13 December, 2024

December 13, 2024 0

Final Cut by Marjorie McCown

 

Final Cut by Marjorie McCown Banner

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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December 13, 2024 0

Voices from Beyond by Fran Lewis

 

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VOICES FROM BEYOND

by Fran Lewis

December 9-13, 2024 Book Blast

Synopsis:

Voices from Beyond by Fran Lewis

As the book unfolds, each person you meet is given a chance to repent or suffer the mirror's unique form of hideous justice. Be careful doing wrong because the mirror waits for you...

Here are seven stories that will bring chills down your spine and make you wonder: what lies behind the stones? Who lives here? Each voice you will hear has been silenced by the evil of others. Rosie and many others in the camps were tortured and enslaved, and not allowed to speak out at all. Bertha’s voice was never heard by her aunt, who used her for cooking, cleaning, and even servicing men for money.

Next is a teacher who believed that children should be seen and not ever heard, and their opinions were off limits. Sarah Jones knew the secret that her cousin Benita was hiding, and what she had done to her mother. Sarah would bide her time and take on not only Benita but others, too. This is the story of how Sarah Jones decided to fight back. But did she succeed?

Finally, there are several who have wronged so many, and these last three remain behind stones that barely stand straight, where their names are engraved but covered with mud and soil so that no one will ever give them the honor of saying a prayer over them or mourning their deaths. These three come from different walks of life: one is a lawyer, another an accountant, and the third a judge. What are they guilty of? Read their stories as they tell them, and you decide if their fates were just or not, as they blackmailed and threatened so many whose voices, you’ll learn, were silenced in fear.

Within this world, many gain wealth by taking what belongs to others. There is a catch to this, as I will decide the fate of each person as they spend time in my special mirrors facing what they have done. If they show remorse, they have one fate. If not, they will belong to me!

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Thriller
Published by: Royal Flush Publishing
Publication Date: October 28, 2024
Number of Pages: 60
ASIN: B0D1QM7Y9Z
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

 

Author Bio:

Fran Lewis

Fran worked in the NYC Public Schools as the Reading and Writing Staff Developer for over 36 years. She has three masters degrees and a PD in Supervision and Administration. Currently, she is a member of Who's Who of America's Teachers and Who's Who of America's Executives from Cambridge.‬‬

Fran is the author of more than 14 titles including three children's books. She has written several books on Alzheimer's disease in order to honor her mom and help create more awareness for a cure. These include Memories are Precious: Alzheimer’s Journey; Ruth’s Story and Sharp as a Tack and Scrambled Eggs Which Describes Your Brain?. She also wrote A Daughter’s Promise about her walk through the disease with her mother. ‪Fran is the author of the Faces Behind the Stones series, a middle school series featuring stories growing up in the Bronx with her sister and MJ magazine. Voices from Beyond is her latest book which was preceded by Mirror Image, What If?, Population Zero, and Accusations.‬

Catch Up With Fran Lewis:
Just Reviews
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Instagram - @ferndine49
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Facebook

 

 

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09 December, 2024

December 09, 2024 0

The Rare Books Cozy Mysteries by Daphne Silver

 

The Rare Books Cozy Mysteries by Daphne Silver Banner

THE RARE BOOKS COZY MYSTERIES

by Daphne Silver

November 25, 2024 - January 3, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

CRIME AND PARCHMENT

 

Rare books librarian Juniper Blume knows this much… an ancient Celtic manuscript shouldn’t be in a Maryland cemetery. But that’s exactly what her brother-in-law claims.

Last year, Juniper saw the 1,200-year-old Book of Kells in Ireland. She learned how their bejeweled covers were stolen centuries ago, never to be seen again. So how could they have ended up in Rose Mallow, a small Chesapeake Bay town? Being Jewish, the Book of Kells might not be her sacred text, but as a rare books librarian, the ancient book is still sacred to her, making it important to Juniper to find out the truth.

Rose Mallow is the same place where Juniper used to summer with her sister Azalea and their grandmother Zinnia, known as Nana Z. Ever since Nana Z passed away, Juniper’s avoided returning, but her curiosity is greater than her grief, so she heads down in her vintage convertible with her rescue dog Clover.

Juniper discovers that her sister Azalea has transformed their grandmother’s Queen Anne style mansion into the Wildflower Inn, backing up to the Chesapeake Bay. Although Juniper isn’t much of a cook, Azalea has kept their grandmother’s legacy alive, filling the house with the smells of East European Jewish treats, like sweet kugels and tzimmes cake. Will coming back here feel like returning home or fill Juniper with a deeper sorrow? Can she apologize to her sister for not being there when she was needed most?

 

THE TELL-TALE HOMICIDE

 

Rare books librarian Juniper Blume lands her dream job: creating a new museum in her Chesapeake Bay town of Rose Mallow, Maryland. But on her very first day, she makes a shocking discovery - a dead man clutching a book by Edgar Allan Poe, stolen from the collections!

As Juniper gets closer to cracking the coded message hidden inside the book, she realizes someone is desperate to keep its literary secrets buried… even if that means burying her too.

Dressed in her signature vintage style with rescue pup Clover by her side, the fearless bookworm must hunt down the culprit before becoming the next victim. But can she solve the case without jeopardizing a budding romance with her boss, the dashing Leo Calverton? And can she help her sister Azalea perfect their grandmother's legendary blintz recipe before the Rose Mallow Festival?

A delightfully deadly page-turner, The Tell-Tale Homicide continues the charming Rare Books Cozy Mystery series by Agatha award-winning author Daphne Silver. Fans of Kate Carlisle and Jenn McKinlay will love tagging along with the whip-smart, book-loving Juniper on her adventures.

Series Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Series:The Rare Books Cozy Mysteries
Series Links: Amazon | Level Best Books

Read an excerpt from Crime and Parchment:

CHAPTER 1

My 1965, robin’s egg blue convertible backfired as I parked in front of the Wildflower Inn. The noise set off Clover barking in the backseat. Not exactly the quiet homecoming I’d hoped for. I jumped out of my Karmann-Ghia – or “KG” as I’d nicknamed her – to check under the hood, hoping I wouldn’t need to get the roadster serviced yet again. No idea where that money would come from.

A screaming, ranting madwoman poured out of a neighboring house. Maybe in her late seventies, she brandished a large umbrella. I dropped the hood to find the umbrella pointing at me. Clover – all twenty pounds of him – jumped out and started growling.

“Easy, boy,” I said.

“You shoot something off, Missy? Here to cause trouble? Because I’m on the board of the Friends of the Rose Mallow Police.” the woman said. She wore a perfectly fitted Mamie Eisenhower pink skirt suit with enormous pearls – straight out of the 1950s. Her white bouffant billowed around her head. She reminded me of a researcher I’d helped earlier that day at the Library of Congress. That woman had been a murder mystery author looking for books about early detectives. This woman looked like she wanted to murder someone – namely me.

Suddenly I remembered her: Cordelia Sullivan. She was my late grandmother’s arch-nemesis. After my Nana Z had moved to Rose Mallow, they’d competed to be the president of almost every board in town. Nana Z had called it a “friendly rivalry to garner the most civic goodwill,” but I don’t think Cordelia saw it that way. To her, the Blume family were – and always would be – outsiders in her perfect Chesapeake Bay town.

“What’s going on?” My sister Azalea appeared on the wraparound porch of the Wildflower Inn. Although I was two years younger at twenty-eight, she looked like my twin, except that her hair was much longer and darker than my slanted bob. She pushed her bangs back and brought a hand up to her forehead when she saw me. “Juniper? What on earth are you doing here?”

“Well, I…” My words faltered. I’d spent the past hour driving and trying to figure out how to tell Azalea about why I’d finally returned, but every time I tested the words out loud, they failed. Clover had listened with confused curiosity before giving up and falling asleep.

“You know there’s a noise ordinance,” Cordelia said as she waved her umbrella around. Clover barked at the offending instrument. However, I think he wanted to play with it more than anything else. Occasional growling aside, he’s not exactly attack dog material.

“Yes, Mrs. Sullivan. Not until 10 p.m., and it’s not even 8 o’clock yet.” Azalea’s exasperated voice led me to suspect that she’d had this conversation more than once.

“Hmph. I plan on taking your ‘halfway house’ to the zoning board. What a travesty to do to our pristine historic district. You know I’m president of the Rose Mallow Historical Society.” Cordelia wagged a finger at my sister. I closed my eyes before rolling them.

“Mama! Mama!” A young bundle of legs and a mop of nearly black hair appeared next to Azalea on the wraparound porch. I couldn’t believe how big Violet had grown. She was almost four years old now.

She latched onto Azalea’s legs and held on tightly. I wanted to run up to my niece and smother her in hugs and kisses, but I wasn’t sure how I’d be received. Clover apparently did too because he took off after her. The little girl squealed with laughter as he covered her in licks.

“Go inside, Vi. It’s past your bedtime,” Azalea said. She turned to us. “I don’t have time for this. As you can see, I have a young child requiring my attention. Plus, I have a house full of guests. Mrs. Sullivan, it sounds like you have a plan in place to handle my zoning and noise issues. I’ll leave you to it. And Juniper, if you’re here, then let’s get you inside.”

Violet ran inside, letting Clover follow. I took that as a positive sign, so I grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and followed quickly, as Cordelia monitored us. Her umbrella remained held out in the air. She reminded me of Don Quixote in pearls.

“You’ve done an incredible job restoring the place,” I said as I walked across the perfectly manicured lawn. Azalea had recently converted Nana Z’s Queen Anne style mansion into a boutique hotel. After so many years away, I hadn’t been sure what to expect.

She eyed me with uncertainty. I could tell she was debating whether to chew me out for not being here for any of the work, let alone the hotel’s grand opening earlier in the spring. But my sister is much better at maturity than I am.

“It’s been a journey. Not an undertaking for the faint of heart. Repairing that turret alone had me almost give up and put up the for sale sign.” Azalea pointed up to the three-story round tower protruding from the side of the house. As a kid, I used to pretend Nana Z’s home was a castle and fought many dragons racing up that tower.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I said ‘Almost,’” she replied with a laugh.

“I love how bright the yellow siding is. I bet that color really pops in the morning against the Chesapeake Bay.” I walked up the stairs to the wraparound, past garden beds bursting with purple coneflowers and Black-Eyed Susans, Maryland’s state flower.

“You know what’s funny is how much I hated canary yellow when we were little. Every time we came here, I’d always wished Nana Z’s house was more like Cordelia Sullivan’s with her dark greens and rich reds. But now that Nana Z’s gone, I couldn’t stand to change it,” Azalea said.

“But it’s such a cheery color. Why would you want something so drab as Cordelia’s place? ” I asked. As a kid, Cordelia’s house had been as scary as the owner. Losing a ball into her yard meant it was never coming back. Neighborhood kids claimed her house was haunted.

Azalea shrugged. “Yeah, the yellow’s growing on me.”

“You kept this mess?” I said when I spotted the clunky clay mezuzah on the doorpost. I’d made the case at Jewish day camp as a kid. Inside was a tiny parchment scroll inscribed with biblical verses in Hebrew. The painted clay design was supposed to be a bunch of zinnias in honor of Nana Z’s first name, but it looked more like a lumpy mud puddle than a bright firework of flowers.

Azalea shrugged with a smile. “Oh, there are a few of my own masterpieces on some of the other doors inside. Maybe I’ll get Violet to make some new ones.”

The inside was as exquisite as the outside. I don’t think my memories did the place justice. The stained glass above the front door also sported Black-Eyed Susans, while those above each window featured a different native wildflower.

Azalea had kept our grandmother’s lush red carpets with ornate gold and white floral patterns. Polished mahogany inset panels gleamed from the walls. A staircase with beautifully carved spindles fed into the large lobby.

On the left was a parlor that Azalea had turned into the registration space. On the right was the library, overflowing with leather-bound books. It was in this room I had discovered my love for stories and books as a child. I wouldn’t have become a rare books librarian at The Library of Congress without Nana Z’s library. I sighed, wishing things were going better there. Nana Z would have been proud of me, but my job had become so difficult since I lost that promotion to Greyson. A little birdie had told me not to expect another chance for a long time, which meant I was stuck with someone Nana Z would have described as a “shlemiel.”

A narrow hallway disappeared between the registration area and the staircase, which led back to the dining room and kitchen. I remembered how those overlooked the back garden, public boardwalk, and the Chesapeake Bay. I could imagine how ornately she’d decorated the upstairs bedrooms.

Clover sniffed at everything in sight. I monitored him, but he was having a grand time exploring. Just not too grand of a time. I tried sending the message to him telepathically. He lifted his nose at me, as if to say, “Who, me?”

“I love that you hung some of Nana Z’s watercolors,” I said. My eyes grew misty as I gazed at her paintings of native flowers, including dwarf crested irises, ironweed, columbine, and, of course, the rose mallow for which the Maryland town was named. I shook my head, pushing the grief down deep.

A teenager hunched over a thick book sat at the registration desk. She had long, bluish-green locs that looked beautiful against her sepia brown skin. Her large glasses were rimmed in a matching turquoise color. She looked up from the book and said, “Sorry, Azalea. Vi got away from me.”

The teen didn’t seem alarmed, but then again, neither did Azalea. I wondered if this happened frequently. Maybe Vi was a regular escape artist. Nana Z would have been pleased. I held back my smile.

“I’m Juniper, Azalea’s sister,” I said to the teen as I extended my hand.

“You have a sister?” she asked Azalea with a look of surprise. Then she recovered, shook my hand, and said, “I’m Keisha Douglass. I’ve been helping Azalea with the Wildflower Inn. But, uh, we’re all booked up tonight.”

“I’ll figure it out,” said Azalea. “Although giving me some sort of a heads up you were finally coming would’ve been nice, Juniper.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I smiled awkwardly. Clover raced over to the desk to check out Keisha. The desk was higher than him, so he couldn’t quite see atop. Fortunately, she came around to pet him. “Oh wow! A dog? We’re allowing dogs now?”

I turned to check with Azalea, who massaged her temples. She breathed deeply but then simply shrugged. Great. Not only had I shown up out of the blue, but I hadn’t checked to make sure pets were allowed. I was pretty sure I knew the root cause of her sudden headache. I smiled sheepishly.

“No worries, Keisha. Clover’s the exception to the no dogs rule. Vi’s fine. I’m going to put her to bed,” Azalea said, as she ushered the bouncing kid down the narrow hallway and turned abruptly right before the kitchen. Unsure of what to do, I followed. There was a small sitting room there, which she had reconfigured into a bedroom. It was a tight space. Azalea caught me staring. “It’s a temporary solution. I’m still working on updating the Carriage House in the back garden. Once I’m finished, Vi and I will move there.”

Vi ran around the room, fighting Azalea’s attempts to return her to bed. My sister paused mid-chase and said, “This may take a bit. You know where the kitchen is. Why don’t you go there, start a kettle of tea, and I’ll meet you there when we’re done? I was getting ready to pull a kugel out of the oven anyway.”

That was my sister, always gently commanding, whether it was an unruly neighbor, an energetic preschooler, or me, the surprise guest. I thought of her like a duck. Above the water, she appeared to be smoothly sailing along, but below, it was a mad fury of management to keep everything afloat.

“A kugel?” I asked with excitement. Nana Z had made plenty of the baked noodle casseroles each summer. Sometimes they were savory, but more often, they were sweet, made with lokshen, or egg noodles, and various cheeses.

Azalea looked pleased. “I’ve been trying to perfect her recipe. You’ll have to tell me what you think.”

I knew immediately she meant Nana Z. As we headed down the hallway, I caught the aroma of the decadent noodle pudding. I could already detect the cinnamon she’d used. My eyes watered slightly at the memories the smell produced.

The kitchen was both familiar and new. No longer was it the 1890s meets 1970s chic that Nana Z had employed. Azalea had replaced most of the yellowed appliances with updated stainless-steel, upgraded the laminate countertops to granite, and removed the harvest gold wallpaper to paint the in vogue “greige” along with a matching subway tile backsplash. Someone had been watching a lot of HGTV. But it was still Nana Z’s kettle on the stovetop, her handcrafted cookie jar on the counter, and a variety of favorite teas in the same cabinet location. Being here felt like being at home, but only if that home had been completely renovated when you weren’t looking.

The view out back remained the same, looking past a blooming garden of blue hydrangeas and the small Carriage House, to the public boardwalk separating the garden from the Chesapeake Bay. On good days, you could make out the shoreline on the Eastern Shore. Being early June, the sun was beginning to set beyond the Bay’s edge, so the view became a Tonalist painting with its atmospheric blues, grays, and browns.

Clover found an embroidered tea towel to play with. I tried pulling it away from him, but he decided that meant the game was afoot. I dug into my suitcase and found his food. I borrowed a couple of low rimmed bowls to fill with his dinner and water. He quickly abandoned the towel for something to eat.

According to the timer, the kugel still had a few minutes left in the oven. I caught the kettle before it whistled and filled up two mugs. Given the abundance of Darjeeling black tea, I assumed it was still Azalea’s favorite and prepped it for both of us. Within a few minutes, she came in, plopped down on an empty seat, and dropped her head to the table. I sat up in alarm, afraid that my cool as nails sister might be about to cry.

***

Excerpt from Crime and Parchment by Daphne Silver. Copyright 2023 by Daphne Silver. Reproduced with permission from Daphne Silver. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Daphne Silver

Daphne Silver is the Agatha Award winning author of the Rare Books Cozy Mystery Series. Her first novel, Crime and Parchment (Level Best Books, 2023), won the Agatha for Best First Mystery Novel. Her latest book, The Tell-Tale Homicide, comes out November 2024 from Level Best Books. She’s worked more than twenty years in museums and symphonies and has the great fortune of being married to a librarian. When she’s not writing, she’s drawing and painting. She lives in Maryland with her family. Although she’s not much of a baker, she won’t ever turn down a sweet lokshen kugel.

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06 December, 2024

December 06, 2024 0

MindCraft-The Educational Singularity by Darryl Vidal

 

MindCraft-The Educational Singularity
Darryl Vidal
Publication date: December 10th 2024
Genres: Science Fiction, Thriller

Active gamer Justin Turner and his friends- avid climbers Drew and Jon, mystically-sensitive LilyBelle, experienced surfers Brad and Shaina, puzzle master April, and outdoorsman Lisa-are masters at MindCraft, a global virtual reality gaming phenomenon that immerses its users in incredibly realistic environments. When the MindCraft Corporation CEO announces the Global MindCraft Universe Challenge, where the winner would become a worldwide superstar, these eight friends, also known as the Digital Mavericks, are excited to push the boundaries of the virtual gaming experience to prove to themselves they are elite Mindcraftians-all of this while also representing the United States on the global stage and acting as influencers dedicated to fostering unity and inclusion.

But as the team participates in regional and national challenges on their way to the global championship, Justin finds a backdoor into the MindCraft database, accidentally discovering a sinister underbelly within the MindCraft Universe. The deeper he digs, the more he finds out that something-or someone-may be planning to use the MindCraft Global Challenge to enact a plan for world domination. As he continues to poke around, MindGuide, a new artificial intelligence setup as a chatbot in the MindCraft Universe, begins to target the Digital Mavericks with virtual manipulation and real-world threats.

Now, as the bridge between virtual and reality collapses, Justin must carefully unravel this nefarious scheme and protect those who are clueless to the impending danger, all before the Digital Mavericks-and the world as we know it-are defeated once and for all.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

EXCERPT:

A neon blue sky with puffy white cumuli-nimbus clouds provided the background for a grassy landscape speckled with pastel flowers. Eucalyptus trees lined the sides of some sort of football or soccer field. In the distance, hundreds of armored medieval warriors came thundering down the hills, shields and swords in hand.

They were storming toward a massive medieval castle of limestone and granite stretching across the near end of the playing field; a vast mote surrounding it. The massive walls stretched twenty to thirty feet high, which normally provided sanctuary from siege. But in this instance, a large hole had been blown through the castle walls with granite boulders, near the gates and bridge that secured entry into the castle.

A closer group of workers and warriors, commanded by the screaming artillery master and aided with oxen, moved giant catapults away from the castle walls to expose the holes for the armored warriors coming down the hill. Next, they started loading giant balls of pitch, a thick black tarry substance, to be set on fire and launched over the castle walls.

Justin Turner, in full VR regalia, used his hand controllers to assemble 3D blocks to repair the wall before the hordes of warriors arrived. The glow of the forty-two-inch curved gaming monitor cast an illuminating light on his determined expression. In the virtual realm of MindCraft, Justin went by the handle ByteMaster, due to countless strategic victories and an uncanny ability to outsmart opponents.

His hands flew around, directing the giant claw of the manipulator to replace the blocks that had been blown out of the wall. His hands wet with sweat slipped off the controls, causing the claw to falter and drop the building blocks needed to repair the wall and keep the castle secure from the approaching army.

“Mom!” Justin called out, not able to tear his eyes away from the screen. “Have you seen my lucky gaming gloves?” These would be the key to mastering the controls of the giant manipulator. But alas, he was running out of time—he had to go to school.

The foray into EduNex’s Curriculum base unfolded like a treasure trove of knowledge, offering a profound depth of data and information across every conceivable discipline and subject. In the core of his academic pilgrimage lay a technological marvel that wove the fabric of education and technology into an academic spider’s web—EduNex. The school’s Learning Management System stood as the bedrock of educational efficacy. A ubiquitous platform that boosts every student’s aptitude in every aspect of their learning experience.

EduNex wasn’t just an LMS; it was an educational ecosystem that had become the standard across all schools in the state. Its influence extended far beyond the confines of a traditional learning management system. When Justin navigated its intuitive VR interface, he often found himself immersed in a world where every nuance of the learning process was invisibly aided. It wasn’t a cheating platform—more of a virtual world book encyclopedia—without the book.

The scope of EduNex was staggering. It served as the central repository for student information—a digital canvas where class syllabi, schedules, grades, and academic reports coexisted. But it went further, seamlessly integrating the intricacies of remote and hybrid learning. Voice and video conferencing brought the classroom to life, transcending physical boundaries and fostering an environment where learning knew no limits and no borders.

Everything on EduNex is collaborative. Whether with peer students, teachers, subject- matter-experts, researchers, or anyone else with an Internet connection—every module within the EduNex suite offered the ability to collaborate.

Message boards buzzed with intellectual discourse, becoming virtual arenas where ideas were exchanged and discussions thrived. Document boards housed a treasure trove of resources, making information accessible at the click of the mouse. Homework submission and plagiarism checking became streamlined processes, integrated into the underpinnings of the system, enhancing the efficiency and integrity of the educational process.

Yet, the true marvel lied in EduNex’s adept utilization of artificial intelligence. Beyond the Adaptive Learning algorithms powering TarotTutor, Justin discovered that EduNex’s advanced AI wasn’t just a passive observer; it was a dynamic orchestrator, composing a symphony of personalized learning experiences for each student based not only on their stated interests, but also to tangential subjects and disciplines seemingly unrelated to academics and personal success. The system, virtual companions that enhanced and integrated disparate information bases, ensured a fusion of academic discourse and knowledge.

Author Bio:

Darryl Vidal has been consulting for schools implementing technology for over 20 years. His projects include district-wide implementations of VoIP, Wireless, Data Center Virtualization, and Video Security. His primary instructional focus for over 15 years has been the ever evolving technology classroom. Mr. Vidal has developed the formal strategic planning and project management methodology known as MapIT. He is currently Principal Consultant for Tier 4 Tech - Education Services and Sr. Project Manager.


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04 December, 2024

December 04, 2024 0

Sought By Destiny by Monica Ageno

 

Sought By Destiny
Monica Ageno
(CHRONICLES OF THE FATES, #2)
Publication date: December 1st 2024
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Romance

A Betrayal
Forced to betray her fated mate—a man she despises as much as she craves—Feylin is thrust into a world where dark magic is used without restraint and her survival depends on her cunning alone. As she struggles to guard her secrets, the new mate bond begins to fracture her resolve, threatening to tear her apart from the inside.

One truth remains: nothing is more dangerous to her than him. Olron, The Dark Mage. The exiled King of Gravindale. He has plans of his own for Feylin, twisted ambitions that go far beyond the bond they are forced to share. He may have taken her, but he will never have her.

Olron

She was supposed to be a pawn, she has turned herself into a Queen. An important piece in a dangerous game. A choices that he intends to take full advantage of. After all, he is best known for capitalising on his opportunities.
He has plans for her. Ones that will force her to look beyond everything she thought she knew about herself—about him. Plans that could bind their lives together in unexpected ways that their enemies are not prepared for.

Perfect for fans of Jennifer L. Armentrout’s “Blood and Ash” series, Sarah J. Maas’s “A Court of Thorns and Roses”series. This fantasy romance will captivate readers who crave stories of enemies-to-lovers, fated mates, strong heroines, slow-burn tension, and dangerous, seductive anti-heroes

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

Storm stood at the edge of Skyreach, his eyes scanning the charred landscape. The ground, once lush and green, was now a scorched black sea. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burnt wood. The ruins before him stood as silent witnesses to the battle’s wrath, skeletal remains stark against the early morning sky.

Every crack in the earth, every smouldering ember, was a testament to the destructive power he had wielded.  For weeks he had been consumed by a rage so intense it charred him from the inside out, a bitterness that pulsed in his veins like a poison. Never had he felt this hollow in his life. An emptiness so profound it had taken control of his mind.

The betrayal of his mate that had ripped his heart in a million pieces. Ever since he had met Feylin, he had kept her at arm’s length simply to prevent this kind of attachment to her. It would seem that she did not need the mate bond consummated to have control of his heart.

Feylin…

Just the thought of her name had his anger steaming as he recalled the moment he had realized that by some fate-cursed magic, she had discovered a way to break their bond. That was bad enough, but then the same cursed magic had bonded her to Olron, for a reason only she understood.

Storm steeled his heart at the thought of her. It was not merely her betrayal that fuelled the flames within him; it was her choice, even if it was a choice that consumed his mind in scorching fury. She had chosen Olron. His once best friend. Someone who had once been so close they had been like brothers.

“Storm.” Alaric approached cautiously, sensing his state of mind. His friend had been handling him with gloves lately. Storm knew he had been volatile, and Alaric had given him more leeway than he would have any other mage.

“Why are you still out here? It has been a hard-fought victory. You have earned a rest.”

“Victory?” Storm chuckled bitterly. They had won Skyreach back from Olron after weeks of Storm ploughing through enemy troops with his magic unleashed at its fullest potential.

He had been single-minded. Kill, destroy, get to Olron…but the bastard had not been at the battlefield. He had not shown up for weeks. He had left the trolls, dark Fae and the undead to fight his battle. Was he too occupied with his new mate to remember that they were at war? Storm punched a tree in frustration as he began to pace, the red haze starting to rise in his mind. He knew what it was. The mate madness.

This was one of the reasons he had not wanted to consummate his bond with Feylin. He had never wanted to ever be controlled by the whims of the Fates.

His father had suffered the mate madness after his mother had died. Very few resisted it. Even fewer survived it. Olron was the one person in recorded history to have survived it without a tether, but even then, he was barely sane. Those that survived with their minds intact had important tethers, like children or other loved ones. Clearly his feelings for Irina had not been as strong as he had thought if he was being driven to the brink of insanity.

Irina had been his long-time companion, since childhood. He had thought he was in love with her, one of the reasons why he had rejected his mate bond with Feylin. Now he had no choice of what to feel—jealousy was a living flame in his chest.

Last night he had felt her, Feylin, and for the first time in a long while, his soul had calmed.

Storm had been in the middle of battle, and it had woken him up like a jolt of pure lightening straight to his veins.  He had no idea how she had so easily broken their bond and in the same manner, restored it.

The madness was slowly receding with every beat of his heart as he felt her warm, fresh presence down the bond. She was pure and clear like dew in the morning. He had missed her anchoring him.

He had never wanted this weakness. Never wanted to be shackled by bonds beyond his control. Yet, here he was. Storm lifted his face to the smoke-stained sky and roared, the sound carrying the potency of his fury.

He had tried to prevent this. Had refused to make her his weakness, but none of it mattered.  He now understood what the bond was. The mate bond was not just some magic that linked them together. Rather, she was the other half to his soul, blackened though it was.

“Storm, old friend,” Alaric said calmly. “Steady your heart. We will find her.”

“I will know no rest while my mate lies beside another man,” Storm snapped. He couldn’t dwell too much on that imagery. He had already put Alaric through enough as it was.

It had been this way ever since he had first discovered that Feylin was missing.

Author Bio:

MONICA AGENO is a Melbourne based Author and illustrator.

She has a genuine love for life, and her passion, drive, and wild imagination seep onto every written page. She also paints in her spare time.

She writes both childrens' books under the pen name Ageno H Monica and New Adult romance books under her name Monica Ageno.

She believes in the importance of reading to children from an early age to help build their confidence and her children's books are both imaginative and lesson based.

When it comes to her New Adult books Monica writes with such a ferocity that once you enter her world, you never want to leave.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / TikTok


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03 December, 2024

December 03, 2024 0

Tangled Darkness by MM Desch

 

TANGLED DARKNESS

by MM Desch

December 3, 2024 Cover Reveal

Synopsis:

Tangled Darkness by MM Desch

In a twisted web of lies, she's either the spider or the fly.

When a psychiatric clinic assistant turns up dead, Dr. Leslie Schoen finds herself a suspect in the case—and facing allegations which could destroy her career.

As Detective Davis works the investigation, Leslie launches her own inquiries. She soon uncovers deception and illegal schemes involving stolen prescription opioids at her clinic. It seems everyone around her is hiding something, and as she gets closer to the truth, the threats against her escalate. She struggles with keeping dangerous information from her pregnant wife, Izzy, and knows she needs to confront traumatic demons from her own past. But as she delves deeper into a web of lies, one thing becomes clear: someone will do anything to keep their criminal plans in the shadows.

With her family and even her life on the line, Leslie must outwit those who want her silenced before it’s too late. No one’s motives are what they seem, and the killer may be closer than anyone thinks.

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Thriller
Published by: Rowan Prose Publishing
Publication Date: July 15, 2025
Number of Pages: 339
ISBN: 9798227130914
Book Links: Amazon | Kobo | Apple | BookBub | Goodreads | Books2Read

 

Author Bio:

MM Desch

Mary Desch, writing under the pen name MM Desch, brings a wealth of psychiatric expertise to her gripping psychological thrillers. Drawing from her extensive career as a general and addiction psychiatrist across multiple states, she crafts relatable characters facing intense psychological and physical dangers. Her deep understanding of human motivations, conflicts, and trauma recovery infuses her writing with authenticity and suspense.

A lifelong mystery enthusiast, Mary's passion for the genre evolved from childhood fascination with Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine to a deep appreciation for detective fiction in college. This enduring love for suspenseful storytelling naturally led her to write psychological thrillers.

When not delving into the intricacies of her next novel or novella, Mary enjoys hiking, long walks with her wife and their spirited mini schnauzer, exploring local food scenes, golfing, and following women's professional basketball.

Mary's debut thriller, Tangled Darkness, marks the beginning of a promising foray into psychological suspense fiction.

Catch Up With MM Desch:
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02 December, 2024

December 02, 2024 0

Call Me Carmela by Ellen Kirschman

 

Call Me Carmela by Ellen Kirschman Banner

CALL ME CARMELA

by Ellen Kirschman

November 11 - December 6, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Call Me Carmela by Ellen Kirschman

A Dot Meyerhoff Mystery

 

Police therapist Dot Meyerhoff helps a young woman find her birth parents and unburies dark family secrets in this psychological thriller.

Police psychologist Dot Meyerhoff’s caseload is usually filled with cops—which is why she’s hesitant to help an adopted teenager locate her birth parents. But the teen’s godmother is Dot’s dear friend Fran and a police widow to boot. How could Dot possibly say no?

Once Dot starts digging into the case, though, she’s drawn into a murky world of illegal adoptions and the choices a young pregnant woman might make as a last resort. Soon there’s only one thing Dot knows for sure: the painful truth of what happened all those years ago might heal one family—but it’s certain to destroy another.

Praise for Call Me Carmela:

"Ellen Kirschmann’s front row criminal justice insight is woven throughout the mystery, and in Dot Meyerhoff, she’s created a hero the world needs: smart, big-hearted, and complex. This is a story that will stick with you long after you close the book."
~ Edgar-nominated author Jess Lourey

"Have a seat in Fran and Eddie’s Café and you are among friends who care about what happens to a teen desperately seeking the truth of her adoption. Ellen Kirschman seamlessly brings her expertise and empathy as a therapist for first responders in creating her fully realized amateur sleuth, Dr. Dot Meyerhoff. Call Me Carmela is like the perfect morning coffee, rich, smooth, and nuanced and leaving you craving for another cup."
~ Naomi Hirahara, USA Today bestselling and Mary Higgins Clark award-winning author of Clark and Division and Evergreen

"Ellen Kirschman sees into people's hearts: not just those of the victims, or of the good guys, but the hearts of all her characters. With a rare delicacy of language she lets us know that no one's innocent, but no one's past redemption, either -- except those who refuse to try."
~ SJ Rozan, best-selling author of The Mayors Of New York

"Call Me Carmela is a firecracker of a read, a tour de force that immerses you in the characters' lives with empathy and insight. I couldn't put it down until I reached the very last page--I will be back for more Dot Meyerhoff. Highly recommended!"
~ Deborah Chrombie NYT bestselling author of the Duncan Kincaid/Gemma James novels

"This latest in the Dot Meyerhoff series gets everything right, as we've come to expect from author Ellen Kirschman. Psychologically astute, its blend of intriguing mystery, topical subject matter and well-rounded characters make this a must-read for anyone who loves a great story."
~ Dennis Palumbo, psychotherapist and author of the Daniel Rinaldi mysteries

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological/Domestic Suspense
Published by: Open Road Media
Publication Date: November 26, 2024
Number of Pages: 292
ISBN: 9781504095754 (ISBN10: 1504095758)
Series: A Dot Meyerhoff Mystery, #5
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Open Road Media

Read an excerpt:

 

 

Author Bio:

Ellen Kirschman

Ellen Kirschman, Ph.D. is a police psychologist. and clinician at the First Responders Support Network. She is a member of the International Association of Chiefs of Police, The American Psychological Association, Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and the Public Safety Writers Association. She is the recipient of the California Psychological Association’s award for distinguished contribution to psychology as well as the American Psychological Association’s award for outstanding contribution to the practice of police and public safety psychology. Ellen brings her expertise and decades-long experience to both fiction and non-fiction. She is the author of three non-fiction books and a five-book mystery series featuring police psychologist Dot Meyerhoff.

Catch Up With Ellen Kirschman:
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28 November, 2024

November 28, 2024 0

Scars of the Heart by Bob Van Laerhoven

 

SCARS OF THE HEART

by Bob Van Laerhoven

November 25 - December 6, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

cover

Why can people be so cruel to each other? In his search for answers, Bob Van Laerhoven concentrates on individuals, but ideologies, religions, and political structures shimmer in the background.

Through ten stories set in different countries and eras, Van Laerhoven takes us through the destructive consequences of our passions as a common thread, from contemporary Syria to Algeria in the 1950s, and the civil war in Liberia to the uprising in Belgian Congo in the 1960s.

The ten stories in SCARS OF THE HEART highlight the dark side of love, which fuels our violence, inner loneliness, and greedy egos.

Praise for Scars Of The Heart:

SCARS OF THE HEART received a New York Book 2024 Festival Honorable Mention in the category Anthologies/Compilations and a Gold Book Award 2024 from Literary Titan.

"SCARS OF THE HEART Heart by Bob Van Laerhoven is a compelling collection of short stories that delve into the profound impacts of war... The settings range from the war-torn Middle East to World War II and Nazi Germany, bridging past and present to create relevant and relatable narratives. I finished the book with immense respect for the author's raw and heartbreaking portrayals of reality. The non-war stories are equally compelling, showcasing Van Laerhoven's versatility and skill in crafting riveting tales. Fans of Roald Dahl or Edgar Allan Poe will appreciate the beautifully crafted stories in SCARS OF THE HEART. For those who enjoy well-constructed plots and complex characters, this collection is a must-read. I highly recommend this book to anyone who can endure the psychological turmoil and pain depicted, as it offers profound insights into the atrocities and resilience of life."
~ 5-stars Literary Titan Review

"In SCARS OF THE HEART, Bob Van Laerhoven has taken a most controversial subject and written ten short stories around it. Each story is unique in its own right but the same theme is carried through each one. The author holds the reader's attention in each story for different reasons... Each story has a different tale and lesson to be learned and each title is more intriguing than the last. Bob Van Laerhoven has highlighted the atrocities that were committed during the various wars throughout the ages, how nobody is ever allowed to forget them, and how it affects vulnerable youngsters growing up as they learn the truth--as seen through the eyes of a relative, family friend, or even history--of what happened to their family, village, and country. This is a most interesting anthology and will give readers much food for thought. It is a profound read and I will be sure to reread some of the more intriguing stories because there is so much to learn from them."
~ Reviewed by Bernadette Longu for Readers' Favorite - 5 stars

"Mr. Van Laerhoven is an artist with words who paints in all mediums.
He also has the ability to make you think and feel.
In this collection of short stories his talent is on display with a heavier hand in horror and angst, and it works well. There is no sugar coating what the characters see and do, and yet it is so real, you can picture each part of it, and will find the stories will not go away when you finish them...
These stories are wonderful, unsettling, and should be on your list to read. Highly recommended."
~ Hussong's Cantina – Amazon.com

"SCARS OF THE HEART is a collection of short stories by Bob van Laerhoven that explores the darker sides of the human psyche and the complex nature of human relationships. Laerhoven brings together narratives on the themes of love, loss, revenge, and redemption. Each story is complete on its own, yet together, they paint a vivid picture of the scars that life can leave on the heart.
While SCARS OF THE HEART is an intriguing collection, some readers may find the intensity and dark themes challenging. Laerhoven does not shy away from depicting violence and emotional suffering. While these align with the subject of the stories, they can be unsettling. Additionally, the complex nature of some stories may require careful reading to fully appreciate the symbolism they embody. For fans of thought-provoking and emotionally resonant fiction, I give it five stars out of five."
~ 5-Star Review David Ikediuwa – Goodreads

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Thriller, Suspense-Drama, Historical Literary Fiction
Published by: Next Chapter
Publication Date: May 28, 2024
Number of Pages: 245
ISBN: 9784824193995 (ISBN10: 4824193990)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Kobo | Goodreads

 

Author Bio:

A full-time Belgian/Flemish author, Laerhoven has published (traditionally) 44 books in Holland and Belgium. As a freelance travel writer, he explored conflicts and trouble spots across the globe from the early 1990s to 2003: Somalia, Liberia, Bosnia, Sudan, Gaza, Iran, Iraq, Mozambique, Kosovo, and Myanmar… to name a few. Echoes of his experiences on the road trickle through in his novels.

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25 November, 2024

November 25, 2024 0

Burn This Night by Alex Kenna

 

BURN THIS NIGHT

by Alex Kenna

November 4 - December 6, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Burn This Night by Alex Kenna

The Kate Myles Detective Series

 

Told in alternating timelines, this gripping mystery about a PI and her quest for answers is full of twists and turns, perfect for fans of Allison Brennan and Gytha Lodge.

Struggling private investigator Kate Myles is shattered to learn her late father isn’t her biological dad. She’s still reeling when she discovers that an unknown distant relative is the prime suspect in a decades-old murder investigation. Trying to convince her to take on the case for free, an old colleague recommends her as an investigator for a recent arson murder in the same small town.

After giving up on a failed acting career, Abby Coburn is starting over as a promising social work student. With her life on the right track, she’s determined to help her brother, Jacob, whose meth addiction triggered a psychotic break and descent into crime. But when Abby dies in a fire that kills two other people and destroys part of the town, the police immediately suspect Jacob.

As the Coburn family grapples with the tragedy, Kate begins unraveling the cold case but finds herself caught in the middle of an emotional minefield. Pretty soon, she discovers that this town is full of dark secrets, and as she comes closer and closer to figuring out the truth, Kate must solve both murders before she becomes the next victim.

Praise for Burn This Night:

"The twists keep coming in this devilish PI mystery . . . Lisa Unger fans will devour this."
~ Publishers Weekly

"Solid, heartfelt spadework into an alarming range of graves."
~ Kirkus Reviews

"A true page turner . . . Full of twists, turns, and suspects."
~ Book Review Crew

"Burn This Night is a fast-paced thriller that masterfully utilizes alternating perspectives to tell an absorbing, character-driven mystery. This is an electrifying read that had me engaged and on the edge of my seat until the very end!"
~ Elle Grawl, Amazon Charts bestselling author of One of Those Faces and What Still Burns

"An absorbing read told from multiple layered perspectives, Kenna ranges from finely observed domestic scenes to adept portrayals of grimy addicts living on the ragged edge. Burn This Night is smart and satisfying."
~ Adam Plantinga, author of The Ascent

"Burn This Night is an utterly-absorbing mystery. Alex Kenna skillfully weaves a tale of two women who both face emotional and physical danger as they fight for truth and family love. Kenna masterfully draws the reader into the dark exploration of the secrets hidden in small towns and the depths some will go to hide the truth. With fiendishly smart dialogue, a captivating setting and a plot that keeps you on the edge of your seat, Burn This Night is absolutely fantastic!"
~ Elise Hart Kipness, author of Lights Out

"A dark, lyrical crime novel, Burn This Night weaves a complex and twisty spell about addiction, family ties, and how sins of the past can't stay buried. Kate Myles is a great addition to LA's canon of troubled PIs—real, flawed, smart, and very human—and I can't wait to see what's next for her."
~ Halley Sutton, USA Today bestselling author of The Hurricane Blonde

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Thriller - Private Detective
Published by: Crooked Lane
Publication Date: November 12, 2024
Number of Pages: 256
ISBN: 9781639109371 (ISBN10: 1639109374)
Series: Kate Myles private detective series, 2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Penguin Random House Books

Read an excerpt:

PROLOGUE

Eight Months Ago—Grace

My eyes shot open when I heard the yelping. Barney was going to wake the baby. I dove toward the old dog, grabbed his snout, and held it closed with both hands. “Shh,” I pleaded.

I lowered one hand and rubbed Barney’s back, trying to calm him. He let out a whine, and like clockwork, Liam started to cry. I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and braced myself for another late-night nursing session. My body felt heavy with milk and stress and exhaustion.

Carefully, I scooped up the howling baby, carried him over to the rocking chair, and lifted my T shirt to feed him. Liam quieted down and nestled against me. I sniffed his hair and stroked his cheek as we rocked back and forth. Part of me wanted to stay like this all night. But a bigger part of me longed to be under the covers, passed out in a warm oblivion.

I heard the shower turn on down the hall. Ted must be back from serving his warrant. A few months ago, he’d gotten smart with a lieutenant, who then started feeding him late-night assignments. These frequent absences were brutal now that I was back from maternity leave and needed sleep to function at work.

Barney whined again and clawed at the bedroom door. Clutching Liam, I rose to let the dog out of the room.

I looked down at the baby, who was asleep and making little catlike snores. With slow, deliberate steps, I made my way toward the crib and lowered him until his back rested against the fabric. But the change in angle caused his eyes to open and his lungs to inflate. Then came the cry—and Barney ran back to the bedroom, joining Liam in a horrible wailing duet. I reached out toward the dog and felt wet fur. Damn it—Barney must have peed in the house. Hot tears ran down my cheeks. What I wouldn’t give for one night’s sleep.

The door opened and Ted walked in with a towel around his waist. “I need help,” I snapped.

“What?” asked Ted, surprised by my tone.

My eyes were closed, and I was crying. But Ted couldn’t see that in the dark. He just sensed the anger in my voice. I knew it wasn’t his fault that the baby wouldn’t sleep, that the dog couldn’t hold it, and that his boss was a jerk. But I’d reached my limit, and Ted was the only living being in earshot who understood human language.

“Barney peed in the house. Take Liam so I can let the dog out before he does it again. Just try to get him back to sleep.” I placed the screaming, wriggling infant in Ted’s arms before either of them could protest.

Flipping on the hall light, I made my way to the kitchen. Barney scampered ahead of me, spinning in circles. I threw on Ted’s faded hoodie. It reeked of old sweat, but I was too tired to care. I hooked Barney’s leash to his collar, and bracing myself for the cold, I unlocked the back door and stepped outside.

The Santa Anas blew hard, and I shivered as cold air soaked through the hoodie’s weave. I could hear the Jeffrey pines rustle in the wind. Thrusting my hands into the central pocket, I rubbed them together for warmth.

A smoky odor hung in the air—maybe the residue of a neighbor’s barbecue dinner. But the wind should have blown away the scent by now.

Barney tugged at his leash. I let him drag me toward the street. Now that we were outside, he wouldn’t be satisfied without a walk, and it might clear my head as well.

The sky was lighter than I’d expected. Idlewood doesn’t have streetlights. It’s a conscious decision to preserve the log-cabins-in-the-woods feel of the place. Darkness adds to the storybook charm, and it can be hard to find your way on moonless nights. But the sky had an orange-gray glow that reminded me of LA smog. Maybe it was later than I thought, almost morning.

Barney tugged on his leash, half-dragging me up the road toward the intersection. He seemed agitated, and I wondered what had gotten into him. As we passed the Hernandez’s place, our footsteps activated the motion sensor, and the automatic light above their garage snapped on with an electric hum.

I noticed something floating in the air. Tiny particles, like gray snow or dryer lint. The flecks danced in the air, and Barney snapped at one as it fluttered toward his jaws. The smell of smoke was growing stronger.

Oh my god.

Clutching Barney’s leash, I ran the rest of the way to the cross street, which cut straight to the mountain. High in the pines, I saw an orange glow—luminous against the dark sky. My vision tunneled, and all I could see was the fire on the hillside. The light was near Abby’s cabin. But I couldn’t tell how near.

I grabbed my phone and scanned my recent calls, but it had been weeks since I’d spoken to my sister, and her name didn’t pop up. I pulled up my contact list and clicked on her name. After four rings, a cheerful recording prompted me to leave a message. Maybe she’s already fled. No, Abby would’ve called if she were awake. She might hate me, but she’d warn me about a wildfire.

I called back, praying that her cell wasn’t on silent. Come on Abby, answer the phone. When I heard the prerecorded message again, I started to panic. I left a voicemail: “Abby, it’s Grace. There’s a fire by your cabin—you need to leave now!”

The orange glow was getting bigger as the Santa Anas blew the flames toward Idlewood. It was how I’d always imagined an erupting volcano would look, with lava flowing down its sides. I called Abby a third time, cursing under my breath. Across the street, a door opened, and an old man stepped outside, holding a little white dog. “There’s a fire!” he shouted.

I looked at him and then back at the mountain, ringing phone pressed against my ear. Dammit, Abby, pick up! “My son works at the fire station,” said the man. “They’re about to put out an alert. We have to evacuate. The whole town could burn.”

“My sister’s cabin is on the hillside, and she’s not answering,” I shouted. “Can you call your son and tell him someone’s up there?”

I heard a chime and looked down at my phone. It was a text from the fire department, ordering us to leave Idlewood. But my feet stayed planted. My sister was on that mountain, with nothing but a narrow dirt road leading down to safety. If the fire overtook the path, she’d be trapped.

“Jeffrey, it’s Pop,” I heard the old man say. “There’s a lady here whose sister has a cabin near the fire.”

Hearing those words unleashed a fresh wave of panic. Abby’s cheerful answering machine message sounded for a fifth time in my ear. “Abby, get out of there!” I screamed into the phone.

“We have to go,” said the neighbor. “This thing could spread faster than they can contain it.”

My phone chimed and I looked down at the screen, hoping to see Abby’s name, but it was a voicemail from Ted. Before I could call him back, a text flashed across my screen: FIRE—COME HOME NOW

I looked back and forth from my screen to the mountain. My sister was up there. But my husband and son were at the house. I couldn’t wait any longer. I tugged at Barney’s leash and ran home.

***

Excerpt from Burn This Night by Alex Kenna. Copyright 2024 by Alex Kenna. Reproduced with permission from Alex Kenna. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Alex Kenna

Alex Kenna is a mystery writer, prosecutor, and amateur painter. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, son, and giant schnauzer. Alex's first novel, WHAT MEETS THE EYE, was a 2023 Shamus Award Finalist for best first P.I. novel. Her second novel, BURN THIS NIGHT, is coming November 12, 2024.

Catch Up With Alex Kenna:
www.AlexKenna.com
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BookBub - @akenna
Instagram - @alexkennabooks
Twitter/X - @AlexKenna9
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