Fiona Ingram's Blog, page 8

Book Spotlight: Going There by Donna Fletcher Crow

 

Going There is a short story collection within an account of the challenges and joys of a trip to the Riviera and Switzerland undertaken in the midst of the Covid pandemic.

 

Title: Going There: Tales from the Riviera and BeyondAuthor: Donna Fletcher Crow

Publication Date: December 3, 2023

Pages: 152Genre: Travel Memoir / Short Story Collection

In the summer of 2021 my daughter-in-law and I slipped through a brief window of sanity in a world driven mad by the Covid pandemic. Our purpose was to see my granddaughter Jane to a summer program in Monaco, then back to her ballet school in Switzerland. In spite of restrictions, protests, and nail-biting worries, the result was a marvelous experience.

I invited characters from my mystery series to join me in my imagination and have their own adventures in each setting. Their encounters are: Nice: “The Crime of Passion”; St Tropez: “The Mother Decrees”; Villefrance-sur-de-mer: “The Ghost Boy”; Monaco: “Fracas in Monaco”; The Loire Valley: “The Old Winemaker”;  Saint Gallen: “Whispers of Legend”.

The final coda is “Home Another Way” As 2 years later I return from quite a different trip aboard the Queen Mary 2 and my characters join in the celebrations as worlds coincide.

More information on the book GOING THERE: TALES FROM THE RIVIERA AND BEYOND can be found at https://www.amazon.com/Going-There-Tales-Riviera-Beyond-ebook/dp/B0CPHBRVJH?ref_=ast_author_mpb.

Book Excerpt:

Le Garçon Fantôme(The Ghost Boy)The taxi stopped on the gravel driveway before the pink and white confection of Villa Ephrussi and Elizabeth clapped on her wide-brimmed straw hat as she scrambled out into the bright sunshine while Richard paid their driver. The scene was stunning every direction she looked with gardens extending from the chateau before them on to glimpses of the shining blue Mediterranean beyond their mountain perch.“Oh, Richard, this is…” her voice trailed off. Richard had already crunched past her toward the entrance to the villa. She sighed and followed.The rooms, filled with antique furniture and art treasures, followed one another in a square around the central patio of Verona marble where Béatrice Ephrussi de Rothschild had welcomed her guests. Each room was a mini museum of elegance. Their fellow tourists followed the same path, exclaiming over each new display of the eighteenth century opulence in rooms designed for luxurious entertainments: The grand salon with tables for the games Béatrice loved to play; the small salon, designed for after-dinner conversation. Regardless of the grandeur around her, though, part of Elizabeth’s mind held back. Should they have come on this trip? It had seemed such a good idea when they planned it a few months ago: Time away together from Richard’s responsibilities at the boys’ school in Oxford, a chance for her to do some research for her articles on literary figures… Somehow, it didn’t seem to be working out.Richard strode up the staircase to the first floor and Elizabeth followed. Here were the rooms for the baroness’ guests. Elizabeth paused at the blue bedroom, admiring the delicate scrollwork of the panels adorning the walls. She smiled at the tiny porcelain bird set amid the flowers of the Meissen chandelier. Elizabeth’s guide sheet told her that Béatrice had placed it there with her own hands.She pointed it out to Richard. “Isn’t it charming that she took such personal interest herself ?” “Mmm,” he said and moved on to the tapestry room. Elizabeth followed, but her mind was not on the priceless Gobelins depicting romantic scenes by Boucher. Richard’s curtness still stung. How long had he been like that? What had happened to the closeness, the sense of teamwork they had always shared? What had happened to him? Where had the twinkle in his eye gone? His playfulness, even?The beauty began to blur in Elizabeth’s mind by the time they descended to The Apartments of Béatrice, surely fit for Marie Antionette herself.  Bedroom, dressing room, bathroom… escritoire, tables, settees…It was in the boudoir that Elizabeth focused on two small pieces of furniture set apart from all the rest. A pair of elegant child-sized chairs. She gazed at them in silence for some time. Were they just interesting objet d’art the baroness picked up on a whim somewhere in her world travels? Their central placement in her own, personal space, seemed to say otherwise. Had she purchased them after her marriage, for the home she and Maurice maintained in Monte Carlo—the square-shaped one for a son she hoped to have; the one with rounded back and curving arms for a longed-for daughter?Elizabeth scanned the brochure she held, making quick calculations. Béatrice had married at 19, was married to Maurice for 21 years, divorced at the age of 40—when perhaps all hope of child-bearing was over? Three years later she threw herself into the grand building project Elizabeth saw all around her. And lived here alone, in spite of the lavish parties she threw. Elizabeth shivered.Her shiver, though, was not for her imagined sterility of the inner life of Béatrice Ephrussi de Rothschild amid her opulent surroundings. Elizabeth was thinking of their own miscarried infants and the tiny boy who arrived so early and had lived barely three hours—just long enough to receive the sacrament of baptism and be christened Richard, Jr. So long ago—some thirty years now.She continued to stand in the middle of the room, only dimly aware of the fine objects surrounding her and of the brilliant view of sky, sea and greenery beyond the pillars supporting the wide window in front of her. Until she felt a tap on her arm.“Ready to go to the gardens?” Richard asked.She nodded, pleased that he had asked.Out through the baroness’ bedroom onto the terrasse and on to the series of side gardens. Richard went on ahead, but Elizabeth stood at the information board. It wasn’t the plan of the gardens that drew her, however, but rather the photograph of Béatrice Ephrussi de Rothschild.Having just seen the lavish elegance of the woman’s life, Elizabeth was struck by the look of child-like innocence on her face. The tiny hint of a smile—surely a rival for the Mona Lisa? The round smoothness of her cheek, the clear brow with hair held back by a plain band. But the thing that struck Elizbeth most powerfully was the look of trust in the far-gazing eyes. The baroness couldn’t have been older than her mid-thirties when it was taken. By then, however, she would have been married to her Parisian banker husband for perhaps 15 years. Elizabeth’s mind went back to the empty infant chairs in the lonely chamber. By then Béatrice would have known that any hope she had of a family was unlikely to be realized. Or was the picture much younger—before any dreams she might have had were shattered?Or was Elizabeth reading her own losses into what could have been collected merely as a charming curiosity? She gave herself a shake. Perhaps the globe-trotting couple was far too busy to encumber themselves with children—or even thoughts of them. Or perhaps the Parisian socialite desired nothing more than the rare works of art she traveled the world to collect and commission like her fabulous Fabergé egg.Still, Elizabeth couldn’t shake a small feeling of sadness and disappointment behind all the elegance and stories of lavish parties. A poet had written of one when Anna Pavlova danced in the moonlit gardens to Chopin nocturnes. Yet it was the coldness of the moonlight Elizabeth felt as their feet crunched on the gravel path past banks of flaming coral flowers to the Jardin Espagnol. Elizabeth thought they were alone as they walked the length of the placid reflecting pool until she was startled by a pebble breaking the mirror surface of the still water. She turned to see who had thrown it but caught only a flicker of movement and the hint of a shadow disappearing into the verdant greenery beyond the border.“Did you—” she began, but Richard was already leading toward the Jardin à la Française. They were just about to emerge into the formal elegance of the French garden with its repetitive borders of pink roses outlining each formal bed around the myriad fountains when Elizabeth stopped to gaze up at an enormous urn surrounded by banks of delicate flowers. A trill of laughter made her turn, but there was no one there. Had she merely heard the splashing of the fountains playing in rhythmic patterns the length of the garden?She hurried forward as Richard had already covered almost the length of the long garden and was about to ascend the stairway to the small, domed temple of love that overlooked the French garden. Elizabeth frowned. Couldn’t he wait for her? Surely, they should view the temple of love together? Again, she thought of how distant, impatient, even, he had seemed of late. So unlike him. She had hoped these days on the Riviera would help them find their old closeness. She sighed.By the time Elizabeth had reached the top of the stairway to the small temple encircling the statue of the goddess Venus, there was no sign of Richard. Elizabeth consulted her map. Which of the gardens had he gone toward? The Rosarie?  The curving double stairway of the Jardin Florentin? The Jardin Exotique filled with the succulents so popular in this terrain? Elizabeth looked at the picture of the prickly cacti and shivered at the thought of Richard choosing anything so forbidding.Whether from an actual decision or mere instinct Elizabeth’s feet followed the path to the Lapidaire Stone Garden filled with antique pillars, arches, and statues of magical beasts and comic human figures. At first, she was amazed that the baroness would have chosen such whimsical figures for her garden, and then she thought of the tiny smile playing at the corners of the enigmatic mouth in the picture she had studied earlier. The lady must have had a charming sense of humor that seemed to have come out to play in this garden tucked in one of the far corners of her vast property.And then Elizabeth heard the silver laughter she thought she had only imagined before. This time far too distant from the fountains to be confused with their sound. A child’s laughter, certainly. “Hello, are you hiding from me?” She looked around. “Shall I find you?”Surely that stirring of the bushes wasn’t from any breeze. Elizabeth set out. “Ready or not, here I come.” She took purposely crunching steps across the path, then dived between two azalea bushes still sporting a few vibrant, late blossoms. A tiny giggle and a stirring of the bushes along the higher path led her up a few stone steps between two carved exotic creatures and on toward a colonnade. Elizabeth more skipped than ran, engulfed in a sense of the freedom of childhood.Now all was silent. Had her mischievous phantom child been scared off by her chase? Or did the quiet mean she was closer? She looked around. What should she do next? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Don’t you want to play anymore?”It was more a stirring of the breeze than any sound that made her turn. And there was Richard. Standing with his arms folded, leaning against a pillar supporting one of the comic figures. How long had he been observing her? Was his presence what had stopped the child playing? She drew breath to call out to Richard, but he put his finger to his lips and took a step forward.Elizabeth could only hope she had interpreted his action correctly. She turned back in the direction of the last indication of her apparition. “Don’t be frightened. This is Richard. He only looks stern. He likes children, too.” The plants between the stone gothic arches rustled and a child-sized shadow darted toward the lavabo fountain with its spouting water. But Richard was nearer. He reached the water first, dipped both hands in and held them up, trails of silver drops falling between his fingers. He scooped another handful in a cupped hand and extended it. Was he offering a drink? Or asperges? Or merely playing?Now Elizabeth didn’t hear laughter, but music. Was the elusive child singing or had he pulled a set of panpipes from a pocket? The sound continued, mingled with the breeze and trickling water, and Richard continued his offering. But Elizabeth didn’t move. She barely breathed. The moment was magical, holy.Had they encountered a real child—playing a clever game? Was it all her over-active imagination conjuring up a might-have-been from her recent melancholic thoughts? Or even a forgotten scene from her own childhood?She didn’t believe in ghosts—did she? Had the baroness, like herself, suffered loss—with the shade of that bereavement still hanging over these pleasure gardens?Or had Elizabeth been granted a glimpse of something far greater? A future still awaiting in the next world—a world without sorrow?The cessation of the music made her look up. She had been so lost in her thoughts she didn’t realize Richard had left the fountain and come to her. She blinked. He looked—he looked somehow younger, with a new light in his eyes that seemed to glow from within.He opened his arms and she walked into them with a radiant smile as they closed around her.

About the Author

Donna Fletcher Crow, Novelist of British History, is an award-winning author who has published some 50 books in a career spanning more than 40 years. Her best-known work is Glastonbury, The Novel of Christian England, a grail search epic depicting 1500 years of British history. The Celtic Cross is a 10-book series covering the history of Scotland and England from the 6th to the 20th century. 

Crow writes 3 mystery series: The Monastery Murders, contemporary clerical mysteries with clues hidden deep in the past; Lord Danvers Investigates, Victorian true-crime stories within a fictional setting; and The Elizabeth and Richard literary suspense series, featuring various literary figures. Where There is Love is a 6-book biographical novel series of leaders of the early Evangelical Anglican movement. The Daughters of Courage is a semi-autobiographical trilogy family saga of Idaho pioneers.

Reviewers routinely praise the quality of her writing and the depth of her research. Crow says she tries never to write about a place she hasn’t visited and one of her goals in writing is to give her readers a you-are-there experience.

Donna and her husband of 60 years live in Boise, Idaho. They have 4 children and 15 grandchildren, and she is an avid gardener.

Author Links  

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

TV Series review: Fool Me Once

Fool Me Once is a TV series basedon a novel of the same name by Harlan Coben. When Maya Burkett’s husband Joe iskilled brutally in an apparent mugging gone wrong, which Maya witnessed, she isshocked to see him appear on a secret nannycam a day or so later. Is he dead?Why can’t the family get the death certificate? Maya’s military past also rearsits ugly head and comes back to haunt her when a whistle-blower makes her lifea misery. Detective Sergeant Sami Kierce leads the investigation into Joe’sdeath while hiding what could be his own devastating health issues. His partneris pregnant, and they are about to tie the knot. Meanwhile the Burkett family’sconsiderable wealth has sinister origins that the matriarch and her remainingchildren are keen to cover up, as well as the secrets from their past. Was Joethe ‘good guy’ everyone says he was?

The cast includes Joanna Lumley,Richard Armitage, and Adeel Akhtar, and these actors were the drawcards for me.Joanna Lumley never disappoints and her portrayal of Judith Burkett, the grandedame (living in a truly grande maison where I could be very happy)is superb. She gaslights her recently widowed daughter-in-law and one gets the feelingshe is trying to get custody of granddaughter Lilly by having Maya declared anunfit mother. She does grande dame very well, outraged grande dameeven better, and grande dame caught in the act of a crime superbly. It’sworth watching just to see her performance. I first saw Adeel Akhtar in Sherwoodand he was outstanding. He is fabulous here as the aging detective hiding hisanxiety over the wedding and impending fatherhood coupled with his blackouts,visions, history of alcoholism, temporary paralysis, and headaches. He is partneredwith Dino Fetscher, his polar opposite – a health nut and fitness freak, and annoyinglyoptimistic. The two of them together make a hilarious team.

I wish I could rave about RichardArmitage’s performance, his presence being one of the reasons I watched thisseries. Perhaps I still have fond memories of his performance as John Thorntonin 2004 North and South. I also loved his portrayal of Thorin Oakenshieldin The Hobbit. In this series, I have no idea why he even showed up onset. There was utterly no chemistry or dynamism in his relationship with Maya (woodenlyperformed by Michelle Keegan). The two in scenes together appeared to beuncomfortable with each other. Keegan’s performance was a waste of time. Sure,she is very skinny and looks good for the camera, but she mostly pouted, postured,and stared as her acting repertoire. I found her quite boring, expressionless, andunemotional. Not helicopter pilot in the thick of battle material.

Is it worth watching? Hmm, itdepends if you want to go the extra mile and are prepared to sit through eightepisodes to finally unravel the Burkett family’s dark secrets stretching backinto the past, their pharmaceutical negligence in medication testing, whatactually happened to Maya in Afghanistan on a helicopter mission, and the truthbehind Joe’s killing. The scriptwriters dole out snippets piecemeal so thingsmight be confusing at first, but it does all come together in an incrediblereveal that draws every loose thread back into the tapestry. The plot is dark,twisted, sinister, very clever, filled with cover-ups and deception, and endswith a bang, literally. The penultimate scene is shocking and unexpected andwhen you see it, you decide that there was no other way. Joanna Lumley’sperformance here is priceless! So is her expression caught on camera…

Book Spotlight: Homecoming Chaos by D.W. Brooks

 

A dead body in the parking lot of her family’s business, a killer on the loose, and a handsome detective asking a lot of questions…

Title: Homecoming ChaosAuthor: D.W. Brooks

Publication Date: November 21, 2023

Pages: 448Genre: Romantic Suspense

Jamie Scott’s life fell apart four years ago when she broke off her engagement, turned down a dream job, and went overseas to run away from her life. Now she’s back, but the reunion is not without problems. She arrives home just in time to attend the soiree her mother planned, but she’s not prepared for what she finds—a dead employee in the parking lot.

Detective Nick Marshall is assigned to the murder case at the forensics lab owned by Jamie’s family. He meets the headstrong Jamie, but he has a job to do. And his attraction to her… well, he’s a professional.

Jamie knows the stakes are high. She has to face the past and save her parents’ business while dealing with her family drama and an uncertain future. She also has to deal with Nick, who wants her out of the way of his investigation. But fate keeps throwing them in one another’s paths… and into chaos that they both want to avoid, but neither can seem to escape.

Buy Links:

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iBooks

Book Excerpt:

The sound of the flight attendant on the loudspeaker startled Jamison Jones Scott out of her light sleep. Despite having traveled frequently in her lifetime, she still couldn’t sleep comfortably on a plane. The seat location— first-class or economy—didn’t make a difference. The plane was nearing its destination, so the passengers needed to finish filling out their declaration cards. Jamie was returning to Atlanta to stay at her parents’ home with only the clothes on her back, a computer bag, the few items of clothing in her duffel, and a stethoscope. She had nothing to declare. 

Her seatmate appeared to be sleeping through the announcements. Jamie was jealous. The four-year-old in front of her turned around and started babbling excitedly in French. She must have noticed that Jamie was finally awake. With her head still fuzzy from her nap, Jamie couldn’t completely follow the child’s rapid words, but the gist was that she wanted something from Jamie. Something about a playdate? Jamie smiled at the girl and hoped the girl’s mother would intervene. No such luck; she was asleep as well. The child eyeballed Jamie expectantly. Jamie realized she and the seatmate had started this situation by playing with the dark-haired child while they were over the ocean. Now, when she didn’t agree to the latest request, the little girl scrunched up her face to cry. 

“Nous atterrissons bientôt. Elle ne peut pas aller avec vous,” Jamie’s seatmate answered, eyes still closed. “Mais vous pourriez être en mesure de visiter. Je suis sûr qu’elle tu aimerait garder les enfants.” He grinned.

Jamie gasped while the young girl clapped. This guy had just volunteered her as a babysitter! 

“Je suis désolé, mais il se trompe. Je ne serai pas disponible,” Jamie stated. “Je parie qu’il a une surprise, pour toi.” The child looked at Jamie’s seatmate for her present and clapped again. This reply made him open his eyes. 

“Qu’est-ce que c’est? Qu’est-ce que c’est?” the child asked. Startled, her pregnant mother woke up and turned around in her seat sheepishly. 

I’m sorry, she mouthed. She made her eager daughter turn around in her seat and asked her to leave the other passengers alone. The girl was disappointed, but her mother handed her a shortbread, which made her forget the people behind her. 

Her seatmate smiled, opened his eyes, and said, “I could have given her the stuffed bear I bought. I have a daughter the same age.” He stretched gingerly. “I can’t wait to get home. I’ve been traveling for too long. What about you? Looking forward to getting home?”

Jamie thought about her return to Atlanta. She hadn’t been home in a while, so she wasn’t sure how she felt. 

Revel in the chaos. 

Revel in the chaos. 

Revel in the chaos. 

Jamie tried to live by this motto for most of her life because her life seemed to invite chaos. She learned to expect—and sometimes encourage—complications. As the plane taxied to a halt, she repeated her motto to herself. This phrase, tattooed on her right hip, particularly applied now. 

The international terminal of Hartsfield-Jackson Airport had changed since she was last there. Her brother, Jonathan, would pick her up at the baggage claim—alone, she hoped, and not sporting a clingy girlfriend. Time to re-acclimate and re-establish family bonds. Dealing with an unknown woman in her face when she wanted to spend time quietly with her brother wasn’t at the top of her to-do list.

As she waited in line to get through passport control, she thought about how she got to this point—back in Atlanta after several years abroad. She had spent two of those years working with the non-profit organization Doctors Overseas. Jamie worked in several locations, including the Central African Republic. She had her reasons for joining the charitable organization; not all were altruistic, and she kept those to herself during her entrance interview. The horrors she witnessed overseas helped her put her personal chaos into perspective. She realized her issues were nothing compared to what people endured in other parts of the world. This realization allowed her to embrace her job and enjoy what she was doing, despite the frequent threats of bodily harm. To help maintain her sanity while overseas, she traveled a lot and spent six months in Italy working with a designer friend. 

The agent summoning her snapped her out of her reverie. Handing over her passport, she said, “Nothing to declare. Coming back home for my mother’s birthday and Christmas.” 

At the check-in counter, the inspector carefully examined her and her passport photo. Jamison understood the scrutiny. At the time of that picture, she had been at the height of her glamor phase with a history of modeling and a resulting, above-average concern about how she looked. In medical school, she often showed up at rounds with perfectly coiffed hair and more than a swipe of mascara and lip gloss. 

But in Africa, those concerns fell away. Right now, Jamie was makeup-free, and a baseball cap covered her hair. She was still beautiful, but now it was a girl-next-door beauty. Jamie had high cheekbones, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, a straight nose, a square jawline, and her golden-brown skin was still smooth. She wasn’t stomping down runways anymore, as in her past life, because she had shifted her priorities. 

Her mother would hate it. 

“Welcome to Atlanta,” the inspector said as she stamped her passport. “Have a pleasant stay.”

 

About the Author

The author lives in Texas with her husband and children. She enjoys trying to stay in shape, sporadically cooking, reading (still), writing, and working on her blog. She is eternally grateful to the woman who donated a kidney to her over 5 years ago and continues to advocate for organ donation as much as she can.

Author Links  

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram

Book Trailer Spotlight: Stonebridge by Linda Griffin

 

Rynna Dalton is welcomed to Stonebridge by the ghostly presence of her mother's murdered cousin Rosalind, but both Rosalind and Cousin Ted warn her against marrying Rosalind's son. 

Title: Stonebridge
Author: Linda Griffin
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Publication Date: November 1, 2023
Pages: 256
Genre: Ghost Story/Romance

After the death of her mother, Rynna Dalton comes to live with her imperious great-grandmother and her bookish, disabled cousin Ted at Stonebridge Manor. Almost immediately she is aware of a mysterious presence, which she believes is the spirit of her mother’s murdered cousin, Rosalind. Rynna is charmed by Rosalind’s lawyer son Jason Wyatt, who courts her, and she agrees to marry him. Meanwhile Ted and Rynna become good friends. But Stonebridge holds secrets that will profoundly affect her future. Why is Ted so opposed to the match? Why does Rosalind seem to warn Rynna against it? And how far will Jason go to possess Stonebridge—and the woman he professes to love?

Buy Links:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks

 

Book Excerpt:

She negotiated the stairs one at a time, her bare feet silent on the plush carpet. Halfway down, she leaned over the banister, concentrating intently. No sound from the  direction of the music room, no stir from the servants’ hall.

       She crept in the door of the music room, where she could barely make out the shape of the piano in the darkness. A quick, furtive glance behind her and then she switched on the flashlight and swept the beam around the still room. Nothing lurked in the shadows. She tiptoed to the piano and ran the light across the keys. No visible strings or wires. 

She heard a faint murmur and snapped off the flashlight. She ducked back from the door and hid in a shadowed corner where she was sure she couldn’t be seen with the overhead light off. She waited and heard nothing more. The sound had been almost inaudible, perhaps just the old house creaking or settling.

She held her arm close to her face so she could read the faintly luminous dial of her wristwatch. It was 2:15. Easy enough to wait where she was for a few more minutes. If the pattern held, the practical joker would fall right into her trap. She leaned against the wall and kept her breathing steady and quiet. Just a few minutes more, a little patience. The house was quiet, peaceful, waiting.

Someone was in the room.

Rynna snapped on the flashlight.

No one was there. She had not heard anything to suggest anyone had come into the room, and nothing had touched her, and yet for a split-second she had been absolutely certain someone was a few feet away. She’d had such a strong kinesthetic sense of a presence that the flashlight was on before she had time for conscious thought.

She switched it off again, feeling foolish, but damn it, she had detected something. The sensation was so vivid she had a lingering memory of the other person’s scent. Or did she detect something tangible now? A faint trace of perfume? Something unfamiliar and s suggestive of roses. Now I’m imagining things, she told herself sternly. She hoped the light hadn’t given her away and she still had time to wait undiscovered for the trickster to appear.

She leaned back against the wall and waited, listening to the silence. The house was almost too quiet, as if nobody lived there. Nothing creaked or shifted or fluttered in the darkness. But for the knowledge that she didn’t have long to wait, the silence would have gotten on her nerves. As it was, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She shivered a little. Like most old houses, Stonebridge was drafty. 

The silence was oppressive and in some way alive. An inexplicable chill ran down her spine. She saw nothing, heard nothing. She didn’t even have a definite sense of someone else in the room. She was simply unnerved for no reason. For a few seconds more she stayed in the shadows of the music room and then, with an almost physical sensation, her composure shattered.

Rynna fled. She ran for the stairs and clambered up them, slipping and stumbling in the dark, half-choked by terror and gasping for breath. At the top of the stairs, she ran full tilt into someone hurrying down the hall, and before she had time to register who it was, she screamed.

 Book Trailer:
  Watch at YouTube at https://youtu.be/bHrQioFgsEo.  About the Author

Linda Griffin knew she wanted to be a “book maker” as soon as she learned to read and wrote her first story, “Judy and the Fairies,” at the age of six. She retired as fiction librarian for the San Diego Public Library to spend more time on her writing. She has had stories of every length from short shorts to novellas published in numerous literary journals, and Stonebridge is her eighth book from the Wild Rose Press. She enjoys the three R’s — reading, writing, and research–as well as Scrabble, movies, and travel. 

Author Links  

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram

Movie review: The Man Who Invented Christmas

On Christmas Day, in keeping with the theme, I decided that the movie dujour should be The Man who Invented Christmas. Thisstar-studded cast boasts some acting greats such as Christopher Plummer, IanMcNeice, Simon Callow, Donald Sumpter, Jonathan Pryce, Bill Paterson, andMiriam Margolyes. The story this time is not A Christmas Carol, themost beloved Christmas tale, but the story behind the story; how CharlesDickens came to write this 1843 novella. It makes for very interesting viewing,especially if one is a writer. The plot of the movie revolves around howDickens, facing financial failure, conceives of and writes the story in justsix weeks. He comes up with names, characters, ideas, and plot twists based onthe people and events around him. But soon one wonders if the author is writingthe book, or the characters are writing the book…

DanStevens plays Dickens rather frenetically as the somewhat self-absorbed,eccentric author who can’t stand failure and/or criticism, and very nearlyloses his friends and family while he wallows in the mire of writer’s block andthe pressure of creating a new work. The characters appear in his imaginationbut very quickly assume more corporeal proportions and offer their opinions ofhim, his attitudes, his character, his behaviour, and his words. ChistopherPlummer is utterly superb as Ebenezer Scrooge, a mean old scoundrel who knowsthe value of a penny but not of love. Can he change? Will he survive the threephantom visitations? I can’t think of any other actor being able to playScrooge with the nuances that Plummer gives the character. He is brilliant. Theexcellent supporting cast is too large to mention everyone, but Donald Sumpteris wonderful as the ghost of Jacob Marley. 

The setsare fantastic as well, giving the right atmosphere and ambiance, with famousnames of the era dropped in here and there. The audience is transported rightinto Victorian Engand. The scenes are well fleshed out, giving background tothe period, and highlighting some of the sadder social issues. Dickens, as awriter and social critic, highlights the issues and desperate plight of thepoor at the time. The movie epilogue says that Charles Dickens changed the waypeople viewed Christmas and revived the spirit of goodwill and giving. A bit ofresearch shows that yes, the novel was so wildly popular that it reinvigoratedthe Christmas season and people’s interest in an ancient custom. Is it worthwatching? Absolutely, it's a must-see. Stevens is chaotic in hisinterpretation of Dickens but the solid cast and superb performances, plus thepoignant nature of the story, make this an excellent movie to both enjoy andponder a little more thereon. This is a perennial Christmas movie the family canwatch year after year without tiring of it.

Book review: A Friend for Christmas by Mike Martin

 

A Christmas book about overcoming your fears and finding friends at Christmas. 

Title: A Friend for ChristmasAuthor: Mike Martin

Publication Date: October 20, 2023

Pages: 36Genre: Children's

Good things come to those who face their fears. 

Robbie Rabbit lived in a warren in a big city with his wife Rowena Rabbit and their nine kits. He called it their rabbit apartment. Robbie and his family were hunkering down for winter when an unexpected visitor makes an appearance. 

A Friend for Christmas is the heartwarming tale of a very brave rabbit who faces his fears and makes a new friend at the magical time of the year.  He learns that friends can come in all shapes and sizes and Robbie and his family discover the joy of Christmas.

This beautifully illustrated book is suitable for children of all ages. Especially those who still believe in the magic of Christmas.

“This lovely fable tells the story of an unlikely friendship between a family of rabbits and a gray cat named Whisper. In these war-torn times, it’s an important reminder of our innate ability to choose live over fear.” – Amazon

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://bit.ly/3FMsbN4 

Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/49ntyQ7 

My Review: A Friend for Christmas by Mike Martinis an adorable children’s Christmas story that young readers will simply love. Robbieand Rowena Rabbit have nine youngsters (called kits). All their names start withthe letter R: Rhonda, Riley, Rebecca, Rowan, Ruby, Ryan, Rose, Romeo, andRicky. With so many mouths to feed, dad Robbie must forage daily for food. It’snot easy. It’s winter, it’s snowing, and he must navigate the road and passingcars safely. But Robbie is brave and determined and he and Rowena are devoted parents.However, there’s one thing that Robbie fears the most: cats. Whenever he sees acat, he runs as fast as he can all the way home, which is the advice he givesto the youngsters. One day he meets a cat, a slinky grey cat called Whisper,that seems determined to befriend him. Robbie and Rowena are astounded. Whatstrange behavior from a cat! Can rabbits be friends with a cat?

A Friend for Christmas is a lovelystory just in time for Christmas. Mike Martin introduces the concept of friendsin all shapes, sizes and … wait for it … species! The spirit of Christmas and festivitiesfilters through with the tall creatures (humans) putting up twinkling lightsand beautiful decorations. From Whisper, Robbie and his family learn whatChristmas is all about and that sometimes the greatest gift one can give someoneis their friendship. This is the message of the festive season and one that parentswill be pleased to see in this charming story. Other positive aspects of thisbook are the lessons Robbie and Rowena teach their children about road safety, thewonderful sense of a family playing and having fun together, new friendships,and learning about animals. Youngsters will also have fun with so many ‘r’words in the rabbit family names! The illustrations are simple and clear and helpto tell the story.

About the Author

Mike Martin was born in St. John’s, NL on the east coast of Canada and now lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario. He is a long-time freelance writer and his articles and essays have appeared in newspapers, magazines and online across Canada as well as in the United States and New Zealand. He is the award-winning and best-selling author of the award-winning Sgt. Windflower Mystery series set in beautiful Grand Bank. There are now 13 books in this light mystery series with the publication of All That Glitters.

Author Links  

Website | Twitter | Facebook 

Book Spotlight: The Hope Series by E.C. Jackson

 

The Certain Hope: Twenty-one-year-oldNeka is a bit of an introvert; she also happens to be stunningly beautiful.When she discovers her friend James is about to be dumped, she sees the perfectopportunity to escape from her quiet life. Can she summon the courage to leaveit all behind? JamesCopley comes from a ruthless family. It’s rubbed off. Years ago, he disengagedfrom his brother’s smear campaign, but now his father has offered him anultimatum, “Get married or lose your seat at the table.” Plotting to stamp hisdesign on the family business, he proposes to a woman, even though he doesn’tlove her. But his carefully laid plans start to unravel when she leaves him onthe day she’s due to meet his family. Could years of planning his comebackvanish with her departure? Amazon

The Confident Hope: Isthere hope for this love between friends? PamelaHayes is a smart, successful business owner with a supportive family and athriving bakery. She should be the happiest girl in the world. But she can’tshake the melancholy that accompanies every conversation she has with her bestfriend, Mark. Pamela doesn’t know how much longer she can hide her truefeelings. Whycan’t Mark see how perfect they would be together? She would make a much bettergirlfriend than the one he currently has. Pamela prays he’ll come to his sensessoon and realize he’s with the wrong girl. But when her dream comes true, itisn’t the fantasy she had envisioned. Thereis trouble in paradise from the start, and all the red flags she’s beenignoring are starting to threaten her confidence…and her relationship withMark. She’ll have to rely on family and her faith in God to help her secure thehope she so desperately needs. Amazon

Overflow With Hope: Two men. One wrong choice. TempiaWade’s life had jumped the rails. Onefateful night, she believed a stranger’s lie rather than the assurance of atrusted friend. For her lapse in judgment, she paid an agonizing price. Hernow-bankrupt life featured shattered dreams, ruined friendships, and the lossof a promising relationship. Now, two years later, the twenty-three-year-oldprayed for a second chance with the man she had fallen for at first sight. WouldCory Sanders finally overlook her egregious mistake in accepting a next-daydate and liaison with another man? Or would she have to truly accept lifewithout him? Amazon 

Aboutthe Author

 

E. C. Jackson began her writing career with the full-lengthplay Pajama Party. Thirty-one yearslater, she adapted the play into PajamaParty: The Story, a companion book to the second book in the five-bookstandalone Hope series. Jackson’sfavorite pastime is reading fiction. She enjoys taking the journey along withthe characters in the books. That also led to her unorthodox approach to storywriting. Her vision for each book she writes is to immerse readers into thestoryline so they become connected with each character. “TheWrite Way: A Real Slice of Life” is the slogan on her Facebook author page. Shefeels that if every person reading her books feels connected to the characters,her job is done. 

Author Links   Website | Facebook| Twitter | Goodreads

 

 

The Inspiration Behind Catnip, Plushie Balls, and Q-Tips by M.G. Rorai

 

 

If you loved Catnip, Toilet Paper, and Lasers, this new collection of cat poems will tickle your whiskers and your funny bone.

Title: Catnip, Plushie Balls, and Q-Tips: Cat Poetry: The Art of Being FelineAuthor: M.G. Rorai

Publication Date: September 30, 2023

Pages: 178Genre: Poetry/Cats

Ever wonder why there are “mews” in “amewzing”? This collection of cat poems will tickle your whiskers and your funny bone. They’re the purr-fect way to brighten your day and celebrate the furry friends in your life. Prepare to laugh out loud as you read about cat adventures with magnets, candles, strawberry milkshakes, and plush balls—but don’t let me ruin the surprise, you’ll have to read to find out! Get ready to laugh your tail off!

Buy Links:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Apple | Scribd | Smashwords

Book Excerpt  

The magnets are so cute

that I must knock them off

but get yelled at for this,

so the new approach is soft.

I sit by the fridge

staring at those squares

and when Human isn’t looking

I lick with tongue hairs.

All was going good

until one was quite sticky

leaving a bad taste,

and I’m not so picky.

I bite at the air

to get rid of the taste

then knock down that magnet;

good riddance, post-haste.**

TheInspiration Behind Catnip, 

Plushie Balls, and Q-Tips

Kitty Elsaperches on a chair to slurp water droplets during shower time. If my husband orI don’t let her into the bathroom she cries at the door. When we do let her in,she drinks from our fingers until she gets bored, then abandons the shower togo slouch in a basket. Ah, the life of a Queen.

As you can tell,I think cats are adorable creatures, and as such I’m part of many cat groups onsocial media to get my daily fix of funny cat things. One day I was reading athread of real-life funny stories, and I thought how fun it would be to turn theminto silly poems. At the time I had been re-exploring my poetry, something Iused to write unpublished about ten years ago, and posted in the group ifanyone would be interested in reading such a book. The response wasoverwhelmingly positive. 

I receivedpermission to use those stories, and that’s how the first book in the seriesCat Poetry: The Art of Being Feline came about. It’s called Catnip, ToiletPaper, and Lasers. Of course, my kitties Elsa and her brother Sockscontributed and became the theme of the book.

But I wasn’tdone. I started on the Catnip, Plushie Balls, and Q-Tips sequel withinspired cat stories and continued on with the antics theme of my own cats,along with writing other books. But then burnout hit, plus job issues needed tobe addressed (as I wasn’t writing full-time) and everything took a backseat. Ididn’t get back to the feline sequel until two years later. By then the worldhad righted itself, I had recovered from burnout through lots of rest andpursuing other activities, and I felt it was time to complete Q-Tips, which Ithink is better than the first poem collection.

When I firststarted this series, I was exclusively on Amazon. But with Catnip, PlushieBalls, and Q-Tips I’ve decided to expand my reach and publish at otherplaces, such as Barnes & Noble, Apple Books, Google Play, Kobo, libraries,and others. I want to share my laughs with many who appreciate the love ofcats. And now part I, Toilet Paper and Lasers, is wide as well.

But it’s morethan cats too. These books are also about sitting down and having a good momentwhen good times might be hard to come by. What better way to find distractionthan amewzing cat poems? A cat’s companionship can help tremendously on a badday, and I wanted to capture some of that for anyone needing a sillymoment.  

About the Author 

M.G. Rorai enjoys hanging with her cats and annoying her husband. Her latest book is Catnip, Plushie Balls, and Q-Tips.

Author Links  

Website | Facebook

How I Reset My Life by Quitting Drinking by Lisa May Bennett, author of My Unfurling

  

Wickedhangovers. Scary blackouts. Ugly fights with friends. The results of bingedrinking weigh heavily on Lisa May Bennett. She tries repeatedly to savor “justa few” glasses of wine—only to find herself passed out on the couch again.

 Lisahas a bucket list full of exciting adventures with zero check marks next tothem. Her anxiety and self-doubt are crying out for real solutions, not morebooze. And her dream of becoming a published writer is fading away. She worriesthat her love of a good buzz will keep her stuck in this rut. Can she takecharge of her life, or is she headed for a disastrous rock bottom?

 Thistouching and funny memoir explores the childhood experiences that paved the wayfor Lisa’s drinking habit. She examines her complicated relationship with hermother, her experiences as a late bloomer, and her ongoing search forvalidation. In an engaging and relatable voice, the author shares how she beganto “unfurl” without alcohol holding her back. But will she stay sober anddiscover how to truly thrive? Anyone wondering if they'll ever burst out andfollow their dreams will find My Unfurling compelling and hopeful.

Purchase a copy of MyUnfurling on Amazon,Barnesand Noble, or Bookshop.org.You can also add this to your GoodReadsreading list.

 

How I Reset My Life byQuitting Drinking

For many years, decadesactually, I was an enthusiastic drinker. I couldn’t imagine a Friday night, afancy dinner, or getting together with friends without an alcoholic beverage. Ithelped me relax after a stressful week, and it made the good times seem evenbetter. You could say that drinking was my main hobby, along with watching TVand cooking (both of which could be done with a bottomless glass of wine).

Sure, I often drank waytoo much, which resulted in some bad nights. I was no stranger to blacking out,getting into nasty arguments, or making a fool of myself. But I always thoughtquitting drinking was for people whose lives were totally falling apart.We hear about those big “rock bottoms” people hit—losing your job, getting in acar accident, discovering your health is at risk, being arrested, or losingcustody of your kids. These are the experiences that are supposed to send you straightinto recovery.

I didn’t hit one of thoserock bottoms. So, every time I pondered whether my relationship with alcoholwas toxic, I concluded that it wasn’t that bad. Except for that one time.Oh, and that other time. But otherwise, I was good, right? When I hit middleage, I started wondering if there was more to life. Was my routine way tooroutine? I had a bucket list of fun things that I wanted to try—none of whichwere getting checked off. Most importantly, I had dreamed of becoming apublished author since I was a kid, and that had gone nowhere.

I did a lot of thinkingabout what was standing in the way of these things I desired. Watching less TVwould definitely open up more time, and cutting back my social media scrolling wasa no-brainer. But after going alcohol-free during a 30-day food eliminationprogram, quitting drinking started to emerge as the potential key to resettingmy life. Several more years passed before I finally made the decision to partways with alcohol. I don’t know if I had been waiting for a serious rockbottom. A different kind of sign—an online essay kind of like this one is whatfinally pushed me off the fence.

Once I stopped, areinvigorated life began to unfold. I checked off many of those bucket-listitems, and I’m still adding to the list. I finally returned to my writing, and Iauthored and self-published a memoir. (And I’m working on book two.) Maybe Inever would have hit a true rock bottom. Maybe I didn’t have a “real” problem,as some people close to me have suggested. But I think it was a problem that Iwas more attached to drinking than I was to fulfilling my dreams. 

So, if you’re looking fora sign, take it from me—you don’t have to wait for a big, scary one. Maybe thisis your notice that life can get much more interesting than you ever imaginedonce you give alcohol the boot.

 

 

About the Author

Lisa May Bennett isthe author of the memoir My Unfurling: Emerging from the Grip of Anxiety,Self-Doubt, and Drinking. She had a flourishing career in marketing andcommunications for more than two decades before finally embracing sobriety andchasing her dream of becoming an author. Her upcoming book will demystify theself-publishing process, and she hopes to encourage more people to tell andpublish their own stories.

You can follow theauthor at:

https://www.lisamaybennett.com/

https://www.facebook.com/lisamaybennett

https://twitter.com/lisamaybennett

https://www.instagram.com/lisamaybennett

What’s a Nice Catholic Like You Writing a Paranormal Like This? by Catherine C. Hall

 

It’s the GoldenGirls meet the Ghostbusters when four women find themselves in anunlikely career: Southeastern Paranormal Investigations. Ree Lane, a stylishwidow, is more cynic than true believer, while her childhood chum Elle Harperhas a knack for getting sensitive info with the help of her homemade pies. Thepreacher’s wife, Betsy Jones, can’t be seen with SPI unless she’s in herdisguise as Nora, a psychic-in-training with a gift for Tarot. And therecently-returned-home Gillian Buchanan is a whiz at technology, especially ofthe supernatural sort. Their first case lands on the doorstep when neighborDoris Tucker is sure her prized vintage dolls are haunted. But there’s hardlytime for ghost-hunting when the bank director’s wife mistakes SPI for a privateeye venture. Now they’re also hot on the trail of a misbehaving husband. It’s awild ride as the sixty-something sleuths start digging into the past. But havethe Ladies of SPI gone too far? And how far will Sutter go to keep its secretsdead and buried? Purchase a copy of Secrets Laid to Rest on Amazon.You can also add this to your GoodReadsreading list.

 

What’s a Nice Catholic Like You Writing aParanormal Like This?

 

I suspect that most people reading SecretsLaid to Rest put me in Ree’s shoes. And yes, like Ree, I’m a bit of a merrywidow. But Betsy, the preacher’s wife who dresses in a disguise as Nora, aTarot card reader and wanna-be psychic, definitely holds a piece of my heart.She’s the character that allows me room to wander among the supernatural aswell as my faith.

 

Growing up in Savannah, Georgia put mesquare in the middle of priests and the paranormal. I attended Catholic schools,and all of my friends were Catholic, too. It would seem a somewhat insulatedupbringing but because Savannah is such an old city, I was exposed to all thathistory, much of which included spirits and hauntings.

 ThereI was, learning my catechism, while my mother pointed out houses in downtownSavannah that had purported haunting activity. “The people who live here,”she’d say, “hear glasses clinking, voices, and laughter. And when they get upin the morning, chairs are moved around!” Wow! I was totally hooked on thosereal ghost stories.

 

I still love a good ghost story, the kind wherespirits roam old haunts; I never met a ghost tour I didn’t like. But I alsolove to hear the stories about loved ones who visit, the times when thesupernatural intersects the everyday.

And youwould be surprised how often regular folks have real ghost stories to tell.Long before I wrote Secrets Laid to Rest, I wrote a young adult novelabout a girl who’s psychic. It wasn’t uncommon, in talking about the book, thatsomeone, somewhere would tell me about their own paranormal happenings. Once,sitting in my hairstylist’s chair, she said, “I grew up seeing ghosts all thetime.” She was a psychic herself; the gift ran in her family, but she no longer“welcomed” spirits. Every time I got my hair cut, I’d get a spirited story!

 

Of course, there are all kinds of supernaturalexperiences throughout the Bible and faith itself is believing that which wecannot see but know to be real. So even though the nuns would not have anynonsense, like students entertaining the class with ghost stories, we certainlyloved hearing about angelic intervention and miracles!

 SoI explore, in my stories, my lifelong interest in the paranormal. And I alsopray regularly for loved ones who I hope are enjoying themselves in heaven. Andif ever I wonder if my searching or beliefs are crossing a theological line,I’ll ask my cousin, the priest. He’s always happy to talk it out (or set mestraight).

 Except Ouija boards. No goodCatholic girl goes near that!

 

 

About the Author

There’sa great song, I’ve Been Everywhere, made popular by Johnny Cash (and a couple commercials).If you put the song in Georgia, it would be about Catherine C. Hall, startingwhen she moved to the Peach State at eight-years-old. She grew up in Savannah,Georgia, where you can’t throw a stick without hitting a ghost. Even when shewas a little girl, Savannah was known for its haunted history, and she washooked! Broadcast Journalism hooked her as well, so she studied at Valdosta StateUniversity way down in South Georgia where it is the heat and the humidity. Sheworked in a few radio stations, but it was WNEX Radio in Macon thatturned out to be life-changing. She met a cute deejay from Sandersville, Georgia,and married him a year later.

Theymoved above the Gnat Line (Oh, it’s real) to the Atlanta area,where they grew their family to two boys and a girl, and she took a turn in theteaching world. And then whoosh! She met the half-century mark wondering whatto do. Maybe it was the merlot talking but after years of reading mysteries,Catherine thought it was high time she wrote one. And she did; it was awful.(And way too short. Who knew readers expected 70, 000 words?) So she learnedher craft, starting with flash fiction, then moving on to short fiction, whereshe won a few awards. She wrote essays that ended up in books like Chicken Soupfor the Soul. She penned assorted humor columns and continued to freelance. Andthen one day, she wrote another story that wasn’t exactly novel length but itwasn’t a short story, either. It was a children’s book.

Shejoined SCBWI, the Society for Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and hada wonderful career in children’s writing, including publishing six books. Butin the midst of her last two book contracts, life changed unexpectedly whenCatherine’s favorite deejay up and died. When at last she wanted to writeagain, she heard four women of a certain age, each seeking purpose and joy inwhere they found themselves, which for them was a small town in Georgia calledSutter. For Catherine, it was at home, still in the Atlanta suburbs, revisitingthe ghost stories of her youth, and finally getting that mystery written. All70,000 words of it!

Youcan find Catherine online at:

 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61551890907288

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/cathychall/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cathyhall55/

Website (Psst! Signup for Cathy’s Spirited Newsletter and get in on secret giveaways!): https://catherine-c-hall.com/