louder, “Over here, guys. I have the kid. She ain’t going nowhere.”

 

Lex Talionis
(An Eye For an Eye)
Kramer and Shadow Book 3
A woman out for revenge. America took her husband. America will pay
10,000 fold!

Only Kramer and his Anatolian Shepherd, Shadow, stand in her way. But
will they be enough to stop her?

mt-excerpt

It is rare for most people to experience the real meaning of ‘dead weight.’

It was equally strange for the thought to come to mind as Kramer muscled the man into a sitting position against a garishly painted door. It wasn’t the first time he’d needed to handle the dead. He studied his handiwork. For all intents and purposes, the figure appeared to be asleep.

Kramer surveyed the alley and the ancient balconies overhead checking for witnesses. No one. A last glance at his handiwork, then he slipped away from the scene.

He had to catch up with his target. The man he was following had entered the medina, or old walled city, of Tangier from the port and headed directly into the warren of alleyways. He was wearing white cotton slacks and a bluish grey lightweight jacket and a white fedora all of which made him somewhat of an easy figure for Kramer to tail.

Although his Global Security Corporation partners, Darci Tucker and his wife, Maria, hadn’t said as much when they pressured him gently into this assignment, Kramer was well aware that it was done out of their concern for him.

The flight from Los Angeles to London to Amsterdam had provided the retired United States Marine major more than enough time for circumspection and for the ugly truth to reveal itself. Losing his parents and his fiancée, FBI Special Agent Sarah Hunter, thirty months ago, had decimated Kramer’s life and left him intolerable company for anyone, especially his close friends. Darci and Maria needed a break from him as much as he needed a new focus and a chance to reprioritize his life.

So here he was in Tangier, Morocco, three weeks after leaving LA, tailing a man they suspected had ties with Shelley Harper—a woman at the top of INTERPOL’s ‘most wanted’ list as well as those of most governments worldwide. For Kramer though, the reasons for hunting down the elusive Harper were by far more personal than anyone else’s.

Ahead a shaft of sunlight snapped off a bluish grey jacket and white fedora. Kramer quickened his pace. A minute later he stood at the junction of four alleyways.

As he scanned the crowds strolling the centuries old terraced alleys, Kramer was oblivious of the many things the Moroccan port of Tangier offered travellers—the sense of exotic mystery, interesting history, beautiful vistas and unspoiled beaches.

One of his favorite movies, The Bourne Ultimatum, had used the medina for one of its glamorous backdrops but it hadn’t prepared Kramer for the spice-filled air with its intriguing aromas that permeated the ancient city.

He overheard a tourist enquire after Bab Haha from a street stall owner who waved a dark olive skinned arm at one of the intersecting alleys. Kramer instinctively glanced in that direction and happened to catch sight of his target. He lit out after Fedora.

Kramer’s situational awareness was as keen as ever but he couldn’t be certain that his unfortunate assailant had merely been a street thug or someone protecting Fedora. The assignment was supposed to be a simple task of arriving at an address in Cairo where GSC had been informed they would locate the fedora-wearing courier. From there all Kramer need do was to shadow the man to his next meeting and capture everything on video, upload the file to Maria at GSC headquarters in California and await further orders.

It all sounded simple enough. Right up to the point that joker jumped Kramer in the medina alley flashing a dagger. That part wasn’t in the script.

A gap in the buildings afforded him a glimpse of the ancient fortifications of the Tangier Kasbah that loomed over the medina. Moments later Kramer found himself standing before Bab Haha. It proved to be one of the several doors or gates that lead into the Kasbah.

Kramer glanced at the map to the left of Bab Haha that highlighted the walk tourists could take around the Kasbah. Overall, the ancient fortified area looked surprising small.

He spotted Fedora weaving through the populace and followed it. Houses lavishly decorated with sculptures of cherubs, colorful shutters and balconies flanked the alley that took him into the Place du Méchouar. He fended off the hordes that descended upon him begging for money or trying to sell something, dodged past the snake charmers and dancers, and skipped around gawking groups of tourists.

At first he Fedora intended to enter the Kasbah Museum but then he ducked through an unassuming door off to its side. The sign over the entrance welcomed Kramer in several languages to enter Les Fils du Detroit, helpfully translated underneath as The Sons of the Strait. He stepped in and found himself transported back in time.

The ten by sixteen feet room proved to be a tiny café. Several people, mainly locals, occupied the two narrow rug-covered bench seats that ran the length of the room. The walls were covered in Moroccan tapestries and numerous old framed photographs hung precariously above the patrons’ heads. A couple of circular, hand beaten bronze tables took some valuable space from the narrow floor and carried several small glasses of mint tea.

The customers paid scant attention to Kramer as he joined them. They continued sipping their hot drinks while a group of four elderly Arab-Andalusian musicians held a jam session at the far end of the room. The authentic melodies and ambiance recreated Morocco’s rich, cultural past.

Kramer accepted a glass of tea and whipped out a tourist guide from his back pocket. He pretended to read it, glancing occasionally at the musicians when, in fact, his focus was really on his target seated opposite.

The man was in his mid-30s, olive skin, lanky, sported a pencil-thin moustache, and wire-rimmed glasses that framed deep-set dark brown eyes. Thick black, wavy hair flowed from under the fedora and skimmed the collar of his jacket.

He leaned close to an older gentleman dressed in the traditional neutrally colored Moroccan djellaba; a long, loose, hooded garment with long sleeves. The craggy weather-beaten face was topped by a black bernousse, or Fez, and a silvery white beard completed the classical Arabic countenance. Both men were deep in conversation.

Kramer shifted slightly to align himself with his target. Once back in his hotel room he would upload the image and audio file from the second button on his shirt.

Darci Tucker, CEO of Global Security Corporation, had designed the ultra high-tech surveillance device. His wife, Maria, would work her digital wizardry to garner every bit of intelligence from it in order to create the next link in the chain that would hopefully lead them closer to Shelley Harper.

All three had a score to settle with the woman.

 

The advent of retirement opened a whole new world to me and now that it
has come to pass, I am turning my artistic bent from graphic design
and illustration to that of writing.
To date I have published three books, KILLING SOFTLY (an erotic mystery
thriller), and begun an action crime series centered on two
characters, Captain Kramer, USMC and his Anatolian Shepherd dog, Sgt.
Shadow, USMC. Book One of the series is THE PITS, Book Two is YOU CAN
RUN, and at the time of this bibliography rewrite, I am working on
Book Three, LEX TALIONIS.
The Kramer and Shadow series is an action, adventure, crime thriller
series that encompasses the world and has our two Marines fighting
hard against organized crime at many levels – but always involving
do-or-die confrontations.
My hope is to establish a fan base for my writing so that my readers can
have an active role in helping me grow and develop as an author in
the years to come. I invite you to join me in this adventure.

 

 
Posted in #Book, Author, blog, Book, Mystery, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Writer

A Reference to Murder by Kym Roberts – Cover Reveal

09/02/17

A REFERENCE TO MURDER
by Kym Roberts
Genre: Cozy Mystery

Pub Date: 5/16/2017

SOMETIMES YOU GET WHAT YOU NEED .. .
Charli Rae Warren is back home in Hazel
Rock, Texas, spending her time reading, collecting, and selling
books—at least, the ones that don’t get eaten first by her
father’s pet armadillo. Running the family bookstore is a demanding
job, but solving murders on the side can be flat out dangerous…
The Book Barn is more than just a shop,
it’s a part of the community—and Charli is keeping busy with a
fundraising auction and the big rodeo event that’s come to town.
That includes dealing with the Texas-sized egos of some celebrity
cowboys, including Dalton Hibbs, a blond, blue-eyed bull rider who
gets overly rowdy one night with the local hairdresser . . . and soon
afterward, disappears into thin air.
Dalton’sbrother also vanished seven years ago—and Charli is thrown about
whether Dalton is a villain or a victim. After a close call with an
assailant wielding a branding iron (that plays havoc with her hair),
and some strange vandalism on her property, she’s going to have to
team up with the sheriff to untangle this mystery, before she gets
gored . . .
Three career paths resonated for Kym
Roberts during her early childhood: detective, investigative
reporter, and . . .nun. Being a nun, however, dropped by the wayside
when she became aware of boys—they were the spice of life she
couldn’t deny. In high school her path was forged when she took her
first job at a dry cleaners and met every cop in town, especially the
lone female police officer in patrol. From that point on there was no
stopping Kym’s pursuit of a career in law enforcement. Kym followed
her dream and became a detective who fulfilled her desire to be an
investigative reporter, with one extra perk—a badge. Promoted to
sergeant, Kym spent the majority of her career in SVU. She retired
from the job reluctantly when her husband dragged her kicking and
screaming to another state, but writing continued to call her name,
at least in her head. Visit her on the web at kymroberts.com.
 

 

Posted in #Book, #Giveaway, Author, blog, Book, Fantasy, Mystery, Paranormal, Sale, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Tour, Writer

Buried Secrets by Elizabeth Meyette – Book Sale + #Giveaway

04/02/17

Buried Secrets
Sequel to The Cavanaugh House
by Elizabeth Meyette
Genre: Paranormal Mystery
When Jesse Graham almost runs over a “body” in the road one night, she
is plunged into a labyrinth of secrets, lies and murder. All Jesse
wants is a simple life teaching at St. Bart’s… and a chance at
love with Joe Riley. She realizes that plan has been thwarted when
puzzling occurrences at St. Bartholomew Academy for Girls get
increasingly dangerous. The danger doesn’t just spring from the
ghost who haunts the grounds of St. Bart’s, but from a sinister
presence that is not ghostly at all. As she digs into the mystery,
threats on her life and the life of her student escalate.
Which danger threatens her life the most? The ghost haunting her student or
the secrets buried in the school?
**Can easily be read as a standalone!**
On Sale for .99 cents!!
The Cavanaugh House
by Elizabeth Meyette
About the Book

When Jesse Graham unlocks the door to the deserted house she inherited
from her Aunt Helen, she doesn’t realize she’s unlocking secrets
that had lain dormant for years. Reeling from a broken engagement to
acclaimed musician Robert Cronmiller, Jesse wants to leave the city
where her name is linked to his in all the society pages. Her best
friend Maggie, aka Sister Angelina, convinces her to take a job at a
private girls school in the pastoral Finger Lakes region of upstate
New York. Anticipating a quiet, revitalizing life in her aunt’s
deserted house, Jesse is instead thrown into a maze of danger.
Questions about her aunt’s death lead Jesse to investigate events
surrounding it and the people involved, but she uncovers a web of
deceit that reaches far beyond the occurrences of over two decades
earlier. Still dejected from her broken engagement, Jesse finds it
difficult to trust anyone, even her self-absorbed mother. Joe Riley
is irresistible, but secrets obstruct involvement with him until
Jesse can solve the secrets of the Cavanaugh House. Someone doesn’t
want those secrets unearthed and will stop at nothing, even murder,
to keep them hidden.

Author, blogger and believer in dreams-come-true, Elizabeth Meyette fell in
love with books as a child when her sister read her Goldilocks and
the Three Bears. “She had me at ‘Once upon a time…’,”
Elizabeth admits. A native of upstate New York, Elizabeth now lives
in West Michigan with her husband Richard. She retired early from
teaching to pursue her passion: writing. “Yes, I hear voices in
my head and I give them names and call them characters.”
Elizabeth describes her books as “a little mystery, a little history, a
little romance.” She has also written several children’s books
are in line for publication in the near future. Her poetry has
appeared in various anthologies.
A native of upstate New York, Elizabeth now lives in Michigan with her
husband Richard. They have an agreement that she cannot cook on
writing days after he endured burnt broccoli and dry chicken.
Fortunately, Rich is an excellent cook.
Posted in Authors, blog, Book, Historical, Mystery, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Tour, Writers

A Walk Between the Winds By Toni Morrow Wyatt & Margaret Chism Morrow – Book Tour + #Giveaway

25/01/17

A Walk Between the Winds
By Toni Morrow Wyatt & Margaret Chism Morrow
Genre: Historical Mystery
Haunted by a Spirit Warrior, Soft Morning Mist, a young woman of the Skuna
River Chickasaw tribe, feels trapped into a marriage she does not
want.
When her friend, Swamp Lily, disappears, Soft Morning Mist suspects foul
play when a lecherous, old man from the Hatchie River tribe accosts
her. The mournful howls of a dog lead her to Swamp Lily’s body. As
rumors of suicide circle, she fights to prove it was murder.
wbw-excerpt

Part I

Summer 1563

Skuna River Village

Ancient Chickasaw Domain

Chapter One

Cold beads of perspiration ran down Soft Morning Mist’s face and onto her neck in the sweltering thatched hut. The drops tickled as they trickled down the crevice between her bare breasts.

Surprised at her nakedness, she did not understand why she was dressed in only a short, white deerskin skirt. Instinctively, she crossed her arms to hide her protruding nipples. Only small children and married, nursing women of the Chickasaw tribe were allowed to bare their breasts. She was neither. None of this made sense.

Through the open doorway, the white-hot brilliance of the midday sun generated oppressive heat. Her hut was situated on a grassy mound of earth. Similarly constructed huts spanned out around her. It was a village she had never seen before, full of gardens with beautiful flowers. She sniffed the air and smiled as a variety of fragrances titillated her nose. These surroundings didn’t resemble any of the Chickasaw villages she had ever been in. It didn’t have the telltale long footpath that led from one end to the other. There weren’t any familiar round log houses constructed for winter warmth. Where was she?

The sudden awareness of a presence behind her prickled her skin. As she struggled to turn her body, a rope bit into the flesh around her ankles. 
An old woman’s voice spoke in a dialect she hadn’t heard since early childhood. Dancing Swallowtail, her grandmother, had taught the rival Natchez language to her. Dancing Swallowtail had been born a Natchez, but the hated Choctaw had taken her captive.

Later, during a raid of her prisoning village, a brave Chickasaw warrior named Bull Elk had rescued her. He fell in love with her at first sight. They married, and she gave him four, brave Chickasaw sons. They were all dead now, except for Soft Morning Mist’s own father, Twitching Weasel.

The woman’s voice reminded Soft Morning Mist of her grandmother, but she knew it could not be. Both Dancing Swallowtail and Bull Elk had died in a fire when she was twelve winters old.

As she listened to the nearly forgotten language, the dialect gradually became clear. The hair on the back of Soft Morning Mist’s neck and arms stood on end. The wicked voice flowed into her mind like ice water seeping from a moss covered rock wall. The spirit of death couldn’t have sounded more evil.

The woman paced to where they could make eye contact. “You’re wondering what you’re doing here and who I am. Let me start by saying, I hated Dancing Swallowtail, my half-sister. I sold her as a slave to the cruel Choctaw traders. That’s right, I paid them to take her captive.”

She came closer. Her stinking breath assaulted Soft Morning Mist.

“I’ll never allow you to become the future Great Sun’s mate. I’ll see that you accompany his sick uncle into the world beyond. There’ll be no poison to render you unconscious, providing you with a merciful death. You don’t deserve that courtesy. Suffering is what you’ll get. I see now that selling Dancing Swallowtail to the Choctaw was not enough. Maybe killing you will finally appease my loathing.”

She rose and walked to a place where Soft Morning Mist could no longer see her. From the darkness came laughter: a steady trill that grew into a cold, gushing stream.

“No Natchez marriage for you, granddaughter of Dancing Swallowtail. Only death.”

 

As a child, Toni Morrow Wyatt’s family spent nearly every summer
visiting relatives in a small, rural community in Arkansas. Finding
magic in this place, it is the setting for many of her novels. Her
love for southern fiction led to the writing of her upcoming novel, A
Killing Among Friends, and also, Return to Rocky Gap. Her work has
appeared in From the Depths Literary Journal and Belle Reve Literary
Journal. She writes an eclectic blog titled, A Pinch of Me, on
Tumblr. She was previously an independent bookseller, owning and
operating Kindred Books for seven years.
Posted in #Giveaway, Author, blog, Book, Mystery, suspense, Thriller, Tour, Writer

Neil Brand Thriller Series by Ray Dyson – Book Tour + #Giveaway

19/01/17

The Ice Cream Blonde
A Neil Brand Thriller Volume 1
by Ray Dyson
Genre: Thriller, Mystery, Suspense, Crime
Neil Brand is a former World War I soldier and disgraced ex-cop, now
running security for Harry York at York Brothers Studio in 1931
Hollywood. York has a problem with bad boy actor Johnny Cutter, who
failed to show up on the set to finish his latest picture, and Brand
is sent to find the star. In doing so, Brand uncovers a trail of
white slavery, drugs, and murder, involving famous actors and wealthy
businessmen—and a dirty cop who was once Brand’s partner on the
force. As the body count mounts, Brand tries desperately to discover
the truth—before he becomes one of the victims.
nb-excerpt

Jones noticed and grinned wider. “Where’d you put the body, Bo?”

“Be a little clearer.”

“You know what I mean. I left that bruno as a warning to Johnny Cutter. Thanks to you, Cutter didn’t get the message. Now it’s too late to warn him.”

“Didn’t think a cake-eater like Johnny Cutter would scare you that much. You’re slipping, Jonesy.”

Jones stood away from the door, balancing himself on the balls of both feet. He dropped the cigarette on the floor and ground it with his heel, his eyes not leaving mine. His right

hand dipped into his coat pocket.

“That body shows up, Bo, I’m gonna tag it to you. Should’ve thought of that in the first place. But I didn’t come here to your cage to talk about a dead torpedo who only thought he was tough. I come to see a walkin’ corpse that knows he ain’t tough. Little Bo Peep. I just wanted to see your pan to tell you that what you got the other night is comin’ back to you, Bo, and you ain’t walkin’ away again.”

“You could have phoned that in and not brought your stink.”

His right hand came out of his coat pocket holding a snub-nosed .38 Special. He squeezed off a shot that shattered the glass in the window behind me, the slug tearing into the Stage One wall. He grinned at me, slipped the gat back into his pocket, and pointed his right index finger at me.

“Tick…tick…tick.”

The Naked Nymph in the Dark Flickers
A Neil Brand Thriller Volume 2
Rachel Ann Maddon is about to become America’s next great movie star.
Adored by the camera, loved by her public, beautiful Rachel Ann has
it all, including a dark secret from her past that threatens to blow
up her promising future when her mentor and lover—a man old enough
to be her father—turns up dead. Did he fall or was he pushed? Or
did the bullet in him do the job? Either way, a homicide
investigation will be deadly publicity for Rachel Ann and her family.
Rachel Ann’s movie studio switches into high gear to protect her
teetering career, but then Neil Brand, the studio’s security chief,
uncovers a blackmail scheme over illicit sex films that threatens
other major motion picture stars. As the heat builds, the rich and
powerful scramble to get out from under. That’s when the bodies
begin to pile up.
nb-excerpt

Harless saw me and stepped to the doorway. He pointed at the black sheet. “I think that’s somebody you know. David Lemmert.”

“VanderSaant’s kid?”

“The same. I believe you’ve met.”

I shrugged. “Briefly.”

“Keep your hands in your pockets and come on in.”

Another figure wrapped in a black sheet slumped on the bed, head over the edge, arm dangling. It was a woman’s arm.

“Charlotte Lemmert?”

Harless nodded. “No gunshot wounds on either body. No marks of any sort that indicate something of a violent nature. Cabin undisturbed.”

“No one to hear. No one to see.”

“That’s right,” he said. “Looks like David Lemmert managed to get the cabin door open before he dropped dead. We found a snub-nosed Smith and Wesson .38 Special with a full chamber on the floor beside him.”

I frowned. “One cabin?”

“Adjoining cabins. Figures out to around two grand for the trip.”

“That’s a lot of kale. I had the hunch these two were on their uppers.”

“Any idea how they bought it?”

“We’ll know more when the coroner gets them.”

“Hunch?”

“Same one you got. It ain’t hard to figure.” He eyed me stonily, went on. “What we don’t have are any witnesses. We can pin it down pretty solid. Looks like they bought it late last night. Ship was to sail this morning and it was a pretty busy place last night. You could probably have slipped a marimba band on board without it being seen.”

“You’ve got people to see, Frank. Why bring me down here?”

“Might be the people we want to see belong to your pal Harry York in one way or another. Thought I’d give you a heads up.”

“I’ll tell you this, Frank. Harry no longer cares about any of them. There’ll be no interference. No stall. No more payoffs.”

He nodded. “I figured that since we got access to Metcalf and to the Maddon doll without strings it was shaking out that way.”

“I figure I’ll be seeing some of those people in the course of business.”

“Go ahead, Neil. At least one of them already knows we’re on our way.”

Ray Dyson first took up writing in Evansville, Indiana, far enough back
that not only is the house he was born in no longer there, neither is
the street. He had a short career as a baseball player, but a long
career as a newspaperman whose gigs included crime reporter, sports
reporter and sports editor. He is also a noted Western historian. He
is the author of the baseball book, Smokey Joe: A Baseball Fable, a
tale of legendary pitcher Smokey Joe Hood. That book, and Bannon: The
Scavenger Breed, involve members of the Bannon family: Joel Patrick
the main character in Bannon, and his grandson, Henry Louis Bannon,
an outfielder in Smokey Joe. His mystery novel, The Ice Cream Blonde,
set in the Hollywood of the early 1930s, follows York Studios
security chief Neil Brand as he solves the murder of a famous movie
star mixed up in blackmail and white slavery. His latest Neil Brand
tale, The Naked Nymph in the Dark Flickers, about a rising movie star
caught up in a treacherous blackmail scheme that turns to murder, is
now available. He lives in Mansfield, Ohio, with his family. In
retirement, he works even harder on his golf game, but with less
success.