Friday, November 30, 2018



Twas the week before Christmas and all through the village, the night settled in over swirling-smoke chimneys; the air was alive with pine and holly, with sugar and cinnamon and cider, by golly!
Along snowy lanes and through shadows it crept, past windows behind which each villager slept, where sleeping dogs lie and cats rest a’purring.

Tonight, in Christmas Village, a killer is stirring.

Welcome to Christmas Village, a magical hamlet where even in December the roses hold their luster and bees buzz among the bluebells. You’re just in time for the week-long Christmas Festival, and nowhere is Christmas celebrated with such unrestrained merriment as the village which bears its name. Mayor Cobblestone and Sheriff Fell will be somewhere nearby, doing all they can to make sure you’re safe during your stay.

Provided you haven’t booked a room at Plum Cottage.

Nestled betwixt an opulent garden with meandering footpaths and an ancient grove of plum trees, Rose Willoughby’s boarding house is plum-full with lodgers. There are no vacancies, but just wait. Soon there will be one…and another…and another.

Presently lodging at the cottage are: the juggler, the acrobat, the magician, the psychic, the strongman, the manager, and the pretty assistant. In town as festival entertainment they’ve each brought their own bag of tricks. And a closet full of skeletons.

When the entertainers begin dying in inexplicable ways, some villagers believe a beast from old village lore is the culprit. The sheriff knows better, but he’s just as helpless to catch the invisible killer as are the town folk with their eyes to the sky in search of a flying creature. But our mysterious murderer hasn’t counted on yet another lodger coming to the cottage: Maribel Claus.

Short as a stump, round as a wheel, sweet as a candy cane, and a sharp as a whip, Maribel loves a good puzzle. But has she finally met her match at Plum Cottage?

Can you figure out whodunit before Maribel does? If you’re up to the challenge, here’s your first clue—the key to unlocking the secret of the murderer’s identity lies in figuring out how the murders were committed. Good luck!

If you’re looking for a fun, baffling read that’s cozier and more mysterious than the usual fare, replete with diagrams of the murder scenes and a one-of-a-kind BOOK GROUP CHALLENGE, then Slay Bells is the perfect gift to buy yourself this Christmas.

Book Details:

Title: Slay Bells

Author’s name: T.C. Wescott

Genre: Cozy mystery

Series: A Christmas Village Mystery, book 1

Publisher: Better Mousetrap Books (November 24, 2018)

Print length: 273 pages

On tour with: Great Escapes Book Tours


A few of your favorite things: Christmas, Halloween, fresh air, history, my dogs, cats, and ferret!
Things you need to throw out: Old clothes, but I’ll donate them instead.

Things you need in order to write: My computer and a comfortable seat.
Things that hamper your writing: An uncomfortable seat and an uncooperative computer. And sometimes the TV. I struggle between wanting the background noise and getting sucked into a program. 

Things you love about writing: The creative process. Challenging myself. And those rare moments when I write a line that dives a little deeper into the emotional pool.
Things you hate about writing: Editing and proofreading. Ugh. A necessary evil but it’s the opposite of fun. And it keeps me from writing!

Easiest thing about being a writer: Reading back what you have written and realizing it was better than you thought. That never gets old.
Hardest thing about being a writer:
The fact that it’s a solitary vocation and by virtue of that you are taken away from everyone and everything else. 

Things you love about where you live: Pretty much anything I could need or want is within two miles of my home. If you read my Running Store Mystery books I’m describing the town in which I live, except that I change the names of the businesses. Living in one of the top-rated small towns in America means I don’t have to tax my imagination at all to conjure up the small-town vibe and can instead put my ‘little gray cells’ towards the matters of murder and mystery.
Things that make you want to move: Tornadoes. I haven’t personally seen one yet, but at least once a year I have to crouch at the bottom of my stairwell while listening to sirens go off.

Things you never want to run out of: Ideas! And readers. What good is an idea without someone to share it with?
Things you wish you’d never bought: The elliptical machine in my living room that murdered my legs and now serves as the clunkiest coat rack you’ve ever seen.

Words that describe you: Ambitious, creative, sweet, compassionate, obnoxious.
Words that describe you but you wish they didn’t: Distracted.

Favorite foods: Spaghetti, Rib eye steak, BBQ ribs, mac & cheese.
Things that make you want to throw up: Raw fish, raw beef, sauerkraut.

Favorite music: KISS, Sarah McLachlan, Warrant, Jim Croce. Don’t judge!
Music that make your ears bleed: 90% of Top 40 songs from the past several years.

Favorite beverage: Water!

Something that gives you a pickle face: Lemonade made by someone who’s never made lemonade before.

Favorite smell: A garden in the spring.

Something that makes you hold your nose: My ferret’s little surprise packages.

Something you’re really good at: Playing guitar.

Something you’re really bad at: I can’t draw a straight line with a ruler.

Something you wish you could do: Draw, paint, sing.
Something you wish you’d never learned to do: Learning is never a bad thing!

Something you like to do: Aside from write? Reading always tops the list.

Something you wish you’d never done: I went with the lowest bidder on a bathroom remodel. Went an entire month with no bathtub. Always go with a middle-range bid!

People you consider as heroes: Those who leave a field better than when they found it. Take it seriously, learn to do it well, and do your best to do it better than others. And encourage others to do the same along the way. 

People with a big L on their foreheads: Hypocrisy is always obvious. If you talk the talk you should walk the walk, or else risk waking one morning with the dreaded scarlet ‘L’ on your forehead.

Last best thing you ate: Rib eye steak at Outback!

Last thing you regret eating: Blue cheese wedge salad at Outback.

Things you’d walk a mile for: Exercise, to vote, and to get food for my pets.
Things that make you want to run screaming from the room: Big spiders, housework, corrections from my editor!

Things you always put in your books: Murders, humor, life.

Things you never put in your books: Swear words, sex, gory descriptions.

Favorite genre: Classic mystery from the 1920s to 1960s. 

Books you would ban: Books hurriedly written, with not even a modicum of proofreading, and uploaded to Amazon with generic covers and with the mistaken notion that readers aren’t savvy.

Favorite things to do: Write, read, walk beside the lake and along a wooded path, visit old and even abandoned buildings, and, of course, pet animals!

Things you’d run through a fire wearing gasoline pants to get out of doing: Proofreading another writer’s work. I don’t envy my own editor!

Best thing you’ve ever done: Take the plunge into writing longform works.

Biggest mistake: Not starting my writing career in my 20s when I first got the bug.

The last thing you did for the first time: I flew on an airplane by myself this year! Yeah, I know, like I’m 10 or something. But it was a first for me.

Something you’ll never do again: Buy cheap shoes!


T.C. Wescott was born in Missouri but has lived in Oklahoma most of his life. Like pretty much every author who has ever breathed, he is an avid reader. His favorites are classic mysteries from the Golden Age, as well as just before or just after that period (which is widely considered the period between the two World Wars). His first mystery novel, Running from Scissors, was published in July 2018 and will be the first of at least three books in the Running Store Mystery series.

The Christmas Village Mystery series will launch in November of the same year with the debut title Slay Bells. The formula for his books is simple - mixing the classic, traditional detective fiction standards with all the trappings of the modern cozy mystery.

Wescott is also (under his full name) the author of two award-winning non-fiction books as well as a slew of essays and articles.  

Connect with the author:

  |   Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads

Buy the book:


Wednesday, November 28, 2018



Professional pet sitter Daphne Templeton loves the holidays in Sylvan Creek, Pennsylvania. And nothing gets her into the spirit more than the town’s annual Bark the Halls Ball. The whole community will be there to wag their tails, especially this year’s special guest—Celeste “CeeCee” French, founder of a national chain of pet care franchises, who’s returning home to announce plans for a bright new flagship store.

But not everyone’s celebrating CeeCee’s homecoming. Daphne’s friend Moxie Bloom, owner of Spa and Paw, a unique salon for people and their pets, has plenty to growl about. So when CeeCee is found face down under Sylvan Creek's town Christmas tree, stabbed with a distinctive pair of professional-grade pet shears, suspicion lands squarely on Moxie. Despite Daphne’s promises to Detective Jonathan Black, she quickly reprises her role as amateur sleuth. Ably assisted by her basset hound sidekick, Socrates, she must hurry to prove her friend’s innocence before a killer barks again . . .

Book Details:

Title: A Midwinter’s Tail

Author’s name: Bethany Blake

Genre: Cozy mystery

Publisher: Kensington (November 27, 2018)

Print length: 324 pages

On tour with: Great Escapes Book Tours


A few of your favorite things: A sparkly little snowman who holds my paperclips.
Things you need to throw out: Old journals with ideas I’ve rejected.

Things you need in order to write: Music and coffee.
Things that hamper your writing: Finding the right music and going for more coffee.

Things you love about writing: Creating fun worlds filled with characters who become like friends.
Things you hate about writing: Deadlines and more deadlines.

Favorite foods: French fries, pizza and pasta.
Things that make you want to throw up: The slimy rice-paper wrappers on spring rolls.

Favorite smell: Sandalwood.

Something that makes you hold your nose: My dog’s face after she gets skunked – which keeps happening!

Something you’re really good at: Parallel parking.

Something you’re really bad at: Using a computer when someone is watching.

Last best thing you ate: No-knead homemade bread from a recipe I found on the Internet.

Last thing you regret eating: A whole bunch of “Mexican hot chocolate Chex Mix.” It was so delicious, but I gained two pounds!

Favorite places you’ve been: India, Italy and England.

Places you never want to go to again: My attic! There are squirrels up there, and they aren’t friendly!

Favorite things to do: Reading, cooking and writing
Things you’d run through a fire wearing gasoline pants to get out of doing: Laundry. Thankfully, my teenagers are very good at it!

Proudest moment: Probably when I earned my Ph.d., and my daughters were in the audience cheering their old mom!
Most embarrassing moment:
I rolled out of a chair at a job interview, doing a complete backward somersault. No one told me it was broken.



 Moxie Bloom might’ve been caught off guard by the unexpected appearance of an imperious and wealthy, not to mention impeccably dressed and perfectly coiffed, high school bully, who wasn’t supposed to arrive in Sylvan Creek before the Bark the Halls ball, according to Moxie’s rumor mill. Yet I had to give my best friend credit for grace under pressure when CeeCee French rudely brought up cheating with Moxie's old boyfriend - a topic that most people would’ve been ashamed to mention.

“How have you been, Celeste?” Moxie asked politely, her voice level but her chin high. She wisely ignored CeeCee’s reference to Mike Cavanaugh, whom Moxie certainly did remember. She forced a smile, trying hard to be kind. “It’s been a long time.”     

CeeCee took a moment to coolly survey the lobby, her angular jaw jutting as she absently stroked her poodle with long, red-tipped fingers. Her toes, encased in sharply pointed, distinctive crimson shoes that contrasted with her black, form-fitting shift, tapped the thick carpet, as if she was already impatient with the whole affair. I supposed that I should’ve been awed by our multi-millionaire classmate, but, to be honest, I couldn’t muster more than mild curiosity and a bit of disappointment to learn that she was still arrogant, and, let’s face it, mean.

“Yes, it has been a while,” CeeCee finally agreed, again looking Moxie and me up and down, her cool gaze taking in Moxie’s vintage outfit and my old barn jacket. “And I find that nothing’s changed.” The corners of her lips twisted upward, and she got a knowing, almost secretive gleam in her dark eyes. “At least, nothing’s changed... yet.” 

Excerpt from A Midwinter's Tail, reprinted with permission from Bethany Blake.


Bethany Blake lives in a small, quaint town in Pennsylvania with her husband and three daughters. When she's not writing or riding horses, she's wrangling a menagerie of furry family members that includes a nervous pit bull, a fearsome feline, a blind goldfish, and an attack cardinal named Robert. Like Daphne Templeton, the heroine of her Lucky Paws Mysteries, Bethany holds a Ph.D. and operates a pet sitting business called Barkley’s Premium Pet Care.

Connect with Bethany:
Website  |  Facebook Twitter  |  Goodreads

Buy the book:
Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble

Monday, November 26, 2018



The son of a notorious Nazi fugitive is running for U.S. President. A Secret Service agent sworn to protect him meets a beautiful Mossad spy determined to stop him.

Book Details:

Title: The Devil’s Son

Author: Charles Kowalski

Genre: Thriller (political/espionage)

Publisher: Seabridge Press (July 27, 2018)

Print length: 345 pages

On tour with: Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours


Q: Where’s home for you?

A: I’m a writer in exile, having spent most of the last 20 years in Japan.

Q: What do you love about where you live?
A: The richness of the language and culture, that you could spend a lifetime studying and still barely scratch the surface. (Not to mention safety, convenience, and universal healthcare!)

Q: What is the most daring thing you've done?
A: Driving a rental car through Jerusalem Old City while researching Mind Virus. (And I lived to tell the tale.)

Q: What’s one thing you wish your younger writer self knew?
A: My answers to this question and the question, "What choices would you like a re-do on?" are essentially the same. I would like to talk to my younger self, toying with the idea of someday becoming a serious writer, grab him by the collar and say, “What the hell are you waiting for?”

Q: Do you have another job outside of writing?
A: I teach English at a university near Tokyo.

Q: Would you rather be a lonely genius, or a sociable idiot?

A lonely genius. (I already know how it feels to be lonely, so it would be nice to try the genius part on for size.)

Q: What’s one of your favorite quotes?
A: "A writer is a world trapped in a person.” – Victor Hugo

Q: If you could live anywhere in the world, where in the world would it be?

Ideally, I’d have a pied-a-terre near Washington, DC – just for convenience when researching political thrillers – and a writer’s retreat on Mount Desert Island, Maine.

Q: What would you like people to say about you after you die?
A: I’d like them to say that a book of mine made a difference in their lives. (And I’d like to go on living, and writing, long enough that they’ll have plenty to choose from!)

Q: What would your main character say about you?
A: I doubt she would take much notice of me. She’s way out of my league.

Q: How did you create the plot for this book?
A: For the past couple of years, I had a plot in the back of my mind involving a Secret Service agent who comes to realize that his two mandates of upholding the Constitution and protecting the President are mutually incompatible. That story, however, never really came together in a way that satisfied me. Then, while I was visiting the States last summer and saw the news from Charlottesville, another idea occurred to me: “What if the President were a Nazi – as in a real one, on the run from the Mossad?” At first, I dismissed that as unfeasible; he would be too old and ineligible for the presidency if he wasn’t a natural-born citizen. But the idea wouldn’t leave me alone, and I started thinking about taking the conflict into the next generation: the son of a Nazi fugitive vs. the child (I eventually decided on daughter) of the old, washed-out Nazi hunter who narrowly missed him. Then it occurred to me that these two plots could be combined, to make a tale of intrigue pitting the Mossad against the U.S. Secret Service. After that, the story practically wrote itself.

Q: Are any of your characters inspired by real people?
A: Any similarity to any actual persons, events, or presidents is purely coincidental.

Q: I see! Is your book based on real events?
A: Real events have caught up with the book – and overtaken it, in frightening ways that I couldn’t have foreseen. As C.S. Lewis once said, “The trouble with writing satire is that the real world always anticipates you, and things that were meant as exaggerations turn out to be nothing of the sort.”

Q: Who are your favorite authors?
A: I’ve been inspired by other writers of thrillers with a religious angle, like Dan Brown and Daniel Silva. I’ve also been encouraged by other Japan-based thriller writers whose scope has expanded worldwide, like Barry Eisler and Barry Lancet; I hope I can do the same, even though my name isn’t Barry!

Q: What’s one pet peeve you have when you read?
A: Since I live in Japan, I often get annoyed with writers who set stories here and get details of the language and culture wrong. Research, people! (But if I say that too loud, I’m sure someone will catch me on some similar solecism with Israel in The Devil's Son!)

Q: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received about your writing?

One reader described her experience of reading Mind Virus: “It’s one AM already? Oh…one more paragraph!”

Q: What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to write?
The application for my mortgage.

Q: You can be any fictional character for one day. Who would you be?

Harry Potter, especially if it can be a day when he has a vial of Felix Felicis (the “liquid luck” potion).

Q: Good choice! What would your dream office look like?

It would be a quiet place in the woods, with a view of the sea – that’s the Mainer in me – and it would have plenty of room to pace, because I think better when I’m up and moving than when I’m sitting in a chair staring at a screen. In the winter, a fireplace would be a big plus.

Q: What are you working on now?
A: After two highly charged, research-intensive thrillers, Mind Virus and The Devil's Son, I’m working on something lighter and hopefully non-controversial: a middle-grade historical fantasy set in 17th-century Japan, featuring Simon Grey, an English boy who runs away to sea to escape from his “gift” of seeing ghosts.



Azriel “Azi” Horowitz grimaced as his partner’s Zippo flared in the darkness beside him. He had never been a smoker, and in the confines of the Ford Mainline – a clunker, but the best rental they could find, and not out of place in the working-class Olivos neighborhood in Partido Vicente Lopez – the fumes from the Lucky Strikes nauseated him.
“Yaki, you know I have a little problem with noxious gases in closed spaces.”
Yaakov Lavan shrugged, with his usual easygoing grin. “We’re just two old friends having a chat, right, Azi? And we have to do it in the car, because my wife won’t let me smoke near the baby.”
Horowitz had to concede the point, although he still thought it was a rather thin cover story. One small mercy of operating in Argentina was that the sight of two men conversing in a parked car at night was not altogether uncommon, but every little extra touch of realism they could add was vital. If anyone accosted them, they would have a lot more explaining to do than either of them could manage in Spanish.
Lavan took a deep drag from his cigarette, held it for a moment, and slowly exhaled a white cloud with a look of supreme contentment. As much as Horowitz hated the smell of tobacco, he felt a touch of envy for his partner, and wished he had some similarly portable means of calming his own nerves. His mind continually flitted over the long journey that had brought them to this moment – the years of detective work that had traced their targets to Argentina, the months of secretly stalking and planning in their theater of operations – and all the hundreds of things that could still go wrong.
In addition to the unease in his mind, Horowitz felt another kind in his body: he desperately needed a bathroom break. Thanks to one of the men they were waiting for, his kidneys had stopped growing at the age of seven.
Their targets called themselves Carlos Vasquez and José Mendoza, and had the identity cards to prove it, but Horowitz had first made their acquaintance under different names. One was SS Hauptsturmführer Karl Weiss, #7278, the sadistic Lagerführer – deputy commandant – of Auschwitz. The other, holding the same SS rank, was Josef Mengele, #317885, a living desecration of the title of “doctor.” Anyone who had ever passed through the gates of Auschwitz knew him by yet another name: der Totesengel, the Angel of Death.
If all goes well, Horowitz thought, tonight will be a night for the history books. With luck and the blessing of the Almighty, they would soon have their targets in hand and be on their way to the safe house code-named Tira – “castle” in Hebrew – where Mengele and Weiss would go straight into an improvised holding cell, to join the worst of the worst: SS Obersturmbannführer Adolf Eichmann, “the Master,” architect of the Holocaust, personally responsible for the murder of millions.
The Israeli government naturally regarded Eichmann as the grand prize, but Horowitz had a personal score to settle with Mengele and Weiss. As soon as the cattle car arrived in Auschwitz, Weiss had sent Horowitz’s mother and father directly to the gas chambers, but knowing Mengele’s notorious fascination with twins, kept Azriel and his sister Rachel alive as subjects for his experiments. Mengele had tried to change Rachel’s eye color by injecting her eyeballs with a substance that left her blind, and then infected her with typhus, keeping a careful record of her wasting away. When her end was near, rather than let the disease claim her, Mengele passed her on to Weiss, who used her in one final experiment to see how long it would take to die from a new type of lethal injection.
It had taken twelve minutes and nineteen seconds before she stopped screaming.
“Look,” came Lavan’s voice, bringing Horowitz sharply back to the present. “Is that them?”
Horowitz gazed through the windshield and saw two figures staggering tipsily along the route from the Hofbräuhaus, the German restaurant Mengele and Weiss were known to frequent, towards the guest house where they lived. At first, the darkness and distance made it impossible to make out their features. Then they stepped into the light of a street lamp, and Horowitz risked a quick glance through his binoculars. At the sight of their faces, he felt a sudden burning pain in his left forearm.
Fifteen years had passed since Horowitz last saw those faces, but there could be no mistaking the granite jaw and ice-blue eyes of Weiss. Nor was there any doubt about the gap-toothed smile that gave Mengele the appearance of a little boy – one who delighted in torturing anything smaller and weaker than himself. Many children in Auschwitz had seen that smile on the face of their self-proclaimed “Uncle Josef” as he sat them on his knee, gave them sweets, stroked their hair – and in a soft, soothing voice, ordered an aide to inject them with poison.
“It’s them,” Horowitz said.
“You’re sure?”
Lavan stubbed out his cigarette. He turned around in the driver’s seat, pointed a hooded flashlight at the car behind them, and gave it two quick on-off bursts. The crew in the second car would relay the signal to Tabor and Rosen, who were waiting around the corner.
Right on cue, they appeared a moment later, Tabor in a suit and fedora, Rosen in a coat that would allow her ample freedom of movement. They sauntered toward Mengele and Weiss, with the same relaxed, unsteady gait as their targets, pretending to be absorbed in conversation, occasionally leaning on each other for support. To all appearances, they were a couple coming home from a party with a few too many drinks under their belts, too wrapped up in each other to take much notice of their surroundings.
They would maintain this masquerade until they passed their targets, right between the two cars. Then they would turn and grab them from behind, as the driver of the rear car switched on the high beams to blind them. Horowitz, and the other strongman in the rear car, would jump out and help Tabor and Rosen subdue their targets and bundle one of them into each car. They would apply an ether mask to knock them out, and the two cars would take off on separate routes to Tira, where they and their captives would stay until the plane was ready to take them all back to Israel.
And then, Horowitz thought, all the stories you thought would lie buried with your victims will be told to the world, from a courtroom in Jerusalem. The world will know what we mean when we say, “Never forget.”
He pulled on a pair of gloves. The May night was chill enough to warrant them, but more than that, he might have to use his hand to muffle Weiss’s screams. It revolted him to think of his bare hands touching the mouth that had ordered his parents gassed and his sister tortured to death.
Tabor and Rosen were fifty paces away from their targets and closing.
Forty paces.
Horowitz heard the roar of a motorcycle approaching from behind. He tensed, and took an anxious glance in the rear-view mirror. The last thing they needed at this moment was for the police to pass by. The upcoming celebrations for Argentina’s hundred-fiftieth anniversary, which had all of Buenos Aires in a festive mood, had proven to be a double-edged sword for Horowitz and his team. The diplomatic entourage from Israel, one of many visiting from all over the world, had provided the perfect cover, but the influx of high-level international visitors also meant the constant menace of police patrols and checkpoints. The Mossad team was conducting this operation without the knowledge or approval of the Argentine government, and if they were found out, they might well go to jail. And, far worse, their targets might well go free.
The motorcycle passed by the lead car. Horowitz took a sidelong glance and saw no police insignia, just a single rider driving rather unsteadily. He breathed a little easier, but his heart was still pounding.
Twenty paces.
“Get ready to meet the real Angel of Death, you sons of bitches,” Horowitz muttered aloud.

Excerpt from The Devil's Son by Charles Kowalski.  Copyright © 2018 by Charles Kowalski. Reproduced with permission from Charles Kowalski. All rights reserved.


Charles Kowalski is an active member of International Thriller Writers. His debut thriller, Mind Virus, won the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers' Colorado Gold Award, and was a finalist for Killer Nashville's Silver Falchion Award for Best Thriller of 2017. His latest, The Devil's Son, was shortlisted for the 2018 Adventure Writers' Competition Grandmaster Award. He divides his time between Japan, where he teaches at a university, and Downeast Maine.

Connect with Charles:

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads

Buy the book:

Saturday, November 24, 2018



In this latest enthralling mystery from #1 bestselling author Bruce Robert Coffin, Detective Sergeant John Byron faces the greatest challenge of his career.

When a popular high school senior is shot by police following a late night robbery, chaos ensues. The actions of the officer are immediately called into question. Amid community protests, political grandstanding, department leaks, and reluctant witnesses, Byron and his team must work quickly to find the missing pieces.

And when an attempt is made on the officer’s life, Byron shifts into overdrive, putting everything on the line. Was the attack merely retribution or something more sinister? The search for the truth may come at a price not even Byron can afford.

Book Details:

Title: Beyond the Truth

Author: Bruce Robert Coffin

Genre: Police Procedural/Mystery
Series: Detective Byron mystery series, book 3

Publisher: HarperCollins/Witness Impulse (October 30, 2018)

Print length: 416 pages

On tour with: Partners in Crime Book Tours


Q: What’s the story behind the title of your book? 

I give each of my novels a title with a double meaning. The first was Among the Shadows, the second was Beneath the Depths, and this one is Beyond the Truth. Beyond the Truth is a story that begins with a police shooting of a popular high school athlete. As with many of today’s high profile police shootings, the truth is often what we don’t see.

Q: Tell us about your series. Is this book a standalone, or do readers need to read the series in order? 

My series is the Detective Byron mystery series. My protagonist, John Byron, is the detective sergeant who overseas the homicide investigations in Portland, Maine (coincidentally the very job I retired from). Beyond the Truth is the third novel in the series, and while I do write the books to allow them to be standalone stories I have intentionally built in character arcs which make reading the series in order beneficial.

Q: Where’s home for you? 

I live in the great state of Maine, where I have resided all of my life. Perhaps one of the best things about living in Maine is that we get to enjoy four distinct seasons per year.

Q: What’s the most valuable thing you’ve learned? 

: Never give up.

Q: What’s one thing you wish your younger writer self knew? 

At one point I truly believed that my dream of publishing a novel was dead. I wish I had known that the dream would one day come true.

Q: What makes you nervous? 

: Deadlines.

Q: What scares you? 

Missing deadlines.

Q: Besides making deadlines, what makes you happy? 

Spending time with my wife.

Q: Who are you?

I’m still trying to figure that out.

Q: How did you meet your wife? Was it love at first sight? 

We met while working at a local supermarket back in 1981. I don’t know if it was love at first sight, but there was definitely something about her…

Q: What are your most cherished mementoes? 

I keep a lucky stone on my writing desk. The stone was given to me by a friend after Mary, a mutual friend of ours, died of cancer. Mary, who travelled to Ireland more times than I could count, convinced me to go to Ireland back in 1998. Mary brought the stone back from one of those trips. Whenever I pick the stone up, I think of Mary and her infectious laugh. I can’t help but smile.

Q: If you could only save one thing from your house, what would it be? 

: The partially completed manuscript for Byron 4!

Q: What’s one of your favorite quotes? 

Once while hiking on the Appalachian Trail I met a thru hiker with the trail name Jingles. We were discussing the various methods for treating drinking water when Jiggles announced that he treated his water with respect. I’ve always found that to be both humorous and sound advice.

Q: If you could live anywhere in the world, where in the world would it be? 

Right here in Maine. Unless it was winter. In winter I’d live in Florida.

Q: What would you like people to say about you after you die? 

That I made them laugh.

Q: What would your Detective Byron say about you? 

: Well, based solely on the demons I’ve bestowed on him, nothing fit for print.

Q: Is your book based on real events? 

No. Beyond the Truth is entirely fictional, but it contains elements that make it feel very real.

Q: Who are your favorite authors? 

: Stephen King, James Lee Burke, and Kate Flora.

Q: What book are you currently reading and in what format? 

Widowmaker by Paul Doiron, the hardcover.

Q: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received about your writing? 

#1 New York Times bestselling author Douglas Preston called the Detective Byron mystery series one of the finest to arrive in a long time. Pretty tough to top that.

Q: Wow. Absolutely. What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to write? 

: The current novel, Beyond the Truth. I had to dig deep into my own personal experiences on this novel. It was quite emotional to write.

Q: You can be any fictional character for one day. Who would you be? 

Probably Robert B. Parker’s Spenser.

Q: Excellent choice! What would your dream office look like?

: Like my current office, only less cluttered.

Q: What are you working on now?

Detective Byron #4, tentatively titled Within Plain Sight.


Veteran Portland police officer Sean Haggerty trudged across the deserted parking lot beneath the bright sodium arc lights of the 7-Eleven. His breath condensed into small white clouds before drifting away on the frigid night air. The thin layer of ice and snow covering the pavement crunched under his highly polished jump-boots as he approached the idling black and white. Only two more hours until the end of his overtime. After four months in his new assignment as School Resource Officer for Portland High School, it felt good to be back in a patrol car, even if it was only one shift. Balancing a large styrofoam coffee cup atop his clipboard, he was reaching for the cruiser keys on his belt when static crackled from his radio mic.
“Any unit in the area of Washington Avenue near the Bubble Up Laundromat please respond,” the dispatcher said.
The Bubble Up was in Haggerty’s assigned area, less than a half mile up the street, but Dispatch still listed him as busy taking a shoplifting report. Someone had snatched a twelve pack of beer.
Haggerty unlocked the door to the cruiser then keyed the mic.
“402, I'm clear the 10-92 at 27 Washington. I can cover that.”
“Ten four, 402,” the dispatcher said. “Standby. 401.”
“401, go.”
“And 421.”
“Go ahead.”
Haggerty knew whatever this was, it was a priority. Dispatch did not send two line units and a supervisor for just any call.
“402, 401, and 421, all three units respond to the Bubble Up Laundry at 214 Washington Avenue for an armed 10-90 that just occurred.”
As Haggerty scrambled into the cruiser, the styrofoam cup tumbled to the pavement, spilling its contents. The coffee froze almost instantly.
“Dammit,” Haggerty said.
He tossed his clipboard onto the passenger seat, then climbed in. Allowing for the possibility of a quick exit, he ignored the seatbelt requirement and threw the shift lever into Drive. He powered down his portable radio and reached for the microphone clipped to the dashboard. “402, en route.”
“421 and 401 responding from the west end,” the sergeant said, acknowledging the call for both backup units.
Haggerty pulled out of the lot onto Washington Avenue, and headed outbound toward Tukey’s Bridge. He drove without lights or siren, in hopes of catching the suspects by surprise.
“402,” Haggerty said, his eyes scanning the dark sidewalks and alleys. “Any description or direction of travel?”
“Ten four, 402. We have the victim on the phone. Suspects are described as two masked males. Suspect number one was wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans, carrying a dark colored backpack. Suspect two was dressed in dark pants and a red hoodie, with some kind of emblem on it. Unknown direction of travel.”
“Is the victim injured?” Haggerty asked, trying to decide whether to go directly to the scene, securing the laundromat, or take a quick spin around the area first to try and locate the suspects.
“Negative, 402,” the dispatcher said. “Just shaken up.”
“What was the weapon used?”
“Standby, 402.”
Haggerty caught a flash of red up ahead in the beam of the cruiser’s headlights as two figures darted from his right across Washington Avenue down Madison Street. He accelerated, flicked on the emergency lights and siren, and keyed the dash mic again.
“402, I have a visual on the two suspects near Washington and Madison. They just rabbited into Kennedy Park.”
“Ten four. 401 and 421, copy?” the dispatcher said.
Braking hard, Haggerty spun the steering wheel left, making the turn onto Madison. He knew if he didn’t stay right on them that he would lose them among the project’s many apartments and row houses. The hooded figures sprinting down the hill were already several hundred feet ahead. He punched the gas and the cruiser shot after them. He was beginning to close the gap when they cut left in front of an oncoming car onto Greenleaf Street.
“Greenleaf toward East Oxford,” he shouted into the mic, trying to be heard above the wail of his cruiser’s siren as he raced through the built-up residential neighborhood.
The Ford skidded wide as he turned onto Greenleaf. Haggerty fought the urge to over-steer, waiting until the cruiser’s front tires found purchase on a bare patch of pavement and it straightened out.
The two figures were clearer now, about fifty feet ahead. He was nearly on top of them when they turned again, west, running between rows of apartment buildings.
“They just cut over toward Monroe Court,” Haggerty said.
“Ten four,” the dispatcher said. “421 and 401, copy?”
“Copy,” 421 acknowledged.
Haggerty accelerated past the alley the suspects had taken, hoping to cut them off by circling the block and coming out ahead of them on East Oxford Street. He turned right onto Oxford just in time to see them run across the road and duck between yet another set of row houses.
He rode the brake, and the pulse of the anti-lock mechanism pushed back against his foot. The black and white felt as if it were speeding up. Ice. Shit. The rear end started to swing to the right toward a line of parked cars. He eased off the brake and the Ford straightened out but was now headed directly toward a snowbank in front of the alley—an ice bank, really. Still traveling about five miles per hour, the black and white smashed into it with a crunch. Haggerty jumped from the car and gave chase, the door still open, the siren still blaring. He would have to answer for a mangled squad car later, but there was no time to think of that now. The snow piled against the apartment building walls seemed to dance in the flickering blue light of his cruiser’s strobes, making the alley look like a disco.
Haggerty could just make out the two hooded figures in the bobbing beam of his mini MagLite as he ran.
“Police! Stop!” he yelled. They didn’t.
He was gaining on them when his boot struck something buried beneath the snow, and he sprawled headfirst to the ground. Scrambling to regain his feet, he stood and quickly scanned the area for his flashlight, but it was gone. He turned and hurried down the dark alley, keying his shoulder mic as he went.
“402, 10-50,” he said, referring to his cruiser accident. “I’m now in foot pursuit of the 10-90 suspects. Toward Cumberland from East Oxford.”
“Ten-four, 402,” the female dispatcher acknowledged. “1 and 21, copy.”
Haggerty heard the distorted transmissions as both units responded simultaneously, causing the radio to squeal in protest. He rounded the rear corner of a three-story unit just in time to see the suspect wearing the red hoodie stuck near the top of a six-foot chain-link fence. The other figure had already made it over and stopped to assist.
“Freeze,” Haggerty yelled as he drew his weapon.
Neither suspect heeded his warning. Haggerty was at full stride, gun at the low ready position, about fifteen feet from the fence, when the first suspect finally pulled the second one loose. Up and over they went leaving Haggerty on the wrong side of the barrier.
Damn! Haggerty holstered his Glock, then backed far enough away from the fence to give himself a running start. He hit the fence, left foot out in front, reaching for the top with his gloved hands, and then vaulted up and over it with ease. The suspect in the dark-colored hoodie turned and looked back, giving Haggerty a glimpse of what seemed to be a ski mask made to look like a skull. Thirty feet now. He was closing the distance again.
If they don’t split up I’ll have a chance, he thought. He heard a dog barking frantically nearby, and the distant wail of approaching sirens. The combination of the cold air into his lungs and the adrenaline surge were beginning to take their toll, sapping his strength. His arms and legs were slowing, despite his efforts.
“What’s your twenty, 402?” the dispatcher asked. His location.
“Fuck if I know,” he said out loud and breathless. He keyed the mic on his shoulder. “Back yards. Headed west. Toward Anderson.”
“Ten-four.” The dispatcher said. “Units copy?”
“1 copies.”
“21, I copy,” the sergeant said. “The call came in as an armed 10-90. What was the weapon?”
“Standby, 21.”
Haggerty lost them again as they rounded another building. He slowed to a jog and drew his sidearm again. The alley was pitch back and he didn’t want to risk running into an ambush.
“Units be advised, the original caller was a customer who walked in on the robbery. I have the victim on the phone now. He says the male in the dark-colored hoodie displayed a silver colored 10-32 handgun.”
“21, give us a signal,” the sergeant said.
“10-4,” the dispatcher said. The familiar high-pitched tone sounded twice over the radio before the dispatcher spoke again. “All units, a signal one thousand is now in effect. Hold all air traffic or switch to channel 2. 401, 402, and 421 have priority.”
Haggerty stepped forward carefully, not wanting to trip again. His lungs were burning. He attempted to slow his breathing while waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He froze in place as he heard a banging sound, as if someone were striking a solid object with a bat. The sound was followed by shouting, but he couldn’t make out what was being said.
Peeking quickly around the corner of the building, he saw the figure in the red hoodie kicking at the stuck gate of a wooden stockade fence, while the other had scrambled onto the roof of a junk car and was attempting to climb over the barrier.
“Freeze,” Haggerty yelled, aiming his Glock at the dark hooded figure standing atop the car. Red Hoodie stopped kicking, but didn’t turn back toward Haggerty. The suspect on the car, also facing away from him, didn't move. Haggerty approached the fence cautiously, making sure of his footing as he planted one foot in front of the other. His eyes shifted between the two figures, but he kept his gun trained on the suspect who was reportedly armed. “Let me see your hands. Both of you.”
Red hoodie raised his hands high above his head.
The dark figure on top of the car began to turn. His hands were hidden from sight.
“I said freeze.” Haggerty sidestepped to his left looking to regain some cover. “Goddammit, freeze!”
The dark figure spun toward him, bringing his right arm up in a pointing gesture.
Haggerty saw a familiar flash of light an instant before he pulled the trigger on his Glock.

Excerpt from Beyond the Truth by Bruce Robert Coffin.  Copyright © 2018 by Bruce Robert Coffin. Reproduced with permission from WitnessImpulse. All rights reserved.


Bruce Robert Coffin is the bestselling author of the Detective Byron mystery series and former detective sergeant with more than twenty-seven years in law enforcement. At the time of his retirement from the Portland, Maine police department he supervised all homicide and violent crime investigations for Maine's largest city. Following the terror attacks of September 11, 2001 Bruce spent four years investigating counter-terrorism cases for FBI, earning the Director's Award, the highest award a non-agent can receive.

His short fiction appears in several anthologies, including Best American Mystery Stories 2016.

Bruce is a member of International Thriller Writers, Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance. He is a regular contributor to Maine Crime Writers and Murder Books blogs.

He lives and writes in Maine.

Connect with the author:
Website  |  Blog  |  Facebook Twitter  |  Goodreads

Buy the book:
Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble 

Tuesday, November 20, 2018



"Tarquini spins a haunting lyrical fantasy dealing with love, loss, and political turmoil..." ―Publishers Weekly

For fans of Paulo Coelho and Neil Gaiman comes a magical story by critically acclaimed author Mindy Tarquini.

In Panduri, an enchanted city seen only at twilight, everyone's path is mapped, everyone's destiny decided, their lives charted at birth and steered by an unwavering star. Everyone has his place, and Matteo, second son of Panduri's duca, is eager to take up his as Legendary Protector--at the border and out from under his father's domineering thumb. Then Matteo's older brother pulls rank and heads to the border in his stead, leaving Panduri's orbit in a spiral and Matteo's course on a skid. Forced to follow an unexpected path, resentful and raw, Matteo is determined to rise, to pursue the one future Panduri's star can never chart: a life of his own.

Brigadoon meets Pippin in this quirky tale of grief steeped deep in Italian folklore and shimmering with hope--to remember what helps, forget what hurts, and give what remains permission to soar.

Book Details: 

Title: Deepest Blue, A Novel

Author: Mindy Tarquini

Genre: Fantasy

Publisher: SparkPress, (Sept 25, 2018)

Print length: 303 pages


Q: What’s the story behind the title of your book?

Deepest Blue
is a fairytale based on folklore. In Italian folklore fairies are majestic. Their favorite color is indigo, associated with the twilight, and also the color of grief. In the story, the color comes into play in various forms, from the time of day to mood to even the color of a woman’s dress. Deepest blue represents the protagonist, Matteo’s, undoing, yet it is also associated with those emotions and events from which he draws strength.

Q: Who are you?

I am of good peasant stock. If I were born in any time other than the modern, I’d be planting tomatoes, stirring stew by the fire, and rolling out pasta on a marble counter.

Q: Where’s home for you? 

Home is with my family and always will be. My daughter just moved to Colorado, so a lot of my heart is there right now.

Q: What’s your favorite memory?

It turns out to be the same as my daughter’s–we both remember jumping into the pool and having our dads catch us.

Q: What’s the dumbest purchase you’ve ever made?

An expensive piece of glass from Murano, Italy that I Pretty-Womaned at one store because another store thought that my Target clothing wasn’t upscale enough to be shopping there. The glass is magnificent, so magnificent I’m afraid to put it on display, lest a pet or a child send it crashing. Hence, it’s been sitting in a closet, packed in straw, for a decade.

Q: What’s the most valuable thing you’ve learned?

Never buy expensive, breakable pieces of random art.

Q: Who would you pick to write your biography?

My daughter. She would get it entirely wrong, but it’d be funny.

Q: What do you love about where you live?

I don’t have to shovel my driveway, and groceries are cheap.

Q: Have you been in any natural disasters?

My twins started puberty at the same time. Does that count?

Q: Absolutely! What is the most daring thing you've done (besides having twins)?

Having twins was great, but if I were going to have twins again I would space them out a couple of years.

Q: LOL. What’s one thing that you wish you knew as a teenager that you know now? 

Stuff doesn’t matter. People do. Let your hurts go and move on.

Q: What’s one thing you wish your younger writer self knew?

Beautiful writing is great, but without structure every story will fall flat.

Q: What is your most embarrassing moment?
You mean aside from the incident with the ketchup, correct?

Q: What makes you happy?

My children, my husband, and my lemon tree.

Q: What makes you scared?


Q: What makes you excited?

Innovation! Precise thinking! Intelligence! Really good gelato!

Q: How did you meet your husband?

Over the internet, back in the caveman days when it was called the intranet, used only by nerds, and all forums were local.

Q: If you could only save one thing from your house, what would it be?

Aside from my family and pets, I’d save my grandmother’s hand-embroidered bedspread because if I didn’t, she’d come back to life and kill me.

Q: What brings you delight?

When someone tells me something interesting that I didn’t know. Especially when it sparks an engaging conversation.

Q: What’s one of your favorite quotes? 

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” -Lao Tzu

Q: If you could live anywhere in the world, where in the world would it be?

A large property on the Italian countryside, where I can cook cannellini in the kitchen and watch my grandkids play hide and seek among the fig trees.

Q: What would you like people to say about you after you die?

She never gave up. She never gave in. Not once, not ever.

Q: What’s your favorite line from a book? 

“To survive, you must tell stories.” ― Umberto Eco, The Island of the Day Before

Q: What would your main character say about you?

“She’s just so damn practical.”

Q: How did you create the plot for this book?


Q: Are any of your characters inspired by real people?
All are inspired by real people, and I’ll take those identities to my grave.

Q: Very wise. Is your book based on real events?

All my writing is based on real events from my sojourns to fairyland. Keep an eye out for my autobiography: The Accidental Novelist: Because Nobody Would Believe Me.

Q: Excellent title! Are you like any of your characters?
I’m like all the smart, good-looking ones who never make mistakes. Okay, that’s not true. I’m probably the character who can’t get her foot out of her mouth.

Q: One of your characters has just found out you’re about to kill him off. He/she decides to beat you to the punch. How would he kill you?

By running into the future to get the drop on me, but it wouldn’t work because she’s my character and I know what she’s going to do, so I’d erase all those paragraphs.

Q: Diabolical. With what five real people would you most like to be stuck in a bookstore?

Peter Mayle makes me laugh. Unfortunately, he’s dead. Italo Calvino inspires me. Unfortunately, he’s dead too. If they have to be alive, Margaret Atwood, Cormac McCarthy, and Daniel Pinkwater- because he makes my entire family laugh and he’s actually alive.

Wait, I just realized it didn’t have to be authors. So… Ellen DeGeneres, Trevor Noah, Michelle Obama, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, and whoever invented the show Drunk History.

Q: What’s one pet peeve you have when you read? 

When every character gets a name, a nickname, a name used only by inhabitants of one locale, another name used only by inhabitants of another locale, a sword with three names, a horse with two, and a backstory that the author insists on informing me in a deep and detailed prologue. When I see a glossary, I get nervous.

Q: Do you have a routine for writing? 

Generally, I try not to cry.

Q: Where and when do you prefer to do your writing?

Anywhere that I can look at something pretty. I love a good view.

Q: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received about your writing?

That the characters are so real, it feels like they’re following the reader around.

Q: Where is your favorite library, and what do you love about it?

At the seashore in New Jersey, because they have tons of events and workshops. I used to be there with my kids every few days, and they loved carrying my books,

Q: You can be any fictional character for one day. Who would you be? 

Landroval, the eagle in Lord of the Rings so I can take that stupid ring to Mount Doom and save everybody a lot of trouble.

Q: What’s the worst thing someone has said about your writing? How did you deal with it?

That she or he has to pay attention to every word to follow the story. There’s not much I can do about that. It’s called reading. Although, I will confess that I put all the words there on purpose, but I limit them to only the words the story needs. I compost the rest.

Q: What are you working on now?
Officially, I think it will be classed as a humorous Contemporary Women’s Fiction. Unofficially, I suspect there will be time-travel and resonating Crystal Worlds and good-looking guys named Sven.


Infinite Now 



Mindy Tarquini grew up convinced that there are other worlds just one giant step to the left of where she’s standing. Author of the critically acclaimed and award-winning Hindsight (SparkPress 2016) and The Infinite Now (SparkPress 2017), Tarquini’s writing has appeared in Writer’s Digest, BookPage, Hypable, and other venues. An associate editor on the Lascaux Review and a member of the Perley Station Writers Colony, Tarquini is a second-generation Italian American who believes words have power. She plies hers to the best of her ability from an enchanted tower a giant step left in the great Southwest.

Connect with Mindy:

Website  |   Facebook  |  Twitter 
Buy the book:
Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble  |  SparkPress

Sunday, November 18, 2018



Carol Childs is in the middle of one of the biggest stories of her life. Her daughter Cate has returned from college with a boyfriend in tow. A photographer who police suspect to be The Model Slayer, responsible for the murder of three young women.

Not since the Hillside Strangler has Los Angeles been so on edge.

And when the police arrest Cate's boyfriend, Carol's personal life and professional worlds collide. A tattooed cocktail waitress calls the radio station and asks to speak with Carol off the record. She knows the true identity of the real Model Slayer because she says she killed him.

Tensions mount as the clock ticks. The police are convinced they have the right man. Mother and daughter aren't talking. Carol can't reveal to investigators all she knows, and unless Carol can find the real killer before the trial begins, an innocent man may spend the rest of his life in prison or be executed for a crime he didn't commit.

Book Details:

Title: Reason To Doubt

Author: Nancy Cole Silverman

Genre: Cozy mystery

Publisher: Henery Press (November 6, 2018)

Print length: 256 pages

On tour with: Great Escapes Book Tours


Nancy, what’s the story behind the title of your book? 
I’m glad you asked. Years ago, when I was still working in radio, we had a story on the air about the murder of a young model/wannabe actress. It was believed she may have agreed to meet with a photographer for a photo shoot at a remote location and that the photographer murdered her. The police questioned a number of local photographers – my brother-in-law included – as both he and others had all done shoots with the girl in the past. Ultimately, the police arrested a man who had been impersonating a  photographer and charged him with the girl’s murder. The idea that I might have actually known one of the suspects stuck with me over the years. So when I was thinking about a plot for Reason To Doubt, this idea was ripe and ready.  And adding to the suspense just had to be the idea that Carol’s daughter would return from her freshman year at college with a photographer boyfriend in tow.

Tell us about your series. Is this book a standalone, or do readers need to read the series in order?
All of the Carol Childs Mysteries work as standalones. There is a cast of characters, Carol, her best friend Sheri, Carol’s boss Tyler, and several others that return in each book. But each book is its own complete mystery.

Where’s home for you?
I was born in Seattle, Washington and moved to Arizona, via Colorado when I was a little girl. After college, I lived in Europe for four years before coming to California, but I’m a west coast gal, and California’s in my blood.

What do you love about where you live?
I enjoy the diversity of the people and the climate. I’m a warm weather type of person. 

Have you been in any natural disasters?
I live in California! That’s synonymous with earthquakes. I’ve been through a few. Shake. Rattle and roll is what we do.

If you could only save one thing from your house, what would it be?
My dog. I’m an animal person, so if anything were to happen to our home, she’s the first thing I’d go after.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?
I would have to quote my grandmother. She was always making up quotes for us to live by. "When in doubt, don’t!" was one of her favorites, and it was the basis for which I took the titles for the Carol Childs books.

What are you working on now? 
I’m working on a new series with Misty Dawn, a character I’ve pulled from the Carol Childs Mysteries.  When I finished Reason To Doubt, Misty kept coming back to me, as my character do, and asking for a series of her own.  As a former Hollywood Psychic to the Stars, and an aging senior who hadn’t planned for the future, because – psychics can’t read themselves and she never anticipated living to be a septuagenarian – she must now reestablish herself, and in doing so finds in the middle of a criminal investigation. 


Shadow Of Doubt
Beyond A Doubt
Without A Doubt
Room For Doubt
Reason To Doubt


Nancy Cole Silverman’s realization that she and Edgar Allen Poe shared the same birthday sparked her lifelong interest in mystery fiction. After a very successful career in the radio industry, she turned to writing, and her crime-focused novels and short stories have attracted readers throughout America. Her Carol Childs Mysteries series (Henery Press) features a single-mom whose "day job" as a reporter at a busy Los Angeles radio station often leads to long nights as a crime-solver. Silverman lives in Los Angeles with her husband and a thoroughly pampered standard poodle.

Connect with Nancy:
  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads

Buy the book:
Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble

Friday, November 16, 2018



Murder, Betrayal, Love Gone Wrong

With her ability to present clues without giving away the endings and offering surprising twists encouraging the reader to the next page, D. J. Adamson delves into a family tragedy ending up in murder and a teenage daughter missing. When Lillian Dove finds herself involved in the police investigation, she realizes the daughter holds the key to unravel who killed her mother.

It is three days before Christmas when Lillian Dove comes across Dr. Conrad standing out in front of his house, covered in blood. When going inside the house to help other members of his family, she finds his wife killed, his son seriously injured, and his teenage daughter, Peyton Clayton, missing. Even more shocking, the police suspect Dr. Conrad. Understanding how emotional dilemmas have strained the family emboldens Lillian to help Detective Jacque Leveque, Major Crimes Detective for the Frytown Police Department, find the prime witness to the Conrad truths.

Let Her Go is a nerve-wracking exploration into a family lost, and the extent love elicits both the good and the bad. In this Third Step in Personal Recovery Lillian works to find Peyton Clayton, while battling the worse arctic freeze in Frytown’s history, untangling human frailties, and confronting the ghosts of Christmas.

Book Details:

Title: Let Her Go

Author: D. J. Adamson

Genre: Mystery/Suspense

Publisher: Horatio Press (Nov. 6, 2018)

Page count: 444 pages

On tour with: Great Escapes Book Tours


D. J. Adamson is an award-winning author for both her mystery novels and her science fiction novel. She is the editor of Le Coeur de l’Artiste, a newsletter which reviews books, and a blog, L’Artiste with offers authors the venue to write on craft, marketing, and the creative mind. D.J. teaches writing and literature, and to keep busy when she is not writing or teaching, she has been a board member of Sisters in Crime Los Angeles and Sisters in Crime Central Coast, a member of the Southern California Mystery Writers Organization, California Writers Club, and Greater Los Angeles Writer’s Society. 

Connect with the author:

Website  |  Blog  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads

Buy the book:

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Wednesday, November 14, 2018



All ten-year-old Alexandra Atwood wants for Christmas is to get her dad and the B&B’s cook Marquetta under the mistletoe. After all, how can they get married if they don’t kiss first?

When murder strikes in Seaside Cove, bed-and-breakfast owner Rick Atwood is asked to help find the killer. But this will not be an easy case to crack. Not only did the killer contaminate the crime scene, but there are suspects all over town. And they all received the same Christmas sweater from the victim.

Alex hears rumors about the murder and decides that since she’s on Christmas break, she has time for a little multitasking. She launches her own investigation even as she continues her efforts to get her dad and Marquetta together.

Just when Rick thinks he’s identified all the suspects, he discovers a new one—his estranged wife. With the days until Christmas ticking down, Rick feels pressured from all sides. He needs to solve the case. He needs to send his wife back to New York. But the one thing he doesn’t need is for his daughter to be one step ahead of him and the cops.

Book Details:

Title: The Killer Christmas Sweater Club

Author: Terry Ambrose

Genre: Cozy mystery

Series: Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast Mysteries, book 3

Publisher: Satori (November 8, 2018)

Page count: 275 pages

On tour with: Great Escapes Book Tours


Q: Terry, what’s the story behind the title of your book?
Last year in December, I was doing a presentation at a local mystery reader’s club. Many of the people showing up were wearing Christmas sweaters. At the time, I quipped, "What a great idea for a mystery." They all thought it was funny, so I filed the idea away. When it came time to launch the book, The Killer Christmas Sweater Club felt like the best suited title.

Q: I love it! Tell us about your series. Is this book a standalone, or do readers need to read the series in order?
The Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast Mystery series is about Rick and Alexandra Atwood, a father and daughter who move from New York to the small town of Seaside Cove after Rick inherits the B&B from his grandfather. Seaside Cove is located on the California coast, which is littered with shipwrecks. In this series, the wreck that is drawing in strangers is the San Manuel, a fictional 400-year-old Spanish galleon with a very rich cargo just waiting to be plundered. The books do not need to be read in order, but there are character-development arcs that span from book-to-book.

Q: Where’s home for you?
For now, home is North San Diego County. When I was a kid, we moved about every two years, so for me to stay in one place feels unusual.

Q: Where did you grow up?
I grew up in Southern California at a time when the freeways were wide open, but the air was continually fouled by smog. There were days when we could, quite literally, watch the smog bank roll in. 

Q: Have you been in any natural disasters?
I’ve been through two major earthquakes—the first was the 1978 Goleta earthquake that shook Santa Barbara; the second was the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake which hit the San Francisco Bay Area. In both cases, we were fortunate to not suffer any severe damage or injuries.

Q: How did you meet your wife?
I met my spouse while I was dating her roommate. It wasn’t until months after I’d broken up with her roommate that we crossed paths while I was skip tracing for the County of Santa Barbara.

Q: What’s one of your favorite quotes?
While driving down the freeway in Santa Barbara one day, I saw a license plate frame that read, “This is not a rehearsal.” That phrase really struck home for me. I even had my own license plate frame made up at one point.

Q: If you could live anywhere in the world, where in the world would it be?
If I had my choice of locations, I would probably move to the island of Kauai. Even though it’s grown tremendously over the years, I still love it there.

Q: How did you create the plot for this book?
My plots begin with the characters. In this case, I had the idea for the use of Christmas sweaters as a clue but needed a way to integrate that into the plot. I also had a character in mind to be killed off.

Q: Are any of your characters inspired by real people?
The victim was inspired by a real person. There’s a description in the book about him given by Marquetta, who says, “He’s a peculiar man, a slow man, the kind who will spend extra time at a traffic light when it turns green just to be sure no traffic is coming.” That description popped into my head after I’d spent an inordinate amount of time waiting in line at the business where he worked.

Q: Is your book based on real events?
The Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast Mystery series is inspired to some degree by current-day events in the treasure hunting industry and by real shipwrecks, including the San Jose in Cartegena.

Q: What’s one pet peeve you have when you read?
I get really annoyed by writers who spend an inordinate amount of time providing backstory in what can only be termed an “info dump.” This pet peeve stems from my days of coming home from lunch to find my wife watching her favorite soap opera and hearing characters say things like, “Do you remember when you were here yesterday and we talked about your cousin Fred who married Edna, the girl with all those tattoos, and they went off to Vegas…”
I try to follow two rules when I provide backstory: 1) do it in increments, and 2) do it naturally. I just wish more writers would try a little harder to not make their backstory so obvious.

Q: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received about your work?
If an award can be considered a compliment, then it would be winning the 2014 San Diego Book Awards for Best Action/Thriller. If an award isn’t really considered a compliment, it would be the Kirkus Review in which they said, "Ambrose touches on high-finance malfeasance, adultery and drug dealing with the kind of snark that will remind readers of Elmore Leonard.”

Q: That is quite a compliment. What are you working on now?
The next book I’m working on has the working title, Shadows from the Past, and is the third (and probably final) installment in the License to Lie thriller series.


Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast Mysteries
A Treasure to Die For
Clues in the Sand 

McKenna Mysteries
Photo Finish 
Kauai Temptations 
Big Island Blues 
Mystery of the Lei Palaoa 
Honolulu Hottie 
North Shore Nanny  
A Damsel for Santa 
Maui Magic 
The Scent of Waikiki 

License to Lie Series
License to Lie 
Con Game 


Once upon a time, in a life he’d rather forget, Terry Ambrose tracked down deadbeats for a living. He also hired big guys with tow trucks to steal cars—but only when negotiations failed. Those years of chasing deadbeats taught him many valuable life lessons such as—always keep your car in the garage.

Terry has written more than a dozen books, several of which have been award finalists. In 2014, his thriller, Con Game, won the San Diego Book Awards for Best Action-Thriller. His series' include the Trouble in Paradise McKenna Mysteries, the Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast Mysteries, and the License to Lie thriller series.

Connect with Terry:
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