Monday, January 8, 2018

FEATURED AUTHOR: VICTORIA BERNADINE




ABOUT THE BOOK

Benjamin Ferrin Macon-Jones has it all: a luxurious lifestyle in Toronto and the love of an intelligent, ambitious woman…until that same woman refuses his marriage proposal, tells him he’s a detriment to her career, and leaves him. Unable to deal with his cantankerous family trying to be supportive, he quietly slips away into the Canadian countryside.

Lou Upjohn has problems of her own. She’s a recluse and agoraphobic, staying safely within the walls of her ancestral home in small town Saskatchewan and depending on Ike, her best and only friend, to deal with the outside world. Only Ike’s just married another woman and now he’s moving to Vancouver. Before he leaves, he hires the new guy in town, Ferrin Jones, to run her errands and do her yard work. Lou isn’t happy, but even she has to admit the stranger looks mildly interesting.

Both their lives could be changed forever if she only has the courage to open the door.

Book Details
Title: Along Came Jones

Author: Victoria Bernadine 

Publisher: Love of Words Publishing 

Pages: 324

Genre: Chick Lit/Contemporary Fiction

Touring with: Pump Up Your Book




LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT INTERVIEW WITH VICTORIA BERNADINE


A few of your favorite things:  Cats, books, summer, Cary Grant, David Tennant, Broadchurch, Star Wars.
Things you need to throw out:  My old dishes. YOU GOT NEW DISHES FOR A REASON!!

Things you need in order to write: Something that makes me say, “Hm.  I wonder what happens next…”
Things that hamper your writing: Working for a living.

Things you love about writing: The sheer bliss of the ideas taking shape on the page/screen when I’m writing the first draft.
Things you hate about writing: Editing aka smoothing out all the rough edges of that first draft that was so much fun to write.

Things you love about where you live: Low crime rate, high standard of living, free health care, and the Canadian attitude.
Things that make you want to move: An extraordinarily cold winter…or a mild winter…or a normal winter…winter.  Just winter.

Things you never want to run out of: Pens and paper.
Things you wish you’d never bought: Every gadget that just sits gathering dust.

Words that describe you: Funny and friendly.
Words that describe you but you wish they didn’t: Lazy, or, more politely, procrastinator.

Favorite foods: Garlic, perogies, steak, potato chips.
Things that make you want to throw up: Liver.  UGH.

Favorite music or song: Country music; favourite song at the moment is "Somewhere on a Beach" by Dierks Bentley.
Music that make your ears bleed: Nothing really makes my ears bleed, although I’m not overly fond of jazz or rap or screaming metal.

Favorite beverage: Coca-Cola Classic.
Something that gives you a pickle face: Pepsi…but any port in a storm and at least it’s a cola.

Something you like to do: Travel, especially to a tropical location in the dead of winter.
Something you wish you’d never done: I wish I’d never learned about contracting and procurement, which is my day job. I’m sure I could have found something more exciting to do…right??

Things you always put in your books: Witty banter. At least, I hope it’s witty banter.
Things you never put in your books: Graphic violence. I mean, I have novels with violent events in them, but nothing graphic.

Things to say to an author: “I love your book!" (I’m easy.)
Things to say to an author if you want to be fictionally killed off in their next book:  “You don’t know anything about Character A! They would never have done such a thing!”

People you’d like to invite to dinner: Robert Downey Jr. and David Tennant. I’ve seen/read their interviews; I’d just be sitting there with my mouth hanging open and wondering what the heck they’re talking about now.
People you’d cancel dinner on: Politicians. Any of them.

Favorite things to do: Writing and reading.
Things you’d run through a fire wearing gasoline pants to get out of doing: Cleaning house.

Things that make you happy: Warm weather, cats snuggling close and purring, writing, reading, movies.
Things that drive you crazy: People who ask for my advice, don’t follow it, then expect me to clean up the mess they would have avoided if they’d listened to me in the first place. Hm. I seem rather passionate about this one.

Best thing you’ve ever done: I quit my job and took a year off work.
Biggest mistake: Not doing it sooner, or more often.

Most daring thing you’ve ever done: Ziplining, given I have a fear of heights.
Something you chickened out from doing:  FINISHING the ziplining course, because there was a “jump into a hole” thing at some point and…no. Just no. I stopped half-way through and went for a beer instead.


EXCERPT


“Marry me.”

Olivia laughs.

“What?” she teases with a fond, slightly mocking smile.  “Are you ‘proposing’ because you think it’s what people are supposed to do on New Year’s Eve?”

Ferrin smirks his lopsided, endearing smirk as he lowers himself to one knee and proffers the small, square velvet box he dug out of the pocket of his tuxedo.

The beautiful brunette laughs again.  “Oh, Ferrin, get up—you’re being ridiculous!  And the joke really isn’t all that funny.” 

Olivia glances at the crowd of beaming friends and family surrounding them and Ferrin watches as realization slowly dawns on her face.  Her gaze snaps back to his as realization morphs into horror, and Ferrin feels a corresponding sick, sinking feeling grow in his stomach as her expression changes.  His own smile slips away and his face freezes into an expressionless mask.  Their spectators’ hissed in-drawn breaths and sudden, uncomfortable silence barely register given his complete and utter focus on Olivia.

He knows what she’s going to say before she says it, but like any impending disaster, he can’t seem to look away.

“Oh, my God,” she whispers.  “Oh, shit!”  She bites her lip, then says in a rush, “I love you, Ferrin, I really, truly do...but I can’t marry you.”  Her voice breaks; her eyes fill with tears.

The silence that follows seems to grow and envelop them in a stifling cocoon built from his humiliation and suddenly terrified heart.  Ferrin hears, as if through cotton wool, subdued voices and the shuffling of feet as their family and friends gather their things and leave the apartment.  In some distant corner of his mind, he’s mildly surprised they're all leaving so quietly...or maybe he just can’t hear them across the yawning divide that’s opened between him and Olivia.

As the door closes, she whispers, “Get up.  Your knee must hurt.”

Does it?  He can’t tell over the crushing pressure in his chest, his stomach, his head, but he struggles to his feet anyway, like she asks, because she asks, aching and sore and suddenly ancient.  He straightens and becomes, as always, self-consciously aware of how big he is in comparison to her, and how his bulk looming over her always makes her edgy.  He automatically slouches his shoulders, trying to minimize his size, trying to make her comfortable.

“Say something,” she begs, and her voice breaks.

His voice is cracked, hollow, distant, as he says, “Is this it?”

‘It’, he thinks with despair.  Such a tiny word with such a huge meaning.

She hesitates, then nods, not quite looking at him.

“This can’t come as that much of a surprise.  Not if you’re honest with yourself.”

Ferrin can’t seem to make his brain work.  He shakes his head, trying to force something—anything—loose so his world—his life—will start to make sense again.

“I—I—no.  Yes.  Why?” he asks, and winces at just how lost he sounds.

Olivia sighs and says, very gently, “I want other things in life than you do, Ferrin.  My career means everything to me and I want to make it to the top of Macon-Jones Enterprises, or as high as I can get without being a blood relative.”

Finally, finally, anger flares inside him.

“And I’m holding you back?  In my own family’s company?”

Olivia hesitates.

Ferrin’s eyes widen.  “You really believe it,” he breathes.  “When have I ever stood in your way, Olivia?”

This time her sigh is long-suffering.  “You’ve never stood in my way, no, but you’ve never actively helped me, either.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to!  If I recall correctly, you told me so in no uncertain terms when we moved in together.  That’s only a couple of years ago!  What’s changed?”

“I didn’t want you using any undue influence with Abram to get me promotions I didn’t deserve,” Olivia snaps, her own anger flaring.  “That didn’t mean I didn’t want you to help me at all!”

Ferrin snorts.  “Nobody has undue influence with Abram.  You should know that by now!”

“Abram isn’t the point!  The point is that I could have used your support when some of my projects came up for a vote before the Board.  Instead, you, as always, stayed out of it and gave your vote to the first cousin who asked for it, without any regard to how the decision would impact my career or my projects!  Half the time, you didn’t even bother asking me how I wanted you to vote!”

“I never ask anyone about the projects or how they want to use my vote!  The cousins know how I play the game and it works well for all of us.  Why do you think I’m the only one any of them will talk to without a witness present?”

Olivia throws her hands up in the air as she whirls and paces away.  “There!  That’s exactly the problem!”

He takes a step back, blinking.  “What?  The fact that I’m friendly with all my cousins?  That’s a problem?”

“No!”  She brushes a hand over her face in exasperation.  She turns to him, and now he recognizes that look on her face.  It’s the one she has when she’s getting ready to lecture him on what, exactly, he’s done wrong, and what he needs to do to avoid making the same mistake again.

She says, “It’s not the fact the cousins all like you that’s the problem; it’s the reason they all like you!  You’re such a goddamn fixer, itching to solve everyone’s problems that you’ve become a complete pushover!  I don’t want to hurt you, Ferrin, but, let’s face it:  you’re a sucker.  You’re gullible.  And I hate to say this, but you’re also a bit of a wimp.  You’ll do whatever anybody tells you to do, and that’s proven in spades by your so-called ‘business investments’!  All anybody needs in order to get money out of you is a sob story and a half-assed idea!”

His mouth sags open as he rocks beneath her barrage, every word slamming into his heart and his gut and his mind.

“What the hell?” he chokes.

Olivia deflates, pity in her eyes.

“Look,” she says, and now her voice is calm and firmly matter-of-fact, the way Ferrin has so often heard her speak whenever he’s forced to attend a board meeting with her, “I’m going to be CEO someday of a multi-billion-dollar multinational company.  Your family’s multi-billion-dollar multinational company.  It’s ruthless and cutthroat, and a spouse’s strengths and talents are just as important to an executive’s rise as the executive’s own skills and talents, especially in Macon-Jones Enterprises.  You know how outright Machiavellian your family can be, and that’s when they’re arranging Christmas!  If you think they’re ruthless in their personal lives, they’re ten times worse in the boardroom, trust me!”

“Yes, I know,” Ferrin says drily, and is almost glad he’s starting to feel something—anything—now.  “I have met my cousins and I’ve even been to a board meeting a time or two.  Abram seems to have done all right without a spouse to support him.”

She snorts.  “He’s Chair and he was handed the job by your great-grandfather!  He’s never had to prove anything to anybody!”

His laugh is harsh and barking.  “Now you’re the one who’s forgotten what my cousins are like!” He waves his words away.  “Doesn’t matter.  You knew when we met that I do everything I can to avoid anything to do with the company.”

“You’re not supposed to avoid it by giving your vote to whichever cousin gets to you first!  Besides, you’re your father’s only surviving child, the last of your particular branch of the family!  You out of all your cousins shouldn’t avoid the company at all!”

Ferrin flinches.

She grimaces.  “I’m sorry; that was low...but you know I’m right.  You could wield enormous influence and power in the company, and not only with the family when they want something, if you’d just take an interest!  If you would listen to me, let me guide you, advise you so you don’t believe everything you’re told, and let me stop Carson, Dyson and Jack from constantly distracting you, you could be the next Chair of the Board instead of Jack!”

“So I’m not only gullible and a wimp, I’m also so stupid I can only trust you to advise me?” he says, incredulous.

“Of course not!  But you’re wasting your potential—and your birthright!  Your father was Abram’s second-in-command, for God’s sake!  All you have to do is step up and follow in his footsteps!”  She runs a hand through her hair and groans.  “Face it, Ferrin, I’m never going to be CEO if I remain allied with you, not unless you change your approach to the business.”

Ferrin rears back and stares.

“‘Allied’?” he says slowly.  “Is that what the last five years have been about, Olivia?  An alliance?”
“No!  Of course not!  I love you.  I do!  You’re a wonderful man, Ferrin.  But you’re...” She spreads her hands and shrugs helplessly.

“Weak,” he says flatly, “and obviously a little stupid.  Have I got it right?”

“Ferrin…”  She takes a step towards him, but he quickly retreats.  She stops and stares at him, her large, brown eyes brimming with tears.  For once, he’s unmoved.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a disappointment to your professional ambitions,” he grates out, a bitter twist to his lips.  He turns and heads for the exit.

“Where are you going?”

“I have no idea,” he says, and slams the door behind him.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Victoria Bernadine (a pseudonym) is, as the saying goes, a "woman of a certain age." After twenty-something years of writer's block, she began writing again in 2008.

Victoria enjoys reading all genres and particularly loves writing romantic comedy and post-apocalyptic science fiction. What those two have in common is anybody's guess.

She lives in Edmonton with her two cats (The Grunt and The Runt). Along Came Jones is the second novel she felt was good enough to be released into the wild.



Buy the book:
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Saturday, January 6, 2018

FEATURED AUTHOR: KATHERINE HALL PAGE



ABOUT THE BOOK


The inimitable Faith Fairchild returns in a chilling New England whodunit, inspired by the best Agatha Christie mysteries and with hints of the timeless board game Clue.

For most of her adult life, resourceful caterer Faith Fairchild has called the sleepy Massachusetts village of Aleford home. While the native New Yorker has come to know the region well, she isn’t familiar with Havencrest, a privileged enclave, until the owner of Rowan House, a secluded sprawling Arts and Crafts mansion, calls her about catering a weekend house party.

Producer/director of a string of hit musicals, Max Dane—a Broadway legend—is throwing a lavish party to celebrate his seventieth birthday. At the house as they discuss the event, Faith’s client makes a startling confession. "I didn’t hire you for your cooking skills, fine as they may be, but for your sleuthing ability. You see, one of the guests wants to kill me."

Faith’s only clue is an ominous birthday gift the man received the week before—an empty casket sent anonymously containing a twenty-year-old Playbill from Max’s last, and only failed, production—Heaven or Hell. Consequently, Max has drawn his guest list for the party from the cast and crew. As the guests begin to arrive one by one, and an ice storm brews overhead, Faith must keep one eye on the menu and the other on her host to prevent his birthday bash from becoming his final curtain call.

Full of delectable recipes, brooding atmosphere, and Faith’s signature biting wit, The Body in the Casket is a delightful thriller that echoes the beloved mysteries of Agatha Christie and classic films such as Murder by Death and Deathtrap.


Book Details:

Genre: Mystery

Published by: William Morrow

Publication Date: December 5th 2017

Number of Pages: 238

ISBN: 0062439561 (ISBN13: 9780062439567)

Series: Faith Fairchild, 24
Touring with: Partners in Crime







INTERVIEW WITH KATHERINE HALL PAGE


Katherine, tell us about your series. Is this book a standalone or do readers need to read the series in order?
I have been fortunate to write a long running series starting with The Body in the Belfry (1990) and now #24, The Body in the Casket, all in print. I had no idea that I was writing a series when I wrote the first book, but as soon as it appeared there would be a few more I realized I needed to make each one work as a stand alone. Reading in order is a matter of temperament, but not a necessity! My amateur sleuth is Faith Sibley Fairchild who grew up in the Big Apple, but falls in love, marries and finds herself in Aleford, a small town west of Boston. Her husband is the Reverend Thomas Fairchild. Daughter and granddaughter of clergy, she had vowed to avoid the fishbowl existence of a parish, but the heart knows no reason. In the first book she has her infant son in a Snugli when she stumbles across the still warm body of a parishioner in the town’s old belfry and rings the bell setting off a chain of events and characters that continue in spirit throughout the books. She left her highly successful Manhattan catering firm, “Have Faith” when she moved, but starts it up again in Aleford. Along the way she has another child, daughter Amy. I didn’t get the memo about not putting kids in murder mysteries. Motherhood seemed to go with my character, but childcare can become difficult when pursuing a hot lead!

Where’s home for you?
I live in two small towns, one twenty minutes west of Boston and not unlike the completely fictitious town of Aleford. I am surrounded by woods and very nice people. The other town is on an island in Penobscot Bay, Maine fortunately connected to the mainland by a lovely suspension bridge. I am surrounded by water and very nice people.

Where did you grow up?
I grew up in Livingston, New Jersey about forty minutes from Manhattan. When we first moved there in the 1950s, it was a farm community. That continued for a while—there was a 4H Club in my high school. But the post war baby boom changed things—over 500 in my graduating class—and the farms were covered by malls and housing. It was, however, a wonderful place in which to grow up. I’m a Jersey Girl—and no, I don’t pump gas.

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

That as I grown older, a lot of the baggage I’ve carried around would become lighter and even fall by the wayside.

What is the stupidest thing you've ever done?
Was conned during a sales call into one of those “free” vacations—NYC—in return for listening to a brief sales pitch about vacation condominiums. If it sounds too good to be true it is. We went on the “vacation” during which the pitch went on for hours, increasingly aggressive and splinters under my nails would have been a relief.

What’s one thing that you wish you knew as a teenager that you know now?
That much of the time would be veiled by the mists of time—and that my braces would eventually come off!


What makes you happy?
My friends and family, specifically my husband of 42 years and our son. Nothing will ever equal the joy we felt when baby Nicholas was placed in our arms. I tear up thinking about it now 34 years later. On another note, I am made quite happy by chilled, not cold good champagne and tasty nibbles.

What makes you scared?
Aside from noir mysteries—when I read, I am right there in the book—I am frightened about what the future hold for my son, his cohort, and the next generation because of climate change in particular. We saw the effects in Maine this summer on the fishing industry that was down because of warming waters.

Do you have another job outside of writing?
I have had two (so far) great careers. My writing job started in the late 1980s and before that I was a secondary school teacher and administrator. The last 5 years I was the head of a program within a public school for teens with special emotional needs due to chronic truancy, difficult family situations and substance abuse. It was rewarding and exhausting. I miss the classroom, and I miss those kids.

How did you meet your spouse? Was it love at first sight?
My husband and I were fixed up, although we did not know it at the time. Mutual friends invited us to dinner, a rather large party. It wasn’t love at first sight, but definitely second as he left to do research in Canada immediately after for some weeks and I pretty much forgot him. Not his wonderful deep voice though—he’s from the Bronx—when he got in touch upon his return. The friends reminded him to call, although he says he didn’t need it. We went out the following night. And here we are.

If you could only save one thing from your house, what would it be?
Taking family and the cat—Samantha, the daughter I never had—as givens, I would take one of my mother’s paintings. She was a professional painter and one large one, an abstract landscape she titled “Winter Light” is my favorite. She gave it to me for a significant birthday. It was one she never wanted to sell, and she knew I loved it. Miss my parents every day.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?
This is very easy. “Bad Taste Leads to Crime” (Le Mauvais Gout Mène Crime) from the Baron Adolphe De Mareste (1784-1867). Definitely words by which we all should live!

What would you like people to say about you after you die?
“She tried her best.” This is actually on a woman’s tombstone from the 1800s in a Deer Isle, Maine cemetery.

How did you create the plot for this book?
I have always wanted to write a traditional country house murder in the spirit of many of Agatha Christie’s set in such places. Hercule Poirot was introduced in The Mysterious Affair at Styles, a quintessential country manor house. I have also always had a passion for the theater, especially Broadway musicals. Growing up not far from New York City, this was an important part of my life and my parents had friends in that world. I wanted to draw on those experiences. Faith is catering a weekend long 70th birthday party that legendary Broadway producer Max Dane is throwing for himself. The twist is that all the guests were connected in some way with Max’s only failure: Heaven or Hell The Musical twenty years ago.  He hasn’t produced anything since, retreating to his isolated large mansion not too far from Faith’s Massachusetts home. Giving her a tour of the house and interrupting her menu suggestions, he tells her that although he is sure she is a fine chef, he has hired her for her sleuthing abilities. A macabre early birthday gift convinced him that one of the invitees wants to kill him. Before long the two elements became one. Broadway meets Havencrest (Max’s house) equals murder.

Are any of your characters inspired by real people?
I enjoy research, and for this book I read a number of theatrical biographies, specifically ones about the Broadway producers David Merrick and Hal Prince. I also went back to some of my favorite movies: The Wrong Box (1966), Sleuth (1972 version), Deathtrap (1982), Clue (1985), and especially Murder By Death (1976). These also explain why Max Dane and Michael Caine became one in my imagination.

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

Dorothy Cannell, Neil Gaiman, Charlaine Harris, Roger Lathbury, and Gregory Maguire.

What’s one pet peeve you have when you read?
Again, this is very easy. Being interrupted. Even by my near and dear. There had better be a good reason—fire etc.


Do you have a routine for writing?
I started out writing when the school bus came to pick my son up and stopping when it dropped him off with breaks for housework and even a walk. All these years later it’s still what works for me. I don’t write on weekends if at all possible. And I take more walks now. I have dedicated offices (small) in both my houses now, which is heaven.

What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received about your writing?
“She gave me all the clues and I should have guessed the murderer!” Hear it with happy frequency.

What would your dream office look like?
I’ve always been envious of those who have writing sheds or shacks outdoors. E.B. White had a perfect small one that you can see still from the waters of Eggemoggin Reach. I’ve seen some in beautiful gardens in Britain like Vita Sackville-West’s Sissinghurst one. Would also like to have work in my tiny abode interrupted by someone bringing me elevenses complete with tea and biscuits (I know this happens-will not name the writer though and dare I mention he had a wife?)

How did you find your publisher, and how long did your query process take?

This comes under the good old “Had she but known.” My husband took a sabbatical in France. Our son was two years old, and the French have excellent day care. Each morning I took him to a lovely little nursery school in the center of Lyon where we were living and returned home to write the book that had been percolating for a very long time in my mind on a manual (old Underwood) typewriter friends loaned me. I went to pick Nicholas up each noon and by the end of the year I had a book. I used the same method I do now. To essentially jump-start myself I rewrite what I’ve written the day before, so I can’t say how many drafts. Not realizing (the had I known part how difficult it was to get published) I saw a query from an agent looking for manuscripts, including those for adults, in the Society for Children’s Book Writer’s and Illustrator’s newsletter. I had originally thought I’d do a YA book, so was getting the newsletter. I wrote to her, and she asked to see it, had three offers and we’ve been together ever since. Cue eerie music. My agent’s first name is “Faith.”

What are you working on now?
The 25th in the series—Silver Anniversary—The Body in the Wake, working title.


Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

“Have Faith in Your Kitchen,” Faith Fairchild said, answering the phone at her catering firm. She’d been busy piping choux pastry for éclairs onto a baking sheet.
“Mrs. Fairchild?”
“Yes? This is Faith Fairchild. How may I help you?”
“Please hold for Max Dane.” The voice had a plummy, slightly British tone, reminiscent of Jeeves, or Downton Abbey’s Carson. The only Max Dane Faith had heard of had been a famous Broadway musical producer, but she was pretty sure he’d died years ago. This must be another Max Dane.
She was put through quickly and a new voice said, “Hi. I know this is short notice, but I am very much hoping you are available to handle a house party I’m throwing for about a dozen guests at the end of the month. A Friday to Sunday. Not just dinner, but all the meals.”
Faith had never catered anything like this. A Friday to Sunday sounded like something out of a British pre-World War II country house novel—kippers for breakfast, Fortnum & Mason type hampers for the shoot, tea and scones, drinks and nibbles, then saddle of lamb or some other large haunch of meat for dinner with vintage clarets followed by port and Stilton—for the men only. She was intrigued.
“The first thing I need to know is where you live, Mr. Dane. Also, is this a firm date? We’ve had a mild winter so far, but January may still deliver a wallop like last year.”
A Manhattan native, Faith’s marriage more than 20 years ago to the Reverend Thomas Fairchild meant a radical change of address— from the Big Apple to the orchards of Aleford, a small suburb west of Boston. Faith had never become used to boiled dinners, First Parish’s rock hard pews and most of all, New England weather. By the end of the previous February there had been 75 inches of snow on the ground and you couldn’t see through the historic parsonage’s ground floor windows or open the front door. Teenage son Ben struggled valiantly to keep the back door clear, daily hewing a path to the garage. The resulting tunnel resembled a clip from Nanook of the North.
“I’m afraid the date is firm. The thirtieth is my birthday. A milestone one, my seventieth.” Unlike his butler or whoever had called Faith to the phone, Max Dane’s voice indicated he’d started life in one of the five boroughs. Faith was guessing the Bronx. He sounded a bit sheepish when he said “ my birthday,” as if throwing a party for himself was out of character. “And I live in Havencrest. It’s not far from Aleford, but I’d want you to be available at the house the whole time. Live in.”
Leaving her family for three days was not something Faith did often, especially since Sunday was a workday for Tom and all too occasionally Saturday was as he “polished” his sermon. (His term, which she had noticed over the years, could mean writing the whole thing.)
Ben and Amy, two years younger, seemed old enough to be on their own, but Faith had found that contrary to expectations, kids needed parents around more in adolescence than when they were toddlers. Every day brought the equivalent of scraped knees and they weren’t the kind of hurts that could be soothed by Pat The Bunny and a chocolate chip cookie. She needed more time to think about taking the job. “I’m not sure I can leave my family…” was interrupted. “I quite understand that this would be difficult,” Dane said and then he named a figure so far above anything she had ever been offered that she actually covered her mouth to keep from gasping out loud.
“Look,” he continued. “Why don’t you come by and we’ll talk in person? You can see the place and decide then. I don’t use it myself, but the kitchen is well equipped—the rest of the house too. I’ll email directions and you can shoot me some times that work. This week if possible. I want to send out the invites right away.”
Well, it wouldn’t hurt to talk, Faith thought. And she did like seeing other people’s houses. She agreed, but before she hung up curiosity won out and she asked, “Are you related to the Max Dane who produced all those wonderful Broadway musicals?”
“Very closely. As in one and the same. See you soon.”
Faith put the phone down and turned to Pix Miller, her closest friend and part-time Have Faith employee.
“That was someone wanting Have Faith to cater a weekend long birthday celebration—for an astonishing amount of money.” She named the figure in a breathless whisper. “His name is Max Dane. Have you ever heard of him?”
“Even I know who Max Dane is. Sam took me to New York the December after we were married and we saw one of his shows. It was magical—the whole weekend was. No kids yet. We were kids ourselves. We skated at Rockefeller Center by the tree and…”
Her friend didn’t go in for sentimental journeys and tempted as she was to note Pix and Sam skated on Aleford Pond then and now, Faith didn’t want to stop the flow of memories. “Where did you stay? A suite at the Plaza?” Sam was a very successful lawyer.
Pix came down to earth. “We barely had money for the show and pre-theater dinner at Twenty-One. That was the big splurge. I honestly can’t remember where we stayed and I should, because that’s where—” She stopped abruptly and blushed, also unusual Pix behavior.
“Say no more. Nine months later along came Mark?”
“Something like that,” Pix mumbled and then in her usual more assertive voice, added “You have to do this. Not because of the money, although the man must be loaded! Think of who might be there. And the house must be amazing. We don’t have anything booked for then and I can keep an eye on the kids.”
The Millers lived next door to the parsonage and their three now grown children had been the Fairchilds’ babysitters. Pix played a more essential role: Faith’s tutor in the unforeseen intricacies of childrearing as well as Aleford’s often arcane mores. Faith’s first social faux pas as a new bride—inviting guests for dinner at eight o’clock— had happily been avoided when her first invite, Pix, gently told Faith the town’s inhabitants would be thinking bed soon at that hour, not a main course.
Faith had started her catering business in the city that never slept before she was married and was busy all year long. Here January was always a slow month for business. The holidays were over and things didn’t start to pick up until Valentine’s Day—and even then scheduling events was risky. It all came down to weather.
Pix was at the computer. Years ago she’d agreed to work at Have Faith keeping the books, the calendar, inventory—anything that did not involve any actual food preparation.
“We have a couple of receptions at the Ganley Museum and the MLK breakfast the standing clergy host.”
The first time Faith heard the term, “standing clergy”, which was the town’s men and women of any cloth, she pictured an upright somberly garbed group in rows like ninepins. And she hadn’t been far off.
“That’s pretty much it,” Pix added, “except for a few luncheons and Amelia’s baby shower—I think she baby sat for you a couple of times when she was in high school.”
“I remember she was very reliable,” Faith said.
“Hard to believe she’s the same age as Samantha and having her second!” Pix sounded wistful. She was the type of woman born to wear a “I Spoil My Grandchildren” tee shirt. Faith wouldn’t be surprised if there were a drawer somewhere in the Miller’s house filled with tiny sweaters and booties knit by Pix, “just to be ready.” Mark Miller, the oldest, was married, but he and his wife did not seem to be in a rush to start a family.
Samantha, the middle Miller, had a long-term beau, Caleb. They were living together in trendy Park Slope, Brooklyn and Sam, an old-fashioned pater familias, had to be restrained from asking Caleb his intentions each time the young couple came to Aleford. Pix was leaning that way herself, she’d told Faith recently, noting that young couples these days were so intent on careers they didn’t hear the clock ticking.
Faith had forgotten that Amelia—who apparently had paid attention to time— was Samantha’s age and quickly changed the subject to what was uppermost in her mind—the Dane job. “Where is Havencrest?” she asked. “I thought I knew all the neighboring towns.”
“It’s not really a town so much as an enclave between Weston and Dover. I don’t think it even has a zip code. I’ve never been there, but Mother has. You can ask her about it. The houses all date to the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. I believe there’s a gatehouse at the entrance. It’s an early equivalent of the mid century modern planned communities like Moon Hill in Lexington. Havencrest wasn’t a bunch of architects like that one though. Just very rich Boston Brahmin families who wanted privacy and plenty of space. I wonder how Max Dane ended up there? From what Mother has said, the houses don’t change hands, just generations.”
“I think I’ll check my email and see if there’s anything from him yet,” Faith said. “And maybe drop by to see Ursula on my way home.” Stopping to visit with Ursula Lyman Rowe, Pix’s mother, was no chore. The octogenarian was one of Faith’s favorite people. She turned back to the éclairs, which were part of a special order, and added a few more to bring to her friend.
“I know you’ll take the job,” Pix said. “I’m predicting the weekend of a lifetime!”
***
Excerpt from The Body in the Casket by Katherine Hall Page. Copyright © 2017 by William Morrow. Reproduced with permission from William Morrow. All rights reserved.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Katherine Hall Page is the author of twenty-three previous Faith Fairchild mysteries. The recipient of Malice Domestic’s Lifetime Achievement Award, she has received Agathas for best first mystery (The Body in the Belfry), best novel (The Body in the Snowdrift), and best short story, (“The Would-Be Widower”). She has also been nominated for the Edgar, the Mary Higgins Clark, the Macavity, and the Maine Literary Award. She lives in Massachusetts and Maine with her husband.



Connect with Katherine:

Website Facebook  |   Goodreads  

Buy the book:

Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Indie Bound



Thursday, January 4, 2018

FEATURED AUTHOR: NADIA NATALI



ABOUT THE BOOK

Nadia Natali’s father invented color film, and her mother – who sang and danced professionally – was the sister of George and Ira Gershwin. Amidst great genius and privilege, Nadia was driven instead to create a life of great consequence, one in which she could seek her true purpose and life’s deepest meanings. Moving to the wilderness in Ojai’s Los Padres National Forest became the antidote to privilege. Enrico, her husband, initially introduced Nadia to Krishnamurti and meditation. It became the jumping off place for her own work in somatic psychotherapy called DanceMedicine.  Her book will make you cry and marvel at how essential it is for all of us to bring a commitment to truth and openhearted honesty to all our challenges as well as our uplifting Journeys.


Book Details

Stairway to Paradise: Growing Up Gershwin


Author: Nadia Natali


Publisher: RareBird Books


Pages: 304


Genre: Memoir






LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT INTERVIEW WITH NADIA NATALI


A few of your favorite things:  I love good food, dogs, cats, rugs and pillows.
Things you need to throw out: Old clothes, unwanted food in pantry and lots of books
.

Things you need in order to write: A quiet cozy place, time and a cup of tea.
Things that hamper your writing: Anxiety, noise.

Things you love about writing: It forces me to be authentic and clear.
Things you hate about writing: The feeling of being inadequate.

Hardest thing about being a writer: Being clear while succinct.                 
Easiest thing about being a writer: There simply is no easy.

Things you love about where you live:
I love being in the wilderness away from all the craziness.
Things that make you want to move: The complication of living off the grid.

Things you never want to run out of: Chocolate chip cookies.         
Things you wish you’d never bought: Certain clothes and jams.

Words that describe you: Cheerful, introspective and impulsive.
Words that describe you but you wish they didn’t: A control freak, impulsive.

Favorite foods: Chocolate chips cookies, fish, salads.
Things that make you want to throw up: Fast foods, peanuts, and pork.

Favorite music or song: "Summertime."                   
Music that make your ears bleed: Country music, military band music.

Favorite beverage: Tea
.                       
Something that gives you a pickle face: Mold on food.

Favorite smell: Lavender, Lemon Grass.
Something that makes you hold your nose: Old cat litter.

Something you’re really good at: Raising kids, giving therapy, dancing , cooking.
Something you’re really bad at: Accounting
.

Something you wish you could do: Carpentry, really ride a horse.         
Something you wish you’d never learned to do: Being falsely considerate.

Something you like to do:
Conversation with my husband, dance, cook.     
Something you wish you’d never done: My first marriage.

People you consider as heroes: Buddha, though not Buddhism.     
    
People with a big L on their foreheads: Trump

.

Last best thing you ate: Banana walnut pancakes. 
                    
Last thing you regret eating: Too much banana walnut pancakes.

Things you’d walk a mile for: My husband and my kids.             
Things that make you want to run screaming from the room: My husband repeating his old stories.

Things you always put in your books: My attempt to be authentic.        
Things you never put in your books: To condescend to the reader.

Things to say to an author: Write only from the belly
.         
Things to say to an author if you want to be fictionally killed off in their next book: To tell them how to write.

Favorite places you’ve been: My home in the wilderness.
          
Places you never want to go to again: A cruise ship.

Favorite genre: Literary fiction, memoir
.         
Books you would ban: Books presented as words from some higher being.

People you’d like to invite to dinner: Our friends who are introspective
.    
People you’d cancel dinner on: People who are inauthentic.

Favorite things to do: DanceMedicine therapy with clients, cook, read, dance
.    
Things you’d run through a fire wearing gasoline pants to get out of doing: Taking care of the chickens on a dark by myself.

Things that make you happy: Getting things done and getting my husband to get his undone things done.
Things that drive you crazy: People who have no boundaries.

Most embarrassing moment:
I peed in my pants in fifth grade.
              
Proudest moment: Finishing my memoir and getting it published.

Biggest lie you’ve ever told: Making my original family seem so terrible when in fact there were good moments in my childhood.
A lie you wish you’d told: That the people in the world are going to be okay.

Best thing you’ve ever done: Find my own voice and help others find theirs.    
Biggest mistake: Getting involved with certain men early on.

Most daring thing you’ve ever done: Turning against my family’s set of value and moving to the wilderness.
                                
Something you chickened out from doing: Finishing my Ph.D.

The last thing you did for the first time: A cruise trip
.             
Something you’ll never do again: A cruise trip.


EXCERPT


We’d caravanned in separate vehicles, hauling all that we could carry in and on top of our cars, in addition to a foldout trailer hitched to Enrico’s Toyota jeep. At the end of a long, winding two-lane road that followed Matilija Creek, a brown metal gate barred our way. Beyond the gate lay the Los Padres National Forest, wilderness, and a mile farther up a dirt road through the canyon, our property. We had to wait for a key to open the lock, a key that a forest ranger was going to hand over—the key to our new life. I gazed toward the jagged and intimidating mountains that leaned over the canyon. Inhaling the sweet smell of the dry chaparral, I couldn’t help but compare it to the lush, green landscape of my childhood home in Connecticut. This is going to be a very different life, I thought. My privileged upbringing seemed the polar opposite of this place, and maybe that was what attracted me to it. Observing the struggles of my family and seeing that money and fame had failed to bring happiness, I’d learned I needed to find my own path. I had not fully formulated my goal, but it was something unique and original, and I had to find it on my own.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nadia Natali, author of the memoir, Stairway to Paradise: Growing Up Gershwin, published by Rare Bird, Los Angeles, 2015, and The Blue Heron Ranch Cookbook: Recipes and Stories from a Zen Retreat Center published by North Atlantic Books, Berkeley California, 2008, is currently working on a second cookbook titled Zafu Kitchen Cookbook.
   
Natali, a clinical psychotherapist and dance therapist, specializes in trauma release through somatic work. She earned a master’s degree from Hunter College in New York City in Dance/Movement Therapy and completed another masters degree in clinical psychology with an emphasis in somatic psychology at the Santa Barbara Graduate Institute. Nadia is a registered practitioner of Biodynamic Craniosacral Therapy (RCST) and is also a certified Somatic Experiencing Practitioner (SEP) who trained with Peter Levine.

DanceMedicine Workshops is Natali’s creation where participants move through their trauma with dialogue and dance. She also offers the Ojai community, DanceMedicine Journeys. In addition to her private practice, Nadia and her husband offer Zen Retreats at their center.

Connect with Nadia:
Website  |  Blog  |   Facebook  |   Twitter  | 

Buy the book:
Amazon   |  Barnes & Noble  |  Audible


Thursday, December 28, 2017

FEATURED AUTHOR: LINDA REILLY


ABOUT THE BOOK

Here killer, killer, killer . . .

For the first time in sixteen years, Lara Caphart has returned to her hometown of Whisker Jog, New Hampshire. She wants to reconnect with her estranged Aunt Fran, who’s having some difficulty looking after herself—and her eleven cats. Taking care of a clowder of kitties is easy, but keeping Fran from being harassed by local bully Theo Barnes is hard. The wealthy builder has his sights set on Fran’s property, and is determined to make her an offer she doesn’t dare refuse.

Then Lara spots a blue-eyed ragdoll cat that she swears is the reincarnation of her beloved Blue, her childhood pet. Pursuing the feline to the edge of Fran’s yard, she stumbles upon the body of Theo Barnes, clearly a victim of foul play. To get her and Fran off the suspect list, Lara finds herself following the cat’s clues in search of a killer. Is Blue’s ghost really trying to help her solve a murder, or has Lara inhaled too much catnip?  


Escape Claws
A Cat Lady Mystery
by Linda Reilly
Genre: Cozy Mystery
204 pages




EXCERPT SNIPPETS

From Escape Claws Page 24:

Her aunt pointed a finger at her, her green eyes blazing. “Yes, Lara, you nailed it. He is the devil in disguise. The problem is, his disguise has slipped away and now he’s just the devil.”


From Escape Claws Page 32:

A paw batting at her nose awakened Lara. She squinted at the clock—only six fifteen. Half asleep, she grinned at the perpetrator—Izzy. The calico cat balanced on her chest while Pickles chewed on a strand of her tangled hair.


From Escape Claws Page 43:

Over the low clamor sifting through the coffee shop, a feminine voice suddenly rang out from the doorway. “Cheer up, everyone—don’t look so glum. Theo Barnes is dead!”


From Escape Claws Page 85:

Blue sat very straight, her dark tail curled around her fluffy form. Her coloring was stunning—like a cream-colored cookie whose edges had been dipped in a dark, exotic chocolate.


From Escape Claws Page 140:

A thread of unease wound through Lara. She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t help thinking that the driver of the black car had been watching her before he took off. Unfortunately, through the car’s tinted windows, Lara hadn’t been able to get a glimpse of his face.


From Escape Claws Page 142:

Lara slid the slender knife out of the fleshy face and set it down on a newspaper. Messy job, she thought, wiping her hands on a paper towel. But it had to be done.


From Escape Claws Page 146:

“I wish I could see that confession note,” Lara said without thinking. “Something about the whole thing reeks like a dead fish to me.”


Praise for Linda Reilly’s Deep Fried Mysteries


“I thoroughly enjoyed this puzzler of a mystery. Reilly cooks up a perfect recipe of murder and mayhem in this charming cozy.” —Jenn McKinlay, New York Times bestselling author of the Hat Shop Mysteries

“Smart, sassy, and a little bit scary. Everything a good cozy should be!” —Laura Childs, New York Times bestselling author of the Tea Shop Mysteries

“Everything I want in a cozy mystery: endearing characters, an enchanting setting, tantalizing food descriptions and a top-notch mystery plot!” —Susan Furlong, author of the Georgia Peach Mysteries


ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Armed with a degree in Criminal Justice, Linda Reilly once contemplated a career in law enforcement. But life took a twist, and instead she found her niche in real estate closings and title examinations, where the dusty tomes in the Registry of Deeds enticed her into solving mysteries of a different sort. A dyed-in-the-wool New Englander, Linda lives in New Hampshire with her husband, who affectionately calls her "Nose-in-a-Book." A member of Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America, she loves solving mysteries of the cozy type. When she's not pounding away at her keyboard, she can usually be found prowling the shelves of a local bookstore or library.



Connect with Linda:

Website  |  Facebook Author  |  Facebook CLM  | Twitter  |  Pinterest Bookbub  |  Goodreads

Buy the book:
Amazon  |   Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo 


2 cat lady mysteries tote, oversized cat mug, $20 Amazon




Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!


Wednesday, December 27, 2017

FEATURED AUTHOR: RICA NEWBERY




ABOUT THE BOOK

It is 1942 in Oslo, two years into the German occupation of World War II. Maria and her three daughters are used to coping with the hardships of war, but when Maria’s husband leaves her for another woman and a German officer is billeted to their home, their troubles are only just beginning. Maria and her daughters must stop fighting with each other and find a way to survive through grief, dread and fear.






LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT INTERVIEW WITH RICA NEWBERY


A few of your favorite things: 

Photos, my mother’s art, iPad and iPhone.
Things you need to throw out: 

Dresses from ten years ago, old photos, iPad and iPhone.


Things you need in order to write:

Reference books, my ancient lap-top - off line since lightning struck when it was plugged in, peace and quiet.
Things that hamper your writing: 

Getting distracted checking my emails and Facebook, interruptions, appointments, fatigue, procrastination, lack of confidence.


Things you love about writing: 

Getting lost in the world of my imagination, feeling the emotions of my characters, bringing them to life, storytelling.
Things you hate about writing: 

Self-starting, dread at reading what I wrote the day before, overcoming anxiety and inertia, no-one cares what you have written, no-one has asked you to do it, what if it is no good?

Things you love about where you live:

Living on the outskirts of Bristol with advantage of city and access to fields and woods nearby.
Things that make you want to move: 

To be nearer my daughter and grandson.

Words that describe you:

Lively, amusing, driven, honest, loving, quick witted.
Words that describe you but you wish they didn’t: 

Talks too much, ‘not as funny as she thinks she is,’ disorganized, untidy, does everything in a last minute rush, could go on, but -

Favorite foods: 

King prawns, salmon, mangos.
Things that make you want to throw up: 
Fermented herrings 

Favorite music: 

Besame Mucho, "Dance Me to the End of Love."
Music that make your ears bleed:

Irish country music (sorry, I love everything else about the Irish, I’m married to one).

Favorite beverage: 

Sparkling wine.

Something that gives you a pickle face: 

Fermented herrings, see above.

Favorite smell: 

Chanelle No 5, creosote, lemon. 

Something that makes you hold your nose:
Those fermented herrings.

Something you’re really good at:
Making people laugh.

Something you’re really bad at:
Mornings.


Something you wish you could do:

Sing.
Something you wish you’d never learned to do: 

Killer Sudoku, it’s so addictive.

Something you like to do: 

Travel, watch movies, listen to podcasts while walking my dog.

Something you wish you’d never done: 

‘Non, Je regrette rien.’ (Edith Piaf)

People you consider as heroes:

Emmeline Pankhurst, Martin Luther King, Rosa Marks.

People with a big L on their heads:

Donald Trump, Donald Trump Junior, Ivanka Trump, need I go on?



Last best thing you ate: 

Grilled mackerel with beetroot and buttery new potatoes.  

Last thing you regret eating:

Huge slab millionaire’s shortbread in my car driving back from London, chocolate everywhere, waist expanded by several inches.

Things to say to an author:

'Wow, what a page turner!’ ‘I was so moved when . . .’  ‘It was so real.’

Things to say to an author if you want to be fictionally killed off in their next book:
‘I fell asleep on page 2.’ ‘Of course, if you were a real writer….’ ‘Stick to your day job.’

Favorite places you’ve been: 

Darjeeling, Beijing, Lagos, St Petersburg.

Places you never want to go to again: 

Luton, Tierra del Fuego (aka ‘End of the World’).

People you’d like to invite to dinner:

Michelle Obama, Alvin Hall, Terry Gross (Fresh Air Podcast).

People you’d cancel dinner on: 

Jeremy Clarkson, Stephen Bannon.

Things that make you happy:

My family, my dog, my friends.

Things that drive you crazy: 

Noisy eaters, crinkly paper, loud music in cafés or restaurants.

Most embarrassing moment:

In a pub and pedophilia is being discussed and I say ‘Who is Peter Filiac?'

Proudest moment:

Becoming an adoptive mum.

Biggest lie you’ve ever told:


I never tell lies.

A lie you wish you’d told:

‘I did not report you to the DVLA.’

Best thing you’ve ever done: 

Adopt my 2 children, both babies when they came to us.

Biggest mistake: 

Reporting my mother to the DVLA. (Although I really had no choice.)

Most daring thing you’ve ever done: 

Traveled around China on my own.

Something you chickened out from doing: 

Walking up Ayer’s Rock, (Uluru) had to stop after 10 metres at ‘Chicken Rock.’

The last thing you did for the first time: 

Arranged a retrospective art exhibition for my mother’s work.

Something you’ll never do again: 

Run a half marathon: could hardly walk for days afterwards and now my knees will only do five kilometers. 




CHATTING WITH RICA NEWBERY


Rica, tell us about Reluctant Courage.

It is 1942 in Oslo, two years into the German occupation of World War II. Maria and her three daughters are used to coping with the hardships of war, but when Maria’s husband leaves her for another woman and a German officer is billeted to their home, their troubles are only just beginning. Maria and her daughters must stop fighting with each other and find a way to survive.

Why did you decide to write this book?


My mother, Brit Maja Holmsen was eight years old when the Nazis marched into Oslo, her home town. She grew up to become an artist and a very powerful and magnetic character. Like most of us she had her flaws, and I wanted to understand her, to imagine the hardships she endured, and how this must have shaped her as a person. I also wanted to feel closer to my Norwegian roots.

Reluctant Courage is fiction but based on real life. What research did you do for this book?
I did a great deal of research for this book, including visits to the Resistance Museum in Oslo and Falstad Museum in Ekne, near Levanger in the North of Norway. The courage of the Norwegian people recorded here is an inspiration. My aim is to bring the war years in Oslo, as experienced by Maria and her three daughters, to life. The characters in my book are fictional, however, and are not true to any real people.


Who are you?
I am a retired psychiatrist living in Bristol with my husband and Elkhound. After being totally immersed in work and bringing up two children, I finally came up for air when I retired. I enlisted for a Creative Writing course with the Open University and knew then that I was going to write a novel inspired by my mother’s life.

I hope you enjoy my book. If you do, I am sure you will feel the same admiration for the survivors of the war that I do.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Rica Newbery is a retired psychiatrist, living with her husband in Bristol. After completing an Open University course in creative writing, she wrote her first novel Reluctant Courage. Although her novel is fictional, it is based on much research and inspired by haunting stories from her mother’s childhood in Nazi-occupied Oslo.

Buy the book:
Amazon UK  |  Amazon US  |  Book Venture Online Book Store (USA)

Saturday, December 23, 2017

FEATURED AUTHOR: STEVEN MANCHESTER



ABOUT THE BOOK

A joyous and deeply emotional collection of three unforgettable Christmas novellas. With a series of #1 bestsellers like Twelve Months, The Rockin' Chair and Pressed Pennies, Steven Manchester has established himself as one of the premier voices of moving and heartfelt fiction. Now, he collects his three unforgettable Christmas novellas in one volume.

The Thursday Night Club: Five college friends, three men and two women, have been getting together every Thursday night to share humble meals and an abundance of laughter. But when tragedy takes one of them, leaving the others to question the fairness of life, the Thursday Night Club decides to embark on a contest in the memory of the generous spirit of their fallen brother. The objective of the contest is simple: whoever performs the kindest deed by Christmas night wins the pot – four quarters. And there are only two conditions: the benevolent deed must be anonymous, and it cannot cost a single penny to pull off. As the four friends undertake the contest, the healing begins and they become inspired beyond their expectations. There might be a winner in this competition, but it is very clear there will be no losers.

A Christmas Wish: Steph is on a search for truth in her heart as she faces the prospect of real love for the first time. Brian is out to enjoy his favorite season in a way that doctors never thought he could. And at the center of it all is their grandmother, affectionately known as Mama, a woman of remarkable commitment and charity who knows something very important about making Christmas wishes come true.

The Tin-Foil Manger: Published in this volume for the first time, this is the story of Nancy, an elderly woman with little to live for and Jeanne, the caretaker who wants to believe that Nancy has more to live for. Together, they embark on a journey to the past – a past of modest Christmases, tin-foil mangers, and abundant love – to rediscover the time when Nancy felt truly alive. Nancy's memories and how they touch Jeanne, will turn this Christmas into one for the ages. Rich with emotion and profound with meaning, these three stories of Christmas spirit that will strike a chord in your heart any time of year and make you look at the holiday season in new ways.


 





EXCERPT FROM THE THURSDAY NIGHT CLUB


Small white lights illuminated the trees that retained a hint of green. Cars—with pine trees secured to their roofs with rope—slipped down the slushy street. Children were bundled against the bitter cold, scarves concealing everything but wide eyes peering out. Without fail, one of the kids would always hit Papa’s car with a snowball. And he’d always stop and pretend to give chase, balling up snow and throwing it back at the kids. He laughed so hard doing that, Nancy recalled. They’d stop for cups of hot chocolate, while the festive music of Nat King Cole swooned in the background. If Papa had his way, though, we’d be listening to Elvis Presley’s Blue Christmas album.

The air was cold, and little Nancy got a kick out the steam that escaped her mouth when she talked. It looks like I’m smoking just like Papa. The sky was dark, but a pretty dark—gray mixed with splashes of pink and purple. “Feels like more snow’s coming,” Papa would say before turning up the collar on his woolen coat. He was like a fortuneteller because, not two minutes later, Nancy watched as the first snowflake fluttered to the ground—and then another. A minute later, there were thousands dancing around in the air, tickling her red button nose and blanketing the filthy ground.

After stopping at Jack and Harry’s—an old five and dime department store—to buy Mama’s Christmas gift, they returned home to the distinct smell of cinnamon filling the house. “Mama’s making her magic in the kitchen,” Papa said before taking a knee in front of the fireplace. Within minutes, small orange flames began licking the cold out of the living room.

Mama came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her faded red and green-striped apron, leaving behind two white-flour handprints. “So where did you two go?” she asked, looking directly at Nancy.
Nancy half-opened her mouth before looking toward her father for help.

“It’s our secret, Louise,” Papa said, “and you’ll have to wait until Christmas to find out.” He added a few more sticks of wood onto the growing flames before taking a seat in his worn armchair. He looked at Nancy. “What time is it?” he asked, grinning.

“Story time, right, Papa?” she answered, hopefully.

After a firm nod, he grabbed his thick Christmas book from the end table on his left. “That’s right,” he said, flipping open the front cover. “Now where did we leave off last?”



ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Steven Manchester is the author of the #1 bestsellers Twelve Months, The Rockin' Chair, Pressed Pennies and Gooseberry Island, as well as the national bestsellers Ashes and The Changing Season, and the multi-award winning novel, Goodnight, Brian. He has written A Christmas Wish (Kindle exclusive), Wilbur Avenue (novelette), Just in Time (novelette) and The Thursday Night Club (novella), while his work has appeared on NBC's Today Show, CBS's The Early Show, CNN's American Morning and BET's Nightly News. Three of Steven's short stories were selected "101 Best" for Chicken Soup for the Soul series and he is the produced playwright of Three Shoeboxes. When not spending time with his beautiful wife, Paula, or their four children, this Massachusetts author is promoting his works or writing. 

Connect with Steven:

Website  | Facebook  |  Twitter 

Buy the book:


Amazon  



Tuesday, December 19, 2017

FEATURED AUTHOR: VICTORIA GILBERT




ABOUT THE BOOK

Fleeing a disastrous love affair, university librarian Amy Webber moves in with her aunt in a quiet, historic mountain town in Virginia. Managing a charming public library that requires all her attention with its severe lack of funds and overabundance of eccentric patrons is difficult enough. The last thing she needs is a new neighbor whose charm lures her into trouble.

Dancer-turned-teacher and choreographer Richard Muir inherited the farmhouse next door from his great-uncle, Paul Dassin. But town folklore claims the house’s original owner was poisoned by his wife, an outsider. Although acquitted, townsfolk always claimed the wife was guilty, especially when she vanished after her sensational 1925 murder trial. Determined to clear the name of the woman his great-uncle loved, Richard implores Amy to help him investigate the case. Amy is skeptical until their research raises questions about the culpability of the town’s leading families... including her own.

When inexplicable murders plunge the quiet town into chaos, Amy and Richard must crack open the books to reveal a cruel conspiracy and lay a turbulent past to rest.






Book details:
A Murder for the Books: A Blue Ridge Library Mystery
Cozy Mystery
1st in Series

Crooked Lane Books (December 12, 2017)
Hardcover: 336 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1683314394
E-Book ASIN: B072396C2L



ABOUT THE  CHARACTER

Amy Webber, 33, has an undergraduate degree in Art History as well as a Master of Library and Information Science degree. She worked as a reference librarian at Clarion University before taking the job as director of the public library in Taylorsford, Virginia about a year ago. Taylorsford is her mother’s hometown, and Amy lives with her mother’s sister, Lydia Talbot, who still owns their family’s historic turn-of-the-century home. Amy loves art, film, gardening, and – of course – reading.


CHARACTER INTERVIEW WITH VICTORIA GILBERT’S AMY WEBBER


Amy, how did you first meet Victoria?
We first met about a year ago. From what I understand, my writer was at an impasse in her writing career, looking to change genres. Her wonderful agent suggested that she write something she loved to read, which led my writer to mysteries. At that point I stepped into the picture. We had an immediate rapport – partially because my writer is also a librarian whose hometown was a historic town in rural Virginia.

Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.
My favorite scene in the book involves dancing . . . and fishing. Sorry, but you’ll have to read the book to find out how those two things are connected. (I will say that a certain charming neighbor figures into this scene!)

Do have any secret aspirations that your author doesn’t know about?
I once dreamed of being an astronomer. (That was before I realized that math was not my strong suit). Of course, I was mainly interested in that field because I loved to read science fiction when I was younger. 

I’d also like to be as great a cook as my Aunt Lydia, but that will be a challenge. I occasionally attempt to make some of her famous dishes and desserts, with mixed results!

If you had a free day with no responsibilities and your only mission was to enjoy yourself, what would you do?
I would either work in my Aunt Lydia’s gorgeous garden, take a long walk in the woods near Taylorsford, or binge watch my favorite films. Of course, all of this would be more fun if shared with someone I care about – like my best friend, Sunny, my aunt, or my new neighbor, Richard Muir.



What impression do you make on people when they first meet you? How about after they've known you for a while?
I suspect when people first meet me they think I am a lot more quiet and reserved than I actually am.  This is probably because, while I am courteous and casually friendly, I am distrustful of strangers and don’t open up to people right away. Partly this is a defense mechanism, especially when I meet men. I tend to compensate for my rather voluptuous figure by coming across as less sexy than say, my friend Sunny might. I think my coolness turns off many guys, but I can’t help it – I may look like a pin-up, but I want to get to know someone before I get too involved. Now, once people get to know me, they soon see that as well as being intelligent, determined, and thoughtful, I can also be whimsical, funny, and . . . quite romantic under the proper circumstances! 



Tell us about your best friend.
My best friend is Sunshine Fields, who goes by “Sunny.”  She lives with her grandparents – former hippies – who own an organic farm outside of town. They raised her after her mother dropped her off and disappeared when she was just a baby. Sunny and I met at a library teen reading group when I visited my aunt in the summers. We have remained friends ever since, even though we are different in many ways. Unlike me, Sunny is slim, blonde, and blue-eyed – and quite a flirt. But we both love books and having fun, and are both unabashedly loyal to those we love. There’s never been any competition over guys or any of that other “mean girl” nonsense between Sunny and me – we know we only want the best for each other. We are the sisters that neither of us has.



What’s the best trait Victoria has given you?
The best trait is my absolute loyalty to my friends and family, and my compassion for others.
What’s the worst?
The worst is my fretting over my body and weight – I am a curvy girl and worry too much about appearance in that regard.

What’s Victoria’s worst habit?
She uses the word “that” too much. I have to remind her to do a “that-ectomy” on all of her drafts before she sends them to our editor!

Describe the town where you live.
Taylorsford is a historic town that lies at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains in northern Virginia. It is small, but quite lovely, with its tree-lined streets, charming older homes, and independent businesses housed in restored buildings. There are a few fieldstone structures built in the eighteenth century, but most of the homes date from the Victorian period. There is only one main street. Many of the few side streets lead up into the mountains, and the surrounding countryside still includes small farms, as well as some estates owned by people who either work in Washington, D.C. or are independently wealthy. The public library is a Carnegie Library, built around 1919 with funds donated by industrialist and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie. 

What makes you stand out from any other characters in your genre?
I like to think that I am a little less quirky than many of my cozy compatriots, although some of my friends and family might disagree! I also primarily use my intelligence, logic, and library research skills in my sleuthing, eschewing guns or other weapons. I try not to circumvent the work of the sheriff’s department, preferring to aid them in their endeavors rather than work cases on my own.

Will you encourage Victoria to write a sequel?

Actually, I have, and she has already written it.  It is called Shelved Under Murder, and it will be published in July 2018, again by Crooked Lane Books. There will be a third book as well!




ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Raised in a historic small town in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Victoria turned her early obsession with books into a dual career as an author and librarian. An avid reader who appreciates good writing in all genres, Victoria has been known to read seven books in as many days. When not writing or reading, she likes to watch films, listen to music, garden, or travel. Victoria is a member of Mystery Writers of America, International Thriller Writers, and Sisters in Crime. She lives in North Carolina with her husband, son, and some very spoiled cats.

Connect with Victoria:
Website  |  Blog  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |   Goodreads
Buy the book:

Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble 


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