Ally Shields's Blog, page 4
April 4, 2023
Spotlight on NOT YOUR CHILD by Suspense Author Lis Angus
Good Morning, Booklovers!
Today I’m featuring Not Your Child, a suspense novel by author Lis Angus. Please check out her interview on my JL Buck mystery blog, you’ll find it HERE.
Not Your ChildGenre: suspense
When Ottawa psychologist and single mother Susan Koss discovers that a strange man has been following her twelve-year-old daughter Maddy, she fears he’s a predator. But it’s worse than that. The man, Daniel Kazan, believes Maddy is his granddaughter, abducted as a baby—and he’s obsessed with getting her back.
Susan insists on a DNA test to disprove Daniel’s claim, but the result is one she can’t understand or explain: it says she’s not Maddy’s mother.
Then Maddy vanishes. Susan’s convinced Daniel has taken her, but he has an alibi, and two searches of his house turn up nothing. The hunt is on—police are on full mobilization, and Susan fears the worst.
Buy links:
Note: There’ll be a special ebook 99¢ sale on NOT YOUR CHILD from April 12-26, to mark the book’s one-year anniversary.
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Not-Your-Child-Lis-Angus-ebook/dp/B09QRST379?maas=maas_adg_8A6B91EC58EC3F0283D1E75DECA38D55_afap_abs&ref_=aa_maas&tag=maas
Universal book link: https://books2read.com/notyourchild
Excerpt :
As I was putting on my coat, the doorbell rang. I looked out the window.
What the hell?
Daniel Kazan stood on my doorstep.
I went cold. How dare he? I flung open the door. “What are you doing here?” I exploded.
Confronting him, I saw that he was a few inches taller than me, and exuded a tense energy that raised my hackles. He raised his hands, palms out, a placating expression on his face. As if he were trying to calm me down or reassure me.
“I just want to talk to Hannah. I came early to catch her, before she leaves for school.”
I squared my shoulders. “Get out of here! You've been told to stay away from us!”
His face was in shadow. “I think it’s fair to want to see Hannah. I’ve waited a long time.”
The guy is nuts. “She’s not Hannah—she’s my daughter. Maddy.”
“You’re keeping her from me.” He was leaning toward me, and I had to keep from falling back. I couldn’t let myself seem weak. If he thought he’d intimidated me, what would be his next move?
My heart pounded. My hands were curled tight, my nails biting into my palms. “Damn right I’m keeping her from you. Now get off my porch before I call the police!”
What if he wouldn’t leave? I should call for help—but my phone was inside, and I didn’t want to leave him on the porch unattended.
About the Author:I grew up in the western Canada province of Alberta. After high school I spent two years in Germany, then finished university in Ottawa, where I met my husband. We raised our two daughters in Toronto, and now live in a small town south of Ottawa.
I’ve been writing all my life, from childhood on, but abandoned fiction writing after my teen years. My early career was spent working with children and families in crisis, then later I was a telecommunications consultant and policy advisor, conference organizer, business writer and editor. I had always wanted to write a novel; after I retired I decided it was time, and plunged into writing a first draft. Meanwhile I took writing classes and joined a local writing group. I also joined the Sisters in Crime “Guppy” chapter, where I learned a lot from other writers.
My debut novel, NOT YOUR CHILD, was published in April 2022 by The Wild Rose Press, so this month is its one-year anniversary. I’m excited to celebrate this milestone—and meanwhile I am working on a second book, another standalone suspense novel.
Something unique/unusual that isn't in your regular bio: “Somehow, I’ve managed to take boat rides on several of the world’s great rivers: the Nile, the Amazon, the Danube, the Rhine, the Yangtze, the Thames. And I also toured the countries they’re in, of course. My usual travel companion is my husband, but the trip to China was with my two sisters. My older sister had dreamed of visiting China since she was a child, and we finally made it happen, and even visited sites in Tibet.”
Author links:
Website: https://lisangus.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lisangusauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/lisangus1
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lisangus459/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59436824-not-your-child
March 21, 2023
Book Spotlight on EVIL ALICE AND THE BORZOI by DK Coutant
Good Morning, Booklovers!
This week's interview with DK Coutant was moved to my mystery blog as I begin to transfer the mystery-related interviews to that more appropriate venue. To read the interview, please click HERE.
Meanwhile, let me show you her debut book, including an excerpt, and introduce you to the author.
Evil Alice and the Borzoi (A Cleo Cooper Mystery)
Genre: cozy mystery
Paradise is shaken when the body of a young woman is dragged onto a university research vessel during a class outing in Hilo Bay. Cleo Cooper is shaken when she finds her favorite student is on the hook for the murder.
Danger lurks on land and sea as Cleo and her friends are enticed to search for the true killer. In between paddling, swimming, and arguing with her boyfriend, Cleo discovers all is not what it seems on the Big Island of Hawaii. But will she figure out the truth before she becomes the next victim?
Buy Links:
https://www.amazon.com/Evil-Alice-Borzoi-Cooper-Mystery-ebook/dp/B0BS4JKGKS/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1676220929&sr=8-1
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/evil-alice-and-the-borzoi-dk-coutant/1142929587?ean=2940186721369
Excerpt:
As I was musing ‘what ifs’, my eyes drifted to an intense mountain of a man in a red shirt so saturated with color I expected it to drip onto his jeans. The almost-to-the-elbow sleeves revealed ropey forearms the color of a dried kukui nut. The bones in his broad face, made me think of a tiger, not traditionally handsome, but arresting. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Almost as if he could feel my scrutiny, he turned his head and looked directly at me. My pulse quickened and I froze - an impala trapped in the gaze of a predator. I couldn’t look away. A barely perceptible smile appeared on his face. He knew the effect he was having on me. Embarrassment gave me the strength to jerk my eyes down to my feet.
What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe low blood sugar? I didn’t eat much breakfast.
I risked a glance back at him. Damn, he was still looking at me with his self-assured smile. He greeted my glance with a hint of a nod and turned his attention back to the speaker. Flustered, I too looked back at the speaker, but I couldn’t make out what the guy was saying so I went back to looking at the crowd, carefully avoiding the red-shirted predator.
There were a lot of locals who I didn’t know, but I saw Rikki and Gina standing together. No sign of Kawika, Gina’s cop-husband. I would have thought the police would want to come to the funeral as part of an investigation now that they suspected foul play.
About the Author:DK Coutant graduated from Davidson College with a Psychology degree, and applied her behavioral training at Sea World, training dolphins and whales. Realizing that scrubbing fish buckets might get old, she went back to school and earned a Ph.D. in Psychology. Her academic career began at the University of Southern Maine before DK made the jump to the University of Hawaii at Hilo rising to Department Chair of the Psychology Department. After many happy years in Hawaii, DK made the move out of academics to become a professional geopolitical forecaster for GJP, Inc ( https://goodjudgment.com/Inc ) and INFER ( https://www.infer-pub.com/). Evil Alice and the Borzoi is her first work of fiction published by The Wild Rose Press.
Something unique/unusual that isn't in your regular bio: “That’s a tough one. I threw everything but the kitchen sink into my bio. But okay, here’s one... We have an Old English Sheepdog puppy. She is seven months old and named Beasley. Most people guess she was named after the talking doll from the 1960s, but that is not the case. My husband and I are big fans of David Beasley, the Executive Director of the UN World Food Program. One night after seeing him being interviewed on PBS we added Beasley to the top of our puppy name list. When I met the puppy in person, Beasley was the only name she responded to, and she has been Beasley ever since.”
Author Contacts:
Website: https://www.dkcoutant.com/
Twitter: @dkCoutant
Instagram: @DKCandDog
March 7, 2023
Coffee Chat Interview with Mystery Author Erica Obey
Good Morning, Booklovers!
This week's guest author is mystery writer Erica Obey, bringing us her featured book, The Brooklyn North Murder.
Welcome to the Coffee Chat, Erica. How do you take your coffee?
EO: I drink 2 cups of half-caff in the morning, raspberry tea in the afternoon and evening.
Ally: Then half-caff it is. While I fix our drinks, please tell readers a little about yourself.
BIO:Erica Obey is the author of The Brooklyn North Murder, the first full-length Watson & Doyle mystery, as well as five other novels set in the Hudson Valley, including the award-winning The Curse of the Braddock Brides. Erica is the Past President of the MWA-NY chapter, and a frequent reviewer and judge. She holds a Ph.D. in Comparative Literature and published academic work on female folklorists before she decided she’d rather be writing the stories herself.
Something unusual/unique that isn’t in your regular bio: "I can show you how to make Christmas ornaments out of egg cartons and old copies of the Reader’s Digest. (Okay, I didn’t grow up in Lake Woebegon, but it was close.)"
Author Contacts:
Website: www.ericaobey.com
FB/IG: @Erica Obey (personal), @EricaObeyAuthor (page)
Twitter: @EricaObey INTERVIEW:
Ally: What inspired your featured book?
EO: I never quite know how to admit it, but this story began when I was in grad school, studying post-modernist critics who argued that classic detective fiction was actually a genre about reading and writing. Somewhere along the line, I got it in my head that I wanted to write a classic fair play mystery rooted in those post-modernist theories. Doyle, the mystery-writing AI bot, came about later when my husband took a job creating these programs for financial and legal software. (Writers, don’t worry. They aren’t even close to programming Doyle yet, and even he gets things wrong all the time.)
Ally: Do people you know sneak into your books as characters?
EO: If they do, I’ll never tell. Let’s just say that living in Woodstock gives you plenty of models – some of them quite famous. So far, I’ve managed to stay on good terms with all of them, and I’d like to keep it that way.
Ally: How many books do you read in a month? Which genre(s)? Favorite authors?
EO: I review and I’ve judged several big contests, so this isn’t really a fair answer, but I respond to talk about reading a book a week by saying, “Try reading over 10 times that number in one year.” Does it sometimes feel like a job rather than a pleasure? Sure – especially when you’re trying to fairly judge authors or genres that are simply not your cup of tea. But it’s equally rewarding to have an inside track on the new books out there, and I’ve discovered a lot of new authors I absolutely love.
Ally: Are you a speed reader or do you settle in and savor a book?
EO: I am a speed reader, by necessity because of the judging and reviewing, but also by inclination. It’s all I can do not to flip to the last page of a mystery, because I WANT TO KNOW. I am constantly trying to discipline myself to settle in and savor. Sometimes I succeed. I remember when the last Harry Potter book came out. I forced myself to read it 100 pages at a time. That lasted 3 days. Then I curled up and read the rest of the book in an afternoon, just like I would have done when I was twelve.
Ally: What is your next writing project? Anticipated release date?
EO: I’m hard at work on the sequel to Brooklyn North, titled The DeCoverley Riddle. I don’t have a firm release date for that yet, but you can check out new Watson & Doyle stories at the Murder to Die For podcast and The Second Black Beacon Book of Mystery.
Ally: Which of the trivia questions did you choose to answer?
EO:An author (living or dead) you'd love to chat with: Edgar Allan Poe. I want the truth behind how he wound up in that gutter in Baltimore. And I’d love a solid pub crawl with Terry Pratchett, John Dickson Carr, and all the Inklings. Y our pets: Full disclosure: Yes, I serve as staff to a rotating assortment of cats. The current lineup: The kids, Bubble and Squeak; Ook, the completely mad cat, and Bittman, bought in a car wash while I was out for a run. The guys selling her wanted $50. I went home and called my husband to ask what to do. Classic New York answer: “Go back out there and talk them down.” (We got her for $25.) Your hobbies: Gardening, hiking, and messing around in old archives. The best is when I can combine all three, visiting an archive near a famous garden where I can take a hike. Favorite childhood book: Narnia. I still remember my Dad sending to England to buy them for my seventh birthday (which probably tells you how old I am). Where would you be found on a typical Saturday evening at 8pm? Doing what? Once a month, we have a date night with appetizers and a glass of wine at the Red Lobster, followed by English Country Dancing. (Hey, it’s research for The DeCoverley Riddle.) The other Saturday nights are devoted to crosswords and murder mystery jigsaw puzzles. Ally: It has been a pleasure meeting you, Erica. Before we finish today, please show us your featured book.
The Brooklyn North Murder
Genre: Mystery
Rating: PG-13
A hi-flying investor determined to make sleepy Morgansburg NY a tech hub, vanishes from the middle of a lake during a triathlon. Mary Watson, a university librarian and computer genius, has to solve the mystery with the help of her Artificial Intelligence program “Doyle.”
Buy Links:The Cloak and Dagger: https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-brooklyn-north-murder-erica-obey/18583571?ean=9781940442457
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Brooklyn-North-Murders-Novel/dp/1940442451
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-brooklyn-north-murder-erica-obey/1142642951?ean=9781940442457
Interested in reading an Excerpt from Chapter One? Follow this link to the Book Spotlight on my J L Buck blog:
https://janetlbuck.com/blog/book-spotlight-the-brooklyn-north-murder-by-erica-obey
March 1, 2023
Life Experiences Form a Mystery Plot by Author Darlene Dziomba
Good Morning Booklovers!
This morning we're welcoming mystery author Darlene Dziomba to the blog with her article, "Life Experiences Form a Mystery Plot."
Take it away, Darlene!
I am a plotter. I need to chart the path my book will take before I start writing. I know I will incorporate life experiences into the story, but am never certain which life experiences I will draw upon. In Up Close and Pawsonal I bring together three areas of my life that on the surface seem to have no connection; my Finance career, my volunteer activities at an animal shelter, and sixteen weeks of service on grand jury duty.
If I tell people I work in Finance, I immediately see a glaze cross their eyes. There is an expectation that the next sentence I utter will be boring. In contrast, if I tell people I volunteer at an animal shelter, their eyes alight. They believe a warm and fuzzy dog or cat story will follow.
My protagonist, Lily Dreyfus, is the Adoption Coordinator at the Forever Friends Animal Shelter. In Up Close And Pawsonal, she is present during a drive-by shooting that kills her coworkers’ nephew. While she tries to determine the cause of the killing, her good friend Lucinda Miller conducts an audit at the county police department. Lucinda’s proximity to the police provides an opportunity for Lily to learn how an undercover narcotics operation connects to the murder
.
I have had financial processes that I worked with audited many times. It is a nerve-wracking experience. The word audit carries negative connotations that make people unwilling to share more than the basic facts. Lucinda’s suspicions mount when police explanations of their processes do not add up. Lucinda vents her frustrations to Lily, which allows Lily to connect the dots between the facts she has discovered related to the drive-by shooting and a list of potential suspects.
The information Lucinda gathers during the audit will not untangle all of the knots in the twisted ball of yarn, in the plot of Up Close And Pawsonal. Further detail comes from the testimony of several undercover operatives at a grand jury hearing.
I served on a grand jury. The grand jury must determine if the police have sufficient evidence to go to trial. Each day, they are presented with gruesome details of twenty to thirty crimes. The evidence is presented via testimony from police officers and photographic evidence of the crimes.
During my service, the court clerk asked if someone would volunteer to be the sergeant at arms. This job involved leaving the room to call witnesses to testify. I leapt at the opportunity. I volunteered to allow myself to move around instead of being confined to a seat for endless hours. I got to know many of the police officers. I also slipped in a few questions about police procedure.
At the time, I was looking to satisfy my curiosity. Ten years later, I used the experience to write very realistic scenes. I even wrote myself into Up Close And Pawsonal. A grand jury experience is not realistic without a sergeant at arms.
Lily’s path will cross that of a witness on the grand jury. Then, her job, Lucinda’s job, and jury duty will lead to the perpetrator. Like, my Finance career, jury duty service and volunteer efforts led to the plot of Up Close And Pawsonal.
About the Author:Darlene is a member of Sisters in Crime National and several regional SinC groups. She combined her passion for the written word and animals into the Lily Dreyfus series. Darlene volunteers at the Animal Welfare Association, a New Jersey animal shelter, where she chats with the dogs while completing her assignments. She has a 30-year career in Finance at the University of Pennsylvania and is an avid reader, gardener, and traveler. Darlene lives in New Jersey with her four-legged best friend, Billie.
social media
www.ReadDarlene.com
https://www.amazon.com/stores/Darlene-Dziomba/author
@ReadDarlene1
facebook.com/read.darlene.7
ReadDarlene@hotmail.com
Up Close And Pawsonal blurb
Genre: Cozy Mystery
A casual evening of listening to music by a local cover band turns into a murder investigation when a drive-by shooting destroys the tranquility of the night and critically injures two of the band members. Lily Dreyfus stressed and unsettled from having been at the concert, realizes one of the dead band members is the nephew of her coworker at the Forever Friends Animal Shelter. Lily will leash together a set of seemingly unrelated events to seek the perpetrator and make them heel.
Buy link
https://www.amazon.com/Up-Close-Pawsonal-Dreyfus-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B0BTC4GM4Q/
February 14, 2023
Happy Birthday, THE DEAD CANNOT HIDE by JL Buck
England, summer of 1812.Lucien, Viscount Ware, a secret spy for the Crown, is asked by his grandmother to use his skills in locating a missing country girl. She had taken a governess’s position near London almost a year ago and not been heard from for months. With the Prince Regent safely in Bath and Whitehall’s attention on the war with Ameria, Lucien has the time and agrees to make a few inquiries.
The girl’s employers tell him Lucy vanished one night ten months ago with all her belongings. Convinced there is more to the story, he obtains an invitation—through his friend Lady Anne Ashburn—to a houseparty in the neighborhood in order to continue his inquiries.
With the help of Lady Anne, the houseparty hosts, and others around the village of Blinkers Marsh, Lucien and his friend/fellow agent Sherbourne learn of a second missing girl, make a grisly discovery in a pond, and hear whispers of a deadly plot to unleash terror and disruption upon London.
They soon realize they are all in danger, along with hundreds or thousands of London citizens, perhaps the Crown itself—and a wild race begins to unmasks the culprits and cut off the deadly plot before time runs out.
Buy Links for Viscount Ware Mystery #2:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Dead-Cannot-Hide-J-Buck-ebook/dp/B0B6M4WK1R
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/dead-cannot-hide
Barnes&Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dead-cannot-hide-j-l-buck/1141782465?ean=9781684920648
IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781684920631
AppleBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/dead-cannot-hide/id6443160238
GoogleBooks: https://www.google.com/books/edition/Dead_Cannot_Hide
BookShop (PB only): https://bookshop.org/p/books/dead-cannot-hide-j-l-buck/18644835
Blackwell’s (UK/PB): https://blackwells.co.uk/bookshop/product/9781684920631
Waterstones (UK/PB): https://www.waterstones.com/book/9781684920631
February 7, 2023
Sneak Peek Excerpt of THE DEAD CANNOT HIDE by JL Buck
As The Dead Cannot Hide (Viscount Ware Mystery #2) releases next Tuesday, February 14, I decided to post a sneak peek of the opening pages this week (which I'm cross-posting to both my blogs). I hope you enjoy it! 
The Dead Cannot Hide (Viscount Ware Mystery #2)
Genre: Historical Mystery/Regency England
England, summer of 1812. Lucien, Viscount Ware, a secret spy for the Crown, is asked by his grandmother to use his skills in locating a missing country girl. She had taken a governess’s position near London almost a year ago and not been heard from for months.
With the Prince Regent safely in Bath and Whitehall’s attention on the war with Ameria, Lucien has the time and agrees to make a few inquiries. The girl’s employers tell him Lucy vanished one night ten months ago with all her belongings. Convinced there is more to the story, he obtains an invitation—through his friend Lady Anne Ashburn—to a houseparty in the neighborhood in order to continue his inquiries.
With the help of Lady Anne, the houseparty hosts, and others around the village of Blinkers Marsh, Lucien and his friend/fellow agent Sherbourne learn of a second missing girl, make a grisly discovery in a pond, and hear whispers of a deadly plot to unleash terror and disruption upon London. They soon realize they are all in danger, along with hundreds or thousands of London citizens, perhaps the Crown itself—and a wild race begins to unmasks the culprits and cut off the deadly plots before time runs out.
Pre-order and buy links available now at online sellers, including:
Amazon: www.amazon.com/Dead-Cannot-Hide-J-Buck-ebook/dp/B0B6M4WK1R EXCERPT:
Chapter One
London, July 1812
Lucien Grey, Viscount Ware, doffed his hat to a gentleman on a passing phaeton and stepped up to the front entrance of the Salcott London mansion. The time was exactly half four. The summons from his grandmother Augusta, the Dowager Countess Salcott, had arrived hours earlier, but he had put off his call until the Earl would be in session at the House of Lords. Lucien had every hope of avoiding a quarrel with his father.
The viscount and Salcott had been at odds…well, all of Lucien’s life really. The less they saw of one another, the better they got on—especially now. When his father’s worst beliefs about his only surviving son had proven false last winter, Salcott’s resulting embarrassment had made him more intractable than ever.
And Lucien was in no mood to be polite or tolerant. The War Office at Whitehall was in disarray, and in recent weeks, Lord Rothe had laden Lucien and his fellow intelligence agent Andrew Sherbourne with too many private, clandestine assignments— some frivolous or even foolhardy.
Lucien rapped the knocker twice, keen to get out of the stifling July heat. The door opened promptly, and the elderly butler, a family retainer since Lucien’s childhood, greeted him with a smile. “Your lordship.”
“Good afternoon, Jeffers. You look in the pink of health,” Lucien said, stepping inside. “I trust the gout is not giving you too much trouble?”
“Not bad, my lord. Just now and again.” The butler bowed, showing proper deference overlaid with the familiarity of long acquaintance. Only in the last few years had he given up referring to the viscount as Master Lucien. Jeffers’ hair was showing significant white now, but age had neither slowed his step nor dulled the alertness in his eyes.
Lucien handed him his hat. “Is the dowager countess receiving?”
“She is, my lord, and will be as delighted to see you as I am. As the Smythes left not more than ten minutes ago, she is still in the drawing room.”
“Excellent. I shall announce myself.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Lucien smoothed his hair, straightened his cuffs, and made his way across the marble hallway, hoping his grandmother’s summons wasn’t just another opportunity to lecture him. Despite her blatant manipulation to get whatever she wanted, he was quite fond of the old lady and admired her strong-minded spirit. He had no wish to offend her, but any attempt to press him regarding Salcott or his duties to the family name would sorely try his patience.
Frankly, he was tired. A respite from both family and political intrigue was in order.
In the six months since a French spy had been unearthed inside Whitehall, the Home Office and its War Office division had moved from one crisis to another. The war with Napoleon continued to swing back and forth, giving the populace little to cheer about. Discontent, even revolution, was whispered loudly on the streets. In the midst of it all, Prime Minister Spencer Perceval was assassinated in the very heart of Westminster by a madman, and a month later, War Secretary Jenkinson, the 2nd Earl of Liverpool, was appointed Prime Minister and his former position filled by Henry Bathurst, 3rd Earl of Bathurst. As if those events had not caused sufficient upheaval in the upper levels of British government, sixteen days ago, on June 18, America had declared war on Great Britain.
Fortunately, Lord Rothe, the man Lucien reported to in Prinny’s secret spy unit, had remained unscathed by the turmoil and still enjoyed a favored position with the Prince Regent. But even that had its downside. As the prince grew less trustful of others, he had relied more often on the Marquess of Rothe and his aristocratic spies to solve the least little problem that annoyed him, including indiscreet scrapes and scandals among his friends or other members of the haute ton that were a potential threat to Prinny’s peace of mind or the smooth conduct of government. Rothe, in turn, had reached out to Lucien and Sherbourne more often than not. They had been putting out political fires way too often.
Upon reaching the drawing room, Lucien found his grandmother absorbed in a book, a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose, her back straight, not a white curl out of place. She was still a grand lady, aging with indomitable elegance. As he strode toward her, she looked up, hastily put her novel and glasses on the table, and held out both hands. “Lucien! I had begun to wonder if you were coming. I have waited all day, naughty boy.” Despite the scold, her eyes twinkled as he bowed and took her hands, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“I beg pardon for my tardiness, Grandmama. I did not realize your request was urgent.”
“Fustian. We both know why you dallied until this hour, but rest assured, I did not ask you here to box your ears. Do take a seat, my boy. You look fagged. Shall I ring for fresh tea?”
“Not for me. I feel the want of something stronger.” Crossing to the sideboard, he picked up a crystal decanter of port, pulled out the stopper, and turned, cocking his head. “Will you join me?”
The dowager’s eyes gleamed. “Need you ask? Surely you did not think I would leave you to drink alone.”
He chuckled, handed her a half-filled glass, and settled into a wing-backed chair. After taking a reviving swallow of the excellent port, he picked up the conversation again. “I am surprised to find you in London. I thought you were permanently settled these last few years in the dower house at Salcott.”
“Oh, I am. Very comfortably, I might add. Country life suits me at my age, and I would not normally travel so far, but I had business with my London solicitors. They could have come to me, of course, but I also wished to speak with you.”
“I gathered that.” He leaned forward and studied her face, a flash of unease bringing a frown. “Is something wrong? You are not ill?”
“Do I look ill?” The dowager appeared startled. “On second thought, do not answer that. I am afraid what your answer might be.”
“Nonsense. You are as beautiful as ever.”
“Now who is talking nonsense?” she said with a smile. “I am well, Lucien, as well as one can be at seventy.” Her mood visibly shifted as she pursed her lips. “However, I shall not deny I am disquieted. I came to town because I need your help.”
“You shall have it. What can I do for you?”
“A girl from our village, a young woman, I should say…Lucy Drayton is missing.” The dowager’s hand fluttered in the air. “Oh, I doubt you know her. She must be twenty…or one and twenty by now. Her great-aunt, a dear lady, and I are close acquaintances. Lucy’s mother married beneath herself, you see, and the child was brought up in the impoverished but gentle home of an estate agent.” She stopped abruptly as though realizing she had drifted off course. “Well, never mind all that, the long and short of it is at her age and still unmarried, Lucy took a position as governess in a respectable household near London. That was a year ago. Her family had one letter, telling them she had arrived safely, but nothing since.”
“What makes you think she is missing? She may be busy, involved in her new life.”
His grandmother shook her head. “She was ever a polite and considerate child. Her family and I agree Lucy would write and not worry them in this way. Something has happened to her, Lucien. I want you to find her, and if she is not well situated, I hope you can bring her home.”
Lucien tapped his fingers on the chair arm. Young servant girls, even governesses, went missing in London all the time, swallowed by a city that could be heartless. Some were later found to have runoff with young men; others turned off their positions for a variety of reasons, including accusations of loose morals, disappeared into the seedier parts of town, surviving in any manner they could. Finding her might not be easy, especially if she didn’t want to be found. “What does her employer say?”
“Not enough. That is what makes it so concerning.” The dowager’s frown deepened, exaggerating the age wrinkles around her mouth. “The family wrote to Mr. Harwick, twice, but received no response. Three weeks ago, Lucy’s cousin David made the trip to Harwick House and was told she had left without notice late last autumn. And yet nobody told her family…not even Lucy. Is that not strange?”
“I do not disagree, but it is not alarming.” He went on, condensing his earlier thoughts. “Girls are let go or lured away by false promises and end up with lives they won’t divulge to friends and relatives. She may not thank me for finding her.”
“No need to mince words, Lucien. You mean she may be working in a brothel.”
“Well, there are other possibilities, but yes, that is one.”
“Very doubtful.” The dowager spoke with decisiveness. “I know the girl. But if she has sunk that low, her family will want to help her. They at least need to know whether she is alive or dead. Will you look into it?”
Lucien smiled. As though he could say no. She knew he would not refuse her. “For you, anything. I shall do what I can. As you know, Lord Rothe has priority on much of my time.” The dowager was one of the few who had known, even during his four years of seeming frivolity in the ballrooms and courts on the Continent, that he worked as an agent for the Crown. He had sworn her to secrecy, and she had kept her pledge. Family ties notwithstanding, he owed her. He unfolded his long length and stood. “Speaking of Rothe, I have an appointment with his lordship that I must keep.”
“Must you go so soon? Yes, of course, you do.” She sighed and gave him an earnest look. “Thank you, my boy. The Draytons— and I, of course—shall be eternally grateful for anything you can discover. I shall not detain you longer, for I know how important your work is, but I hope to see you soon with news of her. I shall remain in London at least another week or two.”
“If today’s meeting goes as expected, I may be able to look into this right away.” Rothe’s message had implied he and Sherbourne might be getting a break from assignments. If so, he would be at leisure to do what he could for the Drayton family.
“Oh, excellent.”
“No promises the answers will be what you want,” he cautioned. “But I shall do my best to learn the truth.” He kissed her cheek good-bye and walked toward the door.
The old woman sighed audibly this time. “Oh, Lucien, I am sorry to vex you, but I cannot let you leave without urging you to speak with your father. I mean truly talk with him. I know he should have had faith in you, trusted your character…but now that he knows of your secret work for the Crown, I am convinced he wants to make amends.”
Lucien had stiffened the moment she sighed. Now he turned. “You know our differences go back well before my years in the war. Discovering I have not been the care-for-nothing rake he thought I was changes nothing. He will ever hold me responsible for the death of my mother.”
“Oh, Lucien, no…”
“It is no matter, truly. I understand. But that does not make it easier.”
“No one is to blame for your mother dying in childbirth, least of all the babe. She was always delicate. These things happen in life.”
“Try telling that to my father.” He saw the pain in her eyes and wondered if it was a reflection of his own. It was not as though this was an easy or new conversation.
“My darling boy, he knows… deep in his heart he has always known, but he could not get past his grief. Theirs was a true love match, and, well… When he finally began to recover, I think he felt it was too late and pride stood in his way.”
Lucien shrugged. “It is too late. My father and I will never have a normal father-son relationship. Too many bitter years of misunderstandings are behind us.”
“I cannot accept that as true, dear boy, but if it is, could you not make something new? A friendship, perhaps. Surely it is not too late for that.”
“You make it sound as though we are uncivil. I strive to always show proper respect.” Lucien sounded defensive to his own ears and cut himself off. “I must go, or I will be late.”
She gave a resigned nod. “Yes, I am sorry. I do not mean to plague you.”
“I know.” Lucien’s face softened. “Just as I know the distance between my father and me causes you grief, but it is a lost cause. You must accept it, Grandmama. I have.” He turned back toward the door. “I shall let you know what I learn of Lucy Drayton’s fate.”
The Dead Cannot Hide (Viscount Ware Mystery #2)Genre: Historical Mystery/Regency England
England, summer of 1812. Lucien, Viscount Ware, a secret spy for the Crown, is asked by his grandmother to use his skills in locating a missing country girl. She had taken a governess’s position near London almost a year ago and not been heard from for months.
With the Prince Regent safely in Bath and Whitehall’s attention on the war with Ameria, Lucien has the time and agrees to make a few inquiries. The girl’s employers tell him Lucy vanished one night ten months ago with all her belongings. Convinced there is more to the story, he obtains an invitation—through his friend Lady Anne Ashburn—to a houseparty in the neighborhood in order to continue his inquiries.
With the help of Lady Anne, the houseparty hosts, and others around the village of Blinkers Marsh, Lucien and his friend/fellow agent Sherbourne learn of a second missing girl, make a grisly discovery in a pond, and hear whispers of a deadly plot to unleash terror and disruption upon London. They soon realize they are all in danger, along with hundreds or thousands of London citizens, perhaps the Crown itself—and a wild race begins to unmasks the culprits and cut off the deadly plots before time runs out.
Pre-order and buy links available now at online sellers, including:
Amazon: www.amazon.com/Dead-Cannot-Hide-J-Buck-ebook/dp/B0B6M4WK1R EXCERPT:
Chapter One
London, July 1812
Lucien Grey, Viscount Ware, doffed his hat to a gentleman on a passing phaeton and stepped up to the front entrance of the Salcott London mansion. The time was exactly half four. The summons from his grandmother Augusta, the Dowager Countess Salcott, had arrived hours earlier, but he had put off his call until the Earl would be in session at the House of Lords. Lucien had every hope of avoiding a quarrel with his father.
The viscount and Salcott had been at odds…well, all of Lucien’s life really. The less they saw of one another, the better they got on—especially now. When his father’s worst beliefs about his only surviving son had proven false last winter, Salcott’s resulting embarrassment had made him more intractable than ever.
And Lucien was in no mood to be polite or tolerant. The War Office at Whitehall was in disarray, and in recent weeks, Lord Rothe had laden Lucien and his fellow intelligence agent Andrew Sherbourne with too many private, clandestine assignments— some frivolous or even foolhardy.
Lucien rapped the knocker twice, keen to get out of the stifling July heat. The door opened promptly, and the elderly butler, a family retainer since Lucien’s childhood, greeted him with a smile. “Your lordship.”
“Good afternoon, Jeffers. You look in the pink of health,” Lucien said, stepping inside. “I trust the gout is not giving you too much trouble?”
“Not bad, my lord. Just now and again.” The butler bowed, showing proper deference overlaid with the familiarity of long acquaintance. Only in the last few years had he given up referring to the viscount as Master Lucien. Jeffers’ hair was showing significant white now, but age had neither slowed his step nor dulled the alertness in his eyes.
Lucien handed him his hat. “Is the dowager countess receiving?”
“She is, my lord, and will be as delighted to see you as I am. As the Smythes left not more than ten minutes ago, she is still in the drawing room.”
“Excellent. I shall announce myself.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Lucien smoothed his hair, straightened his cuffs, and made his way across the marble hallway, hoping his grandmother’s summons wasn’t just another opportunity to lecture him. Despite her blatant manipulation to get whatever she wanted, he was quite fond of the old lady and admired her strong-minded spirit. He had no wish to offend her, but any attempt to press him regarding Salcott or his duties to the family name would sorely try his patience.
Frankly, he was tired. A respite from both family and political intrigue was in order.
In the six months since a French spy had been unearthed inside Whitehall, the Home Office and its War Office division had moved from one crisis to another. The war with Napoleon continued to swing back and forth, giving the populace little to cheer about. Discontent, even revolution, was whispered loudly on the streets. In the midst of it all, Prime Minister Spencer Perceval was assassinated in the very heart of Westminster by a madman, and a month later, War Secretary Jenkinson, the 2nd Earl of Liverpool, was appointed Prime Minister and his former position filled by Henry Bathurst, 3rd Earl of Bathurst. As if those events had not caused sufficient upheaval in the upper levels of British government, sixteen days ago, on June 18, America had declared war on Great Britain.
Fortunately, Lord Rothe, the man Lucien reported to in Prinny’s secret spy unit, had remained unscathed by the turmoil and still enjoyed a favored position with the Prince Regent. But even that had its downside. As the prince grew less trustful of others, he had relied more often on the Marquess of Rothe and his aristocratic spies to solve the least little problem that annoyed him, including indiscreet scrapes and scandals among his friends or other members of the haute ton that were a potential threat to Prinny’s peace of mind or the smooth conduct of government. Rothe, in turn, had reached out to Lucien and Sherbourne more often than not. They had been putting out political fires way too often.
Upon reaching the drawing room, Lucien found his grandmother absorbed in a book, a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose, her back straight, not a white curl out of place. She was still a grand lady, aging with indomitable elegance. As he strode toward her, she looked up, hastily put her novel and glasses on the table, and held out both hands. “Lucien! I had begun to wonder if you were coming. I have waited all day, naughty boy.” Despite the scold, her eyes twinkled as he bowed and took her hands, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“I beg pardon for my tardiness, Grandmama. I did not realize your request was urgent.”
“Fustian. We both know why you dallied until this hour, but rest assured, I did not ask you here to box your ears. Do take a seat, my boy. You look fagged. Shall I ring for fresh tea?”
“Not for me. I feel the want of something stronger.” Crossing to the sideboard, he picked up a crystal decanter of port, pulled out the stopper, and turned, cocking his head. “Will you join me?”
The dowager’s eyes gleamed. “Need you ask? Surely you did not think I would leave you to drink alone.”
He chuckled, handed her a half-filled glass, and settled into a wing-backed chair. After taking a reviving swallow of the excellent port, he picked up the conversation again. “I am surprised to find you in London. I thought you were permanently settled these last few years in the dower house at Salcott.”
“Oh, I am. Very comfortably, I might add. Country life suits me at my age, and I would not normally travel so far, but I had business with my London solicitors. They could have come to me, of course, but I also wished to speak with you.”
“I gathered that.” He leaned forward and studied her face, a flash of unease bringing a frown. “Is something wrong? You are not ill?”
“Do I look ill?” The dowager appeared startled. “On second thought, do not answer that. I am afraid what your answer might be.”
“Nonsense. You are as beautiful as ever.”
“Now who is talking nonsense?” she said with a smile. “I am well, Lucien, as well as one can be at seventy.” Her mood visibly shifted as she pursed her lips. “However, I shall not deny I am disquieted. I came to town because I need your help.”
“You shall have it. What can I do for you?”
“A girl from our village, a young woman, I should say…Lucy Drayton is missing.” The dowager’s hand fluttered in the air. “Oh, I doubt you know her. She must be twenty…or one and twenty by now. Her great-aunt, a dear lady, and I are close acquaintances. Lucy’s mother married beneath herself, you see, and the child was brought up in the impoverished but gentle home of an estate agent.” She stopped abruptly as though realizing she had drifted off course. “Well, never mind all that, the long and short of it is at her age and still unmarried, Lucy took a position as governess in a respectable household near London. That was a year ago. Her family had one letter, telling them she had arrived safely, but nothing since.”
“What makes you think she is missing? She may be busy, involved in her new life.”
His grandmother shook her head. “She was ever a polite and considerate child. Her family and I agree Lucy would write and not worry them in this way. Something has happened to her, Lucien. I want you to find her, and if she is not well situated, I hope you can bring her home.”
Lucien tapped his fingers on the chair arm. Young servant girls, even governesses, went missing in London all the time, swallowed by a city that could be heartless. Some were later found to have runoff with young men; others turned off their positions for a variety of reasons, including accusations of loose morals, disappeared into the seedier parts of town, surviving in any manner they could. Finding her might not be easy, especially if she didn’t want to be found. “What does her employer say?”
“Not enough. That is what makes it so concerning.” The dowager’s frown deepened, exaggerating the age wrinkles around her mouth. “The family wrote to Mr. Harwick, twice, but received no response. Three weeks ago, Lucy’s cousin David made the trip to Harwick House and was told she had left without notice late last autumn. And yet nobody told her family…not even Lucy. Is that not strange?”
“I do not disagree, but it is not alarming.” He went on, condensing his earlier thoughts. “Girls are let go or lured away by false promises and end up with lives they won’t divulge to friends and relatives. She may not thank me for finding her.”
“No need to mince words, Lucien. You mean she may be working in a brothel.”
“Well, there are other possibilities, but yes, that is one.”
“Very doubtful.” The dowager spoke with decisiveness. “I know the girl. But if she has sunk that low, her family will want to help her. They at least need to know whether she is alive or dead. Will you look into it?”
Lucien smiled. As though he could say no. She knew he would not refuse her. “For you, anything. I shall do what I can. As you know, Lord Rothe has priority on much of my time.” The dowager was one of the few who had known, even during his four years of seeming frivolity in the ballrooms and courts on the Continent, that he worked as an agent for the Crown. He had sworn her to secrecy, and she had kept her pledge. Family ties notwithstanding, he owed her. He unfolded his long length and stood. “Speaking of Rothe, I have an appointment with his lordship that I must keep.”
“Must you go so soon? Yes, of course, you do.” She sighed and gave him an earnest look. “Thank you, my boy. The Draytons— and I, of course—shall be eternally grateful for anything you can discover. I shall not detain you longer, for I know how important your work is, but I hope to see you soon with news of her. I shall remain in London at least another week or two.”
“If today’s meeting goes as expected, I may be able to look into this right away.” Rothe’s message had implied he and Sherbourne might be getting a break from assignments. If so, he would be at leisure to do what he could for the Drayton family.
“Oh, excellent.”
“No promises the answers will be what you want,” he cautioned. “But I shall do my best to learn the truth.” He kissed her cheek good-bye and walked toward the door.
The old woman sighed audibly this time. “Oh, Lucien, I am sorry to vex you, but I cannot let you leave without urging you to speak with your father. I mean truly talk with him. I know he should have had faith in you, trusted your character…but now that he knows of your secret work for the Crown, I am convinced he wants to make amends.”
Lucien had stiffened the moment she sighed. Now he turned. “You know our differences go back well before my years in the war. Discovering I have not been the care-for-nothing rake he thought I was changes nothing. He will ever hold me responsible for the death of my mother.”
“Oh, Lucien, no…”
“It is no matter, truly. I understand. But that does not make it easier.”
“No one is to blame for your mother dying in childbirth, least of all the babe. She was always delicate. These things happen in life.”
“Try telling that to my father.” He saw the pain in her eyes and wondered if it was a reflection of his own. It was not as though this was an easy or new conversation.
“My darling boy, he knows… deep in his heart he has always known, but he could not get past his grief. Theirs was a true love match, and, well… When he finally began to recover, I think he felt it was too late and pride stood in his way.”
Lucien shrugged. “It is too late. My father and I will never have a normal father-son relationship. Too many bitter years of misunderstandings are behind us.”
“I cannot accept that as true, dear boy, but if it is, could you not make something new? A friendship, perhaps. Surely it is not too late for that.”
“You make it sound as though we are uncivil. I strive to always show proper respect.” Lucien sounded defensive to his own ears and cut himself off. “I must go, or I will be late.”
She gave a resigned nod. “Yes, I am sorry. I do not mean to plague you.”
“I know.” Lucien’s face softened. “Just as I know the distance between my father and me causes you grief, but it is a lost cause. You must accept it, Grandmama. I have.” He turned back toward the door. “I shall let you know what I learn of Lucy Drayton’s fate.”
February 1, 2023
Viscount Ware Historical Mystery #2 Releases February 14!
The Dead Cannot Hide (Viscount Ware Mystery #2)
Genre: Historical Mystery/Regency
England, summer of 1812. Lucien, Viscount Ware, a secret spy for the Crown, is asked by his grandmother to use his skills in locating a missing country girl. She had taken a governess’s position near London almost a year ago and not been heard from for months. With the Prince Regent safely in Bath and Whitehall’s attention on the war with Ameria, Lucien has the time and agrees to make a few inquiries.
The girl’s employers tell him Lucy vanished one night ten months ago with all her belongings. Convinced there is more to the story, he obtains an invitation—through his friend Lady Anne Ashburn—to a houseparty in the neighborhood in order to continue his inquiries.
With the help of Lady Anne, the houseparty hosts, and others around the village of Blinkers Marsh, Lucien and his friend/fellow agent Andrew Sherbourne learn of a second missing girl, make a grisly discovery in a pond, and hear whispers of a deadly plot to unleash terror and disruption upon London.
They soon realize they are all in danger, along with hundreds or thousands of London citizens, perhaps the Crown itself—and a wild race begins to unmasks the culprits and cut off the deadly plots before time runs out.
Pre-order and buy links available now at online sellers, including:
Amazon: www.amazon.com/Dead-Cannot-Hide-J-Buck-ebook/dp/B0B6M4WK1R
January 24, 2023
Book Spotlight on FOUR LEAF CLEAVER by Maddie Day
Four Leaf Cleaver (A Country Store Mystery)Genre: Cozy Mystery
In Four Leaf Cleaver, there’s no mistaking Saint Patrick’s Day at Pans ’N Pancakes, where the shelves of vintage cookware in her southern Indiana store are draped with Kelly-green garlands and her restaurant is serving shepherd’s pie and Guinness Beer brownies. The big event, however, is a televised Irish cooking competition to be filmed on site.
Unfortunately, someone’s luck has run out. Before the cameras start rolling, tough-as-nails producer Tara O’Hara Moore is found upstairs in her B&B room, a heavy cleaver left by her side.
Now, not only does Robbie have a store full of festive decorations, she’s got a restaurant full of suspects . . .
Buy Link:
https://www.amazon.com/Four-Cleaver-Country-Store-Mystery-ebook/dp/B0B17HL15D Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
I didn’t have a drop of Irish blood in me, not with parental surnames of Jordan and Fracasso. But I—Robbie Jordan, owner and head cook at country store restaurant Pans ’N Pancakes—could go full-Irish with the best of them.
Tomorrow was St. Patrick’s Day. My team and I had decorated the southern Indiana store with glitter-crusted shamrocks and Kelly-green garlands. We’d been serving scones and soda bread all week, plus a popular beef-and-mushroom shepherd’s pie for a lunch special and Guinness Beer brownies.
The holiday’s big event would happen tomorrow, Monday, when we were always closed to the public. Instead, a roaming cooking competition would take over the space. “Holiday Hot-Off” televised their contests from a different location for every holiday. The name was a bit odd, but when they’d asked to present this contest in my store and told me what they would pay, I’d agreed without giving it too much thought. What little restaurant in a sleepy town doesn’t want national attention?
“We’ll set up there.” Tara Moore pointed a long mauve fingernail at the side wall Sunday afternoon at four. She held a clipboard in her other hand. “Jaden, how many contestants do we have?” she asked her already-harried assistant, whom she had introduced to me as Jaden Routh.
“Eight, Miss Moore.” The kid, who I doubted was older than my assistant’s twenty-one, frowned at his phone with a nose a bit off center.
“And they all know the rules?” Tara was one of those perfectly styled and made-up women with an edge of the imperious about her. Her true height couldn’t be much more than my five foot three, but her black heels and attitude made her seem a lot taller. Her hair was a short honey-colored do with streaks of blond.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
They might know the rules, but I didn’t. “What are the guidelines for the entrants?”
As if bored with the details, Tara moved away from us toward the wall. Two-tops and four-tops were lined up in front of it in our usual arrangement for dining.
“All dishes have to include Hoosier Brewing Company’s Irish stout, no dish can have over fifteen ingredients, and they have to be ready to serve in an hour.” Jaden, speaking fast, gave a quick nervous glance at Tara, his almond-shaped eyes darting as a wild animal’s do when sensing danger.
“And they cook here on the spot?” I asked.
“That’s right. If you’ll excuse me.” He hurried over to where Tara stood with arms crossed.
About the Author:
Maddie Day pens the Country Store Mysteries, the Cozy Capers Book Group Mysteries, and the new Cece Barton Mysteries. As Agatha Award-winning author Edith Maxwell, she writes the Quaker Midwife Mysteries and award-nominated short crime fiction. Day/Maxwell lives with her beau and cat Martin north of Boston, where she writes, gardens, cooks, and wastes time on Facebook.
Find her at EdithMaxwell.com, Wicked Authors, Mystery Lovers’ Kitchen, and on social media: BookBub,Twitter, Facebook, Instagram
Pop over to my JL Buck mystery blog for an interview with Robbie Jordan, the main character in Ms Day's
Country Store Mysteries:
janetlbuck.com/blog/character-interview-with-robbie-jordan-created-by-maddie-day
January 17, 2023
AFTER THE BLUE BLUE RAIN, by Mystery Author A.D. Price
Welcome, Booklovers!
This week's guest author has written an article on the issues inherent in writing mysteries in a world of rapidly changing technology. Since this piece is primarily oriented toward mystery readers and writers, I've moved the article to my JL Buck mystery blog and have spotlighted her featured historical mystery novel here. I hope you'll pop over and check out her article!
You can find the blog article, Oh Technology by A.D. Price
at this link:
janetlbuck.com/blog/oh-technology-a-guest-article-by-mystery-writer-ad-price
After the Blue, Blue Rain by A.D. Price Genre: Historical Mystery
L.A. 1946. The client is desperate, the target has disappeared into thin air. And a routine missing person case is about to take a dangerous turn for P.I. Kit Comfort and partner Henry Richman, the LAPD's most infamous ex-cop. While on the hunt for a veteran who's gone missing from an L.A.-bound train, detectives Kit and Henry come face-to-face with an underground network of enemy sympathizers. The duo's discovery sets off alarms with the U.S. Army, and soon, the pair are in a race against the clock, battling both a deadly cabal and dodgy government agents. The wounds of war come full circle in this devastating conspiracy between "good and evil."
This is an exciting tale with a fast-paced plot that followers of the mystery genre will find too appealing to put down. An excellent detective story. Asian Essien, Readers’ Favorite
Libraries strong in historical mysteries that incorporate veteran issues will find After the Blue, Blue Rain attractive to readers of both genres; but ideally it also will attract book clubs seeking edgy novels that operate both within and outside the confines of genre reads. This audience will find After the Blue, Blue Rain presents underlying issues of interest to readers of veteran experiences, offering food for thought and discussion that augment the mystery and history components with powerful reflective insights about survival, adaptation, and change.
D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review
Available for purchase and in the KU program:
https://www.amazon.com/After-Blue-Rain-D-Price-ebook/dp/B0BDPCGDB1 EXCERPT:
Dear Reader: The following is an account of my last days in America. I have tried to be as honest and forthcoming with the specifics as possible. Engineers aren’t known for their writing talents, however, so if I stray off-topic, neglect details or indulge in non-essential observations, I hope you will not judge my story-telling too harshly.
On the day I made my escape, the snow had turned to slush. I had been assigned to road duty a mile from the camp, supervising other prisoners in construction and ditch digging. For that I earned 80 cents an hour.
Based on the schematic I had been provided, I had mentally sketched out my plan some weeks before. I knew that at certain points the road we were building cut across a gas pipeline. Great care had to be taken to avoid striking the line, as it would explode if ruptured, and for weeks I had guided my team with cautious precision. On that day, however, I gave them orders for a perfectly timed miscalculation.
Under the fading winter sun, I lay out markers directing the bulldozer to dig across an area where only I knew the pipeline ran. It would be the last section dug before quitting time. The men were tired — I could tell by the lazy way their shovels hit the half-frozen earth — and in their fatigue they had lost focus. That was good.
Discreetly I tried to listen for sounds of the impact, of the bulldozer’s blade hitting the gas line, but little could be heard above the screeching and rumbling of the engine and roller. After a few seconds, though, I noticed bubbles popping up in the ground behind where the bulldozer had just been. It was a sure sign of escaping gas, but I waited several seconds before yelling, “Gas! Run!”
My warning came a moment before the explosion. A fireball shot up where the volatile bubbles had been, enveloping the abandoned bulldozer. The prisoners and the guard on duty scattered in a panic, and taking advantage of the commotion, I took off, running away from the site.
I kept running as the wail of a fire truck siren filled the cold dusk air. I ran across snow-dusted fallow fields and through a patch of woods. I ran until darkness had fallen and an abandoned barn was in sight. Exhausted I stumbled toward it. The ground was hard and rough with weeds and wild grass, and I lost my balance when my toe struck the edge of a brick that had been obscured by a patch of snow. I flew forward, my chest and right arm striking more loose bricks as I landed face-first on the ground. After a stunned moment, I willed myself to my feet and limped the rest of the way to the old barn.
Once safely inside, I collapsed against the wall and let the pain from the fall wash over me. I had no means to deal with my injuries and little time for rest. As soon as I was able, I began to explore my surroundings. Whatever equipment the building might have once housed was long gone, save for a beat-up toolbox I discovered in a corner. Tucked inside was a rusty switchblade, which I used to cut the camp ribbon off my work coat. The coat had served me well, but the canvas only kept out so much of the cold and would stand out among civilians. I knew I would have to acquire something warmer.
* * *
I waited for the warning whistle to sound before boarding the last car of the idling train. Coatless, hatless and bagless, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, even in the dead of night. I tucked the discarded newspaper I had been hiding behind under my arm and slid into an empty seat in the corner. As I had hoped, everyone around me was either sleeping or reading and barely took notice of my entrance.
I had a few hours before sunrise to secure the necessary items. A little money (I had spent most of what I had saved on the ticket), a coat and, if I was lucky, a hat. Careful planning had gotten me this far, but quick thinking and luck would have to see me through the rest. I rested my head against the freezing window and, overcome with exhaustion, fell quickly asleep.
About the Author
A native of Washington, D. C., A. D. Price lives in Los Angeles with her husband and two dogs. After the Blue, Blue Rain is her first novel, and if there's truth to the old saw about writing being a journey not a destination, then she’s been a happy wanderer for decades. Over the years, she’s worked as both a freelance and staff writer (under her real name, Amy Dunkleberger) penning everything from biographies and historical pieces to publicity material and study guides. She’s also the author of the Emmy-winning screenplay Other Mothers. She looks forward to finishing the next installment in her Comfort & Company detective series. Please visit her website to sign up for her newsletter “Price Writes Monthly.”
Website: http://adpricebooks.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/adprice22/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100088827713435
Mastodon: https://toot.community/@LASilverlaker (This is equivalent, alternative to Twitter)
January 10, 2023
Coffee Chat with Romantic Suspense Writer Natalie Cross
Good Morning, Booklovers!Welcome to our first Coffee Chat of 2023. Hope you all enjoyed the holidays!
Our guest author this week is Natalie Cross with her featured romantic suspense novel, Ballroom Blitz.
Thank you for visiting the blog, Natalie. What may I get you to drink?
NC: I’m more of a tea drinker. I like black tea with a little sugar, English breakfast or Assam, for the most part. Though I just bought these Vietnamese pour over coffees with sweetened condensed milk, and they might convert me.
Ally: I think we’ll play it safe this morning and brew the black tea. While I do that, please introduce yourself to readers.
Bio:Natalie Cross writes romances and cozy mysteries featuring main characters who accept each other as they are, and love deeply.
She lives in Los Angeles, where writing is an acceptable way to avoid sunburn. She is mom to two lovely young munchkins who despise brushing their hair and eat way too much cake. She is unapologetically terrible at taking selfies.
Something unique/unusual that isn't in your regular bio: “I love musical theater. I can sing/recall a sizeable portion of the Sondheim musical catalog, as well as most musicals released in the late 90s/early 2000s. My aunt and I once saw the original Scarlet Pimpernel musical three times in one weekend…”
Author Contact Links:
Website: www.nataliecrosswrites.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/nataliecrosswrites
Instagram: www.instagram.com/nataliecrosswrites
Tiktok: www.tiktok.com/nataliecrosswrites
INTERVIEW :
Ally: What inspired your featured book?
NC: During the dreary days of the pandemic, when I was either home with my two very bored children or at work on the front lines, I spent a lot of time daydreaming about the things I missed. Going out to restaurants, ballroom dance competitions, etc. After one particularly rough night that ended in several hours of bingeing YouTube dance videos, the idea for Ballroom Blitz came to me and wouldn’t let me go. Anita and Patrick, the main characters, begged for me to tell their story.
Ally: What is the easiest—or the hardest—part of writing for you? Explain.
NC: The easiest part for me is the research and the daydreaming. I love falling down internet rabbit holes (that may or may not get me tagged by the FBI haha…). The hardest part of writing is that I cannot get the story out of my head and onto the page as quickly as I could think it. If I could download a story straight from my brain, I would be so much more productive.
Ally: Do you use critique groups or beta readers? Do you find them valuable?
NC: I do use beta readers, and I think they are very helpful. I’m still early in my career, so I’m trying to find my core beta readers, the ones who provides valuable constructive criticism that I can act upon. So far, I’ve had very good experiences, and their feedback has really improved my stories. Sometimes as an author it’s difficult to see the plot holes. Just because it makes sense in my head doesn’t mean it’s clear for others.
Ally: How important do you think writing and reading are in today’s world?
NC: I think they’re incredibly vital to today’s world. So much changes, and by reading/writing varied stories, we learn so much more about ourselves, other people, and other cultures. I think reading leads to a more compassionate world.
Ally: What is your next writing project? Anticipated release date?
NC: I am currently in edits on the second full-length book in the Ballroom Blitz/Dancesport Mystery series, which is called Ballroom Fever. Patrick and Anita become embroiled in another mystery/suspense in their small town. Hopefully it will be out later this year from the Wild Rose Press.
Ally: Which of the trivia questions did you choose?
NC:
Most watched tv show: it’s a tie between “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Firefly”Color of nail polish you have on: a mishmash of silver, mermaid blue, peach, and faded gold, from when my four-year-old painted my nails over the holidaysFavorite quote: it’s not proper Latin, but from The Handmaid’s Tale: “nolite te bastardes carborundorum.” Don’t let the bastards get you down.Something unique in your closet: I have two ballroom dance costumes from when I used to compete, one Latin and one Standard. They rain glitter and spangles all over the closet floor.A beer at the bar or a book on the deck? I’d combine them into a beer and a book on a bar patio. But I live in California now, so we have a lot of outdoor dining.Ally: It’s been a pleasure having you, Natalie. Please show us your featured book before we close today’s chat.
Ballroom Blitz
Genre: romantic suspense/cozy mystery
PG-13
In the glamorous world of ballroom, love and dancing do not always mix.
Professional dancer Anita Goodman has learned that lesson the hard way. With her studio and her reputation on the line, she has to take a chance on the last person she ever wanted to partner with: her best friend.
Patrick O’Leary has loved Anita since high school, but he has languished in the Friend Zone for long enough. He will take this last chance to prove to her that love is greater than winning.
Neither of them realize that conquering their rising attraction won’t be their biggest obstacle. Someone does not want them to be together, and will stop at nothing to get their way.
Love, dance, and danger. It’s a Ballroom Blitz.
Buy Links:
books2read.com/u/3yV6r6
