Elena Hartwell's Blog, page 52

Death Warrant: Thriller by Bryan Johnston

Death Warrant, a new thriller by Bryan Johnston

Guest Post + Book & Author Info + Excerpt + Giveaway!Don’t miss any blog tour posts! Click the link here.Death Warrant

Death Makes Great TV.

Frankie Percival is cashing in her chips. To save her brother from financial ruin, Frankie―a single stage performer and mentalist who never made it big―agrees to be assassinated on the most popular television show on the planet: Death Warrant. Once she signs her life away, her memory is wiped clean of the agreement, leaving her with no idea she will soon be killed spectacularly for global entertainment.

After years of working in low-rent theaters, Frankie prepares for the biggest performance of her life as her Death Warrant assassin closes in on her. Every person she encounters could be her killer. Every day could be her last.

She could be a star, if only she lives that long.

Genre: Thriller
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: June 21st, 2022
Number of Pages: 352
ISBN: 074430508X (ISBN13: 9780744305081)

To purchase Death Warrant , click on the following links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | GoodreadsGuest Post by Bryan Johnston

My book’s a mystery, no, a thriller, uh, suspense?

That’s kind of what I sounded like when someone asked me to describe my novel’s genre. I couldn’t quite decide what it was, and believe me, it concerned me that I couldn’t pin it down to just one. I thought for sure a publisher would think, “They clearly don’t understand writing if they can’t determine the genre of their own book.”

My book is called Death Warrant, and after chatting with my publisher, we both concluded that it was most closely aligned with a thriller. But it had elements of mystery and suspense as well. Which got me thinking, what’s the difference between those three genres?

In a mystery, the protagonist is usually trying to solve a crime. They’re taking the clues presented and trying to figure out how they point to the culprit. The reader has the same info as our hero.In a suspense novel, since the reader is aware of things the hero is not, the tension is cranked up. The reader gets to worrying.In a thriller, the hero is almost always in a constant state of danger. There’s no puzzle to be solved, it’s high stakes all the time.

That definition of a thriller is why I finally determined that my novel fell into that category. In Death Warrant, our heroine, Frankie, has agreed to be assassinated on the most popular television show on the planet (Death Warrant). But once she signs her life away her memory is completely wiped clean of the agreement. She goes about her life having no idea that every person she meets could be her killer.

See what I mean? Frankie is almost always in a constant state of danger. She just doesn’t know it. But the reader does.

Alfred Hitchcock once said that mystery is when the spectator (or the reader) knows less than the characters. Suspense is when the spectator knows more than the characters. So, by that definition my book is also suspense, because the viewer knows people are gunning for Frankie, but she doesn’t.

There’s no question that mysteries/suspense/thrillers can overlap. Every good mystery has suspense, and every good thriller has elements of mystery. But all books lean more heavily toward one than the others. The definitions above should help you determine which is yours. Still, when you’re writing your query or filling out your submission form and you must put in your book’s genre, don’t freak out if you’re still a little unsure. If the material’s good and a publisher’s interested, somebody higher up on the food chain will be happy to make the call.

Excerpt — Death WarrantPrologue

Jesus, thought Joey, stopping to catch his breath while simultaneously chastising himself for using the Lord’s name in vain. They’d said the hike was challenging, even by hardy Norwegian mountaineering standards. But he didn’t realize “challenging” was code for “your lungs will be bleeding.” Probably not too demanding for a younger person, but he grudgingly admitted he no longer fit that demographic. Those advancing “middle-years” made his little adventures even more important to him. He took a swig from his water bottle and checked his watch. He’d been making good time. “That’s why you trained for six months, dummy,” he reminded himself for the umpteenth time, not that anyone could hear him. He’d seen a few hikers coming back down the mountain, but to his surprise he hadn’t seen anyone else making the ascent. He’d purposefully picked the least touristy season that didn’t include several feet of snow to make his bucket list trip, but still, he’d expected to see a few more people. Not that he was complaining; he was enjoying the solitude. With one last cleansing breath and the taste of copper dissipating from his mouth, he got to his feet for the final push. On the climb he’d taken to talking to himself, carrying on conversations out loud, playing the part of all parties involved. He’d found it highly entertaining, and it helped keep his mind off the lactic acid burning in his thighs over the five-hour climb.

“Why in heaven’s name does it have to be Norway? It’s so far away,” Joey said out loud in the closest resemblance of his wife Joanie’s patent ed exasperated tone. He’d had thirty years of marriage to fine tune it.

“Because that’s where the Trolltunga is, hon!” Joey replied.

He vividly remembered when the holo-brochure had arrived. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” he’d asked her. She hadn’t. The 3D image projected by the brochure had been impressive, and even his wife couldn’t deny that. The Trolltunga was a rock formation that sprang 2,000 feet straight up above the north end of a Norwegian lake whose name Joanie never could pronounce and was topped with a cliff that jutted out preposterously far, like an enormous plank of a pirate ship. Watching the image slowly rotating over the brochure on their dining table had sealed the deal.

Joey could taste the copper again but powered through. He knew he was almost there.

“Should have brought the stick, genius,” he grumbled to himself. “That’s what hiking staffs are for.” But he’d been afraid some careless baggage handler would damage it. The staff had been too important to him. The entire Boy Scout Troop had carved their names into it along with the final inscription, “Thanks for all your years of service.” He wasn’t sure who was prouder of the gift, him, or Joanie. Regardless, the staff would have been a help.

His research showed that the round-trip climb would be about 22 kilometers—45,000 steps—and the equivalent of climbing and descending 341 floors. He guessed he was right around floor 170. Almost there.

As he rounded a large boulder, he thought back on all his training, preparation, and admittedly, the inconveniences he’d put Joanie through, and recited one of his wife’s favorite admonitions, “Joey Dahl, I swear you will be the death of me.” But then what he saw stopped him in his tracks. At that moment Joey felt complete validation. He also instantly understood what made the Trolltunga such a draw for thrill seekers. The cliff ’s edge reached out so far that the photo op was one for the books, the type of picture you frame and hang in your den. A conversation starter.

Bragging rights. The other church deacons were going to be sick of hearing about it.

“Oh, babe,” Joey said, more to himself this time, “I wish you were here to see this.” But even six months ago he knew that was never going to happen, what with her condition, but she was never going to begrudge him this trip. He’d been dreaming about it for years.

It took a certain person, one immune to heights and vertigo, to walk to that cliff’s edge and look out. Joey was one of those people. He set up the small, portable tripod he’d brought and mounted his mobile device, his optic, to take pictures and video remotely. He couldn’t wait to show it to Joanie and the kids. Through a little trial and error, he eventually got the framing right and strode out to the edge. He turned to face the camera and spread his arms wide in a “look at what I achieved” pose. The optic’s camera lens clicked once, twice, three times.

And then the bullet hit him right above the left eye.

Joey Dahl dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut, toppling backwards off the cliff, falling into space. Like a base jumper without a wingsuit or parachute. His body tumbled down the sheer cliff face, yet he never quite hit the side. His body stayed clear of the rocky wall, due to the sharp drafts from the lake below. The constant pushing away from the wall, managed to keep him undamaged, bullet wound aside, until he finally met the ground below, by a lake whose name his wife never could pronounce. By then, however, he’d been long dead.

#

Six thousand miles away, a room full of people in finely tailored suits and skirts were watching intently, applauding with their approval. One of them, a woman with severe bangs, all business, smoothly pivoted from the wall of monitors, her eyes drawn to another, smaller screen where a series of numbers were appearing in real time. She allowed herself a trace of a smile. The ratings were in. Perhaps not matching those of the pop star’s demise from last summer, but still better than management had expected. Enough to trigger her bonus. Maybe she’d take the kids to Six Flags.

Bryan Johnston — Author of Death Warrant

Bryan Johnston takes tremendous pride in being an eleven-time Emmy award-winning writer and producer during his 25 years in local network television. Following his career in broadcast, he became the Creative Director for a Seattle-based creative agency, developing concepts and writing scripts for companies like Microsoft, Starbucks, T-Mobile, and Amazon. He has authored several books and written for numerous magazines and websites. Bryan lives in the Seattle, Washington area with his wife, two kids, and one large Goldendoodle. He is a devout movie lover, sports fan, and avid reader. His one great hope is for the Seattle Mariners to make it to the World Series before he dies. He’s not holding his breath.

To learn more about Bryan, click on any of the following links: www.BryanRJohnston.com, Goodreads, Twitter – @BryanRJohnston & Facebook – @bryan.johnston.370

Visit All the Stops on the Tour!

05/20 Review @ Urban Book Reviews
05/24 Guest post @ Novels Alive
05/24 Review @ sunny island breezes
05/25 Interview @ I Read What You Write
05/27 Showcase @ Silvers Reviews
05/28 Guest post @ The Mystery of Writing
05/28 Review @ Pat Fayo Reviews
05/29 Guest post @ The Book Divas Reads
05/30 Review @ A Room Without Books is Empty
05/31 Interview podcast @ Blog Talk Radio
05/31 Review @ Just Reviews
06/05 Review @ Book Reviews From an Avid Reader
06/06 Showcase @ Books, Ramblings, and Tea
06/10 Showcase @ Celticladys Reviews
06/30 Review @ The Book Review Crew

Elena Taylor/Elena Hartwell

All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.

Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator 2020

Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery 2020

 

 

The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Out July 19.

 

The post Death Warrant: Thriller by Bryan Johnston appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.

Chasing Justice: Action-Packed K-9 Mystery

Chasing Justice by author Kathleen Donnelly

Author Interview + Book & Author Info + Author Pet Corner!Don’t Miss Any Debut Author Interviews! Click the link here.Chasing Justice by Kathleen Donnelly

A former marine learns to love again in this suspenseful, action-packed K-9 search and rescue from debut author Kathleen Donnelly.

After losing her military K-9, former marine Maya Thompson swears she’ll never work with dogs again. But when she returns home to Colorado and accepts a job with US Forest Service law enforcement, fate brings K-9 Juniper into her life just as another tragedy unfolds.

Juniper, a beautiful two-year-old Malinois, isn’t the only new addition to Maya’s life. Josh Colten, the local deputy sheriff, insists on helping with her new case. Handsome and mysterious, he’s all anyone in town can talk about, but Maya can’t let herself like him, let alone trust him.

When Maya’s grandfather goes missing amid a growing drug war, Maya must put her faith in Josh, and her own battered instincts, to find him. But there’s a web of secrets tying her grandfather to the tragedy that brought Juniper into her life—secrets someone would kill to keep hidden.

To purchase Chasing Justice at multiple outlets, click the following link: Chasing Justice Purchase LinksChasing Justice Author Interview — Kathleen DonnellyThe protagonist for Chasing Justice, Maya Thompson, is a former marine. What drew you to an ex-military character who then joins the U.S. Forest Service as a law enforcement agent?

I’ve always been fascinated by the military and in awe of the bravery and service from the men and women who serve our country.

When Maya came to me as a character, I wanted her to have prior K-9 handling experience. There were several options for that, but the main two were to have her be a handler in the military or with another law enforcement agency.

As I started to know Maya better, I decided that I wanted her to be a Marine, because she’s that tough, and also, Forest Service law enforcement officers often have a military background. I realized that if Maya had deployed in Afghanistan with a K-9, she could be dealing with PTSD from a tragic incident involving her dog. This would make her swear that she would never work a dog again and that provided a great catalyst to start Chasing Justice. I knew that she would be forced to face that fear and take on working and bonding with another K-9.

Chasing Justice  hints at romance, what appeals to you about mixing romance with suspense?

When I started Chasing Justice, I wasn’t planning on having a romance. But then along came Deputy Josh Colten, and the next thing I knew, he was a bigger part of the story than originally planned.

I found I enjoyed developing the relationship between Josh and Maya and by the time I queried the novel, Josh had become a big piece of the storyline. I didn’t know at first if he could be trusted so of course Maya didn’t trust him either. You’ll have to read the book to see how it turns out!

Chasing Justice combines fiction with your real-world experiences. Tell us about Sherlock Hounds Detection Canines:

I’m so lucky and proud to be a handler and co-owner for a private narcotics dog company—Sherlock Hounds Detection Canines.

I’ve been a handler with the company since 2005 and I’ve worked many different dogs. Our company is very different from what Maya does in Chasing Justice. I’m not a law enforcement officer and my dogs are friendly, loving labs that would lick someone to death, never bite. We go into schools to help deter the presence of drugs, alcohol and gunpowder. I love the job because working with the dogs is amazing and I love helping to create a safe environment for kids.

I used some of the challenges that come with handling a dog to create several of the story lines in Chasing Justice. Whether you’re working a police K-9 or a private K-9, there are many universal challenges and training that go into the dogs. I really enjoyed working in descriptions such as what it feels like to work a dog and watch their body language. There’s nothing more amazing to me than seeing a dog catch a scent and locate the odor they’re trained to find.

How did you become involved with training dogs?

A good friend of mine started Sherlock Hounds with another friend. They were both retired teachers and created the program with the goal of keeping schools safe.

A few years after they started, they were able to secure a grant so that schools could afford to have the dogs come on a regular basis. Once they obtained this grant, they approached me about working for them.

One of the most important things for a handler to be able to do is to read a dog’s body language. There’s a difference when a dog is simply smelling food or the scent of another animal versus being in odor for something they’re trained to find.

I had grown up with dogs and trained horses so they thought I would be able to read a dog’s body language well. I decided to give it a try thinking I would do it for a short time, but working dogs is addictive. There’s nothing better than having that partnership and complete trust with an animal to help keep people safe.

You also work as a dressage trainer. That’s a very specific equestrian style, can you describe dressage for our readers?

I did work as a dressage trainer and while I no longer train full time, I still have some clients that I give lessons to.

Dressage is a French word that loosely translates to mean “training.” Dressage came from training horses based on their natural movements. Hundreds of years ago, it was to have a well-trained horse to go into battle. Today it is an Olympic sport that tests the partnership between horse and rider. Our U.S. team even won a silver medal in the last Olympics!

The most famous non-competition dressage school is the Spanish Riding School in Vienna with the Lipizzaner stallions. They still do the airs above the ground movements which is amazing to watch. If you haven’t seen the Lipizzaners perform, take the time to watch a YouTube video. They are spectacular horses.

What are you working on now?

I’m working on my next book with Maya, K-9 Juniper and Josh.

I’ve always envisioned this as a series and I have lots of ideas for many more adventures with my characters. I also have another book and characters that I may play with in-between writing Maya and Juniper’s stories. The character just keeps talking to me and I’m intrigued to know more about her. I think that book would be more of a psychological thriller, but who knows. It’s still in the early stages.

Words of Wisdom for Aspiring Writers:

Just keep going!

Sit down and write as much as you can. If you really enjoy writing, don’t worry about only getting published. Write what you love and have fun with it. Be open to learning and receiving feedback on your writing. That can be painful sometimes, but in the end, it only makes you better.

Enjoy your journey with writing and if you end up getting published, that’s icing on the cake, but it’s more important that you keep the joy in it.

Great advice! And one of my favorite Author Pet Corners . . .Author Pet Corner! Dogs Sparky!Boomer!

Sparky: Sparky retired from Sherlock Hounds in 2016. Even though he’s retired, Sparky still considers himself in charge of keeping the other dogs in line and overseeing operations by traveling with the crew to schools—he always gets to ride shotgun. During his working years, Sparky was considered the Sherlock Hounds “undercover agent.” When he’s not traveling with the labs, Sparky can often be found napping in the sun or playing with his toys.

Boomer: I found Boomer at the Lab Rescue Oklahoma and we teamed up in 2019. Boomer has proven he loves his job and is excellent at sniffing out contraband. His talents also include leaning on people for lots of love and attempting to eat things he shouldn’t. When he’s not working, Boomer loves playing with his best friend, Gracie, and running around the yard as fast as he can.

Gracie!Willow!

Gracie: Gracie is my oldest working dog. I partnered with her in 2013. A high energy girl, Gracie loves her job and is enthusiastic about going to work. She not only loves keeping schools safe, but Gracie also loves all the attention that comes with the job. When she’s not working, Gracie can be found rolling in the grass and playing with her best friend, Boomer.

Willow: Willow, partnered with me in 2016. Willow is all business when she’s working, but loves attention and belly rubs when she’s off-duty. Willow has been known to make appearances at writers conferences to demonstrate her skills and help writers learn more about the K-9 world. She considers herself my co-author and consultant for all things K-9.

Horses: Mina!Nadia!

Mina: Mina is a 27-year-old Oldenburg mare. I fell in love with her when I met her in 2001. Mina came into training with me before I bought her and I instantly knew we were meant to be together. She’d had a rough start and my biggest challenge was gaining her trust. After having three foals and being an amazing mother, Mina is retired and living the good life where she debates if Sadie, the bossy pony, is annoying or her best friend.

Nadia: Nadia is a 14-year-old Oldenburg mare and Mina’s last foal. I can say I’ve known her for a long time. She unfortunately injured herself and is not rideable, but she makes a great pasture ornament. Nadia is a bit of a diva, (Okay, a big diva!) but loves Sadie and hanging out with Mina. She believes she should be out on pasture only when the grass is green and blanketed at the first signs of any rain or snow. She also loves being groomed, fed carrots, and told she is the prettiest girl around.

Sadie!

Sadie: Sadie is a 28-year-old pony that we believe to be a Shetland/Miniature Horse cross. Sadie doesn’t care what her breed is, she knows one thing—she is the boss. I brought Sadie home as a companion for Mina in 2005. They do love each other, but Sadie likes to instigate disputes, especially at feeding time. Sadie’s favorite pastimes include eating and napping in the sun. Despite bossing around the big horses, she’s quite loving with humans and enjoys a good grooming session.

Kathleen Donnelly

Award-winning author Kathleen Donnelly is a K-9 handler for Sherlock Hounds Detection Canines—a private narcotics dog company. She enjoys using her K-9 experience to craft realism into her fictional stories.

Along with working dogs, Kathleen loves horses. She owns two horses and a bossy, yet adorable pony. Kathleen’s love of the mountains inspired her setting for Chasing Justice. She enjoys escaping to the high country to hike and photograph the scenery and wildlife.

Kathleen has a B.A. in Journalism from Colorado State University and formerly wrote for The Berthoud Weekly Surveyor where she won a Colorado Press Award. Kathleen lives in Colorado with her husband and all their four-legged friends.

To learn more about Kathleen, click on her name, photo, or any of the following links: Newsletter, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram & GoodreadsElena Taylor/Elena Hartwell

All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.

Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator 2020

Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery 2020

 

 

The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Out July 19.

Header photo by SplitShire on Pixabay

The post Chasing Justice: Action-Packed K-9 Mystery appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.

City of Orange by David Yoon

City of Orange, the latest novel by New York Times-bestselling author David Yoon

Review + Book & Author InfoDon’t Miss Any Book Reviews, Click the Link Here.City of Orange

A man wakes up in an unknown landscape, injured and alone. He used to live in a place called California, but how did he wind up here with a head wound and a bottle of pills in his pocket?

He navigates his surroundings, one rough shape at a time. Here lies a pipe, there a reed that could be carved into a weapon, beyond a city he once lived in. He could swear his daughter’s name began with a J, but what was it, exactly?

Then he encounters an old man, a crow, and a boy—and realizes that nothing is what he thought it was, neither the present nor the past.

He can’t even recall the features of his own face, and wonders: who am I?

Harrowing and haunting but also humorous in the face of the unfathomable, David Yoon’s City of Orange is a novel about reassembling the things that make us who we are, and finding the way home again.

To purchase City of Orange, click any of the following links: Amazon, Barnes and Noble & IndieBoundMy Thoughts on City of Orange

“He awakes with his eyes closed.”

From the opening line, readers know they are in for something different. This isn’t the usual mystery/thriller/psychological suspense. This is a post—or maybe middle—of a pandemic literary work that echoes the sensations that many of us feel. Life took a left turn in March of 2020 and we’ve been stuck in an alternate reality ever since.

Something very, very bad happened to the protagonist of Yoon’s genre-bending latest novel. And that bad event is at the heart of this moody, distorted-reality character study.

The protagonist, his name remains a mystery for much of the novel, wakes in the sand next to a concrete river in a city somewhere in California. That’s all he can remember. “His head pulses with pain,” from some forgotten accident. “He tests the dead batteries of his memory. He can remember a few fundamentals without much effort: these are called fingers, this is sand, this is his head.”

Slowly, painstakingly, memories begin to return. And with them the unshakable feeling that he might be better off remaining in a state of ignorance.

City of Orange unrolls like a tumbleweed across the desert landscape. In fits and starts, changing direction, then rolling back the way it came, before moving again inexorably toward the horizon line. The main character centers his new existence on a crawl space under a concrete bridge. A place of safety to return to after failing to venture out much past his line of sight. The first matter at hand, survival. Water. Food. Painkillers. His actions are sluggish as he begins to die of dehydration and starvation, and isn’t sure he cares.

But life is tenacious and once the basics are seen to, more memories surface.

No matter how hard he shies away from what might have happened before this post-apocalyptic version of the world ended life as he knew it, he can’t live in ignorance forever. Along with his memories, a few chance encounters with individuals as shattered and lost as himself finally dislodge him from his stasis, for memories refuse to stay buried.

And the memories come.

Unable to turn off his mind, the character continues to unwind how the world ended, interspersed with recollections of his wife and child. Though he’s still unable to answer the question, are they still out there?

That question draws the protagonist and the reader through the pain of the past to finally discover what faces the unnamed man in the present.

David Yoon has written a tale of love and survival, perfect for the untethered nature of our times. A study of how much we lack control of the very things we believe to be permanent. We discover, alongside him, that life can’t be played by the rules, if nothing controls the game. Still, there is peace in coming to terms with our inability to sway events no matter how hard we try.

David Yoon

David Yoon is the New York Times bestselling author of Frankly in Love, Super Fake Love Song, and for adult readers, Version Zero and City of Orange.

He’s a William C. Morris Award finalist and an Asian/Pacific American Award for Young Adult Literature Honor book recipient. He’s co-publisher of Joy Revolution, a Random House young adult imprint dedicated to love stories starring people of color.

He’s also co-founder of Yooniverse Media, which currently has a first look deal with Anonymous Content for film/TV development. David grew up in Orange County, California, and now lives in Los Angeles with his wife, novelist Nicola Yoon, and their daughter.

To learn more about David, click on his name, photo, or any of the following links: Instagram, Twitter, Linktree & TikTokElena Taylor/Elena Hartwell

All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.

Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator 2020

Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery 2020

 

 

The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Out July 19.

Header photo by _Marion on Pixabay

The post City of Orange by David Yoon appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.

Murder, Sweet Murder: Mystery Review

Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns

Book Review + Book & Author Info + Giveaway!Read Eleanor Kuhns’ Guest Post on Writing Historical MysteriesMurder, Sweet Murder

Will Rees accompanies his wife to Boston to help clear her estranged father’s name in this gripping mystery set in the early nineteenth century.

January, 1801. When Lydia’s estranged father is accused of murder, Will Rees escorts her to Boston to uncover the truth. Marcus Farrell is believed to have murdered one of his workers, a boy from Jamaica where he owns a plantation. Marcus swears he’s innocent. However, a scandal has been aroused by his refusal to answer questions and accusations he bribed officials.

As Will and Lydia investigate, Marcus’s brother, Julian, is shot and killed. This time, all fingers point towards James Farrell, Lydia’s brother. Is someone targeting the family? Were the family quarreling over the family businesses and someone lashed out? What’s Marcus hiding and why won’t he accept help?

With the Farrell family falling apart and their reputation in tatters, Will and Lydia must solve the murders soon. But will they succeed before the murderer strikes again?

To purchase Murder, Sweet Murder, click on any of the following links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Severn House Publishers
Publication Date: February 1st 2022
Number of Pages: 224
ISBN: 0727850091 (ISBN13: 9780727850096)
Series: Will Rees Mysteries #11

My Thoughts on Murder, Sweet MurderA quick and delightful read, historical fiction and traditional mystery fans alike will enjoy the puzzle, the characters, and the era.

Historical mysteries can be a double thrill. A delicious murder — or two — and fun details to paint a picture of another time and place. Eleanor Kuhn does an excellent job with both.

Will Rees and his wife Lydia travel to her family home in Boston at the behest of her sister, Cordelia Ferrell. Their father has been accused of murder, an act the entire family appears to agree he’s capable of. That’s not the issue. The larger problem is that Cordelia has become blacklisted by potential suitors due to the scandal. A silly, but charming girl, Cordelia despairs of a decent match unless the black cloud can be chased away from their family name.

Despite years of estrangement from her father, the husband and wife team arrive, prepared to navigate a truce with the elder generation of Ferrells and solve the crime.

From the modes of travel to the conditions of the streets, Kuhn provides details of Boston in 1801. She also incorporates the distinction between a well-to-do merchant-class family, and the world Lydia built with her craftsman husband. The wealth and trappings of the Ferrells’ play second fiddle to the loving dynamic between Will and his wife.

From the slave-built plantations of Jamaica to the dirty Boston wharves, the tangle of misdeeds and suspects fill Murder, Sweet Murder with enough clues and red herrings to keep readers engaged. The characters are well-drawn: The women have spunk, despite the constraints of the times, and the men fight for honor as much as material wealth.

A quick and delightful read, historical fiction and traditional mystery fans alike will enjoy the puzzle, the characters, and the era.

Even though this is the eleventh novel in this long-running series, Murder, Sweet Murder can be read as a standalone.

Murder, Sweet Murder — Excerpt

After regarding Rees for several seconds, Mr Farrell extended his hand. Rees grasped it, painfully conscious of his rough hand, calloused by both farm work and weaving. ‘Please attend me in my office,’ Mr Farrell said. ‘We are expecting a few guests for dinner tonight so we will have little time to talk then.’ Turning, he strode away. Rees started to follow but, realizing that Lydia was not by his side, he turned back. She stood hesitantly by the table, her hands tightly clenched together. Rees glared at Mr Farrell’s back and then, reaching out, he pulled one of her hands through his elbow. Together they followed her father into his office.

As Farrell moved a stack of papers from the center of the desk to one side, Rees looked around.  A large globe on a stand stood to the right of Farrell’s desk and one chair had been drawn up to the front. A seating area, with additional chairs, were arranged by the window that looked out upon the front garden. A table in the center held an intricately carved tray with a crystal decanter and several glasses. Shelves of books lined the wall behind and adjacent to the desk, on Rees’s right.

The room was chilly although the fire was burning. Newly laid, it had been lighted, no doubt by some anonymous servant.

Farrell looked up and his eyes rested on Lydia in surprise. Rees felt his wife shrink back, intimidated. He was not going to stand for that. He pulled a chair from the window grouping and placed it in front of the desk. She hesitated for a few seconds and then, lifting her chin defiantly, she sat down. Once she was seated, Rees lowered himself into the opposite chair. After one final dismissive glance at his daughter, Farrell looked at Rees.

‘So, you are a weaver.’

‘That is so,’ Rees said, adding politely, ‘I understand you are a merchant.’

Farrell smiled. ‘I see your wife has told you very little about me or my profession.’ Since responding in the affirmative seemed somehow disloyal to Lydia, Rees said nothing.

Farrell took a box from his desk drawer and opened it to extract a cigar. ‘Would you like a smoke?’ 

‘No thank you,’ Rees said.

‘Or a glass of rum? Or whiskey if that is your tipple.’ When Rees declined again, Farrell put away the cigars and walked to the fireplace to light a splint. The end of the cigar glowed red and the acrid scent of burning tobacco filled the room. Puffing, Farrell returned to his seat.  ‘I suppose one could say I was a merchant. But I do so much more.  I own a plantation as well as a fleet of ships that sail between Boston, the West Indies and Africa.  In Jamaica they take on sugar and molasses which are returned to Boston. Some of it is transformed into rum in my distillery. I export the liquor overseas, both to England and to Africa where the proceeds are used to purchase slaves.’

Sick to his stomach, Rees glanced at Lydia. She was staring at her hands, her face flaming with shame. Although she had alluded to her father’s profession, she had not told him the half of it. She had not told him of her father’s pride in it. Rees understood why she hadn’t. 

 ‘Most of the slaves are brought to the sugar plantation,’ Farrell continued, seemingly oblivious to his daughter’s distress, ‘but some are sold in the Southern states. And you needn’t look so shocked. Why that upstart Republican with his radical ideas, Mr Jefferson, owns slaves. And he may be the next President. I suppose you voted for him.’

Rees did not respond immediately. Although many of Mr Jefferson’s ideas were appealing, Rees had found in the end that he could not vote for a slave holder. Instead, he had voted for Mr Adams. But that gentleman had not placed; the election was a tie between Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr. Sent to the House for resolution, Jefferson had won by one vote.’ No,’ Rees said carefully, keeping his voice level with an effort, ‘I voted for his opponent.’

‘Well, that makes us kin then. Although you will meet a few slaves here in Boston, in this very house.’ He grinned and Rees thought of Morris and Bridget with their tinted skin. ‘But few, very few. Neither the Africans nor the Spanish Indians adapt well to this northern climate and they quickly die.’ This was said with indifference as though he spoke of a broken chair.

Farrell flicked a glance at his daughter and smiled. With a surge of anger, Rees realized that Farrell fully understood the effect his speech would have on her and was enjoying her misery. Rees gathered himself to rise from his chair. Lydia reached out and grasped his sleeve.

‘This is for Cordy,’ she whispered. Rees sat down again, his body stiff.

‘But you did not come to listen to me natter on about my profession,’ Farrell said, watching the byplay with interest. ‘Shall we discuss that ridiculous murder, the one of which I am accused?’ 

Rees looked into Lydia’s beseeching eyes and after a few seconds he relaxed into his seat. God forgive him, a part of him hoped Marcus Farrell was guilty.

‘Go on,’ Rees said coldly. Marcus smiled.

‘Permit me to save you both time and effort,’ he said. ‘I did not kill that boy.’

‘Then why do people think you did?’ Rees asked. Puffing furiously, and clearly unwilling to reply, Farrell took a turn around the room.

‘Did you know him?’ Lydia asked, her voice low and clear. ‘This Roark?’

Farrell stood up so abruptly his chair almost tipped over.  ‘Yes, I knew him.’ He glanced at Rees. ‘We were seen, Roark and I, arguing down at Long Wharf.’

‘Arguing about what?’ Rees asked.

‘It is not important. He was a nobody.’ Farrell glared at Rees, daring him to persist. Rees waited, never removing his gaze from the other man. Sometimes silence made the best hammer. Finally, Farrell said angrily, ‘He wanted a rise in his wages. I said no. He disagreed. That was all there was to it.’

Rees glanced at Lydia and found her staring at him. He knew, and he suspected she did 

too, that her father had just lied to them.

Murder, Sweet Murder Author — Eleanor Kuhns

Eleanor Kuhns is the 2011 winner of the Mystery Writers of America/Minotaur first mystery novel. Murder, Sweet Murder is the eleventh mystery following the adventures of Rees and his wife.

She transitioned to full time writing last year after a successful career spent in library service. Eleanor lives in upstate New York with her husband and dog.

To learn more about Eleanor, click on any of the following links: www.Eleanor-Kuhns.com, Goodreads, BookBub Twitter – @EleanorKuhns & Facebook – @writerkuhns

Join the insta-party! Visit Instagram – #eleanorkuhns to join!

Don’t miss any book reviews! Click the link here.Enter the Author/Partners In Crime Giveaway!

Visit all the Stops on the Tour!

04/12 Guest post @ The Book Divas Reads
04/13 Showcase @ Books Blog
04/14 Showcase @ Silvers Reviews
04/15 Showcase @ Im Into Books
04/17 Review @ Book Reviews From an Avid Reader
04/19 Showcase @ Brooke Blogs
04/20 Interview @ I Read What You Write
04/21 Interview @ Quiet Fury Books
04/24 Review @ Buried Under Books
04/25 Guest post @ Novels Alive
04/25 Showcase @ Celticladys Reviews
04/27 Review @ Novels Alive
04/28 Showcase @ Books, Ramblings, and Tea
05/03 Guest post @ Author Elena Taylors Blog
05/03 Review @ sunny island breezes
05/04 Review @ A Room Without Books is Empty
05/05 Review @ Pat Fayo Reviews
05/26 Interview podcast @ Blog Talk Radio
05/26 Review @ Just Reviews

Elena Taylor/Elena Hartwell

All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.

Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator 2020

Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery 2020

 

 

The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Out July 19.

 

The post Murder, Sweet Murder: Mystery Review appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.

The Rising: Psychological Suspense Thriller

The Rising, a new psychological suspense thriller by Kerry Peresta

Guest Post + Book & Author Info + Giveaway!Don’t miss any blog tour books! Click the link here.The Rising by Kerry Peresta

After an assault that landed her in a hospital as a Jane Doe two years earlier, Olivia Callahan has regained her speech, movement, and much of the memory she lost due to a traumatic brain injury. The media hype about the incident has faded away, and Olivia is ready to rebuild her life, but her therapist insists she must continue to look back in order to move forward. The only person that can help her recall specifics is her abusive ex-husband, Monty, who is in prison for murder. The thought of talking to Monty makes her skin crawl, but for her daughters’ sake and her own sanity, she must learn more about who she was before the attack.

Just as the pieces of her life start falling into place, she stumbles across the still-warm body of an old friend who has been gruesomely murdered. Her dream of pursuing a peaceful existence is shattered when she learns the killer left evidence behind to implicate her in the murder. The only person that would want to sabotage her is Monty—but he’s in prison! Something sinister is going on, and Olivia is desperate to uncover the truth before another senseless murder is committed.

To purchase The Rising, click any of the following links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Genre: Psychological Suspense, Thriller, Crime Fiction, Suspense, Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: March 29, 2022
Number of Pages: 300
ISBN: 168512092X (ISBN-13: 978-1685120924)
Series: Olivia Callahan Suspense, Book 2

Guest PostKerry Peresta answers the question: What’s Your Biggest Daily Challenge as an Author?

Writing is a lonely business. Unlike most authors, I’m an intro-extrovert. Pretty even on both counts. Most authors I talk to describe themselves as introverts. I am both.

The extrovert part of me—the part my readers and friends see when I’m working a book event or presenting a workshop—is pure adrenaline. I love to engage people, to communicate with new friends, find out their backgrounds and fascinating quirks. I leave feeling refreshed, excited, and encouraged.

But afterward…

As a partial introvert, I am completely EXHAUSTED by peopling all day. I go home and die. Literally. Lay on the bed, watch countless reruns of Law and Order or Criminal Minds, my favorite mindless activity. Drink a glass of wine. Sink into a forced nothingness. The next day, I don’t want anything to do with anybody. I might do a little shopping therapy and hope no one recognizes me, because I am all talked out.

So the conundrum is this: the extrovert part needs encouragement. It needs a kind word, a hug, a good review (yes, lots of those). The introvert part needs space and alone time.

However, the biggest challenge for me, as an author, is staying encouraged.

When I am steeped in encouragement, I find that I am more positive and energized, and I suspect many of us are that way. One friendly, uplifting comment or review can inspire me for weeks. That is how important a simple word of encouragement is!

When I’m in the introvert phase…my mind is set on a spin cycle of plot points and twists and character issues. Often a scene begs for an introvert’s calm hand. But in my current books, where I’ve developed a Wine & Whine women’s group that is sometimes somber, other times hilarious…an extrovert is needed.

The extrovert likes to write dialogue. Tons of it! I love to write dialogue! And I’m (as a friend of mine is fond of saying) an unapologetic user of exclamation marks! This is me in extrovert mode. Lots of exclamation marks that I have to remove when I edit my first draft. Editors frown on over-utilized exclamation marks!

Both personality types have their uses, but it is easier and more rewarding when I tap into the extroverted side and write chirpy, snarky scenes. However, it does take a mood, and often distractions and discouragement pull me into an abyss. Yes, I can write in spite of mood inhibitors, and yes, I can come up with a pretty decent chapter…but it would be fresher if my extrovert decided to emerge. With the slightest bit of encouragement, my extrovert pushes its way to the surface, lifts my chin, uncoils my tense shoulders, and urges me to write with confidence.

When no one seems to be handing out encouragement, and I have slumped into the pit of inertia, I call an author friend. I really love my fellow authors at Level Best Books. They are supportive, friendly, and most of all…available. There is nothing like a fellow author’s encouragement, because she’s been there. She understands that to write is to cut your life in half and relinquish it to a story that may or may not sell. Not everyone understands the toll it takes, emotionally. That writing can’t and shouldn’t be rushed. Plus, an author is his worst critic. These critical voices ramp up when he is tired, and tell him his writing is terrible and useless—that success is hopeless.

It’s a fight to stay encouraged, and believe that hammering out 80,000-plus words is going to be worth it in the end. And sometimes…all the sweat, brainstorming, outlining, research, and hard work is completely rejected! For instance, at the query stage, rejection happens over and over again. It’s like a battering ram to the ego, those polite rejection letters.  I have learned to call this ‘redirection’, and tell myself that any forward movement is better than none at all. At least it is moving me closer to the goal. Querying is often an exercise in discouragement and it takes determination and persistence to keep going. I am not in that stage now, I have a contract, but publishing is not a given, and I realize success is fragile and fleeting. I hold onto writing successes loosely, as it is a humbling business. A character-builder, for sure!

In the end, I believe staying encouraged as a writer is a choice. When inspiration and optimism take a nose-dive, there are options. Calling fellow authors, fellow writers-in-the-making, or supportive friends. Taking a breather and walking outside in the sunshine. It really is a miracle what the outdoors can do for sagging spirits. And this I know…persistence is everything. Even if I don’t feel like it; even if I am discouraged, I can choose to sit in the chair and put my hands on the keyboard. Just showing up is a win. And often, new ideas and mind-bending plot twists occur when we least feel like writing. This, in itself, is so encouraging!

Let me leave you with this: if you read a book and love it, go the extra mile and leave a review on Amazon—or reach out through social media and tell them how much you loved it and why. All authors, myself included, love to know specifics. When we are putting the story down on the page, we have no idea what will work and what won’t. When a reader tells us they loved their character’s personality, or a riveting scene…whatever it is, a lovely comment about it makes the author’s day. Maybe their entire week.

I know it does mine.

Excerpt from THE RISING, Book Two in the Olivia Callahan Suspense series

“How low you fall points to how high you’ll rise.”

~Matshona Dhliwayo

The stark buildings and barbed-wire-topped walls surrounding the correctional facility reminded me of a Hitchcock movie.

My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. I found a parking spot, and waited in the car a minute, taking in the starkness and finality of a prison compound. My heart did a little lurch when I thought about Monty—my ex-husband and the father of my two daughters—inside. Incarcerated. I guess since I hadn’t seen him since his indictment, it didn’t seem real.

However, I’d learned that having sympathy for Monty was like having sympathy for a snake just before it sank its fangs. “It’s been eighteen months. You can keep it together with this psycho,” I hissed to myself. I hiked my purse onto my shoulder and walked out into the buttery sunshine toward the visitors’ entrance.

I presented my driver’s license, endured a frisk, offered my hand for the fingerprint process, and walked through the metal detector, which of course, went off. With stoic resignation, I endured another frisk, a few hard glances from the guards, and eventually pulled the culprit from the pocket of my pants, an aluminum foil candy bar wrapper.

While I waited for Monty at one of the small, circular tables in the visitors’ room, I scanned the list of do’s and don’ts. Hands must be visible at all times. Vulgar language not allowed. No passing anything to the prisoner. No jewelry other than a wedding band or religious necklace.

I stared at my hands, sticky with sweat. My heart beat in my throat.

I lifted my curls off my forehead and fanned my face with one hand. Three other visitors sat at tables. One woman with graying hair piled like a crown on her head stared at the floor. When she noticed that I was looking at her, she raised her head and threw me a sad smile. A younger woman at another table struggled to keep two young children under control, and an older couple with stress-lined faces whispered to each other as they waited. The room had tan, cinder block walls, a drop-in ceiling with grid tiles that probably hid video cameras, and a single door. No windows. A scrawny, fake plant in one corner made a half-hearted attempt at civility.

The metal door opened. My thoughts were mush, a blender on high. Could I do this? After two years of physical therapy, occupational therapy, and every other kind of therapy the docs could throw at me, shouldn’t I react better than this?

Remember, they’re only feelings.

I squared my shoulders. Wiped my palms on my pants.

As Monty offered his cuffed wrists to the corrections officer, he scanned the room under lowered eyelids. When he saw me, he gave me a scorched- earth glare. After the guard removed his handcuffs, he shook out his arms and rubbed his wrists. The raven-black hair was longer, and brushed his shoulders. He’d been working out. A lot. He wore a loose-fitting top and pants. Orange. As usual, he was larger than life, and in the bright white of the visiting space, surrounded by matching plastic tables and chairs, he was a raven-haired Schwarzenegger in a room full of Danny DeVito’s. I’d once had hope for reconciliation. The thought gave me the shakes now.

He dropped into the chair across from me and plopped his hands on the table. “What do you want?”

I spent a few seconds examining his face—this man I’d spent twenty, long years trying to please, and the reason I’d been assaulted and left for dead by Niles Peterson, a wreck of a man whose life Monty had destroyed as well.

The man responsible for my convoluted recovery from a brain injury that stole my past. Even after two years, I still had huge gaps in my memory, and staring at him felt like staring at a stranger instead of an ex-husband. “My therapist says I need to look back to move forward. I wanted to ask you a few questions, that’s all.”

“Okay,” he grumbled. “I’ll give you a few minutes. Oh, and you’ll love this.  I have to attend counseling sessions about how to keep my ‘darker dispositions’ under control, and I have one of those in thirty minutes.”

Resisting a smile, I quipped, “Are they helping?” He rolled his eyes. “What are the questions?”

“I still have problems remembering stuff. There are things I need to… figure out about who I was before—”

“Before you hooked up with my ole’ buddy Niles?” he interrupted, with a smirk. “Before you threw away everything we had? Before you got yourself in a situation that could’ve gotten you killed? Before you started treating me like a piece of shit?”

I was careful not to react. I’d had enough therapy to understand how to treat a control freak that tried to make me the reason he ended up in prison. That part of my life—the part where Monty had been in charge and his spouse had to obey or else—was over. “Are you done?” I asked.

He clamped his lips together.

I folded my hands on the table and leaned in. “I’ll get right to the point. What drew you to me in the first place? What was I like before the accident, from your perspective?”

Monty tried to get comfortable in the plastic chair. Beneath his immense bulk, it seemed like a child’s chair. “Is that how you’re dealing with it?” His lips twisted in disgust. “It was an assault, Olivia. He tried to rape you, for God’s sake.”

I looked away. “It’s over, and he’s in the ground, thanks to you.”

He crossed his arms and glared. A corrections officer lifted his hand. With a grunt, Monty slapped both hands on the small table where the officer could see them.

After a few beats, he sneered, “You mean besides the obvious attraction of an older guy to a high school girl?” “Give me a break, Monty.”

He chuckled. “You were kind of…I don’t know…scared. I was drawn to you in a protective way. You were shy.”

I frowned. “What was I scared of?”

“Your crazy mom had married some jerk that kept you off balance all the time. Don’t you remember him?”

I thought for a few seconds. Nothing came.

“That coma still messes with you, doesn’t it? Well…might be good not to remember. Maybe he did things to you that he shouldn’t have.” Monty raised his eyebrows up and down.

I wanted to slap him, but I kept my expression neutral.

“A brain injury recovery is unpredictable. I still lose memories, even if someone has drilled them into me. I’m trying to use visualization. I have this feeling…that if I can see it, the rest will be like dominos.”

“So you may not ever remember? Even the good things about our marriage?”

I laughed. “We must have very different perspectives about the word ‘good’, Monty.”

Monty’s jaw muscles flexed. “Next?”

“Was I a capable mother? Was I available and…loving to the kids?”

Maybe it was my imagination, but his lower lip quivered. Did the guy have a heart after all? I’d always believed he loved our daughters. I hoped this was true.

“Olivia, you were a good mother. We had our problems, but you made a good home, and took excellent care of the kids. You were at every freakin’ event, every school fundraiser, everything.” He scowled. “I took a big back seat to the kids.”

“What problems did we have? When did they start?”

He leaned in. “You don’t remember our sex life? How terrible it was? Nothing I could do would get you to….” He shook his head. “You couldn’t even fix a decent meal. You should have been grateful you married someone like me so I could…teach you things.”

CHAPTER ONE

“Keep your voice down!” I insisted, embarrassed.

He cocked his head and grinned. “You always had this…desperate need for my approval or whatever. And when you conveniently avoided telling me you weren’t taking birth control it caused a lot of issues that could’ve been avoided.” He snorted. “Like being in here.”

I tried to rein in my disgust.

“So, let me get this straight. Your priority in our marriage was sex and good food and to pin all our issues on your child bride?” My tone hardened. “A young woman who came from a single-parent home? Who had no understanding what a good and normal guy was like?”

He gave me a look that could peel the skin off my face.

“How did you react when I didn’t do things the way you wanted?” I continued.

“Like any man who’d been disrespected. I corrected the issue.”

“How? By yelling? Physical force? Kicking your pregnant wife in the stomach?” This was a memory I had recovered.

A vein pulsed in his neck.

“How often, Monty? Were these reactions a…a lifestyle in our marriage?” “Look,” he snarled, “I don’t know that this is productive.”

“It is for me,” I said, brightly.

I glanced at the closest officer. He had his hands full with an issue at one of the other tables.

“Mom told me that Serena and Lilly floated out to sea one time, on a rubber raft. Do you remember that?”

His eyes found a spot on the wall.

“So you do remember. What happened?”

“Look, they were, I don’t know, four and six or so. I didn’t think it would be a problem for me to run grab a drink from our bag, and come back. I was gone less than five minutes. How could I know they’d lose control of the raft?”

An earthquake of anger shot through me. “You turned your back on a four-year-old and a six-year-old and expected them to have control of a raft? They were babies!”

“Yeah. Well.” He rose. “Looks like this question thing of yours isn’t working for me.” He pushed his chair in with a bang. The correctional officer gave him a look. Monty strode to the officer’s station and held out his wrists. Adrenaline made me a little shaky after he’d gone, but it wasn’t from fear of the man. My therapist would call this real progress.

I left the room and gathered my things from the visitors’ processing center. As I walked out of the prison facility, all I could think about was…why? Why had I married this guy? And stayed for twenty years? I couldn’t even remember myself as a person who could do that.

At least I’d dragged more information out of him. I was determined to piece together the puzzle of the past I’d lost.

Kerry Peresta — Author of The Rising

Kerry’s publishing credits include a popular newspaper column, “The Lighter Side,” (2009—2011), and magazine articles in Local Life Magazine, The Bluffton Breeze, Lady Lowcountry, and Island Events Magazine. She is the author of three published novels, The Hunting, women’s fiction, The Deadening, Book One of the Olivia Callahan Suspense Series, and The Rising, Book Two.

Book Three in this series releases in 2023 by Level Best Books. She spent twenty-five years in advertising as an account manager, creative director, editor, and copywriter. She is past chapter president of the Maryland Writers’ Association and a current member and presenter of Hilton Head Island Writers’ Network, South Carolina Writers Association, and the Sisters in Crime organization. Kerry and her husband moved to Hilton Head Island, SC, in 2015. She is the mother of four adult children, and has a bunch of wonderful grandkids who remind her what life is all about.

To learn more about Kerry, click on any of the following links: www.KerryPeresta.net, Goodreads, BookBub – @kerryperesta, Instagram – @kerryperesta, Twitter – @kerryperesta & Facebook – @klperesta

Visit all the Stops on the Tour!

05/03 Showcase @ Books, Ramblings, and Tea
05/04 Interview @ Quiet Fury Books
05/05 Interview @ The Scribblings of Sarah E. Glenn
05/06 Review @ Books and Zebras @ jypsylynn
05/09 Review @ Lynchburg Reads
05/11 Guest post @ The Book Divas Reads
05/13 Review @ nanasbookreviews
05/16 Showcase @ Celticladys Reviews
05/16 Showcase @ The Bookwyrm
05/17 Review @ Book Reviews From an Avid Reader
05/17 Review @ Lisa Wetzel
05/18 Review Novels Alive
05/21 Guest post @ The Mystery of Writing
05/25 Showcase @ 411 ON BOOKS, AUTHORS, AND PUBLISHING NEWS
05/25 Showcase @ The Authors Harbor
05/27 Review @ Jersey Girl Book Reviews
05/29 Review @ Nesies Place
05/30 Interview @ I Read What You Write
05/30 Review @ Pat Fayo Reviews
05/31 Review @ Nikkis Bookstagram
05/31 Review @ Wall-to-wall Books

Elena Taylor/Elena Hartwell The Foundation of Plot , a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Out July 19. All We Buried , available now in print, e-book, and audio.

Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator 2020

Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery 2020

 

The post The Rising: Psychological Suspense Thriller appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.

Historical Mystery: Murder, Sweet Murder Copy Copy

Historical Mystery, Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns

Guest Post + Book & Author Info + Giveaway!Historical Mystery — Murder, Sweet Murder

Will Rees accompanies his wife to Boston to help clear her estranged father’s name in this gripping mystery set in the early nineteenth century.

January, 1801. When Lydia’s estranged father is accused of murder, Will Rees escorts her to Boston to uncover the truth. Marcus Farrell is believed to have murdered one of his workers, a boy from Jamaica where he owns a plantation. Marcus swears he’s innocent. However, a scandal has been aroused by his refusal to answer questions and accusations he bribed officials.

As Will and Lydia investigate, Marcus’s brother, Julian, is shot and killed. This time, all fingers point towards James Farrell, Lydia’s brother. Is someone targeting the family? Were the family quarreling over the family businesses and someone lashed out? What’s Marcus hiding and why won’t he accept help?

With the Farrell family falling apart and their reputation in tatters, Will and Lydia must solve the murders soon. But will they succeed before the murderer strikes again?

To purchase Murder, Sweet Murder, click on any of the following links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Severn House Publishers
Publication Date: February 1st 2022
Number of Pages: 224
ISBN: 0727850091 (ISBN13: 9780727850096)
Series: Will Rees Mysteries #11

Historical Mystery Author — Eleanor Kuhn — Guest Post

Although I write historical mysteries that take place in the Federalist period, roughly from the late 1700s to early 1800’s, I always include real life problems for Will Rees, my protagonist, and his family. Events will naturally affect people (in this case, my characters), but they will also have their own dreams and their own challenges.

Because his wife Lydia Rees is a very important piece of the crime solving partnership, I frequently examine the constraints on women. Women had few rights at this time. They couldn’t vote and a widow could not inherit from her husband unless he specifically named her in his will. Instead, she became the charge of her eldest son. You can imagine how well that worked out, especially if mother and son were on poor terms.

In Murder, Sweet Murder, I take a slightly different tack. I spend some time on Rees and Lydia’s adopted daughter Jerusha and her dream of becoming a teacher.

But first, some background.

When Lydia receives a frantic letter from her sister Cordelia begging her to come to Boston, Lydia’s first impulse is to refuse. She has been estranged from her father for years, fleeing her childhood home and taking refuge with the Shakers in Maine. Now her father has been accused of murder — and Lydia suspects he may be guilty. Marcus Farrell has become wealthy from his involvement in the Triangle Trade; using the molasses byproduct from the production of sugar to distill into rum, and then using the rum to buy slaves in Africa. But he is still her father.

But Lydia has intended to visit someday, and look for a school for Jerusha, as well as showing off new baby Sharon. Although Jerusha has gone through the local dame school and knows how to read and write, already more than half of the women of that time could do, she desperately wants to become a teacher and to achieve her goal she needs more education.

So, Rees and Lydia take Sharon and Jerusha and set off for Boston.

Although Rees knew Lydia came from money, he is shocked and dismayed by the wealth of the Farrell family. They in turn, are scornful of these country cousins. Jerusha, in particular, has a difficult time. She is sharing a room with Cordelia, Lydia’s sister. A flighty girl, Cordelia is concerned only with parties, clothes, and making a good marriage. Jerusha is a quiet studious girl determined to further her education. While Cordelia is sneaking out of the house to meet a young man, Jerusha is reading and studying. She is, in the derogatory vernacular of the times, a bluestocking.

As Rees and Lydia begin investigating the first murder, and then shortly thereafter the second — this time Marcus Farrell’s brother, Jerusha reminds them she is there to look at a school. Schools for girls were new. Illiteracy was endemic and families who educated any of their children usually schooled the boys. In Boston, an educator named Caleb Bingham had set up a school for girls. Lydia had attended it as a young woman. The school was there although it had been taken over by the Boston School System.

Rees and Lydia squeeze in a visit to the school before they follow a lead to a run-down boarding house on the poor side of town — and a wild pursuit of a suspect through the Boston streets.

A third murder occurs in an ordinary tavern, within walking distance of the Farrell household but miles away in terms of wealth and privilege. Since this working man’s tavern was the site of the first murder, Rees is certain the three murders are connected. But how? And why would the tavern keeper’s wife be targeted?

The third murder paves the way for the final resolution. But the final decision about Jerusha’s future remains undecided.

Murder, Sweet Murder — Historical Mystery Excerpt

After regarding Rees for several seconds, Mr Farrell extended his hand. Rees grasped it, painfully conscious of his rough hand, calloused by both farm work and weaving. ‘Please attend me in my office,’ Mr Farrell said. ‘We are expecting a few guests for dinner tonight so we will have little time to talk then.’ Turning, he strode away. Rees started to follow but, realizing that Lydia was not by his side, he turned back. She stood hesitantly by the table, her hands tightly clenched together. Rees glared at Mr Farrell’s back and then, reaching out, he pulled one of her hands through his elbow. Together they followed her father into his office.

As Farrell moved a stack of papers from the center of the desk to one side, Rees looked around.  A large globe on a stand stood to the right of Farrell’s desk and one chair had been drawn up to the front. A seating area, with additional chairs, were arranged by the window that looked out upon the front garden. A table in the center held an intricately carved tray with a crystal decanter and several glasses. Shelves of books lined the wall behind and adjacent to the desk, on Rees’s right.

The room was chilly although the fire was burning. Newly laid, it had been lighted, no doubt by some anonymous servant.

Farrell looked up and his eyes rested on Lydia in surprise. Rees felt his wife shrink back, intimidated. He was not going to stand for that. He pulled a chair from the window grouping and placed it in front of the desk. She hesitated for a few seconds and then, lifting her chin defiantly, she sat down. Once she was seated, Rees lowered himself into the opposite chair. After one final dismissive glance at his daughter, Farrell looked at Rees.

‘So, you are a weaver.’

‘That is so,’ Rees said, adding politely, ‘I understand you are a merchant.’

Farrell smiled. ‘I see your wife has told you very little about me or my profession.’ Since responding in the affirmative seemed somehow disloyal to Lydia, Rees said nothing.

Farrell took a box from his desk drawer and opened it to extract a cigar. ‘Would you like a smoke?’ 

‘No thank you,’ Rees said.

‘Or a glass of rum? Or whiskey if that is your tipple.’ When Rees declined again, Farrell put away the cigars and walked to the fireplace to light a splint. The end of the cigar glowed red and the acrid scent of burning tobacco filled the room. Puffing, Farrell returned to his seat.  ‘I suppose one could say I was a merchant. But I do so much more.  I own a plantation as well as a fleet of ships that sail between Boston, the West Indies and Africa.  In Jamaica they take on sugar and molasses which are returned to Boston. Some of it is transformed into rum in my distillery. I export the liquor overseas, both to England and to Africa where the proceeds are used to purchase slaves.’

Sick to his stomach, Rees glanced at Lydia. She was staring at her hands, her face flaming with shame. Although she had alluded to her father’s profession, she had not told him the half of it. She had not told him of her father’s pride in it. Rees understood why she hadn’t. 

 ‘Most of the slaves are brought to the sugar plantation,’ Farrell continued, seemingly oblivious to his daughter’s distress, ‘but some are sold in the Southern states. And you needn’t look so shocked. Why that upstart Republican with his radical ideas, Mr Jefferson, owns slaves. And he may be the next President. I suppose you voted for him.’

Rees did not respond immediately. Although many of Mr Jefferson’s ideas were appealing, Rees had found in the end that he could not vote for a slave holder. Instead, he had voted for Mr Adams. But that gentleman had not placed; the election was a tie between Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr. Sent to the House for resolution, Jefferson had won by one vote.’ No,’ Rees said carefully, keeping his voice level with an effort, ‘I voted for his opponent.’

‘Well, that makes us kin then. Although you will meet a few slaves here in Boston, in this very house.’ He grinned and Rees thought of Morris and Bridget with their tinted skin. ‘But few, very few. Neither the Africans nor the Spanish Indians adapt well to this northern climate and they quickly die.’ This was said with indifference as though he spoke of a broken chair.

Farrell flicked a glance at his daughter and smiled. With a surge of anger, Rees realized that Farrell fully understood the effect his speech would have on her and was enjoying her misery. Rees gathered himself to rise from his chair. Lydia reached out and grasped his sleeve.

‘This is for Cordy,’ she whispered. Rees sat down again, his body stiff.

‘But you did not come to listen to me natter on about my profession,’ Farrell said, watching the byplay with interest. ‘Shall we discuss that ridiculous murder, the one of which I am accused?’ 

Rees looked into Lydia’s beseeching eyes and after a few seconds he relaxed into his seat. God forgive him, a part of him hoped Marcus Farrell was guilty.

‘Go on,’ Rees said coldly. Marcus smiled.

‘Permit me to save you both time and effort,’ he said. ‘I did not kill that boy.’

‘Then why do people think you did?’ Rees asked. Puffing furiously, and clearly unwilling to reply, Farrell took a turn around the room.

‘Did you know him?’ Lydia asked, her voice low and clear. ‘This Roark?’

Farrell stood up so abruptly his chair almost tipped over.  ‘Yes, I knew him.’ He glanced at Rees. ‘We were seen, Roark and I, arguing down at Long Wharf.’

‘Arguing about what?’ Rees asked.

‘It is not important. He was a nobody.’ Farrell glared at Rees, daring him to persist. Rees waited, never removing his gaze from the other man. Sometimes silence made the best hammer. Finally, Farrell said angrily, ‘He wanted a rise in his wages. I said no. He disagreed. That was all there was to it.’

Rees glanced at Lydia and found her staring at him. He knew, and he suspected she did 

too, that her father had just lied to them.

Historical Mystery Author Eleanor Kuhns

Eleanor Kuhns is the 2011 winner of the Mystery Writers of America/Minotaur first mystery novel. Murder, Sweet Murder is the eleventh mystery following the adventures of Rees and his wife.

She transitioned to full time writing last year after a successful career spent in library service. Eleanor lives in upstate New York with her husband and dog.

To learn more about Eleanor, click on any of the following links: www.Eleanor-Kuhns.com, Goodreads, BookBub Twitter – @EleanorKuhns & Facebook – @writerkuhns

Join the insta-party! Visit Instagram – #eleanorkuhns to join!

Don’t miss any blog tour posts! Click the link here.Enter the Author/Partners In Crime Giveaway!Visit all the Stops on the Tour!

04/12 Guest post @ The Book Divas Reads
04/13 Showcase @ Books Blog
04/14 Showcase @ Silvers Reviews
04/15 Showcase @ Im Into Books
04/17 Review @ Book Reviews From an Avid Reader
04/19 Showcase @ Brooke Blogs
04/20 Interview @ I Read What You Write
04/21 Interview @ Quiet Fury Books
04/24 Review @ Buried Under Books
04/25 Guest post @ Novels Alive
04/25 Showcase @ Celticladys Reviews
04/27 Review @ Novels Alive
04/28 Showcase @ Books, Ramblings, and Tea
05/03 Guest post @ Author Elena Taylors Blog
05/03 Review @ sunny island breezes
05/04 Review @ A Room Without Books is Empty
05/05 Review @ Pat Fayo Reviews
05/26 Interview podcast @ Blog Talk Radio
05/26 Review @ Just Reviews

Elena Taylor is the author of All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio book format at all your favorite bookstores and on-line retailers.

For more information on All We Buried, click on the link here to visit the home page.

Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator 2020

Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery 2020

The post Historical Mystery: Murder, Sweet Murder Copy Copy appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.

Death in the Aegean by M.A. Monnin

Death in the Aegean by M.A. Monnin

Author Interview + Book & Author Info + Author Pet CornerDon’t miss any ITW Debut Author Interview! Click the link here.Death in the Aegean

When private banker Stefanie Adams takes a much-needed vacation to the Greek isles, vowing to embrace opportunities as they come, instead of finding romance and adventure she is suspected of murdering a bride who accused her deceased father of artifact theft. Unfortunately, the newlywed’s accusation also ties Stefanie, a former archaeology student, to the robbery of a newly discovered Minoan statue, the golden Akrotiri Snake Goddess.

With two high-profile crimes to solve, Greek police are under pressure, and both crimes lead straight to Stefanie. To avoid Greek prison and maintain her career, Stefanie must identify which of her fellow travelers is the real killer.

Between the light-fingered backpacker with an eye on the bride’s jewelry, the travel blogger whose career the dead woman ruined, a flirtatious German tourist who is after more than romance, and the long-suffering bridegroom, Stefanie’s task won’t be easy. Everyone, it seems, had a motive for wanting to see the last of Emma Keller.

Stefanie’s investigation entangles her in a web of danger and intrigue, international crime and long-buried secrets. When she herself becomes a target, Stefanie doesn’t know who to trust. As charming Thomas Burkhardt warns, Where Greed Leads, Murder Follows…

To purchase Death in the Aegean, click on the link: AmazonDeath in the Aegean by M.A. Monnin — The InterviewDeath in the Aegean takes place in the Greek Isles. What drew you to setting your debut novel in such an exotic location, very different from Kansas City MO, where you live?

I first fell in love with Crete when I was a teenager in Germany. My father, who was in the Army, went to Crete every summer for military exercises, and he’d come back with Greek vases, leather sandals and beautiful flokati rugs.

Flokati Rug

Then, when I was in the Air force, I met my husband, who’d been stationed in Crete before we met. I’m sure the fact that he also had those Greek vases and a flokati rug was part of my attraction to him.

A few years ago, I finally talked him into going back, and we had a magical vacation with a few days on Santorini, and a week on Crete. Between the sun, the sea and the archaeological sites, it was heaven. And the food and wine. Can’t forget them!

What would you like readers to know about Stefanie Adams, the central character in Death in the Aegean?

Stefanie had always been the type of person who planned seven steps ahead.

After learning the hard way that sticking to plans doesn’t guarantee results, it merely limits choices along the way, she vows to be more spontaneous and embrace opportunities as they come. But that attitude leads to its own problems, doesn’t it?

What intrigues you about archaeology? How does it play a role in your novel?

I’m fascinated by how advanced some civilizations were in the past. For example, the Minoans on Thera (Santorini) had indoor plumbing that led to sewers buried under their streets. To me, that is incredible. Their gold work was exquisite, too.

In Death in the Aegean, a gold snake goddess is discovered in the Bronze Age town of Akrotiri, and wealthy tourists and the curious gather on Santorini to be the first to see it exhibited at an exclusive fund-raiser. The black market for artifacts is thriving, and it doesn’t take long for greed to enter the picture.

Tell us about your road to publication with Death in the Aegean:

Rocky.

I’ve told my writer’s group that I’m the queen of rejections. I first wrote it as a thriller, but couldn’t get an agent interested. I believed in the story, so rewrote it as a mystery with the help of a developmental editor.

I still couldn’t get any agents interested, although several were kind enough to share their thoughts on why it wasn’t working. I know how valuable that advice was, but I didn’t take it blindly. Instead, keeping their advice in mind, I analyzed 5 or 6 first-in-a-series mysteries, and compared them with what I’d written. I ended up tweaking my manuscript just slightly, and submitted it to small presses.

After getting several offers, I sold it to Level Best Books. I still don’t have an agent, so will be looking for one at ThrillerFest this year.

What might we find you doing when you aren’t writing?

Hiking with Bob and the dogs, gardening, or watching classic movies when we aren’t traveling.

What are you working on now?

A couple of things: the second in the Intrepid Traveler Mysteries, which takes place in Milan and Venice. All of the books in this series will be in places that I’ve actually traveled to. I’m also trying my hand at a modern Gothic murder mystery, which is a lot of fun.

Words of Wisdom for Aspiring Writers:

Submit your work, and if you keep getting rejected, be willing to analyze your manuscript to see how you can make it more marketable.

Anubis (top) & Nikita!Author Pet Corner!Anubis & Nikita!

Anubis and Nikita are our Siberian huskies, who we take for daily walks.

We got them as puppies together, and we love them to bits, but I have to admit, we’re happy they are finally settling down now that they’re three years old.

 

 

 

M.A. Monnin — Author of Death in the Aegean

M. A. Monnin’s debut mystery novel Death In The Aegean comes out in May from Level Best Books.

Like her heroine Stefanie Adams, Mary loves the excitement and adventure of foreign travel. If there’s the chance to check out an archaeological site, so much the better for this avocational archaeologist.

Her short stories have appeared in Malice Domestic and pulp anthologies as well as Black Cat Mystery Magazine. Her non-fiction endeavors include articles on gardening, Victorian reception of Ancient Egypt, and Victorian detective fiction.

An Air Force veteran, Mary divides her time between writing, traveling, and hiking. She lives in Kansas City, Missouri with her husband and two Siberian huskies.

To learn more about M.A. click her name, photo, or any of the following links: Twitter, Facebook & Instagram

Elena Taylor is the author of All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio book format at all your favorite bookstores and on-line retailers.

For more information on All We Buried, click on the link here to visit the home page.

Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator 2020

Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery 2020

Header photo by Sophia Papageorge on Pixabay

The post Death in the Aegean by M.A. Monnin appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.

Dead Man’s Leap: A Traditional Mystery

Dead Man’s Leap, a traditional mystery by Tina deBellegarde

Guest Post + Author & Book Info + Author/Tour Giveaway!Don’t miss any blog tour posts! Click the link here.Dead Man’s Leap by Tina deBellegarde

DEAD MAN’S LEAP revisits Bianca St. Denis in Batavia-on-Hudson, New York

Rushing waters…dead bodies…secrets…

As Bianca St. Denis and her neighbors scour their attics for donations to the charity rummage sale, they unearth secrets as well as prized possessions. Leonard Marshall’s historic inn hosts the sale each year, but it is his basement that houses the key to his past. When an enigmatic antiques dealer arrives in town, he upends Leonard’s carefully reconstructed life with an impossible choice that harkens back to the past.

Meanwhile, when a storm forces the villagers of Batavia-on-Hudson to seek shelter, the river rises and so do tempers. Close quarters fuel simmering disputes, and Sheriff Mike Riley has his work cut out for him. When the floods wash up a corpse, Bianca once again finds herself teaming up with Sheriff Riley to solve a mystery. Are they investigating an accidental drowning or something more nefarious?

Dead Man’s Leap explores the burden of secrets, the relief of renunciation, and the danger of believing we can outpace our past.To purchase Dead Man’s Leap, click the following link: Amazon

Genre: Traditional Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: April 5, 2022
Number of Pages: 254
ISBN: 1685120849 (ISBN-13: 978-1685120849)
Series: A Batavia-on-Hudson Mystery, #2

Guest PostWhy Fiction is Really AutobiographyBy Tina deBellegarde

Over my many years as a reader I have often wondered why some books seem real, connect with me, seem to “get it right,” and others did not. I have decided that for me character development must transcend the plot. This is how I believe a science fiction book can be so surprisingly relatable. A good writer will develop the characters with authentic emotions that transcend the setting, the time period, the genre, and the plot.

Write what you know. Many writers feel cramped by this dictum. What if an author has lived in one neighborhood their entire lives? Never traveled? Never had any particular good or bad fortune to endure? What can they write? They can write about their internal struggles. Everyone has them. Everyone feels them deeply. Writers must be willing to mine these feelings and imbue their characters with the depth of these emotions. There are plenty of books that skirt over emotions. These books make us laugh, help us relax, they entertain us. But the books that connect, do so through their depth of feeling.

When Luke Skywalker searches for his father, when he contends with his father’s identity, we come to understand him a little bit better. We empathize. We wish him the strength to handle it. Not because we have all dealt with this precise issue, but because we can equate his struggle to other struggles we have had. We recognize his pain.

Louisa May Alcott didn’t have to be a mother to write an authentic Mrs. March in Little Women. Alcott was a daughter, was close to her sisters, and she experienced a difficult family life. This suffering was translatable. Readers understand the March women because even without the exact challenges they experience in the book, we know the depth of emotion we feel for our children and our siblings. So, we connect, we feel the authenticity in Alcott’s writing.

We don’t have to be men to connect to Hemingway’s Santiago in The Old Man and the Sea. We have all needed to summon extra courage or resilience to endure and prove our identity to ourselves. Santiago’s plight is so well revealed that we can relate to it, we recognize it and we root for him as we would root for ourselves. We need him to succeed. This produces an authenticity to the reader. Some have said that Hemingway personified manliness. It is no wonder then that this particular author could pull from that experience and imbue an old man, of an age that Hemingway never experienced, with these believable qualities.

But universal emotions still need to be tapped. A writer cannot merely say that Mrs. March loved her children. We need to see how she loved them. Hemingway cannot merely say that Santiago was proud. We need to witness it.

Write what you know tells me that I need to be willing to tap into buried emotions in order to offer it up to my readers. They are peering inside my soul.

Writers who are too possessive, too jealous of their personal pain, so secretive as to not share their deepest insecurities or vulnerabilities on the page, may write a suspenseful plot, may create an interesting world or puzzle, but that’s not enough to engage me with the characters. And for me, the story is all about the people.

Excerpt from Dead Man’s LeapCHAPTER ONE

He inched toward the precipice, his toes gripping the stone ledge as if they had a will of their own. He lifted his head and squinted into the sunlight still streaming through the blackening clouds. He took in the expanse of rushing water below. In all his eighteen years, Trevor had never seen the creek roil so ferociously.

A clap of thunder startled him. His toes relaxed, and he felt as if the slightest wind could take him over the edge. Lightheaded for a second, he regained his footing and his purpose.

He had no choice if he wanted all this to stop.

He needed to do it.

And do it now.

The downpour would break again soon. But for now, all he could hear was the rushing of Horseshoe Falls beneath him, the roar drowning out the noise of his past.

Of his father.

Of his mother.

Yes, his mother. He had expected his father to be weak, and wasn’t surprised at all after he left. But his mother? A mother’s love is supposed to be unconditional. At least that’s what she had always said before she had turned their world upside down. It was bad enough when she had played at being the sexiest woman in town. At least when his friends teased him then, it was meant to be fun. But this was worse, far worse. Now they wanted nothing to do with him. Now they used him as a punching bag.

His gang no longer looked to him as their leader. They ridiculed him for what his mother had done. From the beginning, he knew those kids were bad news. What choice did he have? In grade school he’d been bullied. Well, he had put a stop to that in high school. Can’t be bullied if you’re the biggest bully.

His mother was gone. His father was gone. And now his posse. First, it was the cold shoulder, and a few snide remarks. Then he was cornered in the locker room after the game one day. That was the hardest. He hadn’t taken a beating like that since the fifth grade. But the tables had been turned on him so fast that he never saw it coming. Trevor realized now that they were never friends. They were just a group of trouble makers who hung out together. Good riddance to them. He didn’t need them anymore.

Another thunderclap reminded him where he was. On the edge. Right on the edge. He either had to do this properly or he would be going over anyway.

Trevor looked over his shoulder one last time and heard a faint commotion in the background. Once they rounded the path, he closed his eyes and jumped.

* * *

Bianca St. Denis stretched to grab the cord just out of reach above her head and yanked on it with all her force to bring down the attic staircase. She tilted her head to avoid being struck as it made its way down. She unfolded the retractable stairs and put one foot on the first rung. But there she stopped, not sure she could take the next few steps. At forty-two the issue wasn’t her physical ability to climb the steps, she was active, even fairly athletic. The old saying went “the mind was willing but the body was not.” Well, in her case “the body was willing but the mind was not.”

She had stayed out of the attic all these months since Richard’s death. She had made do without her ski parka this past winter, and used Richard’s barn jacket she’d found in the mudroom instead. She had made do without the spring curtains she would normally switch out in the living room each March. The winter ones still hung heavy and foreboding. And she made do without the patio cushions she had sewn two seasons ago. She simply sat on the raw wood when she wanted to read or eat in the backyard. She hadn’t realized the number of things she had been doing without by avoiding the attic, not until the town started buzzing about the rummage sale. She pretended it was because she hadn’t had time to search for the items, but she knew better.

She took her foot off the rung, bent and picked up the stairs again, refolded them, and let them float to the ceiling. The hatch closed with a neat click.

* * *

Once Trevor hit the water, his tension disappeared. He welcomed the release and let himself drop. Slowly he was pulled down into the chaos of the rushing water, but his mind had floated above it all. He didn’t feel a thing, he observed it instead. He watched as his body sank, as it swirled in the vortex of the overfull creek. He watched as his body escaped the current and floated peacefully in the murky water. And he watched as he gave in to full renunciation and allowed the water to decide what was to become of him.

His thoughts slowed, as muddy as the water surrounding him.

They slowed, but he could not make them disappear.

He had managed to avoid jumping off Dead Man’s Leap every summer, but this year he knew he couldn’t get away with it. They had already threatened to make sure he jumped this year. That was only part of what the summer had in store for him. Who could he turn to? His grandparents had no idea what he was going through. They always hid their heads in the sand anyway. There was nothing they could do for him. So, he had taken matters into his own hands.

He was shocked when his head broke the surface, and despite himself he gasped for air in enormous mouthfuls until he gagged. He bobbed there, undecided, until he finally attempted the few strides to reach the cove. It took him longer than he expected, like swimming in molasses. A cross between his fatigue, his indifference, and the strong current kept him from reaching the bank in the three strokes it would normally require. On his knees, he crawled out of the pull of rushing water and dropped on the shore.

* * *

Leonard Marshall picked up the package, the paper crinkling in his hand. He carefully unwrapped one layer, then another. Layer after layer until he held the smooth tiny statuette in his hand. He trembled, and smiled, attracted and repulsed at the same time. How could such a tiny thing hold so many emotions for him? So much power over him? It was so small he could cradle it in the palm of his hand. He closed his fingers around it. It disappeared. He opened them again, and there it was. With it came a flood of memories. Exhilarating. His heart raced with a quick pat, pat, pat.

The basement door creaked. He took in a breath.

Time slowed and his heart with it.

Thump……thump……thump.

The light clicked on.

Another creak. Above him a step, a pause, another step. The door ached on its hinges as it opened wider. The light flicked off. The door closed. The steps faded. He let out his breath.

* * *

Trevor had never experienced fatigue like this. He crawled onto shore in the shadow of the cliff and collapsed. He never expected to make it out of the water, and now that he had, he lay there drawing in large mouthfuls of air, as if his lungs would never get enough. He stayed there, staring up at the sky, watching the dark clouds shapeshift. The rain would be there any moment, and to his surprise, he welcomed it.

As his breathing relaxed, he realized that the pain he felt was a sharp object stabbing his back. He rolled over, removed it, and threw it off to the side. As he turned to lay back down, his blurry eyes focused on the object. It was a bone. A human bone? He scrambled onto his knees and slowly made his way over to it. He was repulsed and fascinated, but mostly he was frightened by the sight of a bone and what that could mean. What had happened here, right here in this cove?

In the distance, he heard their drunken voices again. He knelt and grabbed handfuls of dirt to cover the bone. He heard them approach the edge of the cliff.

“He came this way. I saw him jump.”

“He’s too chicken, he didn’t jump. But when I find him, he’ll jump alright. He’ll jump or I’ll send him flying.”

“He jumped, I tell ya. Leave him alone. You wanted him to jump, and he did. I saw him. Let it go, already.”

“Yeah, well if he jumped, where is he?”

“You think he’s still under? You think he hit his head like that kid a while back?”

“I’m telling you, he didn’t jump.”

“There’s nowhere else to go but down. Of course, he jumped.”

“I’m going in. If he did jump, we’ll find him down there. He’s probably hiding under the cliff.”

Trevor carefully picked his way out of the cove. Scraping up against the cliff as close as his body would allow, he followed the contours until he came out on the other side of the falls. With his last bit of strength, he climbed up the rocky trail alongside Horseshoe Falls.

Author of Dead Man’s Leap — Tina deBellegarde

Tina deBellegarde has been called “the Louise Penny of the Catskills.” Winter Witness, the first book in her Batavia-on-Hudson Mystery series, was nominated for an Agatha Award for Best First Novel, a Silver Falchion Award, and a Chanticleer Mystery and Mayhem Award.

Her story “Tokyo Stranger” which appears in the Mystery Writers of America anthology When a Stranger Comes to Town edited by Michael Koryta has been nominated for a Derringer Award. Tina’s short fiction also appears in The Best New England Crime Stories anthologies.

She is the vice-president of the Upper Hudson Chapter of Sisters in Crime, a member of Mystery Writers of America and Writers in Kyoto. She lives in Catskill, New York, with her husband Denis and their cat Shelby where they tend to their beehives, harvest shiitake mushrooms, and cultivate their vegetable garden.

She winters in Florida and travels to Japan regularly to visit her son Alessandro.

To learn more about Tina, click any of the following links: tinadebellegarde.com, Goodreads, BookBub – @tinadebellegarde, Instagram – @tdb_writes, Twitter – @tdbwrites & Facebook – @tinadebellegardeauthor

Visit All the Stops on the Tour!

05/02 Showcase @ Books, Ramblings, and Tea
05/05 Showcase @ nanasbookreviews
05/06 Interview @ I Read What You Write
05/07 Review @ Book Reviews From an Avid Reader
05/10 Review @ sunny island breezes
05/11 Review @ It’s All About the Book
05/12 Guest post @ The Book Divas Reads
05/13 Review @ Waterside Kennels Mysteries
05/13 Showcase @ Books to the Ceiling
05/16 Review @ Quiet Fury Books
05/17 Showcase @ Celticladys Reviews
05/18 Guest post @ The Mystery of Writing
05/18 Showcase @ Nesies Place
05/23 Guest post @ Novels Alive
05/24 Review @ Scrapping & Playing
05/25 Review @ Lisa Wetzel (FB)
05/30 Review @ A Room Without Books is Empty
05/31/ Review @ Jersey Girl Book Reviews
08/08 Interview podcast @ Blog Talk Radio
08/08 Review @ Just Reviews

Elena Taylor is the author of All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio book format at all your favorite bookstores and on-line retailers.

For more information on All We Buried, click on the link here to visit the home page.

Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator 2020

Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery 2020

The post Dead Man’s Leap: A Traditional Mystery appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.

The Storytellers by Caron McKinlay

The Storytellers by Caron McKinlay — ITW Debut Author.

Author Interview + Book & Author Info + Author Pet Corner!Read more ITW Debut Author Interviews! Click the link here.The Storytellers

Trapped between life and the afterlife, three women meet and share their stories while discovering the truth about the men in their lives—and about themselves.

Suspended in an eerie state of limbo, an entity called the Gatekeeper tells Nikki, Ronnie, and Mrs. Hawthorne they are on the cusp of entering the afterlife—but only if the women can persuade him that in their earthly lives, they knew the meaning of love.

Fragments of their memories return, plunging them back into their pasts, and forcing them to face the desires, disappointments, addictions, lies, and obsessions they battled in life.

But before time runs out, will they find the answer to the ultimate question: what is love?

To purchase The Storytellers, click any of the following links: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple Books, Kobo & WaterstonesThe Storytellers — Author Interview — Caron McKinlayThe Storytellers takes place, in part, in “an eerie state of limbo.” A space between life and the afterlife. How did that space come to you? Tell us about that and the Gatekeeper.

The three central female characters are poised between life and the afterlife. So, they had to be located in a place that represented some sort of boundary. I have always loved the sea, so the boundary between water and land, a beach, came to me early on as a natural location for them to meet each other.

The Gatekeeper character reflects something evident in a lot of world religions—this idea that someone will judge your worthiness to move into the afterlife.

The ancient Egyptians had Anubis, the ‘guider of souls’ and the ‘weigher of hearts’. The ancient Greeks had Charon the ferryman. And, of course, in popular western culture, we have the image of St Peter guarding the Pearly Gates.

It is an idea that clearly has strong historical and multicultural roots in human society. So I thought it was important to reflect that in the three women’s experiences.

Tell us about the path to publication for The Storytellers:

It all seems straightforward looking back, given what I have read about publishing a book and have heard from other authors.

It took me nine months to write the book, four weeks to get an agent and six weeks to find a publisher. That said, it was a steep learning curve and I was very lucky. I had to discover the importance of seeking out author friends who would give me unvarnished commentary on various draft sections of the book. And then I had to learn how to deal with that advice, accepting lots but rejecting some. It took a while to become confident in that.

Then once the book was complete, I discovered the importance of taking the initial approach to agents very seriously. That meant honing my cover letter and synopsis, again with guidance from other authors and professional advice from 1-2-1s at Jericho Writers where literary agents critique your submission package.

The whole process, though, was filled with anxiety and a dread of failure. And that really hasn’t gone away now that my book is out. For now, the important people—the readers —will judge it. I hope they do so favorably.

What would you like readers to know about Nikki, Ronnie, and Mrs. Hawthorne?

In one way, they are very dissimilar. Nikki is a naïve eighteen-year-old, just starting out on life’s journey full of the idea of a fairy tale romance.

Ronnie is a middle-aged, confident and successful career woman.

Mrs. Hawthorne is older, grieving the recent loss of her father, and wondering whether life has much more in store for her.

But they are also alike because in each of their lives the spectre of toxic relationships with men rears its head. And so, each one faces that challenge to overcome. And in all ways, they could be any one of us. Ourselves, a friend, or a daughter.

The ultimate question in the novel is “what is love?” What makes that concept important to you? What is important about the definition of that emotion?

I think it is more important to me to define what is not love. Love isn’t intentionally cruel or hurtful. It doesn’t chip away at your self-esteem and sense of self. It doesn’t make you feel less of a person or unworthy. Love shouldn’t be a punishment. It should bring you joy, respect and security. And it comes in many forms. The price of love shouldn’t be the loss of yourself.

The concept is important to me because I am tired by the stories of so many women being lied to, cheated on or hurt by men who are meant to love them. This appears to have escalated in line with the increase in our interactions on social media. It’s easier to hide there and profess to be someone else.

And for some men, it’s just a big sweetie shop with too much choice. And we all keep quiet about it as if we are ashamed to have been tricked or to have believed in them. Scared to voice what someone is like in case we are called needy or a psycho.

I really wanted women to think about what love should look like for them. I wanted them to see they were not alone.

In addition to launching your debut novel, you are a very active book reviewer. What do you look for in a book? What makes you think, this is a five-star read!

It is the premise that excites me first, then I will look at the first page. If it excites me, I will then buy it.

I really love something different, perhaps a spec edge in a love story or a new take on a psychological thriller.

For a five-star read, I need the writing, plot and ending to be great. But even if isn’t successful in each of those categories—if it has moved me in some way—if I can’t put it down —then it’s worthy of five stars. That’s all authors want surely. To connect with a reader’s emotions.

What are you working on now?

I am currently working on two ideas for my second book—both very different and I’m not sure which will survive!

Words of Wisdom for Aspiring Writers:

Keep writing but don’t feel you have to do that every day.

Find some people whose literary views you trust and send them drafts.

There are online writing communities where you can find like-minded folks who will offer honest opinions if you are willing to do likewise in return. When you have a completed manuscript, that is just the start.

Take the process of approaching agents seriously. Your ‘pitch’ letter and your synopsis have to be as good as you can make them. Again, seek out others’ views on whether they work or not. And most importantly find your tribe to support you. Writing can be a lonely place.

Great Advice!Author Pet Corner!Harris!

My husband and I have a Dandie Dinmont Terrier called Harris.

He was the inspiration for the little dog, Jack, in The Storytellers.

Though Jack is not as mischievous (or noisy!) Dandies are well-known for being of an independent mind, and Harris is no exception!

Caron McKinlay — Author of The Storytellers

Caron grew up in a mining town on the east coast of Scotland where her dad would return from the pit and fill her life with his tall tales. She never thought about making a career in writing – that was what posh people did, not someone from a working-class council estate.

However, her father’s death was the cause of deep introspection and her emotions gave birth to a short story, Cash, which was published in the Scottish Book Trust’s anthology, Blether. This gave her the confidence to try and believe in herself.

When not blogging, reading, and writing, Caron spends her time with her daughters. She doesn’t enjoy exercise – but loves running around after her grandsons, Lyle and Noah, to whom she is devoted.

Caron had three childhood dreams in life: to become a published author, to become a teacher, and for David Essex to fall in love with her. Two out of three ain’t bad, and she’s delighted with that.

To learn more about Caron, click on her name, photo, or any of the following links: Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Tiktok & GoodreadsElena Taylor

Elena Taylor is the author of All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio book format at all your favorite bookstores and on-line retailers.

For more information on All We Buried, click on the link here to visit the home page.

Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator 2020

Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery 2020

Header photo by Illuvis on Pixabay.

The post The Storytellers by Caron McKinlay appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.

Make Me Disappear: Psychological Suspense

Make Me Disappear — debut novel of psychological suspense by Jessica Payne.

Author Interview + Book & Author Info + Author Pet Corner!Make Me Disappear

By the time I realized the truth about Daniel it was too late. But the truth about me? He never saw that coming…

Dr Daniel Ashcroft was perfect: handsome, romantic, protective. I thought I was so lucky.

But then I heard the rumors about his previous girlfriend, that she had vanished without a trace.That’s when I found the cameras in my apartment.

I was trapped. Daniel made it clear I couldn’t leave him, not without risking everyone I loved. I had to disappear, so I arranged my own kidnapping.

I should have known Daniel would never let me get away that easily. But he could never have predicted what I’d do next…

Make Me Disappear is a brilliantly twisty psychological thriller guaranteed to keep you up all night. Fans of The Wife Between Us, Gone Girl and The Couple Next Door will find it impossible to put down.

To purchase Make Me Disappear, click on any of the following links: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and IndieBound

Mark Want to Read on Goodreads!

Make Me Disappear Author Interview — Jessica PayneMake Me Disappear—your debut novel—is psychological suspense. I love that genre, but it’s hard to get both twisty plots and well-developed characters. What did you find to be a challenge with developing the story? What came more easily?

The biggest challenge for me—and this was my first psychological suspense/thriller book I’d written—was making sure all the plot threads wove together seamlessly.

One of my favorite parts of this genre is that lightbulb moment at the end, where you can see how the subplots affected the main plot, how A led to B led to C. Where you look back and think oh my gosh, how didn’t I see this twist coming? To pull that off felt like a huge achievement that truly made me believe the quote good writing is rewriting (or something like that!).

The easier part was the characters for me. Noelle, the main character, is someone who’s been bouncing around in my head for a while—this young woman, a nurse in Seattle, trapped in a bad relationship. Her voice was one I had been waiting to share.

The other point-of-view, Daniel, her sociopathic, narcissistic boyfriend, came easily, too.

I didn’t start this book knowing it would be dual POV, or knowing Daniel’s voice at all. But I sat down and started writing and it was like he was just there, waiting for me—his evil delight and all. I really wanted him to be one of those characters you hate how much you love (like Dexter or Joe Goldberg from YOU). The combination of her honest, sweet, but determined demeanor with his dark, twisted, sociopathic one, made quite the equation for a psychological suspense.

What would you like readers to know about Noelle? The protagonist in Make Me Disappear?

Well, one important aspect of Noelle is that she is a pretty typical twenty-something—new in town, working as an RN to pay her rent, a love of running in the mountains and near the Puget Sound—she could be any of us at that point in our lives. She met a great guy—a handsome, charming doctor—anyone would be over the moon.

But things are not always as they seem. What happens behind closed doors can be very different than what we see on the surface. I tried to show how bad relationships don’t start all at once. It’s not like you go on a first date and the person has a sign on their head saying Bad News. These toxic relationships are often much stealthier, and Noelle, like so many women, doesn’t realize how bad it’s gotten until she’s too deep to escape.

Thus, why she realized her only option was to arrange for her own kidnapping. It’s too bad things did not go as planned.

Daniel, meanwhile, truly believes he’s doing the right thing. I mean, don’t most people?

Tell us about your road to publication:

Make Me Disappear was the fourth book I sent out to agents, and it got an incredible response. I signed with my agent, Kimberly Brower, in February of 2021. We spent a few months revising Make Me Disappear, then went on submission to publishers in summer. Kelsie Marsden, my editor, offered on Make Me Disappear pretty quickly—it was quite exciting.

We made our decision and accepted her offer, and things haven’t slowed down since. I signed a two-book deal, so I have another book coming out later this year!

What question would you like to be asked about your debut novel or the process to publication that you haven’t gotten yet?

Long after I finished writing Make Me Disappear, while revising a passage that included two male characters’ names, I realized I had used the name Jack and Daniel for main characters… you know, as in Jack Daniels, the whiskey. I keep waiting for someone to ask if this was on purpose, and no one ever has! (and no, it was not at all on purpose ).

We both live in the Pacific Northwest after growing up elsewhere. What drew you to this part of Washington State?

When I was in my early twenties, I spent six months working on a backcountry trails crew in the Sierra Nevadas in California.

After growing up in Kansas City, it was quite the change of scenery. I realized I was much happier somewhere with mountains and water and made it a goal to make the move permanent to the west coast. After I finished nursing school a few years later, I applied for jobs up and down the coast, but immediately received two offers at different hospitals in Tacoma, Washington—it seemed like a sign that was where I was meant to go!

And I’m so glad I did. Seeing the Puget Sound every day is amazing. Seeing Mt. Rainier off in the distance is a breath of fresh air. I love the mountains, the water, the tall trees, the rainy days. I feel like this is where I’m supposed to be.

What are you working on now?

I’m deep in edits for book 2, tentatively titled TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT.

Here’s a quick summary:

World champion MMA coach Norah Silverton worked hard to become one of the most dangerous woman in the world. And who can blame her, after she escaped a serial killer at the age of seventeen. It’s a decade later, and when her estranged father dies, she must return to her hometown, facing not only her past, but the knowledge the full story of how she survived said serial killer has been published for all to read. But when she arrives, she soon realizes she’s not there to bury the father whose love she was never worthy of—she’s there to face the serial killer she tricked into letting her go so long ago.

I’m also working on a co-written project in a different genre, which has been so much fun! Co-writing with a writing friend and critique partner is so different, but I’m learning a lot. And trying out another genre has let me flex some writing muscles in new ways.

Words of Wisdom for Aspiring Writers:

Keep writing, of course. And keep learning, too. The advice to just keep writing will only take you so far—read what you want to be writing.

Observe and take in how other authors have done it. Take a class. Read a craft book. Keep writing, because that’s how you’ll get better, but also actively try to get better.

Also, honest feedback. Find a critique partner who isn’t related to you. Who is okay telling you when they think something can be improved. I genuinely don’t think I’d be a published author without my group of critique partners.

Excellent advice!Author Pet Corner!Maggie & Penny!

Penny—Our family’s nervous nelly. She’s a best friend and guardian.

Theme song: Please Don’t Leave Me (Pink)

Maggy—As chill as can be. Loves belly rubs and apples.

Theme song: Peanuts theme song

Frankie!

Frankie—pretty sure he was meant to be a model.

In the meantime, he enjoys sitting in front of the fireplace and staring at you until you pet him.

Theme song: I’m Too Sexy (Right Said Fred).

Quoted as saying: When you’re a cat, the whole world is your catwalk.

Lil’st Kitty!

Lil’st Kitty—also known as my writing cat. Will wake me up every day at 4:30am to make sure I get my words in.

Also, thinks she is a bird and chirps like one constantly.

Theme song: I’m Like A Bird (Nelly Furtado)

Jessica Payne

Jessica grew up in Kansas City, later moving to the Pacific Northwest where the mountains and Puget Sound became home.

Beyond writing, she loves to run, rock climb, and explore the great outdoors with her daughter and husband.

She is also an RN. When holding still, which isn’t often, you’ll find a book in her hand and a cat or dog in her lap. Jessica writes suspense and thriller and is the host of #MomsWritersClub on Twitter and YouTube.

To learn more about Jessica, click on her name, photo, or any of the following links: Instagram, Twitter & FacebookDiscover more debut authors! Click the link here.Elena Taylor

Elena Taylor is the author of All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio book format at all your favorite bookstores and on-line retailers.

For more information on All We Buried, click on the link here to visit the home page.

Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator 2020

Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery 2020

Header photo by mwewering on Pixabay.

The post Make Me Disappear: Psychological Suspense appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.