20 January, 2025

January 20, 2025 0

Early Termination by Cindy Goyette

 

EARLY TERMINATION

by Cindy Goyette

January 20 - February 14, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Early Termination by Cindy Goyette

A Probation Case Files Mystery

 

There are two ways to get off probation early. The first is to be a model citizen and complete all requirements imposed by the court. The second is to die. In Early Termination, Phoenix probation officer Casey Carson’s clients aren’t civic-minded, but they are dropping like flies.

She’s on a gang’s hit list, a detective’s suspect list, and is torn while two very hot men vie for her heart. As more clients die and a probationer accuses her of brutality, she becomes the focus of the investigation. Casey risks losing everything in her race to find the real killer, but doing so will put the target squarely on her back. She will need to find the person responsible for lightening her workload before she’s the one terminated.

Praise for Cindy Goyette's Novels:

"A hard-charging crime novel powered by combustible realism and driven by a fresh, new heroine—probation officer Casey Carson. Buckle up for a wild, white-knuckle ride."
~ Lee Goldberg, #1 New York Times bestselling author

"A dynamite start to an excellent new series. This is the kind of book that can grow legs and take off just by word of mouth. The character Casey Carson has grit, loyalty and honor. OBEY ALL LAWS is a topnotch thriller and I can't wait for the next one. Author Cindy Goyette is here to stay."
~ David Putnam the bestselling author of The Bruno Johnson series

"Cindy Goyette is a master with words. And she knows how to spin a tale! Drawing from rich life experiences in law enforcement, her characters jump from the page. Don't miss a single sentence this gifted author writes."
~ Judith L. Pearson, author of From Shadows to Life, The Wolves at the Door and Belly of the Beast

"A rollicking ride through the gritty world of feisty Probation Officer Casey Carson, a fantastic character with a heart as big and vast as the Arizona desert she calls home. When her probationers keep stacking up as homicide victims, Casey realizes that someone is sending her a message, and they're dead serious about it. Now, she must unravel the sinister plot before she becomes the next victim. A complex, entertaining story that includes a secondary theme of romantic frustration simmering in the background, and a twisty ending that ensures we'll see more adventures from Casey Carson. A great read! Five thumbs-up!"
~ Kerry Peresta, author of the Olivia Callahan Suspense series and Back Before Dawn

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Suspense
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: January 7, 2025
Number of Pages: 320
Series: A Probation Case Files Mystery
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

One

In probation work, there’s no such thing as a routine day at the office.

This morning, flashing red and blue lights guided me to the crime scene. Coming to a stop behind the coroner’s van, I parked my Jeep Wrangler and took a deep breath.

Coroner meant someone was dead. Not a good start to my day, but even worse for whoever I’d been called here about.

As I climbed out of my Jeep, I adjusted my sunglasses and surveyed the area. Yellow crime scene tape blocked off the entrance to the canal. Red tile rooftops peeked over six-foot walls that separated the waterway from the middle-class sea of stucco on either side. The canal, about ten feet wide, snaked smack in the middle of a dirt pathway that residents used to get their steps in.

It was nearing the end of September, and I was grateful for the hint of the cooler weather that would dip below one hundred for the first time in months. Ninety degrees might seem hot to some, but in Arizona, it was sweater weather.

I walked up to a uniformed cop and held out my badge. “I’m with probation. Detective Ramsey asked me to come.”

It wasn’t unusual for the police to contact us, but it wasn’t common practice to be called to a crime scene. My curiosity mixed with dread.

The cop glanced at my identification. “Ms. Carson. Welcome to the shit show. Don’t touch anything.” He held the tape high so I could pass. I ducked underneath and secured my badge to my belt so the other officers could tell I belonged there.

Lots of Tempe Police blue uniforms and forensic staff mulled around the area, but I homed in on the tall, balding man standing close to the water. He had on plain clothes—khakis and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I figured he might be Ramsey, so I walked over to him.

He scribbled something on a small notepad and glanced at me as I approached. “You the PO?”

I nodded and dropped my gaze to the mound covered by a tarp at his feet. I wasn’t fond of seeing dead bodies. One reason I was a PO and not a cop.

“Thinking this might be one of your charges, Ms. Carson,” he said. “I gotta warn you, it’s not pretty. He was in the water for a while and birds, and god knows what else got to him. You got a strong stomach?”

No. At the mere thought of seeing the body, my breakfast threatened to make a reappearance, but I wouldn’t admit that. “I’m fine. Why do you think he was on my caseload?”

Ramsey shrugged. “Someone stuffed your business card in his mouth.”

I gulped air. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. You ready?” Ramsey reached down and pulled the sheet back before I could respond.

A bloated, green face, missing chunks of cheek, greeted me. Bulging eyes looked skyward. Bran flakes swirled in my stomach and crested in my throat. Without a word, I ran to the canal and vomited so hard I thought I’d hack up a vital organ or two.

“You okay, ma’am?” Ramsey sounded bored.

I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and straightened. Memories of the same man, alive and animated, flashed in my mind. Not so long ago, he was proud of accomplishing a solid month of sobriety. Now, I hardly recognized him. “Could you put the sheet back?” I said, keeping my back to the body on the ground.

“Sure.”

I waited a moment to give Ramsey time to cover the corpse and to compose myself. But that would take a while, and the detective didn’t seem like he had a lot of patience. The relationship between police and probation was fickle. We often needed each other, but POs were on the lower end of the food chain.

When I finally turned around, Ramsey was tapping his pen against his notebook. “So, you know the guy, or what?”

“Brian Johnson,” I said. “He was on abscond status. Haven’t seen him for a few weeks, maybe a month. He was doing well, but then he stopped reporting. He probably relapsed. I was gearing up to request a warrant for probation violations. What do you think was the cause of death?”

Ramsey shrugged again. “Too soon to tell, but most people who die of natural causes don’t end up in a canal or send a message like your business card does. They preserved it in a plastic Baggie, so we’d get the point no matter how long it took to find him.

I felt even sicker. Was the message for me? “Couldn’t you ID him through fingerprints? I thought you had all kinds of tech gadgets for that.”

“Sure,” Ramsey said. “But then I wouldn’t have seen your reaction. Plus, some of his fingertips are missing and what’s left probably isn’t usable. Dental records take time.” He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me. “Call me if you think of anything else I might need to know.”

I turned back to the canal and vomited until I had nothing left to give.

In probation work, there’s no such thing as a routine day at the office.

This morning, flashing red and blue lights guided me to the crime scene. Coming to a stop behind the coroner’s van, I parked my Jeep Wrangler and took a deep breath.

Coroner meant someone was dead. Not a good start to my day but even worse for whoever I’d been called here about.

As I climbed out of my Jeep, I adjusted my sunglasses and surveyed the area. Yellow crime scene tape blocked off the entrance to the canal. Red tile rooftops peeked over six-foot walls that separated the waterway from the middle-class sea of stucco on either side. The canal, about ten feet wide, snaked smack in the middle of a dirt pathway that local residents used to get their steps in.

It was nearing the end of September, and I was grateful for the hint of the cooler weather that would dip below one hundred for the first time in months. Ninety degrees might seem hot to some, but in Arizona, it was sweater weather.

I walked up to a uniformed cop and held out my badge. “I’m with probation. Detective Ramsey asked me to come.”

It wasn’t unusual for police to contact us, but it wasn’t common practice to be called to a crime scene. My curiosity mixed with dread.

The cop glanced at my identification. “Ms. Carson. Welcome to the shit show. Don’t touch anything.” He held the tape high so I could pass. I ducked underneath and secured my badge to my belt so the other officers could tell I belonged there.

Lots of Tempe Police blue uniforms and forensic staff mulled around the area, but I homed in on the tall balding man standing close to the water. He was dressed in plain clothes—khakis and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I figured he might be Ramsey, so I walked over to him.

He scribbled something on a small notepad and glanced at me as I approached. “You the PO?”

I nodded and dropped my gaze to the mound covered by a tarp at his feet. I wasn’t fond of seeing dead bodies. One of the reasons, I was a PO and not a cop.

“Thinking this might be one of your charges, Ms. Carson,” he said. “I gotta warn you, it’s not pretty. He was in the water for a while and birds, and god knows what else got to him. You got a strong stomach?”

No. At the mere thought of seeing the body, my breakfast threatened to make a reappearance, but I wouldn’t admit that. “I’m fine. Why do you think he was on my caseload?”

Ramsey shrugged. “Your business card was stuffed in his mouth.”

I gulped air. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. You ready?” Ramsey reached down and pulled the sheet back before I could respond.

The face before me was bloated, green, and missing chunks of cheek. Bulging eyes looked skyward. Bran flakes swirled in my stomach and crested in my throat. Without a word, I ran to the canal and vomited so hard, I thought I’d hack up a vital organ or two.

“You okay, ma’am?” Ramsey sounded bored.

I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and straightened. Memories of the same man, alive and animated flashed in my mind. Not so long ago, he was proud of accomplishing a solid month of sobriety. Now, I hardly recognized him. “Could you put the sheet back?” I said, keeping my back to the body on the ground.

“Sure.”

I waited a moment to give Ramsey time to cover the corpse and to compose myself. But that would take a while, and the detective didn’t seem like he had a lot of patience. The relationship between police and probation was fickle. We often needed each other, but POs were on the lower end of the food chain.

When I finally turned around, Ramsey was tapping his pen against his notebook. “So, you know the guy, or what?”

“Brian Johnson,” I said. “He was on abscond status. Haven’t seen him for a few weeks, maybe a month. He was doing well, but then he stopped reporting. He probably relapsed. I was gearing up to request a warrant for probation violations. What do you think was the cause of death?”

Ramsey shrugged again. “Too soon to tell, but most people who die of natural causes don’t end up in a canal or send a message like your business card does. It was preserved in a plastic Baggie, so we’d get the point no matter how long it took to find him.”

I felt even sicker. Was the message for me? “Couldn’t you ID him through fingerprints? I thought you had all kinds of tech gadgets for that.”

“Sure,” Ramsey said. “But then I wouldn’t have seen your reaction. Plus, some of his fingertips are missing and what’s left probably isn’t usable. Dental records take time.” He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me. “Call me if you think of anything else I might need to know.”

I turned back to the canal and vomited until I had nothing left to give.

***

Excerpt from Early Termination by Cindy Goyette. Copyright 2025 by Cindy Goyette. Reproduced with permission from Cindy Goyette. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Cindy Goyette

Cindy Goyette is a former probation officer who had a front row seat to the criminal justice system. She kept her sanity by finding humor in most situations. A mix of these things helped her create The Probation Case Files Mystery Series, Book 1, OBEY ALL LAWS won a PSWA Award for best suspense, and was published in January of 2024. Book 2, EARLY TERMINATION, released January of 2025. Her first cozy mystery, DIAMOND IN THE RUFF, will release in May of 2025. After spending over twenty years in Arizona, Cindy lives in Washington state with her husband and two Cocker Spaniels.

Catch Up With Cindy Goyette:
CCGoyette.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @ccgoyettewriter
Instagram - @cindy.goyette
Threads - @cindy.goyette
X - @cindy_ccgoyette
Facebook

 

 

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13 January, 2025

January 13, 2025 0

Deadly When Disturbed by DM Barr

 

Deadly When Disturbed by DM Barr Banner

DEADLY WHEN DISTURBED

by DM Barr

January 13 - 31, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Deadly When Disturbed by DM Barr

Deadly When Disturbed follows the journey of leading Realtor and philanthropist Dara Banks. When Dara searches for an assistant, finding someone as resourceful as Meryl “Merry” Rafter seems too good to be true. So good in fact, she neglects to run a reference check. Bad move. Before she knows it, Merry, a former “actress” trying to be “helpful,” has insinuated herself into Dara’s business, family, and charity, and may be the only person saving her from prison. Dara becomes suspicious and begins snooping into Merry’s past. Feeling cornered, Merry reciprocates by launching an investigation of her own and realizes—too late—that she may have picked the wrong mark to con. These women’s unsettling discoveries, and their desperate efforts to safeguard their skeleton-filled closets and fragile self-images, lead to an explosive confrontation certain to destroy the lives of everyone in their midst.

Praise for Deadly When Disturbed:

"Two women. Friends? Hardly. They’re both after the same thing. And as the stakes get higher, the mind games get uglier, until—well, I’m not going to give away the killer ending. D. M. Barr’s latest domestic thriller is a total rush. It’s like being back with Betty and Veronica all over again—only this ain’t high school, and these women (like the title says) are DEADLY WHEN DISTURBED."
~ Marshall Karp, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author of the NYPD RED series

"Who’s the hunter and who’s the hunted in this taut domestic thriller? Don’t even try to guess. Just relax, enjoy, and hang on as DEADLY WHEN DISTURBED takes you on a wild ride."
~ Brad Parks, international bestselling author of THE BOUNDARIES WE CROSS.

"Tense, well-written, and surprising—Liane Moriarty meets Gillian Flynn by way of John Lutz in D.M. Barr's latest domestic thriller, DEADLY WHEN DISTURBED. Gaslighting and suburban intrigue abound in this carefully crafted tale, guaranteed to keep you in suspense all the way to the final chapter. Put this one at the top of your to-be-read pile!"
~ Richard Helms, Thriller, Macavity, and Shamus Awards winning author of 22 RUE MONTPARNASSE.

"DEADLY WHEN DISTURBED is a superb dark thriller that offers a brilliantly written bizarro take on the classic All About Eve. Shifts in reality and twists of the plot keep the reader on edge until the stunning and unexpected climax. Fasten your seatbelt and hang on. It's a great ride."
~ S. Lee Manning, award-winning author of TROJAN HORSE, NERVE ATTACK, BLOODY SOIL, and DEADLY CHOICE.

"DEADLY WHEN DISTURBED by D.M. Barr is a clever psychological thriller reminiscent of The Hand That Rocks The Cradle, updated for today's culture and with a superior narrative.… With a steady and increasingly intense pace, [it] is a hypnotic read of insanity and wretchedness that will stay with you long after the last page."
~ Gaius Konstantine for Readers’ Favorite

Deadly When Disturbed Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Domestic Suspense, Domestic Thriller
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: January 2025
Number of Pages: 310
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Prologue

She stood at her dining room table and calmly fingered through the cardboard box, double-checking that the paperwork was in chronological order. Even now, no one could accuse Samantha Ellingsworth of being anything but organized and precise. For nearly forty years, it had been both a gift and a curse.

First the letters from Harry, professing his incendiary ardor during their abbreviated law school courtship. The GIA certificate for the diamond, his glittering promise of passion extending through eternity. The deed to their Upper West side condo. A copy of her resignation from Davis & Milliken, where she’d been on the fast track to partner. The birth certificates for her daughter, dated a year later, and the surprise twins, ten years after that.

Next, the children’s coveted acceptance letters from Harrison—Manhattan’s most elite private pre-school and elementary—followed by every one of the glowing report cards she’d worked with them so diligently to earn. Campaign flyers she’d created for Harry’s run for state senate. Her passport opened to the page containing the stamp from that fateful trip to Aruba. The letters she’d written, refuting everything he’d accused her of as lies—all unopened and marked “Return to Sender.” The prescription for Prozac, unfilled, as if any pharmaceutical could rescue her from this pit of depression. Finally, the divorce papers she’d received a few weeks ago, still unsigned.

A lifetime of aspirations, misunderstandings, and betrayals, all encapsulated in a pile of paper less than an inch thick. She affixed the cover to the box and took a long, wistful look at the “perfect” apartment they’d been so ecstatic about buying, beating out several competing bids thanks to the lingering cachet of the Ellingsworth name and its clout in political circles. Confident that the condo was spotless, with everything in its place, Samantha slowly donned her hooded sheepskin coat, grabbed the box, and headed out.

The elevator operator nodded as she entered, but Gloria from the floor above murmured a curt hello and diverted her gaze as they descended from the seventh floor. Samantha had grown used to the frostiness over the past few weeks. Did the other tenants fear it was catching, that they too might be abandoned by their spouse and children, their lives reduced to rubble, if they inched too close? Whatever.

She trudged southbound through the early morning wintery mix; package still cradled to her chest like a newborn. Frigid raindrops grazed her eyelashes before cascading downward and stinging her cheeks as she passed the signs in Zabars’ windows, reminding patrons to purchase their Thanksgiving turkeys. The holiday was only days away. The irony did not escape her.

Shivering as much from the weather as from what lay ahead, she descended the subway staircase at 72nd Street, pushing against the throngs headed toward the sidewalk. She had someplace to go too and nothing—not crowds nor apprehension—was going to delay her.

Today was the day, a chance to have her say. Finally, she’d make him understand.

Samantha ran her MetroCard through the turnstile and headed toward the stairway leading to the uptown train. She positioned herself as close as possible to the opening of the tunnel and stood by the edge of the platform, resummoning her fleeting courage as the crowds swelled behind her. Commuters too involved with their phones to notice the determined woman beside them whose breathing had quickened and whose face had grown hot. She hugged the box even tighter to her fidgeting body and waited. And waited.

A collective sigh arose from the crowd as the loudspeaker announced that the next train was going out of service and wouldn’t be stopping. She saw the light in the distance and heard the clunk-de-clunk and whirl—a deafening gale descending onto the tracks, drowning out the murmur of the passengers. Her ride to the most important meeting of her life. And it was the number 2 train. How appropriate. Just like her, relegated from number one.

Timing was everything, the oncoming gleam only yards away. She tightened her grasp on what was left of her world, recalling the face of the bitch who’d laughed as she’d stolen it all away. Then she took one last breath and jumped onto the tracks.

***

Excerpt from Deadly When Disturbed by DM Barr. Copyright 2025 by DM Barr. Reproduced with permission from DM Barr. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

DM Barr

Dawn M. Barclay is an award-winning author who writes psychological and romantic suspense as D.M. Barr and non-fiction under her own name.

Her eight other published books include Expired Listings, Murder Worth the Weight, and Saving Grace: A Psychological Thriller. Along with Deadly When Disturbed, in February LBB will also publish the first of her multi-volume series, Vacations Can Be Murder: A True Crime Lover's Travel Guide.

Dawn recently completed her second stint co-editing a Sisters in Crime NY/Tri-state anthology. New York State of Crime, published by Down & Out Books in the fall of 2024, which includes her third published short story, "Orchestral Removals in the Dark." She is currently editing an anthology of crime fiction for Down & Out Books inspired by the music of Elton John and Bernie Taupin.

Dawn offers developmental and copy editing through SuggestedDevelopment.com, and ghostwrites personal histories and corporate profiles through LegacyQuest.net. A member of ITW, she has served as president of Hudson Valley Scribes, vice president of Sisters in Crime-NY (still a board member), and the newsletter author/board member of the NY chapter of Mystery Writers of America.

Catch Up With DM Barr:
www.DMBarr.com
Goodreads - @DMBarr
BookBub - @DMBarr
Instagram - @AuthorDMBarr
Threads - @AuthorDMBarr
YouTube - @BarrSinister-m7u
Bluesky - @AuthorDMBarr
YouTube - @BarrSinister-m7u
Facebook - @AuthorDMBarr
TikTok - @AuthorDMBarr

 

 

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09 January, 2025

January 09, 2025 0

Tale of the Seasons’ Weaver by D. Wallace Peach

 

Tale of the Seasons’ Weaver
D. Wallace Peach
Publication date: January 9th 2024
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

“Already the animals starve. Soon the bonemen will follow, the Moss Folk and woodlings, the watermaids and humans. Then the charmed will fade. And all who will roam a dead world are dead things. Until they too vanish for lack of remembering. Still, Weaver, it is not too late.”

In the frost-kissed cottage where the changing seasons are spun, Erith wears the Weaver’s mantle, a title that tests her mortal, halfling magic. As the equinox looms, her first tapestry nears completion—a breathtaking ode to spring. She journeys to the charmed isle of Innishold to release the beauty of nature’s awakening across the land.

But human hunters have defiled the enchanted forest and slaughtered winter’s white wolves. Enraged by the trespass, the Winter King seizes Erith’s tapestry and locks her within his ice-bound palace. Here, where comfort and warmth are mere glamours, she may weave only winter until every mortal village succumbs to starvation, ice, and the gray wraiths haunting the snow.

With humanity’s fate on a perilous edge, Erith must break free of the king’s grasp and unravel a legacy of secrets. In a charmed court where illusions hold sway, allies matter, foremost among them, the Autumn Prince. Immortal and beguiling, he offers a tantalizing future she has only imagined, one she will never possess—unless she claims her extraordinary power to weave life from the brink of death.

In the lyrical fantasy tradition of Margaret Rogerson and Holly Black, D. Wallace Peach spins a spellbinding tale of magic, resilience, and the transformative potency of tales—a tapestry woven with peril and hope set against the frigid backdrop of an eternal winter.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

A wicker basket of colorful spools rested at my feet. I picked through the bewitched thread my mother had hand-spun long before my birth. No matter how many seasons passed, the spools unwound and unwound, and I no longer fretted about reaching their ends. There was no end to magic, no end to the seasons, no end to my place on the cusp of two worlds.

A delicate pink caught my eye, a color crafted from the cherry blossoms bordering my garden. I held it against the tapestry, testing its suitability for flowering plum trees and coral bells I’d stitch into the meadows and along the forest’s edge.

“Should you desire my opinion, Erith,” a small voice piped up, “it requires a touch of carnation and a shimmer of sunshine. On the dogwood blossoms as well.”

“I wondered about those.” My gaze rose to my knee-high hospet. He sat cross-legged on the hearthstone in front of our shrinking fire, cracking walnuts with his sharp teeth. The creature blinked at me with eyes as clear as spring water, his waistcoat buttoned, cheeks rosy, and cinnamon hair parted in the middle like a magistrate. Nobbin kept my wood and moss cottage tidy, expecting little beyond customary respect and an occasional outfit when his garments aged past mending.

He also took it upon himself to offer artistic advice since my mother had chosen to join my father in the underworld.

“I might leave them as they are,” I said. “Dogwoods are white.”

Nobbin’s eyebrows tilted up in an expression of devilish skepticism. “Spring’s princess will agree with me. Give it a brush of magic. I know you dabble when I’m otherwise occupied.”

“You spy on me?”

“I’m observant. And I’m charmed.” He flicked his handcloth at the window. “Snow doesn’t glitter like that without your touch, my girl. You added that sparkle to your mother’s tapestry, and it impressed the Winter King.”

“Do you think so?” A blush heated my cheeks. “From what I’ve gathered, he’s not one to dole out compliments.”

“None of them are.” Nobbin held up a nut as if inspecting a precious gem. “Such is the nature of immortals. Add a layer of royalty on top, and we are lucky they don’t dismember anyone or anything tarnishing their crowns.”

“Dismember?” I cringed at the grisly thought and drew my black shawl around my shoulders. “My mother told me the courtiers are kind and cruel in equal measure. Without good reason for either.”

Not one to speak with his mouth full, Nobbin raised a finger and swallowed a morsel of walnut. “Indeed, they’re notoriously whimsical. But you are their weaver, and every artist must begin somewhere. You will earn your place, Erith, though it is no simple task to prove your power and demand respect. Spring is the first tapestry you may claim as your own creation, and it is a glorious start. I have untold faith in you.”

I smiled gratefully and stifled a shudder at the challenge ahead. Despite Nobbin’s trust in me, my confidence wavered like a weathervane on a gusty day. I’d done my best, and it would have to serve. The seasons’ rulers wouldn’t dismember me on a whim. I hoped.

Author Bio:

Best-selling author D. Wallace Peach grew up surrounded by her father’s well-loved paperback books. Fantasy was a staple, but it was Tolkien’s The Hobbit that planted the seeds which would grow into a passion for writing.

Peach started writing later in life when years of working in business surrendered to a full-time indulgence in the imaginative world of books. She was instantly hooked.
In addition to fantasy books, Peach’s publishing career includes participation in various anthologies featuring short stories, flash fiction, and poetry. She’s an avid supporter of the arts in her local community, organizing and publishing annual anthologies of Oregon prose, poetry, and photography.
Peach lives in a log cabin amongst the tall evergreens and emerald moss of Oregon’s rainforest with her husband, two owls, a horde of bats, and the occasional family of coyotes.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Myths of the Mirror


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06 January, 2025

January 06, 2025 0

River of Lies by James L'Etoile

 

River of Lies by James L'Etoile Banner

RIVER OF LIES

by James L'Etoile

January 6 - 31, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

River of Lies by James L'Etoile

A Detective Emily Hunter Mystery

 

Detective Emily Hunter must be the voice for the voiceless

The homeless camps spread throughout the city of Sacramento are a topic of heated debate among residents. They’re considered undesirable—a nuisance—an eyesore. But when the camps fall victim to a string of devastating arson attacks, Detective Emily Hunter and her partner, Javier Medina, dive into the investigation and become acquainted with the real people whose lives have been destroyed.

The attacks only begin to draw attention when two of the victims are identified as the city’s former anti-homeless mayor and a camp social worker—but rather than strengthening the push for justice, the movement to completely abolish the camps intensifies.

The investigation becomes politically charged when Emily discovers who stands to gain from burning the homeless out of their shelters. She struggles to balance the high-stakes investigation with caring for her Alzheimer’s-stricken mother, whose condition is rapidly deteriorating. The investigation uncovers an unlikely suspect and a reluctant witness standing between Emily and the shocking truth. Can Emily overcome resistance and her personal obstacles to halt the attacks?

Praise for RIVER OF LIES:

"[River of Lies has] everything that I love in a police procedural in spades: a smart and intuitive lead detective, an equally intuitive partner, and a high-stakes, ripped-from-the-headlines case that will challenge them both."
~ Karen Dionne, USA Today best-selling author of The Marsh King’s Daughter

"River of Lies is a rich, gripping crime novel. L’Etoile writes with a deep understanding of both human nature and investigative procedure, a combination that keeps the pages flying past."
~ Lou Berney, Edgar Award-winning author of Double Barrel Bluff

"River of Lies is a tour de force thriller . . . Brooding, heartfelt, and powerful."
~ T. Jefferson Parker, New York Times best-selling author of Desperation Reef

"River of Lies is a masterful blend of political intrigue and personal drama, weaving elements of true-life crime into a twisty, page-turning and compelling plot—with a climax and denouement that will shock you to the core. Enthusiastically recommended."
~ Baron Birtcher, award-winning author of Knife River

Book Details:

Genre: Police Procedural; Thriller
Published by: Oceanview Publishing
Publication Date: January 7, 2025
Number of Pages: 320
ISBN: 9781608095896 (ISBN10: 1608095894)
Series: A Detective Emily Hunter Mystery, 2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Oceanview Publishing

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

It would be easy to float away in the darkness and let the current pull her under, too. She’d thought about it several times before—in her “dark times,” as her ex-husband used to call them.

Lisa’s life hadn’t turned out the way she’d hoped. Abusive parents, a failed marriage, the booze—so much booze—all swirled together to set her on this path. Losing her apartment finally put her out here. Now this. She thought she’d escaped, but running from her past hadn’t worked. The ghosts of years past had stripped everything away. Lisa had nothing left, not even hope.

The tug of the Sacramento River on her legs was temping, and the spring snow runoff numbed Lisa’s thighs as she waded out.

Lisa closed her eyes and pictured herself lying back and allowing the river to put an end to it.

“Momma?”

Lisa’s eyes shot open.

Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted the faint outline of her daughter standing on the riverbank. The eight-year-old wore a thin blue t-shirt with a unicorn on the front, a threadbare pair of jeans, holding a stuffed bunny with one ear missing. The girl’s face registered confusion.

“Baby, go on back to the tent,” Lisa said.

Lisa felt her daughter would be better off without her. The mother’s sins cast a damning shadow. But she couldn’t abandon Willow. Not like this. Lisa knew what it was like to be an orphan in an unfriendly world. The future of an eight-year-old alone in a homeless camp wasn’t the life Willow deserved.

“Momma, what are you doing?”

Lisa’s eyes welled. She didn’t need to tell her daughter the world was a hurtful place. She’d keep the secrets and not let her know there was nothing worth living for—for now.

“I’m coming, baby.”

Lisa turned and waded back toward the bank. Her daughter spent the last two years in one homeless camp or another. The tightly packed shelters made Lisa’s claustrophobia itch.

Lisa reached for her daughter and grabbed her, lifting the girl into a tight hug. Tears streamed down Lisa’s cheeks. Not because Lisa wanted to end her suffering. She’d considered that option before. The tears came from nearly making Willow an orphan and leaving the innocent girl behind in a homeless camp. Willow couldn’t fight off the predators who lurked in the darkness—like they did tonight.

From the river’s edge, the camp spread a quarter mile in either direction. There was never any official count because people came and went, died, were arrested, or simply disappeared from the camp. Lisa guessed there were over two hundred people living here in the city’s forgotten shadows.

It was time to move. When the camps get too big, bad things happen, and people talk.

Lights flickered from small campfires and lanterns throughout the settlement. Lisa thought they looked like fallen stars. She hugged Willow a little closer and followed the trail back into the camp.

She unzipped the fly on their tent and scooted inside. Their belongings—a change of clothes, a towel to share, and two children’s books lay on one end of the nylon dome tent. A pair of sleeping bags took up most of the space. Lisa knew they were lucky to have them—others didn’t.

“All right, sweetie, let’s get you settled in for the night.”

Willow wiggled into her sleeping bag with her stuffed rabbit. Lisa grabbed a book, The Mouse and the Motorcycle, one of her daughter’s favorites. The eight-year-old could recite most of the story by heart.

Lisa opened the book when a loud commotion erupted outside. It wasn’t uncommon in the camp. Fights over property, drugs, or imagined slights fed by drugs, alcohol, and glitchy mental health were a daily occurrence. Lisa learned the best thing to do was stay out of it and never get involved.

It sounded like the usual dust-up until the screams began.

“Stay here, Willow.”

Lisa crawled to the tent flap, zipped it open, and poked her head out.

Fire.

Flames erupted on the far side of the camp. It was always a risk in the cardboard condos and plastic tarp shelters along the riverbank. This was different. At least six structures were ablaze. People were running, backlit by the orange and yellow glow. The evening delta breeze fanned the flames, igniting another dozen tents.

The cheap nylon shelters went up like dried rice paper.

“Baby, get your shoes on.”

“What is it, Momma?”

“We need to—”

Lisa spotted two men in the chaos, both outlined by the flames behind them. They weren’t running. One set the next row of tents ablaze. The second man wielded a baseball bat and swung the aluminum cylinder at anyone who came near. A sickening tink sound echoed among the rows of tents when he bounced the bat off a man’s shoulder.

Lisa grabbed her daughter’s hand, pulling her from the tent. The girl’s eyes grew large when she spotted the fires.

Willow pulled away and ducked back into the tent.

“Willow Marie, don’t you pull away from me. Come here. We need to get away.”

Lisa felt the heat from the fire. It was spreading fast, and the flames jumped up into the trees within the camp.

Bending into the tent, Lisa found Willow gathering her stuffed animal and the books.

“Come now, we need to—”

Tink.

Lisa fell flat on the ground. The rounded end of the baseball bat shoved at her ribs. Dazed from a blow to the head, she didn’t move. Lisa registered a man’s boot stepping over her.

The flames grew closer.

Willow’s fear backed her into the far corner of the tent.

Lisa’s ragged voice called to her daughter. “Willow. Listen. I need—I need you to run. Hide. Go to the safe place—the rock where we hide things. Stay until I come for you.”

“I don’t want to go. I’m scared.”

“I know, baby. You have to be brave. Take Mr. Bunny and go, now.”

Willow clutched her stuffed animal, the book, and stepped through the tent flap.

“Momma, you have an owie.”

“I know, baby. I’ll be okay.”

It was a lie. Lisa knew she was far from okay. She could feel the pressure in her head building with each heartbeat.

“Go to the place we talked about, honey. Go quick.”

Willow’s eyes welled. She didn’t budge, frozen in fear before a scream from someone nearby broke her from the trance. Another row of tents went up in flames.

“Go.”

Willow hugged her bunny and trotted toward the river. Lisa lost sight of her through the smoke billowing through the camp.

She tried to get up and couldn’t move her legs. She crabbed forward using her arms, inching away from the burning camp.

Her tent flashed, and the flames consumed it in seconds. The melting fabric, plastic and nylon fibers fell on her. The molten material burned through her clothing and ate into the flesh on Lisa’s back.

The pain seared into her. Screams around her meant she wasn’t the only one. The two arsonists headed in the same direction Willow had fled.

“Stop them,” she cried. No one could hear over the chaos of the burning camp.

Lisa now wished the water had brought a calm end to everything. She didn’t expect this—the fire, searing flame, and torture. Part of her believed she deserved this fate for the pain she’d caused. Willow didn’t. The girl didn’t understand. Now, Lisa worried about what would happen to her sweet little girl. Mr. Bunny would not be enough.

The last thought before the flames ate at her pant legs. “I’ve failed you.”

***

Excerpt from River of Lies by James L'Etoile. Copyright 2025 by James L'Etoile. Reproduced with permission from James L'Etoile. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

James L'Etoile

James L’Etoile uses his twenty-nine years behind bars as an influence in his award-winning novels, short stories, and screenplays. He is a former associate warden in a maximum-security prison, a hostage negotiator, and director of California’s state parole system. His novels have been shortlisted or awarded the Lefty, Anthony, Silver Falchion, and the Public Safety Writers Award. River of Lies is his most recent novel. Look for Sins of the Father and The Red List, coming soon. He is the host of Authors on the Air, served as a board member of his local Sister-in-Crime chapter, sits on the Mystery Writers of America national board, and serves as the Director of QueryFest at ThrillerFest for International Thriller Writers.

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01 January, 2025

January 01, 2025 0

I Love That Girl by Hannah R. Goodman

 

I Love That Girl
Hannah R. Goodman
Published by: The Wild Rose Press
Publication date: January 1st 2025
Genres: New Adult, Romance

Once called the four-headed monster in high school, only to be decapitated by the disaster of coupling up, four childhood friends have healed their wounds and found their way back to each other in college—or so they thought.

Now, months before they enter the “real” world, decapitation once again is imminent by way of: a rejected proposal, a birth control fail, an almost ménage a quartet, and a secret (and-thought-to-be-impossible) hook-up. Everything explodes over the course of a Christmas vacation in Florida, leaving the survival of these four friendships, once again, on the brink.

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EXCERPT:

We locked eyes for a moment, the dim light and dark shadows between us. Her wavy sunset-blonde hair was in a messy bun, with tendrils falling around her face. I wanted to let  her hair down, scoop it up with my fingers, inhale the flowery scent of her shampoo. I didn’t move a single part of me except my eyes, which traced the dotting of piercings up her left ear and then roamed across to her smallish nose that had just a blush of light freckles that matched her hair and down to her button-shaped mouth.

“Okay,” she said, her shoulder sliding out from the old sweatshirt that she cut the hood off of. I wanted to kiss her shoulder so badly, I had to put my hand over

my mouth and pretend to cough.

The blackout made the moment dreamy. I reached over and pulled her shirt up to cover her shoulder, and when my fingers made contact with her soft skin, her expression changed, softened, and relaxed. She smiled.

“I’ll get the wine.” She popped up, slid her feet into her fuzzy slippers, walked over to the kitchen area, and snatched the almost full bottle. Then she said, “Do you have a set of cards? We can play Bullshit. Remember how much we used to love that game?”

I laughed and said, “I think it was the only drinking game we knew in high school.”

“I’m pretty sure we were the only people who actually found a way to make it a drinking game.”

In the darkness, her hair piled up, she looked like a princess but also like an angel, and while I couldn’t find those words in the moment, that’s what I saw. A princess-angel with a pretty but foul mouth. The combination was exhilarating.

Author Bio:

Psychotherapist by day and writer by night, Hannah R. Goodman prefers tea over coffee, cats over dogs, and staying in over going out. Hannah is a graduate of the Solstice Program where she earned an MFA in Writing For Young People.In 2018, Black Rose Writing published her contemporary YA novel Till It Stops Beating, which was praised by reviewers for its realistic and hilarious depiction of first love, first loss, and first mental break down. Her publishing history goes back almost 20 years when she published My Sister’s Wedding, which won first place in the 2004 Writer’s Digest Self Published Books awards Children’s/Teen Division. The Wild Rose Press will publish her New Adult novel I Love That Girl on January 1, 2025.

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21 December, 2024

December 21, 2024 0

Shards of Secrecy by N.D. Testa

 

Shards of Secrecy
N.D. Testa
(The Sapphora Series, #1)
Publication date: December 18th 2024
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult

Disguised as a mortal and robbed of her memory, an Egyptian sorceress is thrust into a daring quest to reclaim her fate or suffer at the hands of those who want her dead.

When a mummy attack at the city museum shatters the illusion of her ordinary life, twenty-year-old Noellia Taviani discovers a shocking truth: her entire life has been a lie. She isn’t a normal adolescent born into a Connecticut family. She is Sapphora, a princess with magical powers from the realm of Avogadro, a parallel universe to Ancient Egypt. Framed for treason against the crown and failure to fulfill a prophecy, she’s exiled to the harsh prison of Salutem. There she must relearn her craft to protect herself from those who seek to destroy her.

However, time is running out. The Nefarious Pharoah has escaped the underworld and threatens to not only conquer both realms, but to destroy everyone she loves. To stop him, Sapphora must overcome deadly challenges created by the Ancient Gods to recover a stolen spellbook before her birthday on the Winter Solstice. As she navigates this treacherous path, she’s drawn to a forbidden love with an Egyptian god, a dangerous temptation that could be her undoing.

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EXCERPT:

I enter the dim oppressive atmosphere of the Mummy Tomb, and stare at the stark glow of the glass box that houses the three-thousand-year-old sarcophagus. My breath catches in my throat when I see Alex, unconscious on the cold stone floor.

“Alex!” I sprint forward and crouch by his side. I turn him over to his back. Taking my phone I dial 911, but there is no service. Within seconds, the screen goes black, and the icon indicating the need to charge appears. I could have sworn my battery was a hundred percent a few minutes ago.

I reach forward, and place my hand against the wrinkled skin on his neck. A faint pulse kisses my fingers. Relief floods through me that Alex is still alive. But that reassurance is short-lived as a crackling sound fills the room. Turning to the glass display, my jaw drops as cracks weave through the clay sarcophagus. The case shakes violently, then the lid explodes. Pieces of the tomb smack against the plexiglass, forming chips and small cracks. My stomach twists into knots as a bandaged arm rises from inside the sarcophagus. The mummy has come back to life.

Author Bio:

N.D. Testa is a fantasy author who conjures immersive worlds filled with magic, mystery, and adventure. With a focus on inspiring hope, her stories transport readers to realms of wonder and possibility. When not lost in the pages of her imagination, she's an avid fitness enthusiast, fashion lover, and animal advocate. From snowboarding the slopes to exploring new cultures, N.D. Testa finds inspiration everywhere. She believes in the power of books to change lives and is committed to crafting tales that resonate with readers of all ages. At night she enjoys being by the fire with a cup of tea in her hands.

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16 December, 2024

December 16, 2024 0

You Will Be Peter by Jerry Lathan and Steven Manchester

 

You Will Be Peter by Jerry Lathan and Steven Manchester Banner

YOU WILL BE PETER

by Jerry Lathan and Steven Manchester

December 2, 2024 - January 10, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

You Will Be Peter by Jerry Lathan and Steven Manchester

The extraordinary story of a young fisherman who became the Founding Father of Christianity, the most influential and enduring institution in history.

2023 Paris Book Festival Winner · 2023 New England Book Festival Winner

He’s one of the most well-known figures in cultures around the world, etched into stained glass, painted in frescoes, even caricatured as standing at the gates of heaven with a long white beard and keys in hand. But long before he was portrayed as a venerated and untouchable figure, Peter was simply known as Simon, a twenty-something fisherman in a far-flung Jewish province controlled by the Roman Empire.

Loyal and faithful, impetuous and passionate, Simon’s quiet life is upended by the arrival of a man called Jesus of Nazareth, rumored to be the long-awaited Messiah who would rescue the Jewish people from oppression. When Simon meets Jesus, the mysterious man tells him, “You will be Peter,” a prophetic statement that would slowly transform Simon’s life. Eager to be free of the Romans, Simon joins Jesus in hopes that he can guard this leader who will, undoubtedly, build an army to challenge Rome. But as Simon waits for the army to form, he watches Jesus show a compassion for others Simon has never seen before. The miracles Jesus performs—healing the sick, feeding crowds of thousands—show not a display of military might, but of service and love.

Real, relatable and impeccably researched, You Will Be Peter draws on the four Gospel accounts to weave Simon Peter’s story into one seamless tapestry. Readers get a front-row seat to Simon’s three-year walk with Jesus, as Simon watches the Son of Man feed the hungry, raise the dead, upend the status quo and challenge the elite during one of world history’s most pivotal seasons.

In perhaps one of the greatest miracles, we can see ourselves in Simon, this ordinary man Jesus chose to accompany Him. Simon wasn’t well-educated, but he was faithful and headstrong. Though he could rush to judgment and use a foul word from time to time, he was the kind of friend who loved fiercely and was doggedly loyal—until he wasn’t. Although he failed, Simon wasn’t cast away from Jesus’ mission. In fact, his failures and subsequent redemption made him a more empathetic and capable rock upon whom the Church was built.

With storytelling artistry that transports readers to the first-century world, with the sights, sounds, and smells of that time, You Will Be Peter shares an age-old story told from a new set of eyes: it’s possible for one ordinary person, however unlikely, to change the world forever.

Praise for You Will Be Peter:

"There can be no doubt that Jerry Lathan and Steven Manchester are gifted and talented writers . . . and You Will Be Peter is a perfect example."
~ Joan van Ark, actress, Knots Landing

"Thoroughly researched and biblically accurate, You Will Be Peter is an exciting, emotional roller coaster into the life of the man who became the ‘rock’ upon which the Christian faith would be established."
~ Robert F. Barrow, Lieutenant Colonel, US Army, ret.

"What a thought-provoking way these authors have made Peter come alive by asking the same questions I ask myself every day: What did Jesus ever see in me? and He must have seen something I either lost or can no longer see in myself. Even today, we as Christians must all ask ourselves these same two questions. Great job! I look forward to your writings on all the disciples."
~ Jerry Carl, US Congressman, Alabama’s first district

"In You Will Be Peter, Jerry Lathan and Steven Manchester expertly weave history, faith, and redemption into an emotionally charged biography. With meticulous research and storytelling artistry, this unique perspective reveals the real person behind the legend—a journey of transformation that will resonate with readers for generations to come."
~ Orsayor L. Simmons, book blogger, Book Referees

"In You Will Be Peter, Jerry Lathan and Steven Manchester tell the story of Jesus’s final years as seen through the eyes of his disciple Simon. Regardless of your belief system, you will relate to Simon, an Everyman who contends with questions, doubts, and awe as he joins the band of brothers surrounding and supporting Jesus. Lathan and Manchester humanize Simon, allowing readers to experience what he and his fellow apostles experienced—while bringing history to vivid life. An absorbing read!"
~ Judith Arnold, USA Today bestselling author

"You Will Be Peter is pure inspiration! Lathan and Manchester expertly articulate this biblical history, immersing the reader in the past... You Will Be Peter is a story of belief, faith, love, and, most importantly, the ultimate sacrifice."
~ Shannon L. Gonzalez, book blogger, Literarily Illumined

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Biographical Novel
Published by: Forefront Books
Publication Date: November 19, 2024
Number of Pages: 400
ISBN: 9781637633472 (ISBN10: 1637633475)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Simon & Schuster

Read an excerpt:

Six Stone Jars

All six travelers arrived in the village of Cana late that Wednesday afternoon. As they traversed the final hill, the valley revealed more orchards and crop fields. Galilee really is beautiful, Simon confirmed. Hopefully, its vineyards produce wines that are just as fine. He was still smiling as they grew closer to the houses huddled together on the hillside.

As they approached the village, the sounds of children’s laughter and joyful conversations were intermixed with the loveliest music. Even the braying donkey sounded happy.

Simon was marveling at the masonry workmanship of the larger buildings, carved from limestone and granite, when Jesus announced, “It appears that we’ve arrived in time.” The rabbi’s smile revealed that he wasn’t surprised.

The traditional wedding procession from the bride’s father’s home to the bridegroom’s was underway. While the minstrel troop played at the front of the convoy, a squad of servants handed out dates to children along the road and wine to those of a more seasoned age.

A young girl, her dark, curly hair protruding from behind a white bridal veil, walked alone. Some of her relatives carried sprays of flowers, while others bore lit torches.

Wonderful, Simon thought. He loved his Jewish customs and celebrations.

Dusk was starting to creep in, as the parade’s onlookers clapped and praised the bride’s semi-concealed beauty. Jesus, Simon, and the others applauded before joining the back of the line, proceeding on to the bridegroom’s home, where the young man would carry his betrothed over the threshold of their new marital home.

Upon arrival, Jesus gestured for his disciples to remove their sandals at the outer door, before proceeding onto the courtyard, which was being used as the reception hall.

From the first step in, Simon was impressed by the stone courtyard, which had been decorated for the great celebration. Adorned in ornamental rugs and cushioned couches, low tables were arranged for the guests to dine; each person would be expected to lay on one elbow with their feet positioned away from the table.

While servants scurried to and fro, carrying food and drink, Simon and his brethren washed their hands and feet, complying with the precepts of the ancient law. Upon drying their extremities, each was officially welcomed with a cup of water drawn from one of the large stone jars.

The sweet notes of a talented musical duo permeated the warm air, the harp and flute creating a simple but elegant symphony.

Quenching his thirst, Simon looked around. Flowers, he noted, there are flowers everywhere. He nodded his appreciation. They’ve turned this courtyard into a garden.

Beyond a table overlaid with bowls of fruits and nuts—even a stack of sweet date cakes—Simon spotted the intricately decorated Chuppah. Ivy, flowers, and greens were wrapped around four legs that had been fashioned from cedar timbers, approximately eight feet in height. It was just wide enough to host the bride, bridegroom, and officiating rabbi. The entire wooden frame was covered in a canopy of flowers—yellow, white, pink, and red—which had been strung together to create breathtaking strands of garland.

The sight of it instantly brought Simon’s thoughts back to his wife. No, he scolded himself, quickly pushing the melancholy out of his head. I’m here now, and I need to be here…and she understands.

Catching the first whiff of roasting lamb, Simon turned to see Jesus and an older woman locked in a lengthy embrace. He needed no introduction to understand the scene. She’s his mother.

Mary was beauty in its purest form. She was not tall, but above medium height. Her oval face was slightly bronzed by the sun. Beneath black, slightly arched brows sat a pair of gentle, olive-colored eyes. Her hair was light and her nose slender, much like her hands. But there’s something more, Simon thought, considering it. She has an unmistakable aura, he finally decided, a striking beauty that can only come from within. He studied the embracing pair further, while they swayed in each other’s arms. And she must be the most beautiful woman, having given birth to the Messiah.

Breaking from the hug, Jesus and Mary held hands, exchanging a long, blissful look that revealed more about their sacred bond than any words ever could.

Jesus then turned to face his disciples. “Mother,” he said, “I would like you to meet my students.”

Without thinking, Simon was the first to step forward.

Jesus smiled. “Mother, this is Simon Peter.”

Rock? Simon swallowed hard, as he considered the peculiar title.

“Simon,” Jesus said, “this is my mother, Mary.”

It was the second time in the simple fisherman’s life that he could feel the air leave his lungs, only to remain lost while he fumbled for the right words. Silence.

Mary was gracious, even angelic. “I hope my son is taking good care of you?” she jumped in.

Simon smiled. “He is,” he managed.

As though offering her blessing, she nodded once.

John was the next to step forward, while Simon’s mind spun in circles. What must it be like to be the mother of the Messiah? he wondered, seeking out one of the servants for another cup of water. And what will it take for the rest of us to truly follow him?

***

Excerpt from You Will Be Peter by Jerry Lathanand Steven Manchester. Copyright 2025 by Jerry Lathan and Steven Manchester. Reproduced with permission from Jerry Lathan and Steven Manchester. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author: Jerry Lathan

Jerry Lathan

Jerry Lathan brings a wealth of knowledge in telling the remarkable story of Simon Peter. Combining his lifelong interest of history with a decade of research, Jerry has unearthed missing details on the evolution of Simon—the brash fisherman who became Peter. Over forty-plus years, Jerry’s national award-winning construction company has preserved and restored historic churches and other structures and national monuments. His deep interest in the lives of historic characters is central to his calling to author You Will Be Peter. From Jerry’s time as co-owner of Big Easy Studios in New Orleans where more than twelve major movies were filmed, he understands the incredible power of a good story. In this book, the culmination of his life’s work, Jerry shares the real and relatable story of Simon Peter, the very flawed man whom Jesus chose to build His church.

Catch Up With Jerry Lathan:
www.YouWillBePeter.com
Amazon Author Profile

 

Author: Steven Manchester

Co-Author Steven Manchester is the author of the soul-awakening novel The Menu as well as the 1980s nostalgia-series Bread Bags & Bullies and Lawn Darts & Lemonade. Other works include the #1 bestsellers Twelve Months, The Rockin’ Chair, Pressed Pennies, and Gooseberry Island; the national bestsellers Ashes, The Changing Season, and Three Shoeboxes; the multi-award winning novels Dad and Goodnight Brian; and the heartwarming Christmas movie The Thursday Night Club. His work has appeared on NBC’s TODAY and CBS’s The Early Show; and in Billboard and People magazines. Three of Steven's short stories were selected for “101 Best” for the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. He is a multi-produced playwright as well as the winner of the 2017 Los Angeles Book Festival, 2018 New York Book Festival, 2020 New England Book Festival.

Catch Up With Steven Manchester:
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13 December, 2024

December 13, 2024 0

Final Cut by Marjorie McCown

 

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FINAL CUT

by Marjorie McCown

November 18 - December 13, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Final Cut by Marjorie McCown

The Hollywood Mystery Series

 

Every day on the set of a big budget Hollywood movie is full of surprises. But the last thing key costumer Joey Jessop expected to find on the first day of principal photography was the body of a fellow crew member. And she immediately becomes a suspect -- not only because she found the body on the beach in Malibu where they're shooting the movie, but because the victim, second assistant director Courtney Lisle, was seeing Joey's ex, first assistant director Eli Logan.

When the press takes hold of the story and social media begins to run with it, Joey watches her well-ordered life behind the scenes of the movie business become front and center tabloid fodder. But that isn't even the worst of it. In addition to her new and unwanted stardom, Joey must also contend with the reckless behavior of the movie's predatory director and producer, Marcus Pray, who churns out blockbuster hits while subjecting his movie crews to a toxic work environment. As a result, Joey finds herself embattled both personally and professionally.

With tensions building on set and a murder investigation looming over her life and future, Joey takes it upon herself to clear her name. Will she be able to uncover the truth before it's a wrap?

Praise for Final Cut:

"[A] keen sense of what it’s like to work on a Hollywood production."
~ Kirkus Reviews

"A fun and unique story . . . Readers will love FINAL CUT."
~ Cozy Mystery Book Reviews

"Expertly showcases [McCown's] genuine flair for original and the kind of narrative driven and unexpected plot twists that make for a riveting story."
~ Midwest Book Review

"Engaging, with twists and turns."
~ Red Carpet Crash

"A must-read movie mystery packed with juicy details from a Hollywood insider, FINAL CUT gets my nomination for best debut."
~ Ellen Byron, Agatha and Lefty Award Winner, USA Today bestselling author

"FINAL CUT is both an insider look at what it’s like to work on Hollywood’s biggest blockbuster and a surprising, timely mystery about a murder on the set . . . The story is a pop culture lover’s dream. I’m already lining up for the sequel."
~ Kellye Garrett, Agatha, Anthony, and Lefty Award winning author of Like a Sister

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery
Published by: Crooked Lane Books
Original Publication Date: June 2023
Number of Pages: 320
ISBN: 9781639107285 (ISBN10: 1639107282)
Series: The Hollywood Mystery Series (Joey Jessop), Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Penguin Random House

Read an excerpt:

JUNE 21 8:10 pm

Joey felt frustrated that she was late getting back to the shoot. By this time, nearly an hour after wrap, most of the movie crew had packed up and gone home after what had been a long, discouraging day. As key costumer, Joey usually started the morning on set, then ended her day at one of the specialty shops that made clothing for the film, or one of a dozen other tasks that went with her job. But tonight was different.

She’d made the long drive back to the shooting location in Malibu because she wanted to talk to Courtney in person, and even though she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation, she wished she’d made it back before wrap. The second AD hadn’t answered her texts, and now Joey worried she’d missed the chance to do timely damage control, to smooth over the tension between them after their flare-up on set earlier that day. The hectic pace of the movie had everybody on edge, but their confrontation could threaten the costume department’s entire working relationship with the assistant directors. If she couldn’t talk to the second AD without starting a fight, it was game over.

Determined not to let that happen, Joey bypassed the wardrobe truck and headed straight to the AD trailer as soon as she got back to location. She’d seen firsthand the problems that came from bad blood between departments.

On one of her first films, the costume supervisor had gotten into a feud with the transportation captain. After that, the wardrobe trailers were permanently parked in base camp Siberia, as far from the actors’ trailers as possible. The time it took to travel those extra yards added up fast when you had to cover them many times each day. Then drivers suddenly became unavailable to do runs of any kind for the costume department, no matter the urgency. That might not sound like a big deal, but transpo can be a lifesaver when you’re up against an impossible deadline by making an important pickup or drop-off when everybody in your department is too slammed with work to do it, which can happen several times a week on a busy film.

Getting on the wrong side of the AD department was even worse. Assistant directors are like air traffic controllers on a movie. Without them, everybody crashes into everybody else, literally and figuratively. Alienate the ADs and you’re just asking for trouble.

The costume department already had enough problems on this movie between the lack of prep time, late casting, and a director with an ego as big as his box office grosses. Making an enemy of the second AD wasn’t an option. The thought sent a shiver through Joey, and she picked up her pace.

When she didn’t find Courtney in the AD trailer, she continued her circuit of the movie’s base camp, asking everyone she passed if they’d seen the second AD.

“She was by the cafe set last I saw her, but that was a while ago,” one of the grips said.

Joey headed for the Paradise Cove Cafe up by the beach. All the actors’ trailers,

nearest the set, were dark and locked up for the night. She tried the back door of the cafe, but that too was secured, so she peered through the windows. A single work light remained on, but there was no sign of anyone inside, the cafe apparently deserted now that the day’s filming was done. The sun was low in the sky, dipping toward the ocean.

The longest day of the year, and that’s exactly what it felt like to Joey.

She’d run out of places to look. Anxiety tugged at her. Her relationship with Courtney was complicated, like it is whenever your ex is dating somebody new. And she needed to be honest with herself about the way her personal feelings may have clouded their interactions.

With daylight dying over the water, she stepped onto the beach, hoping to feel a scrap of the serenity she always found in the natural rhythm of the breaking waves, like a favorite refrain, a golden oldie that just gets better with time.

At the water’s edge, she noticed a pile of clothing, buffeted by the incoming tide scudding across the sand. Her first thought was that one of the extras had abandoned their costume, but that didn’t make any sense. As the sun dropped out of the sky, she took a few steps closer to investigate, at the same time as a larger wave swept aside what she’d taken for coils of kelp swirling around that bundle of fabric.

Horror sliced through Joey like a scalpel; she stumbled and fell to her knees. Courtney Lisle lay motionless in the shallow water at the shoreline as the cold blue Pacific surf washed over her body.

FOURTEEN HOURS EARLIER

Chapter One

The first day of principal photography on a film is always a milestone in production, like opening night in the theater. After working mostly independently of each other for three months or more, all the different departments merge to become one big machine. No matter how many movies you’ve done, every new job is a blank slate. Each time, you ask yourself: Do I have what it takes to climb that mountain again, to create a new world out of whole cloth?

Put up or shut up time.

Joey slept poorly the night before, which was par for the course; but she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that dropped on her like a net as soon as she opened her eyes that morning. She’d had a bad feeling about this job from the start; she’d nearly passed on the movie for a number of reasons, both personal and professional. But the carrot of working so close to home was finally too tempting to resist.

The costume department had been prepping for months, but the schedule was rushed for a project so large and complex. Lots of special effects, stunts, and complicated costumes; lots of money and reputations on the line. Still, she felt her department was as ready as they could be, and her standards for readiness were high. So she tried to chalk up her misgivings to first day of shooting jitters. Later, she’d wonder if they’d been a premonition.

Just before sunrise, she pulled her car into the crew parking lot, about a mile south of base camp in Malibu. A shuttle van idled, waiting to ferry people to the set. It was empty save for the driver, whose head rested against his seat back. The teamsters were respon- sible for the setup of vehicles and equipment, so that all was ready for the shooting company when they got to work. They were the first in and last out every day, and most of them were expert at grabbing a few winks when they had the chance.

Joey gathered her purse and work satchel, then locked her car and pinned her keys to her waistband. She had keys to the costume offices and storage space for the movie as well as her personal keys, and this was the only sure way to keep them at hand throughout the day without losing them.

She trotted over to the van and pulled the side door open, startling the driver out of his catnap. A grizzled veteran in his late forties, he sat up with a frown until he saw who was climbing into his back seat.

“Joey Jessop! Girl, how you doin’?” A wolfish grin lit his face. “You are lookin’ fine as ever, Sweet Cheeks.”

Pete O’Neill was a relentless lech, and even though he was basically harmless, he could be tiresome, especially first thing in the morning.

“Pete, what a nice surprise,” she said, trying to hide her true feelings. “I didn’t see your name on the crew list.”

“We ran three weeks over on the last job down in Louisiana. Made it back in the nick of time to get on this one. Didn’t want to miss out on a big show in LA, for a change.”

“No kidding,” she said. “This is the first job I’ve booked in the past four years that’s shooting here. I’m thrilled to be sleeping in my own bed for the next six months.”

“You coming off location, too?”

“I’ve been back here prepping this one for a while, but before that I was out of town shooting a Western.”

“How’d that go?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You meet a lot of hunky cowboys?”

She managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “It was an education.”

“Never done a Western before, huh?” He gave her a knowing look. “Whole different animal.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Joey had been on dozens of location shoots, but the Western was a real eye-opener. From the wild temperature swings in the desert—25 degrees at night to over 100 in the afternoon—to the dust storm that took out their generators one day, or the flash flood that nearly trapped them in a box canyon on another, the experience had given her a fresh appreciation for the comfort of shooting on a studio back lot.

She stifled a yawn. “At least it was fast. Six-week shoot.” “Yeah?” His expression was skeptical. “Who was directing?”

“Clint Eastwood.” She smiled as she pictured the director on set, watching the shot in progress on a handheld monitor. Despite the difficult conditions, Joey enjoyed working with him.

Pete nodded appreciatively. “That man’s a class act, old school Hollywood.”

“Yes, he is,” she said. “A real filmmaker. We could use more like him in the business these days.”

“You got that right.” Pete checked his watch. “I don’t think I’ll be getting any more customers for a while. Crew call’s not for another hour. If you want, I’ll run you up to base camp now.”

“That’d be great.” She slid the door closed. “I can use some quiet time before everybody gets here.”

He dropped the van into gear. They turned north onto the Pacific Coast Highway as a pale watercolor wash of daylight began to spread across the ocean, sketching in the horizon line to the west. Joey took a deep breath, bracing herself for the nonstop activity the next sixteen hours would bring.

“Have you read the script for this one yet?” Pete glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

“Didn’t have much choice,” she said lightly.

“That bad?”

“Not my cup of tea. I’m not a big fan of comic book movies.”

“’Bout all they make around here anymore,” he said, “if you want to earn a decent living.”

“Don’t I know it.”

The screenplay was 125 pages of special effects–driven gobbledygook, but Joey had no doubt it would play well with the movie’s crucial fourteen- to twenty-year-old target audience.

“I heard this one’s about some new superhero.” Pete caught her eye in the mirror again.

“It’s actually the Legion of Phenomenals, based on some underground comics that have a big cult following. Nothing new, but they haven’t been used in any movies so far.”

“Why not just call it that, instead of UMPP?” He was asking about the working title for the movie. “Sounds like a noise you’d make if you got punched in the stomach.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “It’s code for Untitled Marcus Pray Project. You know how paranoid the producers are. They’re trying to keep the fanboys in the dark.”

“Like that’s going to stop them. The director’ll probably be posting pictures on Instagram from the set, and the studio won’t say boo to him.” Pete leaned back to talk to her over his shoulder. “Marcus Pray’s no Eastwood, even if he is a big dog in the business right now. I’m taking care of his trailer, and I got a mile-long list of special stuff that’s gotta be on board for him and his friends.” Pete gave the word a suggestive emphasis.

Marcus Pray was a powerful Hollywood hyphenate, a producer-director with a string of action-adventure blockbusters to his credit. This movie was sure to be another lucrative notch on his belt. Joey hadn’t worked with him before, and some of the stories she’d heard made her think twice before she signed onto this job.

***

Excerpt from FINAL CUT by Marjorie McCown. Copyright 2023 by Marjorie McCown. Reproduced with permission from Marjorie McCown. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Marjorie McCown

Marjorie McCown spent 27 years in Hollywood working on the costumes for movies such as Forrest Gump, Apollo 13, and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Her film career provides the inspiration for her Hollywood Mystery series of books that are set behind the scenes in the world of moviemaking and feature key costumer Joey Jessop as the main character. Her cozy murder mystery, FINAL CUT (Crooked Lane Books, June 2023) was chosen as an Amazon Editors' Pick in the best Mystery, Thriller, and Suspense category. Deadly Pleasures Magazine named FINAL CUT as one of the best cozy mysteries of 2023, and FINAL CUT was also named a Top Pick in the cozy mystery category for the Silver Falchion Award by Killer Nashville. STAR STRUCK, Book #2 in her Hollywood Mystery series published May 7, 2024. Marjorie is a member of Sisters-in-Crime and Mystery Writers of America.

Find out more about Marjorie:
MarjorieMcCown.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @marjoriemccownauthor
Instagram - @marjoriemccownbooks
Twitter/X - @eastlamm
Facebook - @MarjorieMcCownBooks

 

 

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