Thursday, April 30, 2020

Light Shines on Promise Lodge



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Charlotte Hubbard will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.



For abandoned wife Annabelle Beachey, Promise Lodge is a refuge where she’s gained confidence and self-sufficiency. But she and the others are dismayed when newly arrived Bishop Clayton King claims the community is too progressive and sets out to change its ways. Worse, her husband, Phineas, returns, expecting her to give up her faith as he has. And he won’t leave Promise Lodge without her…

But little by little, Annabelle’s determination and new forthrightness make Phineas realize his mistakes—and truly hear his wife for the first time. Meanwhile, Annabelle finds herself feeling compassion—and even renewed love—for her newly humble, more caring husband. And as Bishop Clayton’s attempt to control Promise Lodge threatens everything its residents have built, Phineas and Annabelle must work together with unshakeable courage to save their new home—and their opportunity for forever happiness.


Read an Excerpt

With a pitcher in each hand, Annabelle made her way into the crowded dining room. The tables were close together to accommodate the large crowd, so she walked along the tables’ ends and had someone pass her the pitchers that needed refilling. She was stepping toward the table nearest the archway that led to the lodge’s lobby when the sight of a solitary man in black froze her in place.

Phineas was watching her, as though he’d been following her progress along the outer edge of the dining room . . . waiting for her to notice him. He held her gaze with the pale, penetrating green eyes that had often made her heart thud in her chest as she anticipated his judgment—his criticism and correction.

The blood rushed from Annabelle’s head. She wasn’t aware that she’d dropped the two big pitchers until she heard the noisy clatter of plastic hitting the hardwood floor and felt ice water filling her shoes.

What’s Phineas doing here? How did he find me—and what does he want?



About the Author:

In 1983, Charlotte Hubbard sold her first story to True Story. She wrote around 70 of those confession stories, and she’s sold more than 50 books to traditional or online publishers. A longtime resident of Missouri, she’s currently writing Amish romances set in imaginary Missouri towns for Kensington. She now lives in St. Paul, MN with her husband of 40+ years and their Border collie, Vera.



Website: https://charlottehubbard.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/charlotte.hubbard1

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/53342.Charlotte_Hubbard

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/charlotte-hubbard


Buy Links:



Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07R8WYRZK/

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07R8WYRZK/

Amazon CA: http://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07R8WYRZK/

Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07R8WYRZK/

Apple Books: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/light-shines-on-promise-lodge/id1461891071

Apple Books UK: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/light-shines-on-promise-lodge/id1461891071

Apple Books CA: https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/light-shines-on-promise-lodge/id1461891071

Apple Books AU: https://itunes.apple.com/au/book/light-shines-on-promise-lodge/id1461891071

Apple Books NZ: https://itunes.apple.com/nz/book/light-shines-on-promise-lodge/id1461891071

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/light-shines-on-promise-lodge-charlotte-hubbard/1131427032

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/light-shines-on-promise-lodge



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Tuesday, April 28, 2020

A Struggle for Independence

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions
p. m. Terrell will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour

See below to sign up for the Giveaway.



Sometimes a woman comes to the realization that she has built the perfect life but with the wrong man.

It is 1916 Ireland, and Independence Mather has settled into a tedious routine in an arranged marriage when she meets an architect hired to add a wing onto her husband’s vast estate. She soon falls in love with the charming, attentive Nicky Bowers, but he has secrets to hide. When she discovers he is an Irish rebel, events propel her into the middle of the Easter Rising. Now she must decide whether to remain the wife of a British loyalist or risk everything to join the rebellion and be with the man she loves.

read an excerpt...
I think when all is said and done, I prefer to sleep when the rains are upon me. There is something about curling up beneath layers of warm, cozy covers and listening to the raindrops against the glass or even the stronger pelting storms with their thunder and lightning that cause me to become lulled to contented sleep. But on nights like this, when the air is still and silent, time becomes stuck, and I feel suspended in wakefulness while sleep gathers just beyond my reach.

I rose, sliding my feet into my slippers and donning my robe to tread across the cold floor and poke the peat in the firebox. It was stubborn tonight; seeking the same slumber that evaded me, the remnants of earlier flames nothing more than a spark and a flicker. I finally gave up and began to make my way back to my bed, where warmth, if not sleep, awaited me. I paused at the window to note the frost forming in the lower corner, a late frost that could damage the flowers just beginning to bud to officially herald the spring and promise of summer. The skies were clear, the customary clouds nowhere in sight, the half-moon brilliant even though we were midway between full moons.

A flash caught my eye, and I turned my attention from the night sky to the ground below. I spotted it again, a glint and a glimmer, and it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Forgetting the chill for the moment, I strained my eyes as I peered into the shadows, the moon unable to penetrate the copses of trees between the great house and the structures beyond the meadow.

I tried to pinpoint where the flashes were occurring and came to the conclusion they were at the old barn across from my little studio cottage. I thought vaguely of Stratford, asleep and snoring in his room down the hall, and knew I would not awaken him to the possibility of trespassers, nor would I rouse the servants from their beds. Completely and fully awake now, I felt my senses pricking at my mind, urging me to venture there myself.

I dressed quickly in dark clothing and carried my heavier shoes in my arms as I slipped outside my bedchamber and quietly closed the door behind me. The corridor was dark, and I groped at the walls as I made my way away from Stratford and down the stairs. The house was surreally quiet, objects that seemed ordinary or innocuous during the daytime, suddenly morphing into ghostly beings that loomed over the rooms to watch my departure from the house and into the chill of the night.


about p.m. Terrell...
p.m.terrell is the pen name for Patricia McClelland Terrell, the award-winning, internationally acclaimed author of more than 24 books in multiple genres, including contemporary suspense, historical suspense, computer instructional, non-fiction and children’s books.

Prior to writing full-time, she founded two computer companies in the Washington, DC Metropolitan Area: McClelland Enterprises, Inc. and Continental Software Development Corporation. Among her clients were the Central Intelligence Agency, United States Secret Service, U.S. Information Agency, and Department of Defense. Her specialties were in the detection of white collar computer crimes and computer intelligence.

A full-time author since 2002, Black Swamp Mysteries was her first series, inspired by the success of Exit 22, released in 2008. Vicki’s Key was a top five finalist in the 2012 International Book Awards and 2012 USA Book Awards nominee, and The Pendulum Files was a national finalist for the Best Cover of the Year in 2014. Her second series, Ryan O’Clery Suspense, is also award-winning. The Tempest Murders (Book 1) was one of four finalists in the 2013 International Book Awards, cross-genre category. Her historical suspense, River Passage, was a 2010 Best Fiction and Drama Winner. It was determined to be so historically accurate that a copy of the book resides at the Nashville Government Metropolitan Archives in Nashville, Tennessee. Songbirds are Free is her bestselling book to date; it is inspired by the true story of Mary Neely, who was captured in 1780 by Shawnee warriors near Fort Nashborough (now Nashville, TN).

She was the co-founder of The Book ‘Em Foundation, an organization committed to raising public awareness of the correlation between high crime rates and high illiteracy rates. She was the founder of Book ‘Em North Carolina, an annual event held in the town of Lumberton, North Carolina, to raise funds to increase literacy and reduce crime and served as its chairperson and organizer for its first four years. She also served on the boards of the Friends of the Robeson County (NC) Public Library, the Robeson County (NC) Arts Council, Virginia Crime Stoppers and became the first female president of the Chesterfield County-Colonial Heights Crime Solvers in Virginia.

For more information, book trailers, excerpts and more, visit the author’s website at www.pmterrell.com.


Twitter: @pmterrell



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more "personal stuff" about p.m. Terrell...
Does this book have a special meaning to you? i.e. where you found the idea, its symbolism, its meaning, who you dedicated it to, what made you want to write it?

A Struggle for Independence has special meaning to me because it takes place against the backdrop of Ireland’s fight for independence. My ancestors are from Ireland, and a few years ago, I had the life-changing experience of standing on the land they once walked and owned. Many have controlled Irish lands, including the Vikings and the British, but they never vanquished their enthusiasm for life, their courage, their hope and their faith in a better tomorrow.
The book also is personal to me because it tells the story of Lady Independence Mather, who begins in an oppressed, arranged, and loveless marriage but who comes into her own in the chaos of the Easter Rising. I belong to a generation of women that fought hard for equality and were often underestimated. I wanted to show younger generations that the rights we fought for should never be taken for granted.

Where do you get your storylines from?

I get my story ideas through historical events. This book was inspired by the events leading up to and through the 1916 Easter Rising, which ultimately led to Ireland’s independence. I was fascinated by the leaders, many of whom were poets, authors, and actors with no military training. They were ordinary people with an extraordinary goal: to fight back against one of the world’s most significant powers, and win.

Was this book easier or more difficult to write than others?  Why?

Whenever I write a historical book, even with a fictional storyline, I work hard to remain faithful to historical facts. That meant researching 3-4 hours for each hour of writing. I began with Internet research on sites associated with universities, historical societies, museums, and nonprofits dedicated to preserving Irish history. I then traveled to the places I wrote about. That meant standing in the courtyard where the leaders of the Easter Rising were executed without public trial, walking on the grounds of Dublin Castle and the General Post Office, and strolling through Saint Stephen’s Green, all places in which bloody battles were fought during Easter week 1916.

Do you only write one genre?

I began my career writing software manuals in 1984. My first novel was published in 2000. I have written techno-thrillers, contemporary suspense, historical suspense, and creative non-fiction. I also wrote one book on promoting fiction. A Struggle for Independence is the 24th book published. Publishers have included Dow Jones (Richard D. Irwin branch), Scott-Foresman, Chicago Spectrum Press, Palari Publishing, and Drake Valley Press.

Give us a picture of where you write, where you compose these words…is it Starbucks, a den, a garden…we want to know your inner sanctum?

My inner sanctum is an office with 360-degree views. Beside my desk is an aquarium divided into apartments for bettas. It is a peaceful, tranquil place where I can escape into the era and setting of my characters.

And finally, of course…was there any specific event or circumstance that made you want to be a writer?

I have wanted to be a writer since I was nine years old. The school principal encouraged me to write, and after I completed that first story written on pieces of cardboard, I was hooked. I have written ever since, but publication and success came much later.






Monday, April 27, 2020

Fated Souls

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions
Becky Flade will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour

See below to sign up for the Giveaway.





Shamed investigative journalist turned tabloid scribe Maggie O’Connell convinces her editor to let her go to Minnesota to research alleged werewolf sightings. Her first night in the woods, she gets trapped in an old sleeping bag, unintentionally attracts the attention of a bear, and is saved by the most unlikely of heroes: the very wolf she had come to investigate!

When she meets horse rancher Aidan Gael in the town market days later, she recognizes his
eyes as those belonging to her champion.

Aidan tries desperately to avoid her; he both fears Maggie and fears for her. Neither man nor beast can resist her curious mind and courageous heart. One kiss threatens to break Aidan’s tenuous self-control but furthers Maggie’s resolve.

Danger lurks at every turn. The curse Aidan fights to keep secret is only one of the obstacles that will test the strength of their bond. Together they will navigate the violence of both nature and of man in pursuit of their destiny.

read an excerpt...
“Ten. You’d stay longer if you could afford to?” He asked it nonchalantly, as though his world didn’t depend on her answer. Then he silently tried to convince himself it didn’t.

“Hey it’s my turn.”

“Nope you asked how many we were up to. Don’t waste your questions.” She chuckled when he tossed her words back at her, and Aidan thought he would probably never tire of hearing her laughter. The sound made him think of childhood; sunny days; sandy beaches; and snowball fights in the winter. His childhood had been happy and he’d taken it for granted. He thought probably all children did. But all that had been stripped from him when he was barely old enough to be called a man. Then the wolf had become his reality and he’d closeted himself away from the world for so long he’d forgotten the simple warmth of sharing laughter with another person.

Maggie’s laugh filled him with a light that he both craved and feared. He knew he should continue to distance himself from her. He was worried he could become addicted to her clever smile and husky laugh. Aidan pushed the worry aside before he could talk himself out of enjoying the moment. He had sought her out this day. He meant to see it through.  

“Yes, I’d stay longer if I could afford it. Why did you push me away that day?” 

my Review...
The paranormal genre is not really my thing and most certainly not with a paranormal werewolf. But somehow this story held my attention. I think it was because there’s a real, in fact a really sweet, story in this book. One full of personalities we can all identify with. Some we’d like to be and some we’d like to know. You can take any werewolves right out of this story and have the same sweet interesting story.

 Should you take the werewolf out? Of course not. This is still a paranormal story with a little romance and interesting characters. I was just trying to describe how something which was not maybe my genre kept my attention. What a reviewer likes to read about isn’t the point. What kind of story and how it’s written is the point. 

This is Book 1 of a series titled “The Fated Series” and Becky Flade has several other books too. All have good reviews.


about Becky Flade...
A city girl, born and bred, I tend to place my stories in and around southeast Pennsylvania, or at least have a character or two from the area. Home is where the heart is and I make mine with my very own knight in slightly tarnished armor, three beautiful daughters, my son-in-law and two grandsons. When I’m not busy living my own happily ever after, I’m writing about someone else’s.

I’d love to have you visit with me at any of my virtual homes or write to me directly at beckyfladeauthor@gmail.com

CONTACT INFO






The book will be on sale for only $0.99.






Sunday, April 26, 2020

Escucha Means Listen


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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Talia Aikens-Nunez will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.


Take a journey through the world — just listening. Escucha Means Listen helps children discover sounds around them in both English and Spanish. A beautiful picture book with lyrical prose and delightful illustrations, from lawn mowing to the splish-splashing of rain puddles.
Read an Excerpt...

Buzz. Buzz. Qué oyes? (What do you hear?)

Las abejas (The bees) circling the flowers.

Woosh. Woosh. What do you hear?

El viento (The wind) is whistling by.


Shh. Shh. Qué oyes? (What do you hear?)

Las hojas (The leaves) are dancing on the trees.


About the Author:


Talia Aikens-Nuñez wanted to be a meteorologist, a politician and a lawyer. She never thought she would be an author. It was the birth of her daughter that caused her to start writing. Raising a bilingual child inspired Talia to write multicultural children’s books.

Talia’s family loves nature so much that she and her husband vowed that they willalways try to live close to water. She and her family live in Connecticut with a little pond.

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/talia_n

Website: Http://www.kidslitbytalia.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/taliaaikensnunezchildrenswriter



Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Escucha-Means-Listen-Talia-Aikens-Nu%C3%B1ez-ebook/dp/B01AP0I57O/ref=sr_1_1




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Hid from Our Eyes



A new book from NetGalley I really enjoyed...

A good fast read. Who couldn’t want to read a who-dunnit that happened in a town called Miller’s Kill? It may be that the town name gives you an idea of a cozy. No one likes a good cozy more than I do but this is more. More elements, more depth to the characters and maybe a deeper plot. I loved reading a  mystery about a crime years ago. Could it be connected? Could it have been people you talk to face to face today? Lots of suspense and the author kept you guessing.

As I said there is more to this story than one might think. I liked the characters. Who would think a female priest could be one of the main characters and a pretty good amateur sleuth? To me this was a plot that didn’t have as many characters involved and sometimes that’s a relief. No figuring out who’s who all the time.

This is Book 9 from a series titled “A Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne Mystery (Fergusson/Van Alstyne Mysteries)”. Ok, ok, the series title  is a little long. Maybe even more than a “little” long. Nonetheless, the read was well worth my time and I think I’ll jump back and read another.

Thursday, April 23, 2020

Venom





Mystery
Publisher: Tekrighter, LLC
Date Published: 1 March, 2020

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A spooky mansion in the Georgia mountains with an outrageous cast of characters. Spiders, snakes, meth-heads and serial killers, oh my! Venom! ain’t your average gothic mystery, folks.

But who would expect it to be when Natalie McMasters is involved? She’s fallen madly in love with two people—her wife, Lupe, and Danny, her partner at the 3M Detective Agency. Rather than choose one of them as her life partner, she’s decided to have them both, and roped them into a relationship retreat in rural Georgia to learn how to live as a polyamorous family.

But Nattie finds more than she bargained for in the sleepy town of Greypeak. A methamphetamine operation. A snake-handling preacher. A retired FBI agent hunting a serial killer. And a charismatic psychologist who just might have his own agenda for his clients.

Nattie ultimately finds herself in the most dangerous situation she’s ever faced, which may well solve her relationship problems by costing her life. Is this really the last book in the Natalie McMasters series?







About the Author

Thomas A. Burns, Jr. is the author of the Natalie McMasters Mysteries. He was born and grew up in New Jersey, attended Xavier High School in Manhattan, earned B.S degrees in Zoology and Microbiology at Michigan State University and a M.S. in Microbiology at North Carolina State University. He currently resides in Wendell, North Carolina. As a kid, Tom started reading mysteries with the Hardy Boys, Ken Holt and Rick Brant, and graduated to the classic stories by authors such as A. Conan Doyle, Dorothy Sayers, John Dickson Carr, Erle Stanley Gardner and Rex Stout, to name a few. Tom has written fiction as a hobby all of his life, starting with Man from U.N.C.L.E. stories in marble-backed copybooks in grade school. He built a career as technical, science and medical writer and editor for nearly thirty years in industry and government. Now that he's truly on his own as a novelist, he's excited to publish his own mystery series, as well as to contribute stories about his second most favorite detective to the MX anthology of New Sherlock Holmes Stories.

Contact Links



Purchase Links

FREE with Kindle Unlimited!





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Monday, April 20, 2020

Killer Soul Mate





A Jane Larson Mystery
Mystery, Suspense
Date Published: January 2020
Publisher: Melange Books

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Jane Larson is back, and trouble abounds on New York’s Upper East Side!

A new client hires Jane to undo the terms of a matrimonial agreement with her ex-husband, the owner of a prosperous hedge fund who does not like to lose. At the same time, Jane’s landlord is working to evict her from the storefront law office where her mother had practiced for many years, and Jane is forced to fight to save her mother’s legacy. However, it seems there is no way she can win.

All too soon, the bodies begin to pile up and Jane has to figure out who is responsible before she becomes one of the victims. Meanwhile, a guy named Gary is trying to worm his way into her life, and, even though she thinks he is much too young for her, she starts to fall for him. The problem is that he has a habit of showing up where the murders occur. Can she trust him?




About the Authors




Anne Rothman-Hicks and her co-author, Ken Hicks, have lived and written books together in New York City for over forty-five years. Their Jane Larson Mystery/Suspense novels are set on New York City’s Upper East Side, and KILLER SOUL MATE is the fourth in the series that includes PRAISE HER, PRAISE DIANA, WEAVE A MURDEROUS WEB and MIND ME, MILADY.

Anne and Ken have also created the Alice And Friends series for middle readers, including STONE FACES, BROWNSTONE FACES, and SPLOTCH.

Finally, Anne and Ken have published two books for ‘tween readers, featuring New Yorkers Jenny and James, as well as Whitehair, the talking pigeon they find in Central Park. THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM is set in New York City. REMEMBERING THOMAS, begins in modern-day New York City until Jenny and James step through a time portal and find themselves in the middle of the Battle of Manhattan during the Revolutionary War.


Contact Links

Purchase Links


RABT Book Tours & PR

Sunday, April 19, 2020

Diver's Paradise

Diver's Paradise by Davin Goodwin Banner

 

 

Diver's Paradise

by Davin Goodwin

on Tour April 6 - May 8, 2020

Synopsis:

Diver's Paradise by Davin Goodwin


After 25 years on the job, Detective Roscoe Conklin trades his badge for a pair of shorts and sandals and moves to Bonaire, a small island nestled in the southern Caribbean. But the warm water, palm trees, and sunsets are derailed when his long-time police-buddy friend back home, is murdered.

Conklin dusts off a few markers and calls his old department, trolling for information. It’s slow going. No surprise, there. After all, it’s an active investigation, and his compadres back home aren’t saying a damn thing.

He’s 2,000 miles away, living in paradise. Does he really think he can help? They suggest he go to the beach and catch some rays.

For Conklin, it’s not that simple. Outside looking in? Not him. Never has been. Never will be.

When a suspicious mishap lands his significant other, Arabella, in the hospital, the island police conduct, at best, a sluggish investigation, stonewalling progress. Conklin questions the evidence and challenges the department’s methods. Something isn’t right.

Arabella wasn’t the intended target.



My Review...

Easy read, well worth the time. Conklin or better known as “R” is a delightful character. One of those ex-cop, I don’t wanna be tied down, softies. When you have such a character and an ocean, you already have me hooked. I liked his easy ways; I wanted to be on the ocean but...I didn’t want to dive, and some people shouldn’t have either.

This was my kind of book. A character somewhat like Travis McGee and yet not...Conklin has his own personality. It’s still one of those mysteries that has everything you want, suspense, interaction between people, dead bodies...well, you get the point.

I don’t know how many other books Davin Goodwin has written. I don’t see others but...I hope he’s working on Book 2 of this as a series.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery

Published by: Oceanview Publishing

Publication Date: April 7, 2020

Number of Pages: 336

ISBN: 1608093832 (ISBN13: 9781608093830)

Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads



Read an excerpt:

With the windows down and the top off, the warm Bonaire-island breeze flowed through the cabin of my four-door Jeep Wrangler. I glanced right, across the sea, savoring the salt-filled air. A brilliant shade of blue—one found only in the Caribbean—filled the cloudless sky.
Living on Bonaire, I never worried about traffic lights or big city hustle and bustle. With fewer crowds and more locals, I considered this tiny island my undiscovered paradise, not yet spoiled by restaurant chains, high-rises, or all-inclusive resorts. Scooters and bicycles were primary transportation for many, while others walked, greeting each other with smiles and waves. The culture, best described as laid-back with an unhurried pace, continued to have that slow, relaxed feel of the old Caribbean.
Unhurried, unspoiled, unforgettable.
My phone rang as I turned left, heading north on the road called Kaya International, toward Kralendijk. Even island life has its flaws.
Damn cell phones.
“Hello, Erika,” I said.
“Hello, R. You are on your way back?”
My full name is Roscoe Conklin. However, most folks refer to me as R. “Yes. Do you need anything?”
“It is Friday,” she said. A Bonaire native, and having lived on the island her entire life, Erika spoke English as a third, maybe fourth, language. As with most of the local population, her speech contained a hint of Dutch accent and reminded me of someone who wanted to sound formal and correct, but sometimes placed words in the wrong order.
“Yes, it is Friday… all day,” I said.
“I must leave early today.”
She had reminded me three times since noon. I smiled, downshifting around a curve.
“I know, I know. You must have a wonderful boss.”
“I did have a wonderful boss. Now I work for you.”
“Yes, you do.” I sighed. “Need anything?”
“I need a raise.”
I shook my head. “Anything else?”
“I do not think so.”
“See you soon.”
A few turns later, I stopped for a road-crossing iguana, or tree chicken as they’re called on Bonaire. It stood in the middle of the lane and swiveled an eye my direction which I considered a gesture of gratitude for saving its life. Even so, this guy had better quicken the pace. Many locals considered iguanas a food source, and one this size—maybe three feet long from head to tail—would be a prized catch.
We studied each other a moment or two, then I beeped the horn, ending our one-sided standoff. The iguana scurried away and found refuge in the roadside underbrush.
I pulled into the parking lot of the YellowRock Resort, which I owned, courtesy of my life savings and a large chunk of my pension. The Resort part, however, was a bit of a misnomer. It was a 10-unit ma-and-pa type hotel with a front reception area and a small apartment upstairs where I lived.
Guilt shot through me knowing the roof leaked in several units, and, scattered along the path, yellow flakes of paint reminded me of some much-needed upkeep. Bonaire is an island for water lovers and, most days, I wished for more time in the sea. Retired, and in no hurry to overwork myself, I struggled to stay ahead of the repairs. Erika seemed her happiest when keeping me busy.
I’d be lost, though, without her.
Before going into the office, I walked around the side of the building. Mounds of dirt, a cement mixing tool, and several wooden forms laid haphazardly around a partially repaired section of the foundation. The mess had cluttered the small side yard between the YellowRock and the building next door for several weeks. Neither the contractor responsible for the work nor any of his crew had bothered to show for work in several days. He wanted more money to finish; I wanted the job completed before paying him another cent. A stalemate like this on Bonaire—on island time—could last for months. Shaking my head, I walked into the guest reception area, which also doubled as the office, on the first floor.
Erika sat behind an old gray desk that reminded me of something from a 1960’s secretarial office. I did my work on an identical one against the back wall, and a third, stacked high with papers and other junk, gathered dust in the corner. The place needed an upgrade, but the retro decor of our cozy office served our function and suited us well.
Erika punched away at a computer keyboard, acting as if she hadn’t seen me enter. Her yellow polo, embroidered with YellowRock Resort on the upper left shoulder, deepened the tint of her dark skin. She refused to tell me her age, but insisted she was older than me “by several years.” I loved her like a big sister, and most of the time, she treated me like a little brother.
With black-rimmed glasses perched halfway down her nose, she rolled her eyes as I walked by her desk. “There are still some papers on your desk that still need your signature,” she said, turning back to her work.
“Hello to you, too.”
I laid a plastic bag on my desk and retrieved a bottle of water—or awa as it’s called in the native language of Papiamento—from the small fridge in the corner. I sat and put my feet on Erika’s desk, playing a game with myself by blocking out most of her face with my size eleven sandals. Her modest afro formed a dark halo around the tops of my toes.
“You still have not fixed the problem with that bathroom light.” She continued to gaze at the computer, not giving me the satisfaction of showing the least bit of aggravation.
I didn’t say anything and hoped she’d look over and see the soles of my sandals.
“The light?” she said.
I decided I’d better answer. “Which unit?” I glanced at the bags I’d placed on my desk. They contained several packages of light bulbs.
“You know which unit.”
“It’s just a light bulb.”
“Then it will be easy to fix, yes?”
“I’ll get it tomorrow.”
She moved her head to look around my sandals. “That is what you said last month about the paint.” She grabbed a small stack of papers, slapped my feet with them and turned back to her work, muttering “hende fresku.”
My Papiamento wasn’t good, but I got the gist of what she said. “What would I do without you?” I lowered my feet to the floor.
Knowing how far to push was most of the fun.
“Don’t forget you have some friends arriving on tomorrow afternoon’s flight,” Erika said. “You’ll need to meet them at the airport.”
“Yup, I remember. Tiffany and her boyfriend.”
She removed her glasses, laid them on the desk, and leaned forward resting on her elbows. “And how does that make you feel?”
I knew what she trolled for but didn’t bite. Tiffany and I had met during a case many years ago and were friends long before I moved to the island. She had visited me on Bonaire in the past and decided to bring her new boyfriend along on this trip.
“I feel fine about it.”
“You know what I mean.” She leaned back in her chair. “When do you plan to introduce her to Arabella?”
“Tiffany is a friend. That’s all she’s ever been. Nothing more, nothing less.” I took a swig of water and wiped my mouth with the back of my arm. Letting out an exaggerated “Ahh,” I concentrated on screwing the cap on the bottle before continuing. “Erika, you think you know more than you actually do.”
“Uh-huh.” She put her glasses back on, grabbed the stack of papers, and walked to the filing cabinet.
Wanting the conversation to end, I stood and headed up the stairs leading from the office to my apartment. “I’m going to take a shower. Have a nice weekend and don’t forget to lock up when you leave.”
Entering my apartment, I went straight to the fridge for a cold beer, my favorite being an Amstel Bright. The advertisements described it as a “Euro Pale Lager,” whatever that meant. Most of the bars and restaurants served it with a slice of lime wedged atop the bottle’s neck. At home, I didn’t waste time slicing limes.
Unlike Jeff “The Big” Lebowski, I liked the Eagles and Creedence, so I popped the Eagles Greatest Hits, Volume 1 into the CD player and sat in front of my computer to check email. Twelve new messages. Eleven went straight to my junk folder, but one had a recognizable address—Marko Martijn, the contractor responsible for the unfinished foundation work. Before I clicked it open, my cell phone rang.
“What’s up, Bella?” I said.
“Hey, Conklin, happy birthday.”
I laughed. “Thanks, but you’re a little early.”
“I know, but since it will be the big five-oh, I thought your memory might slip and needed a reminder.”
“Yeah, that’s funny.” Arabella was from the Netherlands, and I’d found sarcasm doesn’t always work on the Dutch.
“I thought so. I called to see how you are doing.”
“Well… I’m about to take a shower. Want to join me?”
“I wish I could, but I am on my way to work. They called me in to work the desk tonight.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Yes, for both of us. It is that new inspector, Schleper. He thinks we are at his beck and call.”
I walked out on the balcony and sat on a lounger facing the sea. “Yup, sounds familiar.”
“Ach. You think he would give me more respect.” She exhaled a short, hard breath. “I’ve been a cop for ten years on this island. Longer than him!”
Changing the conversation, I asked, “We still running tomorrow morning?”
“You bet. Eight kilometers?”
“If you mean four point nine miles, then yes.”
She laughed. “No, I mean eight kilometers.”
“Ah, forgive me. My measurements are still strictly American.”
“I will forgive you. You are drinking a beer right now?”
“Yup. Need to drink away my sorrows before I shower. Alone.”
“Do not drink too much. I do not want to hear excuses for tomorrow’s run.”
“Maybe one more, then I have some paperwork to do. Or maybe change a lightbulb.”
“Yeah, right. You are drinking, so you will not do more work tonight.
“Hey…”
“I will see you tomorrow. Usual time?”
“Yup. Good night.”
She chuckled. “I will send you a text reminder.”
I seldom read text messages and never answered them, but the phone pinged as soon as I set it down. She’d included the words “old man” as part of the reminder about our run.
The sun had moved closer to the distant horizon, creating an orange aura behind the few low clouds. Palm trees and sunsets. Tough to find a more relaxing setting. I nursed my beer and watched the sparse traffic crawl along the one-lane road that ran between the YellowRock Resort and the sea.
I imagined Erika’s delight in arriving at work in the morning and finding the light fixed. It’d be easy—just a bulb. As I headed towards the stairs to retrieve the bags sitting on my office desk, the landline phone rang; the one used most often for off-island communications. It might’ve been a future guest wanting to make a reservation at the YellowRock or maybe an old friend from the States calling to chat me up about retirement in paradise.
Darkness was settling over the vast, smooth sea and I took a swig of beer, not interested in answering the phone, content with letting voicemail do its job. Besides, the Eagles were telling me to take it easy, and, regardless of the lightbulb, that sounded like a good idea. Arabella was right. I was drinking; my work finished for the night.
Second ring.
Nearby, my banjo sat on its stand. Erika had kept me busy enough lately that practice had eluded me. Picking some tunes sounded good.
Third ring.
Turning around, I noticed my old 7-iron propped in the corner. I hadn’t played golf since moving to Bonaire five years ago but still fed the urge to practice my swing. Make sure my elbow stayed tucked, and the clubface didn’t open.
Fourth ring.
Or I could swap the Eagles CD for Creedence, sit on the balcony, and drink another beer or two or three, watching the sun settle below the horizon. Maybe skip the shower, doze off early, and catch a few Zs to the rhythm of the waves.
Fifth ring.
I could’ve done any of those things but didn’t.
Instead, I went to my desk and answered the phone.
***
Excerpt from Diver's Paradise by Davin Goodwin. Copyright 2020 by Davin Goodwin. Reproduced with permission from Davin Goodwin. All rights reserved.





Author Bio:

Davin Goodwin
My family members have always been epic storytellers. I regularly wrote short stories in high school and college and, later in life, freelanced several articles for trade and industry publications. For years, the idea of writing a novel bounced around in the back of my mind, but never found its way out of the darkness.
My wife, Leslie (Double L), and I have visited the island of Bonaire nearly 30 times over the past 20 years, many of those trips for extended periods. The island is a perfect setting for the style of novel I wanted to write. Yes, the book would be a murder mystery, but I needed a laid-back, slightly exotic setting. And I wanted the book to partially center around scuba diving, an activity Les and I enjoy together as often as possible.
During the Spring of 2010, with mild coaxing from friends and family, the concept of Diver's Paradise came to fruition. However, after close to a year of writing, I gave up, not touching the story for almost six years. In the Spring of 2017, I pulled out the tattered manuscript, rewrote and edited till blue in the face, then endured daily heart palpitations, waiting for submission responses from agents and publishers.
Nine months after my first submission, and after agonizing through a boatload of rejections, Oceanview Publishing—to my good luck—offered a contract. I would be a published author.
Diver’s Paradise launches on April 7, 2020 in Hard Cover and eBook, followed later in paperback.
I enjoy being outdoors when the weather is nice. I don’t particularly like snow and cold weather, which can be problematic dwelling in the frigid, midwestern state of Wisconsin.
Exercise is a passion of mine, although I don’t do it as intensely as in past years. Running, biking, and swimming are my favorites. As of several years ago, golf and I decided that we can no longer be friends.
Through high school and college, I played violin in the orchestras and community ensembles. Much to the chagrin of those close to me, around the age of sixteen I was struck with an uncontrollable desire to play the 5-string banjo. And play I did.
Hours and hours a day.
Everyday.
In 1992, the band I played with at the time, travelled to the Ukraine and performed in the International Kiev Music Festival. I’ve also performed on radio, TV, and recorded on several albums.
I’m 58 years old and live in Madison, WI. Originally from Rockford, IL, I went to college at Arkansas State University in Jonesboro, AR., graduating with a degree in Computer Science. I’m married and have one daughter and one stepson, both grown.
Professionally, I have roughly 30 years’ experience in the technology industry and currently manage a group of software developers for a local, mid-sized company. In the past, I’ve owned several small businesses, worked as an aerial photographer, a semi-professional banjo player, a flight instructor, and a real estate investor.
Future Plans: Continue the Roscoe Conklin series, hopefully, for a long time.

Catch Up With Davin Goodwin On:

DavinGoodwinAuthor.com

Goodreads

BookBub - @dgoodwin7757

Facebook - @authordavingoodwin

Instagram - davin_goodwin_author






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This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Davin Goodwin. There will be 6 winners. Two (2) winners will each win (1) Amazon.com Gift Card; two (2) winners will each win one PRINT copy of DIVER’S PARADISE by Davin Goodwin (US addresses only); and two (2) winners will each receive one EBOOK copy of DIVER’S PARADISE by Davin Goodwin. The giveaway begins on April 6, 2020 and runs through May 9, 2020. Void where prohibited.
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Sunday, April 12, 2020

Merlin Raj and the Santa Algorithm



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn commenter. Click the link to see the other stops on the tour.


My name is Merlin Raj. Usually, I only have to worry about being the best service dog. I help my boy, Matthew, walk at school. But when my human Mom has to go away for winter break, getting ready for the holiday becomes a mess. I might be a super-smart golden retriever who wears glasses, but could I help my best friend with more than a disability?

Gulp.
Will a class on algorithms get me barking up the right Christmas tree?


***

Merlin Raj, The Santa Algorithm is the first installment in the Merlin Raj, Computer Science Service Dog chapter-book series. With a Computer Science degree and a passion for preparing kids for the future, author D. G. Priya blends technology with animal stories to stimulate a desire to read. Each book in the series introduces a new programming skill, complete with study guides for educators. If you or your child like delightful dog tales, practical examples, and accessible learning tools, then you’ll love D. G. Priya’s tail-wagging adventure.


Read an Excerpt

First snow brushed the ground with white. I loved winter. My fur kept me nice and warm on most days. For freezing cold days, my human mother, Mom Raj, had bought me a bright, thermal rain slicker. It was sky blue with a service-animal label.

Blue best matched my golden fur, which I liked to keep well brushed at all times.

Even my glasses were on a stylish athletic band, and they matched Matthew’s glasses. My nose twitched from the cold.


About the Author:
D.G. Priya is the pen name of Bestselling Author Priya Ardis. She obtained her Bachelor’s of Science in Computer Science from the University of Texas at Austin, #6 in the world (Academic Ranking of World Universities, 2014) and #8 (US News, 2020) in Computer Science. Her advocacy of early education in computing and the challenges of childhood disabilities come from her experience as a parent and volunteer. Her love of dog stories comes from the antics of her own golden retriever.







Talk to me!


Website: http://www.dgpriya.com


Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/dgpriya

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/dgpriya

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/priyaardis

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YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/priyaardis

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Thursday, April 9, 2020

No Stone Unturned

No Stone Unturned by Andrea Kane Banner

 

 

No Stone Unturned

by Andrea Kane

on Tour March 16 - April 17, 2020

Synopsis:

No Stone Unturned by Andrea Kane

WHAT IF YOU FOUND YOUR FRIEND DEAD AND FEARED YOU'D BE NEXT?



Jewelry designer Fiona McKay is working on her latest collection of Celtic-inspired jewelry. She's excited by the possibilities uncovered by Rose Flaherty, the antiquities dealer helping her research the heirloom tapestries inspiring her new collection. So when Rose calls to tell her she has answers, Fiona hurries to meet her. But her artistic world is shattered when she finds the lifeless body of the elderly woman.



Why would anyone kill such a harmless person? And what if Fiona had arrived just a few minutes earlier? Would she have been killed as well? Unnerved, she heads for her brother's Brooklyn apartment seeking advice and comfort.



Ryan McKay, Forensic Instincts' technology wiz is not amused by his little sister interrupting his evening with his girlfriend and co-worker, Claire Hedgleigh. But when Ryan and Claire hear the details of Rose's murder, they fear that Fiona could be next, and quickly assume the role of her protectors. What they're unaware of is how many people are desperately seeking the information now buried along with Rose.



A former IRA sniper. A traitorous killer who worked for the British. Two vicious adversaries taking their epic battle to America. A secret Irish hoard as the grand prize in a winner takes all fight to the death.



As the story woven into the tapestries passed down from McKay mother to daughter unravels, Forensic Instincts realizes that Fiona and her family are in grave danger. Together, the team must stay one step ahead of two rival assassins or risk Fiona's life and the McKay family tree.


My Review...
No Stone Unturned is rather like a few of the forensic television shows except…much more enjoyable to watch. I say watch because that’s what it was like to me. With its good development of characters, I felt as if I could see them. The clues and hints made it seem easy to picture one’s surroundings. I thought the back and forth little bit of romance and dialog added even more to the story.

This is the first Andrea Kane book I have read and even though I could tell the characters existed in previous books, I felt this was a very complete story. Can easily be read as a stand-alone. Well worth my reading time.


This is Book 8 in a series titled Forensic Instincts. All of Andrea Kane’s books have good reviews. Worth checking out.


Book Details:

Genre: Suspense Thriller

Published by: Bonnie Meadow Publishing LLC

Publication Date:

Number of Pages: March 17, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-68232-039-

Series: Forensic Instincts

Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads



Read an excerpt:

Slowly, Rose Flaherty made her way over to the front window of her Greenwich Village antique shop, leaning heavily on her cane as she did. Preoccupied with the ramifications of her research findings, she barely took note of the passersby on Bedford Street, most of them headed home for the evening. A few of them glanced in her window, their unpracticed eyes seeing none of the beauty attached to the treasure trove of antiques and antiquities, instead seeing only the dusty surfaces, the random pieces, and odd assortment of furnishings that bespoke unwanted junk from the past.
At seventy-nine years old, Rose had long ago stopped caring what people thought. She knew who and what she was. And she knew it was no accident that her established clientele, many of whom were wealthy and educated in the realm of ancient civilizations—including Egyptian, Etruscan, Roman, Byzantine, Greek, and her beloved Celtic—came to her for her expertise as well as her one-of-a-kind offerings. Her knowledge was vast, her list of contacts vaster still.
The levels of research she performed were always a labor of love. However, her current project was even more than that. It was a thrilling adventure, a fascination of possibilities that transcended anything she’d dealt with in the past.
She couldn’t wait to delve deeper.
Impatiently, she squinted at her watch, barely able to make out the hands without the aid of her glasses, which she’d left somewhere. Ah. Five fifteen. Forty-five minutes to go.
Given the magnitude of her findings, there was just one way to pass the time.
She limped her way over to her Chippendale desk, sliding open the bottom drawer and pulling out the bottle of rare, old Irish whiskey she kept on hand for special clients. It was sinfully expensive. How fortunate that one of her prominent clients, Niall Dempsey, was a wealthy real estate developer who also appreciated fine Irish whiskey and who had been kind enough to gift this to her.
She poured the whiskey into a glass, making sure to put out a second for her client. They certainly had something to toast to. She would just get a wee bit of a head start.
“Rose?” Glenna Robinson, Rose’s assistant, poked her head out of the back room. Glenna was studying archeology at NYU and thoroughly enjoyed her part-time job at the shop. The fragile, white-haired owner was an intellectual wonder. Learning from her was an honor—even if she was becoming a bit more absentminded as she neared eighty. Absentminded about everything except her work. In that precious realm, her mind was like a steel trap.
“Hmmm?” Rose lifted her lips from her glass and turned, initially surprised to see Glenna was still here. Ah, but it wasn’t yet five thirty, and Glenna never left before checking in, so she should have expected to see her shiny young face. Such was the level of Rose’s absorption with the task at hand. “Yes, dear?”
Glenna’s gaze flickered from the glass in Rose’s hand to its mate, sitting neatly beside the whiskey bottle on the desk. “Do you need me to stay late? You mentioned an evening appointment, obviously an important one… even if it’s not in the calendar.”
“It was last minute.” Rose smiled, giving a gentle wave of her hand. “There’s no need for you to stay. This is a meeting, not a transaction. If you’d just collect the mail and drop it off, you can go and enjoy your evening.”
Glenna smiled back, trying not to look as relieved as she felt. Her friends had invited her to join them for pizza and beer. After a long week, that was exactly what she needed. But she wouldn’t leave Rose in the lurch.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Positive. Now run along.”
“Thank you. See you tomorrow afternoon.” Glenna blew Rose a kiss, then retraced her steps into the small back room—the business office, as she and Rose laughingly called it. It was barely larger than a closet, but it served its purpose. Glenna used it to answer phone calls, schedule appointments, email invoices, do reams of paperwork, and keep track of the countless Post-its Rose stuck on every inch of available surface space. She called it Glenna’s to-do list, but Glenna was well aware that the reminders were really for Rose, not for her. All part of Rose’s charm. The Post-it-spotted room contained a jam-packed file cabinet, a rusty metal desk, an on-its- last-legs photocopier, and a computer that Glenna had nicknamed Methuselah because it was older than time. Still, it was enough for their needs and Rose didn’t know how to use it anyway. That was part of Glenna’s job. She’d been doing it since she was sixteen, and she had no desire to go elsewhere.
She scooped up the stack of mail and was about to leave when she spotted a manila envelope propped up against the outbox with the name of the addressee penned on it in Rose’s neat hand. No street address. No postage.
Typical forgetful Rose.
Recognizing the client’s name, Glenna quickly scanned their contacts list, found the requisite address, printed it on a label that she adhered to the envelope, and carefully marked the parcel: hand cancel. She’d take care of the postage at the post office. Jimmy would move the process along. He was an efficient postal worker with a wild crush on her. She’d be in and out in a flash.
After tucking the envelope beneath the rest of the mail, she shut down Methuselah for the night, then grabbed her lightweight jacket and left the shop.
The tinkling sound of the bells over the door echoed behind her.
Twenty minutes later, they tinkled again.
Rose had been sitting in a chair midway in the shop, her back turned to the entrance as she sipped her whiskey and stared idly at the marble fireplace that stayed lit year-round to ward off dampness and mildew. Hearing the bells, she reached for her cane and came to her feet, surprised but delighted. Her client was early.
She turned, a greeting freezing on her lips.
It wasn’t a client who had come for her.
***
Excerpt from No Stone Unturned by Andrea Kane. Copyright 2019 by Andrea Kane. Reproduced with permission from Andrea Kane. All rights reserved.





Author Bio:

Andrea Kane
Andrea Kane is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of thirty novels, including sixteen psychological thrillers and fourteen historical romantic suspense titles. With her signature style, Kane creates unforgettable characters and confronts them with life-threatening danger. As a master of suspense, she weaves them into exciting, carefully-researched stories, pushing them to the edge―and keeping her readers up all night.
Kane’s first contemporary suspense thriller, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, became an instant New York Times bestseller. She followed with a string of bestselling psychological thrillers including NO WAY OUT, TWISTED and DRAWN IN BLOOD.
Her latest in the highly successful Forensic Instincts series, NO STONE UNTURNED, showcases the dynamic, eclectic team of maverick investigators as they solve a seemingly impossible case while narrowly avoiding an enraged law enforcement frustrated over Forensic Instincts’ secretive and successful interference in a murder case. The first showcase of Forensic Instincts’ talents came with the New York Times bestseller, THE GIRL WHO DISAPPEARED TWICE, followed by THE LINE BETWEEN HERE AND GONE, THE STRANGER YOU KNOW, THE SILENCE THAT SPEAKS, THE MURDER THAT NEVER WAS, A FACE TO DIE FOR, and DEAD IN A WEEK.
Kane’s beloved historical romantic suspense novels include MY HEART’S DESIRE, SAMANTHA, ECHOES IN THE MIST, and WISHES IN THE WIND.
With a worldwide following of passionate readers, her books have been published in more than twenty languages. Kane lives in New Jersey with her husband and family. She’s an avid crossword puzzle solver and a diehard Yankees fan.

Catch Up With Andrea Kane:

AndreaKane.com, Goodreads, Twitter, & Facebook!




Check out Fiona McKay Jewelry:   fionamckayjewelry.com



Tour Participants:

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Enter The Giveaway!!:

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Andrea Kane. There will be 6 winners for this tour. One winner will receive (1) Amazon.com Gift Card and 5 winners will receive No Stone Unturned by Andrea Kane (eBook). The giveaway begins on March 16, 2020 and runs through April 19, 2020. Void where prohibited.
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