Gosford’s Daughter, by Bestselling Author Mary Daheim: Passion and Intrigue in the Scottish Highlands

gosfords_daughterGosford’s Daughter ($16.95, 362 pages., ISBN: 978-1-60381-963-3), is a reprint of an early historical romance by bestselling author Mary Daheim. The novel was originally published in 1988 under the title, Passion’s Triumph, and continues the story that began with The Royal Mile, originally Love’s Pirate.

“Mary Daheim’s novels are a rare treat for the lovers of deeply detailed, highly historical love stories that bring history to vibrant life.”

Romantic Times

**Click the cover image to order online **

**Or buy it in Kindle, Nook, or other eBook formats on Smashwords**

“Sorcha’s character was likable, and as a reader I definitely was rooting for her happiness the entire time, which is important to me. I also was a huge fan of this book, because it takes place during a time that I find completely fascinating. The time period when the Tudors and Queen Mary were alive is so interesting to me, and I read every book I can get my hands on about their lives. Overall I thought this was a great book, and I enjoyed reading it from start to finish.”  Read more ….

—Cocktails and Books.com

It’s 1585 at Gosford’s End in the Scottish Highlands where seventeen-year-old Sorcha Fraser is impatient to sample life outside of her close-knit family circle. Graced with the beauty and spirit of her parents, Iain and Dallas, she doesn’t have long to wait. While out riding, Sorcha meets a strangely compelling young man in priestly robes. She can’t foresee that Gavin Napier’s destiny will become forever intrinsically linked with her own fate. As Catholics, they are an endangered species in Protestant Scotland. Even King James has renounced the religion of his mother, Mary Stuart. The lives of all who remain faithful to “popish” ways are in grave danger.

Yet every time fate throws Sorcha and Gavin together, they’re cruelly torn apart. At court, she becomes a favorite of King James, who sends her to comfort his imprisoned mother in England. After Mary’s execution, Sorcha returns to Scotland where she finds the capricious monarch entangled in a nest of vipers. The most vicious of all is a dazzling courtesan who wields her beauty to set the clans against each other. But ultimately not even those otherworldly powers can prevail against the will—and the love—of Gavin Napier and Gosford’s daughter.

Says the author, “Why does any author write a sequel to a story that appears to have already been told? The characters, that’s why. At least in my case. Over the course of what was originally 850 manuscript pages and I don’t know how many years to create them, I became so immersed in Dallas’s and Iain’s Frasers that I couldn’t get them out of my mind. Frankly, I was curious to see what happened to them—and to their family—in later years. Quite a lot, it seemed. The Frasers lived in perilous times, especially for the Catholic minority.”

Mary Richardson Daheim, a Seattle native, began her publishing career with the first of seven historical romances before switching to mysteries in 1991. Since then she has published at least 55 books. Click here to find her on the Web.

Keep reading for an excerpt:

Guiding Thisbe among the pine trees, Sorcha paused to gaze at the wooded isles that stood like primeval ships in the broad, brown Ness. It was a view she had loved since childhood, with the rippling waters, the heavy scent of pine, the backdrop of blue hills marching like a giant staircase to the distant mountaintops, where the snow never quite disappeared, even under the hottest summer sun.

A sudden movement nearby made Thisbe tense. Sorcha turned in the saddle to see a six-point stag standing aloof in motionless splendor. She knew the stag well. Two years earlier, her father and Magnus had determined to see which of them would bag the magnificent animal. But he had evaded them both, in a taunting, cunning match of human and animal wit. In deference to his victory, the Fraser menfolk had vowed never to kill the stag they had come to call the Master of Ness. Strangely enough, the animal had seemed to sense their concession and had boldly appeared before them at least a half dozen times the previous autumn. Sorcha lifted her head to touch her cap in salute as Thisbe’s ears twitched in apparent awe.

“Stay still,” Sorcha whispered, patting her mare’s neck. “He’ll go. It’s his way of telling us he’s guarding the Ness.”

The stag turned slightly, antlers tipped back like a primitive diadem. Sorcha was still smiling with admiration when the arrow soared through the pine trees and found its mark.

It seemed as if at least a full minute passed before the stag’s long legs buckled and he crashed onto the peaty ground. Horrified, Sorcha screamed and Thisbe reared up. Instinct alone saved her from being thrown as she clung to the mare’s neck and uttered a sharp command.

Sorcha leapt from the saddle, running to the stag, which was already in the last stage of its death throes. It was useless to remove the arrow; it had gone straight to the heart. Sorcha was too angry to cry, too outraged to be surprised by the tall, imposing figure that emerged from the pine trees carrying a huge bow in one hand and a dirk in the other.

“You killed him!” she cried. “You killed the Master of Ness!”

The man looked more bemused than concerned. “Strange, it looks like a stag to me.” He bent down to make sure the animal was dead, then sheathed his dirk. “Was he your pet?” The dark eyes were the color of the river itself, unrevealing and every bit as deep, set in a long face that struck Sorcha as wolflike.

His skin was dark, too, and the wavy hair was brown as a bog. The short-cropped beard and mustache made him seem older than he probably was. Not yet thirty, Sorcha gauged, and realized she was staring.

“Aye, he was, in his way. A family pet.” She gripped one of the antlers and glared defiantly at the man. “Why did you do that? There are so many other deer nearby.”

The man stood up and sighed. He was very tall and broad shouldered under the long black cape that covered him from neck to ankle. The beard, the cape, the guarded features, momentarily deflected Sorcha’s attention from the slain stag. There was something clandestine about the man, as if his all-enveloping attire shielded him from much more than the weather. But his words were frank enough, if tinged with irony: “I didn’t know I had to request an introduction to a stag before I shot him. Most do not have names. Or families.”

“Well, this one did. We all were particularly fond of him.” Sorcha brushed at her damp cheeks, lest he mistake raindrops for tears. She suddenly felt very young and vaguely foolish. “Do you have a name?”

The smile he gave her was surprisingly candid. “I do. It’s Napier. Gavin Napier. And you?”

“I’m Sorcha Fraser of Gosford’s End.” She paused, waiting for the usual acknowledgment of her family’s prestige. But Napier said nothing; he just continued to gaze at her from those deep, dark brown eyes. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wondering if Gavin Napier lived close by. But most of their clan came from much farther south, near Loch Lomond.

Before any coherent words could take form, Napier whistled. Within seconds, a handsome gray stallion trotted through the trees to stand by his master. “At least my horse is obedient,” Napier said with a trace of impatience. “Now where are the others?”

“You are with a hunting party?” Sorcha inquired as the rain began to pelt down in stinging drops.

“Of sorts.” He turned away, and she noticed that his profile was strongly etched, from the high forehead to the long nose, which had apparently been broken more than once, to the wide mouth with its slightly elongated lower lip. It was not a handsome face, Sorcha decided; it was too rough-hewn, too uneven. And definitely wolflike. But for some reason, she could not take her eyes from him.

“Damn.” He uttered the word with resignation. “They must have gone farther upriver, to the loch.” He unsheathed his dirk again and looked at Sorcha. “I don’t suppose you’d care to watch me gut your friend?”

“Oh!” Sorcha clapped her hands to her cheeks. “No! No, not this one!” The mere idea shocked her. Yet she wanted Gavin Napier to know that she had not only watched but gutted many a stag in her time. It seemed vitally important that he should not mistake her for a fatuous, squeamish child.

“Then turn the other way or head on home.” He had knelt down once more and was rolling the stag over onto its back. Napier moved with practiced assurance, reminding Sorcha of the poachers her father often winked at when he caught them on Fraser property. Napier obviously was no local poacher, but there was the aura of the hunter about him.

The rain was beginning to pierce the thick fabric of her woolen skirt. Sorcha was suddenly tempted to take Thisbe and flee to the manor house. But sheer willpower and a determination to prove herself forced a different decision.

“Oh, God’s teeth, if you need help, I’ll assist you. The poor creature can’t be any more dead than he is already.”

Napier glanced over his shoulder, a glimmer of surprise in his dark eyes. “Well. There’s a good lass. You hold the forelegs and I’ll do the cutting.”

Steeling herself to watch Napier’s every movement, Sorcha pried the legs as far apart as she could. The dirk plunged, and a torrent of blood spurted out over the animal’s tawny belly. Sorcha choked and was afraid she was going to be ill. To distract herself, she tried to think of Niall and how she’d responded to his kisses and the touch of his hands on her breasts. Somehow, those images were almost as jarring as the carnage taking place just under her nose.

Napier worked swiftly. Not more than five minutes had elapsed before the heart, organs, and entrails lay on the peaty, rain-soaked ground. The downpour was washing the blood away, allowing it to merge back into the earth, as nature claimed nature.

Napier stood up and caught Sorcha off guard with a wide, appealing grin. “Well done, lass. I have a rope; I’ll tie him to my horse.”

She was about to ask where he was taking the stag when three riders appeared downriver. As Napier called out to them, Sorcha could see that they were all dressed alike. As they drew closer, she realized why: They were monks, wearing their white robes under riding capes, with hoods covering their tonsures to protect them from the rain. She recognized one of them, an elderly brother named Joseph from Beauly Priory.

“The Lord be with you,” Brother Joseph said in greeting. Sorcha curtsied and replied in kind. “Ah, we’ll feast well this night,” he exclaimed, his faded blue eyes fixed on the stag.

“Aye,” said Napier, unwinding the rope from his horse’s saddle. “Though I feared Mistress Fraser here might do me a mischief when she discovered I’d slain her pet.”

“Pet?” Brother Joseph’s mouth was droll. “Ah, I believe I’ve heard of that one. The Master of Ness, is it not?”

Sorcha nodded. “It is. Was. But I would not begrudge it to you and the other holy monks. Consider it a reparation for sin.”

“Sin?” Brother Joseph’s scanty white eyebrows lifted. “You would have had to break most of the commandments to need such a handsome penance, my child. But we thank you all the same.” He turned in the saddle with some difficulty. “Do you know Brothers Michale and Dugald?”

She did not and went through an introduction to the two younger monks while Napier secured the stag and mounted his gray stallion. The rain was already letting up, driven southward by a brisk wind that moaned through the pine trees and ruffled the river’s steady passage.

From his place in the saddle, Gavin Napier seemed to tower over Sorcha and dwarf even the stiffened corpse of the great stag. She caught herself staring again and started to turn away. But Napier had a parting word: “If ever you find a man you care for as much as you did this handsome stag, he will be a fortunate lad.”

His voice was light, but Sorcha detected an undercurrent of irony. Had the monks not been with them, she would have given Napier a sharp retort. Instead, she found herself uncharacteristically silent.

The brief, awkward moment was broken by Brother Joseph. “It is well to love animals, my child. But it is more pleasing to God to love people. I trust you will take Father Napier’s words to heart.”

Sorcha’s jaw dropped. Now she could not possibly keep from staring at Gavin Napier. Sure enough, sitting astride his horse with the long black cloak blowing in the wind, she could see that he wore the garb of a priest. He was looking just beyond her, toward the drooping bracken near the water’s edge. Despite his lack of expression, was he inwardly laughing at her? Sorcha wasn’t sure, nor did she remember if she bade them farewell. The only image that lingered was Gavin Napier, guiding his gray stallion back into the pine forest with the Master of Ness dragging behind over the rich, rain-soaked ground.

Johnnie Come Lately, by Kathleen M. Rodgers: Love, Loss, and Second Chances

johnnieJohnnie Come Lately ($14.95, 292 pp., ISBN: 978-1-60381-215-3), is a work of Women’s Contemporary fiction by Kathleen M. Rodgers. Despite an outwardly happy existence as a wife and mother, Johnnie Kitchen yearns for a way to fulfill her dreams and end her nightmares.

Rodgers is the winner of the 2009 MWSA Silver Medal Award for Fiction and the 2010 William E. Mayer Literary Award. Her first novel, The Final Salute, was featured in USA Today, The Associated Press, and Military Times. It reached #1 on Amazon’s Top-Rated War Fiction list and was a Book of the Month selection for the Army Wife Network.

** Click the cover image to order online **

** Order it in Kindle, Nook, or other eBook formats on Smashwords **

“Kathleen M Rodgers book is truly an inspiration to anyone who has gone through an eating disorder …. Johnnie Come Lately is a great book. It’s a little hard to read this and not feel for the characters.”  Read more….

—Sharon Salituro, Fresh Fiction

“An unforgettable book…. Rodgers unrolls this story in style, perfectly segueing one thread to the next in a fashion that keeps you turning the pages until a very satisfying end that ties it all back together and answers the questions that teased you throughout the book. Want great storytelling? Read this book.”  Read more….

–The blog of Keith Jones, author of The Boys of Diamond Hill and In Due Time

“A rich new voice has exploded in the South. Kathleen M. Rodgers creates beautifully flawed characters that remain with the reader for long after the novel is finished.”

—Ann Hite, 2012 Georgia Author of the Year for Ghost on Black Mountain

“By the end of the novel, Johnnie Kitchen had become my friend, one that I am sad to be without now that Johnnie Come Lately is off my nightstand and back on my shelf, every word devoured.”  Read more ….

—Jodie Cain Smith, The Military Spouse Book Review

Click here to read an article on Johnnie in Stars and Stripes.

“With the grace of a consummate storyteller, [Rodgers] saves the hardest truths for last…. [She] has made a place for Johnnie in the hearts of her readers.”  Read more ….

—Melissa Embry’s Blog

“Kathleen Rodgers had me from the moment I read the first sentence. Johnnie leaps off the page as a woman who is real, tangible, and someone women in all walks of life can certainly relate to. As each nuance of her character was revealed, I found myself cheering, crying, and, at times, laughing. Rodgers has written a book that will long stand for what it truly means to go after your dreams.”

—Melissa Seligman, author of The Day After He Left for Iraq and co-founder, herwarhervoice.com

“The Kitchen family could be any wholesome All-American family, and like any family, they have secrets. In Johnnie Come Lately, Kathleen Rodgers brings to life an extended family that could be yours or mine. Their secrets will draw you into this book, and Rodgers’ characters—from Johnnie Kitchen to her lovable chocolate lab, Brother Dog—will jump off the page, grab your heart, and not let it go until the very end.”

—Terri Barnes, author of Spouse Calls: Messages From a Military Life and columnist for Stars and Stripes

“A beautifully crafted story about family secrets and second chances, Johnnie Come Lately is a guaranteed book club favorite. Former bulimic Johnnie Kitchen battles insecurity and doubt but never lets failure win. I loved her imperfections; I marveled at her strength. Reminding us of the true nature of courage, Johnnie is one of the best heroines I’ve met in years.”

—Barbara Claypole White, award-winning author of The Unfinished Garden and The In-Between Hour

Johnnie Come Lately is why humans have gathered for eons around the fires to listen to the Storyteller. Kathleen M. Rodgers masterfully unfolds the faded, damaged petals of her flawed characters to reveal their glorious essence in this gripping story about the soul’s risk and its inevitable redemption.”

—Parris Afton Bonds, New York Times bestselling author of Deep Purple and cofounder of Romance Writers of America and Southwest Writers Workshop

Johnnie Come Lately evokes the pathos of family life—secrets, betrayals, misunderstandings, heartbreak, and just enough love and forgiveness to make it all worth it. Kathleen M. Rodgers treats her haunted characters with keen insight and empathy, offering them the second, third, fourth chances that all of us flawed human beings need.”

—Siobhan Fallon, author of You Know When the Men Are Gone

“The remnants of Johnnie Kitchen’s childhood traumas threaten the life she needs and wants now—a deep and enduring love, children, and an orderly family life. Award-winning author Kathleen Rodgers has written a brave and uplifting novel that will move anyone who has faced a long, lonely road back from disaster and despair.”

—Joyce Faulkner, past president of Military Writers Society of America and award-winning author of Windshift and In the Shadow of Suribachi

Johnnie Come Lately is a thoroughly compelling story of a family in crisis. Rodgers has combined humor, tragedy, and ultimately love in an uplifting story of the human spirit. There were times that I laughed and cried and shouted for joy, and I am not ashamed to say it.”

—Dwight Jon Zimmerman, New York Times #1 bestselling and award-winning author, Lincoln’s Last Days, radio show host, producer, and president of the Military Writers Society of America

“Kathleen M. Rodgers captures several life-changing events in Johnnie Come Lately with empathy, seriousness, and humor. Her characters are well-defined; her plot is very credible and her use of schemes to further her story all combine to make this a completely entertaining read.” Read more ….

—Katherine Boyer, Katherine’s Bookshelf, Midwest Book Review

“With Johnnie Come Lately, Kathleen Rodgers has crafted a story that hits every emotion and is, in many ways, cathartic. This deeply felt family drama resonates on multiple levels, ultimately leaving you inspired.”

—Angela Ebron, former magazine editor and the author of Blessed Health: The African-American Woman’s Guide to Physical and Spiritual Health

Would life have been different for Johnnie if she’d been named after a woman rather than her dead uncle? Or if her mama hadn’t been quite so beautiful or flighty? The grandparents who raised her were loving, but they didn’t understand the turmoil roiling within her. And they had so many, many secrets. Why did her mama leave? Would she ever return? How did her Uncle Johnny really die? Who was her father?

Now Johnnie Kitchen is a 43-year-old woman with three beautiful children, two of them grown. She has a handsome, hardworking husband who adores her, and they live in the historic North Texas town of Portion in a charming bungalow. But she never finished college and her only creative outlet is a journal of letters addressed to both the living and the dead. Although she has conquered the bulimia that almost killed her, Johnnie can never let down her guard, lest the old demons return. Or perhaps they never went away to begin with. For Johnnie has secrets of her own, and her worst fear is that the life she’s always wanted—the one where she gets to pursue her own dreams—will never begin.

Not until her ghosts reveal themselves.

Says the author, “I know so many women who reach a point in their lives when they realize they’ve been living for others and not themselves. They have unfulfilled dreams and unfinished business, and it will eat at their souls unless they do something about it. I hope readers will connect with Johnnie Kitchen, with all her flaws and passion for life. She is wounded, but she has never stopped fighting. By confronting her demons, she finds a way to really live for the first time.”

Kathleen M. Rodgers’ stories and essays have appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies. Johnnie Come Lately is her second novel. She lives in a suburb of North Texas with her husband, a retired fighter pilot/commercial airline pilot, and their dog, Denton. For more information, click here.

Keep Reading for an excerpt:

The Lincoln Continental with a buttercream paint job sailed up to the curb at promptly seven p.m. Granny Opal blasted her horn and Johnnie sprang down the front steps to greet her.

“You look a little thin,” Granny called out. She was wearing that loopy grin that seemed to grow more lopsided every year. She wore purple gauchos, a short denim jacket—to conceal her expanding waistline—and her trademark red cowboy boots. Big silver hoops looped through sagging earlobes dangled below her cropped hair.

Out of respect for her grandmother, Johnnie tried to appear cheerful, although a cloud of lead had fallen from the sky over 420 Merriweather. “Granny, I’ve been the same weight for years. Here, let me give you a hand with that.”

Granny Opal placed a three-layer coconut cake into Johnnie’s outstretched hands. “I may be retired from the business, but I can still bake a mean cake.”

Johnnie smiled, taking care not to drop it. “I’m sure it will be delicious.”

Early in her recovery, when she avoided sweets for fear they would trigger a binge, she refrained from saying anything derogatory every time her grandmother appeared armed with a dessert. Then one year, the year Johnnie was pregnant with Cade, she thought Granny Opal finally understood. After a meal of baked chicken and tossed salad, Johnnie’s grandmother sailed into the dining room with a large head of cabbage on a crystal cake pedestal. Planted in the middle of the cabbage was a fat pink dinner candle. After everyone stopped laughing long enough to sing “Happy Birthday,” Johnnie blew it out. When Johnnie quietly sighed with relief and started to open her presents, Granny Opal appeared in the doorway with a Texas sheet cake, much to the delight of a young D.J. and Dale.

Later that night, when they were getting ready for bed, Johnnie grumbled to Dale that Granny Opal was trying to sabotage her progress. Dale, to his credit, simply remarked, “Maybe she just likes baking cakes.”

Granny Opal linked one arm through Johnnie’s and together they mounted the steps onto the large porch. “Everything looks lovely,” her grandmother commented as they entered the house.

Cade and Callie Ann were out back, playing fetch with Brother Dog. As Johnnie went to place the cake on the long farmhouse table that served as a room divider between the kitchen and the family room, she saw Granny Opal poke her head out the back door.

“Cade, when’s your next baseball game? I’ll come if it’s not too hot.”

Johnnie looked up, wondering how Cade would respond, but her grandmother had already stepped outside onto the deck and shut the door. A few minutes later, while Johnnie set out dessert plates and forks, the back door opened, and Granny Opal filed in, followed by Brother Dog. He trotted straight to the laundry room, where Johnnie could hear him lapping from his water bowl.

Granny Opal went to the sink and helped herself to a glass of tap water. “Cade told me what happened.” She turned to look at Johnnie, who froze, afraid to look into her grandmother’s dancing eyes. How much had Cade told her? A knot in her stomach, Johnnie watched herself pull out a chair and sit down across from her grandmother. The heady scent of birthday cake and vanilla candles filled the room. She felt a headache coming on.

Granny Opal removed one of her earrings and rubbed her earlobe. “Kids are going to drink, my dear. It’s a fact of life. I told Cade I don’t want to hear about him drinkin’ and drivin’.” She took a sip of water and set her glass in the sink. With her back to Johnnie, she added, “I know about the six games. He’ll survive. In the meantime, I’ve got an acre of trees that need trimmin’ and he’s offered to do it. For free.”

Omaha Stakes, by Mark Everett Stone, Book 5 in the From the Files of the BSI Series

omahaTo defeat his new fanged nemesis and save the world, super-agent Kal Hakala must put his neck on the line once and for all.

** Click the Cover Image to Order Online **

** Or order it in Kindle, Nook, or other eBook Formats on Smashwords **

Omaha Stakes ($15.95, 328 pages, ISBN: 978-1-60381-931-2), is Book 5 of Mark Everett Stone’s popular urban fantasy series featuring a super-agent employed by the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation. Next up: The Spirit in St. Louis and two sequels to The Judas Line.

“This action-packed urban fantasy follows the brooding Kal Hakala, human head of the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation in an alternate contemporary America, to what promises to be the first of many confrontations…. [Stone] writes in a brisk, conversational style …. The setting fuses magic and technology in appealing ways that will hopefully be developed in future installments…. Kal’s frolic through a nifty supernatural world is enjoyable.” —Publishers Weekly

(The Judas Line): “Delightful…. Even the obligatory near-apocalyptic ending is coherent, surprising, and exciting.” —Publishers Weekly Starred Review

(Chicago, The Windigo City): “Stone has written a novel difficult to put down. Endless tension along with well-implemented action make the reading experience a necessity, not an option.” —ForeWord Magazine

(Things to Do in Denver When You’re Un-Dead): “I have really enjoyed reading this book…. The story could just be one of guns, blood and guts and magic, but… Mark Everett Stone has made these characters seem real.” —Michele Herbert, Fantasy Book Review

Books in Motion has issued audiobooks of Mark’s first four BSI novels, Things to Do in Denver When You’re Un-Dead, What Happens in Vegas, Dies in Vegas, I Left My Haunt in San Francisco, and Chicago, The Windigo City. They plan to tape the entire series.

Mark’s first novel, Things to Do in Denver When You’re Un-Dead, won the second place Forward Literature Award for Humor and was one of seven titles nominated for ForeWord Magazine’s debut fiction award, ForeWord Firsts. The Judas Line was a finalist for ForeWord’s Book of the Year Award and earned a starred review in Publishers Weekly.

Agent Kal Hakala, who has been running the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation as its temporary director, has his hands full. First there was the windigo crisis that threatened humanity with extinction. Now he has received an anonymous challenge from a creature calling himself Maydock: “Come to Omaha within the next five days, or every day thereafter I shall kill ten humans in many inventive and disturbing ways.”

Maydock has infiltrated BSI Security and can monitor Kal’s every move, so until Ghost can repair the breach, Kal has no choice but to travel to the Heartland with no team backup and only those items he can carry. While Kal dances to Maydock’s tune, Canton and his team covertly follow as close as they dare, realizing that if they are caught, they will trigger Maydock’s epic murder spree.

Even as Kal is put through his paces, he uncovers corruption so insidious it tears at his fragile sanity. With the odds stacked so heavily against him, how can Kal possibly vanquish the most powerful being he has ever encountered?

Says Stone, “For the fifth book I wanted to explore Kal’s evolution now that his sister is no longer there to keep his fragile sanity intact and he no longer has the crutch of his rage to sustain him. How we deal with adversity tells us a lot about our character, and it is incumbent upon me as an author to keep developing my protagonist in a way that is both logical and exciting. Also, I wanted to continue to give larger roles to some of my other recurring characters, such as Canton, because I find them as interesting as Kal, sometimes even more so.”

Born in Helsinki, Finland, Mark Everett Stone arrived in the U.S. at a young age and promptly dove into the world of the fantastic. Starting at age seven with the Iliad and the Odyssey, he went on to consume every scrap of Norse Mythology he could get his grubby little paws on. At age thirteen he graduated to Tolkien and Heinlein, building up a book collection that soon rivaled the local public library’s. In college Mark majored in Journalism and minored in English. Mark lives in Denver with his wife, Brandie, and their two sons, Aeden and Gabriel. Click here to find Mark on the Web.

Keep reading for an excerpt:

Red clouded my vision as anger replaced the icy worm of fear. “What are you?” I snarled, my Interdiction twinging a bit in the presence of Straights. I was moving into dangerous territory here. “Did I kill one of your … friends?”

Maydock’s dry laughter was really starting to chap my ass, but he kept up his chuckling for a few seconds. “Kal, I am something new under the sun, the first of my kind. An incipient species ready to stride the world like colossi.”

With no further comment, I smashed my smartphone against the corner of the chest of drawers, sending shattered plastic and delicate components flying. Lowenstein’s head fell to the floor with a dull thud and rolled to a stop next to Nihsen’s size nines. I put the cheap phone to my ear.

“Good, Kal,” Maydock purred. “Now … three eight three one.”

“What?”

“Three eight three one. That’s the code that will disarm the bomb attached to young Nelson.”

My skin began to crawl. I knew what would come next, but remained silent.

“He is three blocks away. Two blocks directly south, one directly east. A warehouse under renovation and is currently unoccupied by human prey. He is on the roof. You have ten minutes. Come alone or he dies. Oh, and destroy the phone.” Click.

I didn’t think twice. The cheap cell joined the detritus of the smartphone as shards of plastic and paper circuitry rained down upon the carpet.

“What are you doing?” shouted Nihsen, grabbing my arm.

“I have to go.”

He wouldn’t let go. Damn, but he packed some muscle beneath that tubby exterior.

His eyes blazed with mistrust. “What did he tell you?”

“Check the Picasso,” I said, pointing to the crudely rendered, spear-wielding Spaniard. “Camera is in there somewhere.” While everyone looked toward the print I hightailed it out of there, taking the stairs instead of the elevator.

My sneakers hit concrete at a run and the too-humid air walloped my face like a wet slap. The car was close, but so was the warehouse. I briefly considered raiding the Hyundai’s trunk but realized that time was short and I had plenty of lethality hidden about my body. At least, I hoped so.

Three blocks passed in a blur; the only sound I was aware of was the flapping of my trench coat. I spied my destination. It was the only building large enough to be called a warehouse—a three-story brick monstrosity surrounded by shorter structures, equally old and worn. An ancient, weathered Gulliver surrounded by storefront Lilliputians.

Most of the small windows decorating the warehouse were either boarded up or broken. As I approached, I became aware of an aura of decrepitude and abandonment that practically shone from its crumbling russet façade. If it was being renovated, it must’ve been from the inside out.

I knew it was a trap. Had to be. Maydock was toying with me, putting me through my paces for his cruel amusement. It would be up to me to spoil his fun.

With This Ring, by Carla Kelly: A Beleagered Gentlewoman Agrees to a Marriage of Convenience

with_this_ringWith This Ring ($15.95, 306 pp., ISBN: 978-1-60381-951-0), a regency romance by Carla Kelly,  features a gentlewoman who escapes society’s censure after an embarrassing display of plain-speaking by marrying a man she barely knows–a wounded earl who must present his family with a wife in order to secure his inheritance.

“The story never drags and is never rushed, and I, who normally do not like regencies that much, was utterly enchanted with it,” wrote Ellen Micheletti in All About Romance when With This Ring was first published in 1997. She gave the book an “A” rating.

** Click the Cover Image to Order Online **

** Or buy it in Kindle, Nook, or other eBook formats on Smashwords **

“Time has not dulled the appeal of this charming Regency romance. The pacing moves along, the plot has many unexpected twists and turns, and Lydia’s transformation along the journey is a pleasure to behold…. Recommended.” Read more….

—Historical Novel Society

Carla Kelly is the recipient of two RITA Awards from Romance Writers of America for Best Regency of the Year; two Spur Awards from Western Writers of America; two Whitney Awards, 2011 and 2012; and a Lifetime Achievement Award from Romantic Times. Kelly’s Mrs. Drew Plays Her Hand reprint was selected by Publishers Weekly as one of the top 5 romances in 2012.

Other Camel Press reprints of Carla Kelly regencies include Miss Whittier Makes a List, Miss Chartley’s Guided Tour, Miss Billings Treads the Boards, Miss Milton Speaks Her Mind, and Mrs. McVinnie’s London Season. Reprints of two Christmas novellas were released in November under the title Season’s Regency Greetings. Camel has also published Books 1 and 2 of Carla’s all-new Spanish Brand series, The Double Cross and Marco and the Devil’s Bargain. These stories feature life, love, and danger on America’s southwest border in the 1780s. Book 3 will appear in the fall of 2015.

Carla Kelly is particularly celebrated for her regency romances. The Romance Reader has called her “the Grandmistress of the [Regency] genre.” According to Romantic Times, “Carla Kelly’s Regency Romances are always superb and a timeless delight.” Library Journal wrote, “one of the most respected Regency writers.”

The year is 1814, and Lydia Perkins is in London for the Season. Sadly, the Perkins don’t care if Lydia makes a suitable match. All her mother’s hopes lie in the beautiful but vapid Kitty, and Lydia is expected to answer her every whim. In an effort to mix with the ton, the sisters find themselves at St. Barnabas Church, gawking at the soldiers wounded at the Battle of Toulouse, the final battle that sent Napoleon into exile at Elba. Kitty faints prettily and is revived by a pair of admiring dandies, but Lydia is drawn to the suffering of the men.

Among them is Major Sam Reed, grievously wounded himself, but in fact an earl: Lord Laren of Laren Hall, Northumberland. Major Reed could be recovering in comfort, but instead he chooses to stand by his men. Despite her parents’ objections, Lydia returns to nurse the soldiers. As she learns the joy of being useful, she and Major Reed become friends. Finally he makes a curious proposal: Would she marry him, be his wife in name only, and travel with him to Northumberland? During the war, he invented a wife to appease his rich aunt. If he doesn’t produce “Delightful Saunders” in the flesh, he stands to lose his fortune.

Can Lydia leave her indifferent family and embark on her first real adventure? She discovers that not every adventure is a pleasant one, as she falls in love with a man who might see her as merely a means to an end.

Says Kelly, “Confession: I never write Regencies for the lords and ladies, but for the Napoleonic Wars. Lasting a generation, this world war changed the face of Europe forever. And if I can describe how an otherwise brave man coped, gussy it up with a romance, maybe my readers will never suspect my guilty secret.”

A well-known veteran of the romance writing field, Carla Kelly is the author of thirty-one novels and four non-fiction works, as well as numerous short stories and articles for various publications. Carla’s interest in historical fiction is a byproduct of her lifelong study of history. She has a BA in Latin American History from Brigham Young University and an MA in Indian Wars History from University of Louisiana-Monroe. Click here to find Carla online.

Keep reading for an excerpt:

She was about to leave. Her courage was draining away as fast as the blood from that poor unfortunate soldier eight rows over. She decided to try one more time. “Major, I ….”

“I heard you. It just takes me a moment to turn around. Don’t leave, please.”

She came closer. Taking great care of himself, the officer shifted his whole body on the cot, rather than just his head. “Well, miss?” he asked, his words clipped, his lips tight.

She thought for a moment that she had angered him, and then she realized that he was in pain. It showed in the tightness around his mouth and the way he squinted at her, even though the room was fairly well lit. Oh, dear, she thought as she slowly untied her bonnet and set it aside. I do not know which of you is worse off.

She took a deep breath, which was a mistake in that foul room, and gestured toward the surgeon. “He said I was to relieve you here, so you could go lie down.”

The officer said nothing, but she knew he was regarding her intently, measuring her. Oh, this is nothing new, she thought, with a sudden burst of confidence. People have been measuring me all my life. “The surgeon said that I could probably hold his hand as well as you can. Sir. Or Lord Laren, or whatever you choose. You are supposed to lie down now.”

Again a long pause. “Make me,” he said at last.

Lydia sighed. “You are going to be difficult,” she observed, more to herself than to him.

“I usually am. Make me.”

If I even stop to think about this, I will never act, she thought. So I will not think about it. “Very well, sir. Since you are so stubborn,” she said as she sat on his lap, took the soldier’s hand from his, and held it in her own.

She did not know what to expect, but she did not anticipate the laughter that rose up from the nearby cots. “Got you, Major!” one of the men said. “She’s out-thought you, sir!” said another with an arm missing, who sat up to watch.

“Oh, very well,” the major said, and he did not try to hide the amusement in his voice. “Lads, such an opportunity, but I will remember that I am an officer and a gentleman.” The men laughed again as the major patted her hip. When she rose up in indignation, he moved out from under her. “Very well, madam, since you are so persistent.” She blushed as he sniffed her hair close to her ear, his breath warm on her cheek. “And, by God, you smell better than my stinking soldiers. Sit, madam, by all means. Hold his hand tight. And then when he’s dead, you can hold mine.”

Three Dog Day, by Lia Farrell: a Body Washes Up Near a Puppy Mill

3dogThree Dog Day ($14.95, 286 pages, ISBN: 978-1-60381-971-8), is the third cozy mystery by Lia Farrell in a series featuring Mae December, the successful owner of a dog boarding business in Rosedale, Tennessee. After Mae discovers a dead “John Doe” on a riverbank near an abandoned puppy mill, the subsequent search for answers is far trickier than anyone anticipated.

** Click the cover image to purchase online **

** Or buy it in Kindle, Nook, or other eBook formats on Smashwords **

The first two books in the Mae December Mystery series are One Dog Too Many and Two Dogs Lie Sleeping. The series will continue with a new title in 2015.

4 Stars: “Three Dog Day is a wonderful cozy mystery, and a great addition to a lovely series. It is sure to offer a lot of entertainment for mystery fans.”  Read more….

–Cyclamen, Long and Short Reviews

It’s bitter cold in Rosedale, Tennessee, the most frigid January in decades. The kind of chill they used to describe as requiring sleeping with three dogs just to make it through the night. Mae December has found yet another body, this one on the banks of the Little Harpeth River. It’s another murder for her boyfriend, Sheriff Ben Bradley, to investigate. Only Mae’s broken her wrist, which makes helping out with the case difficult. That’s okay, because the murdered man was found near a puppy mill, and all evidence points to the owner as the killer. Surely the case will be a slam dunk.

Mae’s injury also hampers her ability to run her dog boarding business and care for the three pit bull puppies she’s fostering, so she hires Ray Fenton, the kid who blew the whistle on the now-shuttered puppy mill. Meanwhile, Sheriff Bradley’s office manager, Dory Clarkson, struggles to pass the physical tests that will allow her to fulfill her dream of becoming a deputy, Mae and her friend Tammy are busy planning Tammy’s Valentine’s Day wedding to the brother of Mae’s deceased fiancé, and Detective Wayne Nichols must revisit his painful past as he fights to free his foster mother from prison.

Rosedale is the last place you’d expect to harbor a killer. Now the sheriff’s department must solve its third murder in a year.

Lia Farrell is actually two people. Mother and daughter writing team Lyn Farquhar and Lisa Fitzsimmons live in Michigan and Tennessee respectively. Both are life-long readers who are also dog lovers. Lyn owns two Welsh corgis and Lisa has one pug and a Siberian husky. Lisa works as a Muralist and Interior Designer and her mother, Lyn, is a Professor of Medical Education. Click here to find them online.

Says Lyn, “We were inspired to write Three Dog Day to honor the frustrating, often thankless, work of the police in identifying the unidentified—John and Jane Does who call out for justice from beyond the realm of the living. That so many are ultimately identified and their killers brought to justice is a testament to the ‘thin blue line’ of police officers who stand between ordinary citizens and the worst of criminals.”

Keep reading for an excerpt:

She found the nature preserve parking area with no problem. The gravel lot was deserted. Good thing I’ve got a big dog with me. Lulu wouldn’t harm anyone, but she had a look of deceptive ferocity, due to her large size and wild markings. She clipped the heavy duty leash onto Lulu’s collar and found the marker for the blue trail, which Kim had said was her favorite. The big dog surged ahead, sniffing and pausing to pee every few yards. They stayed on the path, following the blue arrows every time there was a fork in the trail, and ended up down near the bank of the Little Harpeth River. The sun was beginning to warm the air, and Mae took off her gloves and paused to put them in her pocket with the cellphone. Lulu tugged hard on the leash suddenly and seemed to be headed right to the edge of the dark, fast-moving water.

Mae pulled back on the leash, shouting “Lulu, no!” but she was no match for the strength and determination of the eighty pound dog. Mae stumbled and grabbed a tree to steady herself. The leash slipped out of her grip and Lulu jumped down onto a rock ledge, sniffing at something at the very edge of the water. The hound sat down, threw her head back and howled. Mae got a clear view of what Lulu had been sniffing, let out a scream and jumped down to grab Lulu’s leash.

A man lay face down, with one arm trailing in the water. His flannel shirt and brown corduroy pants were wet and covered with debris from the river. His face was turned away, but the skin on his neck and the hand on the side nearest her was a horrible shade of pale blue and dotted with mud. Mae pulled Lulu back and knotted the leash over a branch, then went back to kneel on the rocky ledge by the water. She tentatively touched the man’s hand. It was cold and stiff, like a partially defrosted steak. Mae gagged, tasting coffee and the protein bar she’d had earlier.

Standing back up, she swallowed convulsively and shook her head. Mae took several deep breaths. There was nothing she could do for this poor man. No ambulance could save him. I don’t need to call 911, I need Ben. She went over to Lulu, who had stopped howling and was emitting a low, steady moan.

Season’s Regency Greetings: Two Christmas Novellas by Carla Kelly

seasons_greetingsSeason’s Regency Greetings ($11.95, 154 pp., ISBN: 978-1-60381-254-2), presents two Christmas-themed novellas by Carla Kelly set in England in the early 19th century. In “Let Nothing You Dismay,” Cecilia Ambrose accompanies a young student to her grand estate, where she meets a bachelor dedicated to helping the poor. Can Cecilia help him? In “No Room at the Inn,” the former “Lady” Mary finds herself an uninvited guest in the home of a common businessman and soon learns that happiness does not require a title. First published in 2003 and 2002, respectively.

** Click the Cover Image to Order Online **

** Or Buy it in Kindle, Nook, or Other eBook Formats on Smashwords **

Carla Kelly is the recipient of two RITA Awards from Romance Writers of America for Best Regency of the Year; two Spur Awards from Western Writers of America; two Whitney Awards, 2011 and 2012; and a Lifetime Achievement Award from Romantic Times. Kelly’s Mrs. Drew Plays Her Hand reprint was selected by Publishers Weekly as one of the top 5 romances in 2012.

Other Camel Press reprints of Carla Kelly regencies include Miss Whittier Makes a List, Miss Chartley’s Guided Tour, Miss Billings Treads the Boards, Miss Milton Speaks Her Mind, Mrs. McVinnie’s London Season, and With This Ring. Camel has also published Books 1 and 2 of Carla’s all-new Spanish Brand series, The Double Cross and Marco and the Devil’s Bargain. These stories feature life, love, and danger on America’s southwest border in the 1780s. Book 3 will appear in the fall of 2015.

Carla Kelly is particularly celebrated for her regency romances. The Romance Reader has called her “the Grandmistress of the [Regency] genre.” According to Romantic Times, “Carla Kelly’s Regency Romances are always superb and a timeless delight.” Library Journal wrote, “one of the most respected Regency writers.”

“Let Nothing You Dismay”: In 1810 England, Cecilia Ambrose is an oddity at the Bath academy for young ladies where she teaches. Although gently raised, she is half-Egyptian, and at age twenty-eight believes she will never marry. With Christmas only days away, Cecilia has agreed to escort twelve-year-old Lucinda back to Chase Hall in York. The girl’s parents have been delayed, and in their place is Lucinda’s uncle, Lord Trevor Chase, who has been charged to chaperone Lucinda and her siblings. The bachelor black sheep of the family, Trevor scandalized his own class by becoming a barrister in London and championing the poor. Cecilia’s plan to return to Bath is thwarted when fire breaks out in the mansion, and she reluctantly agrees to stay a while longer. Will her delay prove to be Trevor Chase’s salvation? First published in 2003.

“No Room at the Inn”: With Christmas, 1815, around the corner, Lady Mary is told that she is not the daughter of an earl, but simply Mary McIntyre, the base-born orphan Lord and Lady Davy reared as their own. After her true parentage is revealed, Mary must leave Coventry for Yorkshire and the farm of her new-found grandmother. Her travel companions are the snobbish son of Lord Davy’s estate steward, Thomas Shepard, and his family. Heavy snowfall soon blocks the roads, and there is no room at the inn, so the little group is forced to seek shelter in the home of Joseph Shepard, Thomas’ estranged brother, a handsome man Mary remembers fondly from childhood. In this “vulgar” mansion belonging to a common businessman, Mary will discover that happiness has little to do with titles or income, and that Christmas works its own magic. First published in 2002.

Says Kelly, “As a novelist, I understand the value of writing an occasional novella. Those 15,000 to 25,000-word short stories remind us how to make every word count. Novellas are an education. Coupled with a Christmas theme, I’m in heaven.”

A well-known veteran of the romance writing field, Carla Kelly is the author of thirty-one novels and four non-fiction works, as well as numerous short stories and articles for various publications. Carla’s interest in historical fiction is a byproduct of her lifelong study of history. She has a BA in Latin American History from Brigham Young University and an MA in Indian Wars History from University of Louisiana-Monroe. Click here to find Carla online.

Keep reading for an excerpt from “No Room at the Inn”:

She started up the walk after the others, when Joe came toward her. He had deposited the children inside, and he hurried down the steps to assist her. She did not think she had seen him in at least eight years, when she was fifteen or so, but she would have recognized him anywhere. He bore a great resemblance to his brother; both were taller than average, but not towering, with dark hair and light eyes. There was one thing about him that she remembered quite well. She peered closer, hoping she was not being too obvious, to see if that great quality remained. To her delight, it did, and she smiled at him and spoke without thinking. “I was hoping you had not lost that trick of smiling with your eyes,” she said, and held out her hand.

“It’s no trick, Lady Mary,” he replied, and he shook her hand. “It just happens miraculously, especially when I see a lovely lady. Welcome to my house.”

He ushered her in and took her cloak. She looked around in appreciation, and not a little curiosity. He must have noticed the look, because he glanced at Thomas and his family toward the other end of the spacious hallway. “Did Thomas tell you I was living in a vulgar barn I bought for ten pence to the pound from a bankrupt mill owner?”

She nodded, shy then.

“All true,” he told her. “I wonder why it is he seems faintly disappointed that the scandalous statues and the red wallpaper are gone?” He touched her arm. “Perhaps he will be less disappointed if I tell him that the restoration is only half complete, and he will be quite inconvenienced in the unfinished bedchambers. Do you think he will prefer the jade green wallpaper, or the room where Joshua and I have already stripped the paper?”

She laughed, in spite of herself. “Joshua?” she asked.

“My son. I believe he is belowstairs helping our scullery maid, Abby, cook the sausages.” Joe looked at his brother. “Thomas, I trust you have not eaten yet?”

“And where would that have happened?” Thomas asked in irritation. “Even the most miserable inn from Leeds on is full of travelers! Surely you have something less plebian than sausages, brother,” Tom continued.

“We were going to cook eggs, too,” Joe offered, with no evident apology.

“And toast,” Thomas said with sarcasm. Her face red, Agatha tugged at his arm.

“Certainly. What else?”

“Brother, did you dismiss your staff?”

“I did, for a fact,” Joe stated. “My housekeeper has a sister in Waverly, and she enjoys her company around the holiday. Ditto for my cook, of course. The two maids—they are sisters—informed me that their older brother is home from the war. I couldn’t turn them down.”

“I call it amazingly thoughtless of you!”

The Siegel Dispositions, by David E. Grogan: An ex-Navy JAG Oversees a Deadly Legacy

siegel_dispositionsAn heiress gets richer as others die, but who’s behind the killings? Ex-Navy JAG Steve Stilwell has to find out quickly, or he’s next.

The Siegel Dispositions ($15.95, 298 pages, ISBN: 978-1-60381-981-7), by debut author David E. Grogan, is book one of a new detective series featuring retired Navy-JAG officer and Williamsburg, VA, attorney Steve Stilwell. In The Siegel Dispositions, Steve draws up a last will and testament for a client, little knowing it will be linked to several murders and perhaps even his own demise.

“Well-researched and fast-moving, The Siegel Dispositions tackles hate crimes, history, legacy and the ever-mysterious bonds of family. Steve Stilwell, lawyer/detective, is a straight-shooter with years of military experience, raw intelligence and a knack for attracting clients with a story. Watch out CSI!”
—Kathleen Jabs, author of Black Wings

** Click the cover image to order online **

** Or order it in Kindle, Nook, or other eBook formats on Smashwords **

“A fast-paced thriller with lots of twists and a refreshing moral center. Our hero Steve Stilwell is excellent company.”
—Vaughn Sherman, author of Sasha Plotkin’s Deceit

“It’s rare that a first novel will be compelling enough to immediately draw in a reader and refuse to let go…. In The Siegel Dispositions, David Grogan has produced a stem-winding, magnetic barnburner in his very first novel out of the chute…. A masterful work for anyone who loves a great legal mystery.” —Don Brown, bestselling author of The Navy Justice Series, The Pacific Rim Series, and the Navy JAG Series

On September 30, 1997, in Düsseldorf, Germany, an old Jewish man named Emil Weisentrope is shot dead. That same day in Williamsburg, Virginia, Steve Stilwell hangs out his shingle after serving 22 years as a Navy “JAG.” Steve’s first assignment as a civilian attorney is to update the will of a 70-year-old Auschwitz survivor, Professor Felix Siegel. Accompanying the professor is his beautiful but surly adopted daughter, Michelle. Michelle will inherit, but there’s a catch. The first $1.5 million of Siegel’s fortune goes to three wartime friends … if they survive him. If they don’t, their shares belong to Michelle.

After Professor Siegel’s untimely and violent death, Steve begins his search for the beneficiaries, only to learn that two—including Emil Weisentrope—have already died under suspicious circumstances. Although the German police investigating the Weisentrope case are convinced Michelle is behind the killings, Steve needs to be sure. Determined to find the connection between the Siegel dispositions and the murders, he begins a frantic search for answers. His own life and that of the final beneficiary hang in the balance as he struggles to stay ahead of a cold-blooded and elusive killer.

Says Grogan, “I took a class in human rights at The George Washington University Law School, taught by Professor Thomas Buergenthal, a world-renowned expert on human rights. One night, while surfing the Internet at home to learn more about my mentor and his field, I stumbled across a website that gave me the idea for The Siegel Dispositions. I love writing, but I want my writing not only to entertain but also to make a difference by promoting awareness of the importance of protecting human rights worldwide.”

David E. Grogan was born in Rome, New York, and raised in Cleveland, Ohio. A certified public accountant and an attorney with a master’s degree in International Law, Grogan served on active duty in the U.S. Navy for over 26 years as a Navy Judge Advocate. His experiences abroad and during the course of his career influence every aspect of his writing. Grogan currently resides with his wife in Virginia. They have three children. Click here to find Grogan online.

Keep reading for an excerpt:

“I take it you’d like to have your new will done before you leave?”

“I’d like to sign it Friday, at the latest. You can never tell about Israel. I want to make sure my affairs are in order before I go.” Then he laughed and added, “Signing it will be my best insurance against anything happening. Now, if I don’t sign, something will happen for sure.”

“Friday it is then. How about 2:30?” Steve had no idea how he would get the will finished by then. There was no way he was going to do a multi-million dollar estate without his boss’ supervision. There was also no way he was going to let his first client slip away without helping him. He would just have to find a way.

“That’ll work just fine,” the professor said. “Now, what about the money? I suppose this isn’t free.”

“I always save the bad news for last.” Steve shuffled some papers on his desk, looking for the fee agreement Marjorie gave him. As he picked it up and prepared to hand it to Professor Siegel, Michelle opened the office door.

“Will you be much longer, Father?” Michelle glared at Steve as she spoke. Steve glared back and went on the offensive by addressing her question.

“We’re just about finished here. I’d guess no more than five minutes.”

Michelle didn’t retreat into the lobby; instead, she stood by the door, holding it open with her arm.

“Mr. Stilwell, I have no objection to my daughter joining us now.”

“That’s fine,” Steve said, breaking off his staring contest with Michelle. “Please, Michelle, come over and sit down with us.” Michelle did just that and immediately resumed her gaze out the window. After the eavesdropping incident on the intercom, though, Steve knew her disinterest was only a ruse. He wondered how a woman that beautiful could be so socially bankrupt, but managed to return his focus to his discussion with Professor Siegel before his opinion of Michelle became too much of a distraction.

“I’m sorry, Professor, we were going over my fees, weren’t we? Normally my fee for preparing your will would be based in part on the amount your estate. Given the nature of your will, though, I’ll limit it to $1,000. If I serve as executor, I’ll charge your estate a full three percent. That, of course, isn’t payable now, but I want to make sure you understand that if I’m the executor, your estate will be billed for my services.” When Steve mentioned that he might serve as executor, he saw Michelle briefly shift her eyes toward her father. She said nothing, though, and soon returned to gazing out the window.

“I understand,” Professor Siegel acknowledged. “It sounds reasonable.”

Michelle broke her silence. “It sounds outrageous.”

Last Words, by Rich Zahradnik: New York City on the Brink in 1975

last_wordsLast Words ($13.95, 248 pages, ISBN: 978-1-60381-207-8), by debut author Rich Zahradnik, is book one of a new hardboiled detective series featuring newsman Coleridge Taylor. In Last Words Taylor struggles to keep his job and repair his tarnished reputation as he pursues a story about a dead teenager. The series is set on the mean streets of Manhattan and the surrounding boroughs in 1975.

** Click the cover image to order online **

** Order it in Kindle, Nook or other eBook formats on Smashwords **

“A fast-paced, deeply entertaining and engrossing novel. Last Words is the first book in a mystery series featuring the intrepid investigative reporter. Readers will be glad these aren’t the last words from this talented author.”  Read more ….

Robin Farrell Edmunds, ForeWord Magazine, Winter 2014

“The story has a lot of twists and turns, which kept this reader on the edge of my seat waiting to see where the next turn leads. It was an exciting story right up until the end, and what an ending! For everyone who likes mystery, this book is for you.” Read more ….

—Ann’s Reading Corner

Last Words (A Coleridge Taylor Mystery) is a wonderful novel by Rich Zahradnik. He gives readers great visuals of New York City in the 1970s: how the Vietnam War changed social and economic conditions in the United States… The story is captivating, and it is obvious from his writing that Rich Zahradnik is familiar with the setting he describes so well. Coleridge and Voichek are likeable, classic characters, and I enjoyed learning Voichek’s hobo language. Last Words is not only entertaining, but also informative about a past era.”  Read more….

—Michelle Stanley for Readers’ Favorite

“Set in the 1970s, it is a fun return to the past and good crime fiction, you’ll enjoy Last Words. RECOMMENDED.”  Read more ….

—Vikki Walton, I love a Mystery

“Zahradnik develops characters of all types and sizes in this novel. He gives readers a real sense of New York in the 70s via his cast, and the way that they view things. Top this off with an amazingly well developed and very interesting main character and you have a winner. Zahradnik’s knowledge of the life of a reporter really shines through here, bringing the story to life.” Read more ….

—Pure Jonel, Confessions of a Bibliophile

“I didn’t realize how much I missed seedy gritty corrupt crime-ridden New York City of the 1970s till I read Zahradnik’s debut thriller. Last Words captures the palms-out politicians, the bully cops, the not-so-hapless homeless, the back-stabbing reporters of a city on the brink. The pace speeds up; the whispers and clues and leads all come together for a big empty-the-revolver and fling-the-vodka bottle finale. Well worth the trip back in time.”

—Richard Zacks, author of Island of Vice and Pirate Hunter

Last Words sizzles like the fuse on a powder keg. Hero reporter Coleridge Taylor is gritty and unstoppable as he plumbs the mean streets of New York City during its darkest days.”

—Paul D’Ambrosio, author of Easy Squeezy, winner of the Selden Ring investigation prize and a Pulitzer Prize gold medal finalist.

“Rich Zahradnik is a superb craftsman. Like a painter, he adds layers of detail to a canvas he loves until he has created a picture that enthralls. Last Words has both beguiling landscape and revealing portraits and is a picture worth all its thousands of words: Rich in intrigue.”

—Jeff Clark-Meads, author of The Plowman and Tungol.

“In 1975, as New York City collapses into a financial and violent sinkhole, journalist Coleridge Taylor dodges bullets and bounds from borough to borough to find the killer of a seemingly homeless boy, a crime that the NYPD can’t or won’t solve. The Bronx is Burning meets The Poet in Rich Zahradnik’s Last Words, a taut debut novel that keeps you guessing until the very end.”

—Vito J. Racanelli, author and journalist

“Like any great crime thriller, Last Words keeps the pace frenetic, dangerous, and surprising at every turn. Zahradnik delivers an intelligent, flawed hero in Coleridge Taylor while showcasing the darkness of New York in the ’70s that devoured the weak and unsuspecting. A visual, visceral debut from both the author and his lead crime reporter. I’m looking forward to more pulpy chapters.”

—Diane Becker, Producer, FishBowl Films

Last Words is as hard to put down as a grisly tabloid murder story. And indeed that’s what the story is about. Despite his literary name, Coleridge Taylor is the ‘Columbo’ of beat reporters, suffering no fools and pursuing the facts at all costs. Set in 1975, the discovery of a deceased kid, presumed homeless, sets in motion Taylor’s chilling odyssey.”

—Claire Atkinson, senior media reporter, the New York Post

In March of 1975, as New York City hurtles toward bankruptcy and the Bronx burns, newsman Coleridge Taylor roams police precincts and ERs. He is looking for the story that will deliver him from obits, his place of exile at the Messenger-Telegram. Ever since he was demoted from the police beat for inventing sources, the 34-year-old has been a lost soul.

A break comes at Bellevue, where Taylor views the body of a homeless teen picked up in the Meatpacking District. Taylor smells a rat: the dead boy looks too clean, and he’s wearing a distinctive Army field jacket. A little digging reveals that the jacket belonged to a hobo named Mark Voichek and that the teen was a spoiled society kid up to no good, the son of a city official.

Taylor’s efforts to protect Voichek put him on the hit list of three goons who are willing to kill any number of street people to cover tracks that just might lead to City Hall. Taylor has only one ally in the newsroom, young and lovely reporter Laura Wheeler. Time is not on his side. If he doesn’t wrap this story up soon, he’ll be back on the obits page—as a headline, not a byline.

Says Zahradnik, “The year 1975 and the city of New York intrigued me because of the very striking parallels to America today. Then as now, an unpopular war was finally coming to its sad end. A major institution, the city itself, tumbled toward bankruptcy, threatening a cataclysm on the entire financial system. This as banks and ratings agencies ignored the warning signs or willfully misled the public. I chose this time period for the differences as well as the similarities. Solving a mystery in 1975 required good old fashioned legwork and serious brainwork, rather than science fiction-like instant DNA typing and surveillance video available from any and every angle. Taylor has to find a pay phone when he needs to call someone. There’s something satisfying in that for me.”

Rich Zahradnik has been a journalist for 30-plus years, working as a reporter and editor in all major news media, including online, newspaper, broadcast, magazine, and wire services. He lives with his wife, Sheri, and son, Patrick, in Pelham, New York, where he teaches elementary school kids how to publish online and print newspapers. For more information, click here.

Keep reading for an excerpt:

“You’re the best goddamned reporter in the place.”

The passion in her voice forced Taylor to raise his eyes from his plate. Laura’s porcelain white skin reddened delightfully at any sort of emotion—anger, embarrassment, happiness.

He didn’t have a good answer. “I don’t need your pity.”

“No, you don’t. You’re wallowing in it fine all on your own. I stopped by again this morning. How can an obit writer be out of the office so much?”

“I was over in the South Bronx.”

“South Bronx?”

“I’ve got a lead on a good story, believe it or not.” He couldn’t help it. He needed to talk to someone. He told her about the search for Joshua Harper and Mark Voichek, all to ID a dead kid at Bellevue. He threw in the Street Sweepers for good measure.

“Man, Taylor, I’d hate to see what you’d do if they put you on the society desk.”

In spite of himself, Taylor chuckled and shook his head. “What do you want from me, Laura?”

“I’m worried about you. You’re one of the smart ones in that place.”

“That’s not saying much.”

“And to be honest,” she sipped her coffee, “I need your help.”

“Help?” It surprised him. He was having a hard enough time helping himself.

“They’re sticking me with all the nickel-and-dime stories. Two alarms, B&Es. Half don’t even make the Metro Briefs. Worse, they’ve got me doing research for other reporters. You know why? Because I’m a woman. Merton is covering a multiple on the Upper West Side. He just got out of grad school. Even I’ve been there longer.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“He’s a man. That’s all he needs. I talked with Kathy Loring on the political desk. Unless I want to work the society beat, girls end up doing research at the mighty MT, beacon of reform and liberality.”

Grandpop set Laura’s plate and coffee down. She took a bite and smiled. “Mmm, that’s so good, Stamitos. Your food is amazing.” Her cheeks tinged pink. “My plan is to uncover my own leads. I want your help.”

“Welcome to the find-your-own-story club.”

Grandpop topped off their coffee cups. He was visiting the table at least twice as often as necessary. He squeezed Taylor’s shoulder as he went back to the counter.

“I like your grandfather.”

“Such an old dear.”

“I don’t mean it that way. He cares about you. It’s obvious.”

“He’s the best my family has. Left, that is.”

“Your family did pretty well by you.”

He stabbed a couple of fries and a piece of his omelet. He so missed talking to Laura. Was she interested in him or his story ideas? He had never been sure. Christ, trying to figure out what a woman wanted turned him into a complete idiot. Everyone seemed to be playing by a different rulebook. The younger women, certainly. The sexual revolution and all that. The ones in their thirties, like him? They’d settled down long ago with other men after adding up the hours and pay of a newspaperman.

 

Marco and the Devil’s Bargain, Book 2 of The Spanish Brand, a new Historical Romance Series by Award-Winning Author Carla Kelly

marcoMarco and the Devil’s Bargain ($14.95, 256 pp., ISBN: 978-1-60381-229-0) is a new historical romance by Carla Kelly that takes place at the end of the 18th Century, during the decline of the Spanish Empire in the New World. A brand inspector and his wife fight the scourge of smallpox by bravely venturing onto the Staked Plains, stronghold of the Comanche. As part of a devil’s bargain, they must put themselves at the mercy of these dangerous enemies and try to inoculate them, also a risky proposition. Marco and The Devil’s Bargain follows The Double Cross as the second book of Kelly’s all-new Spanish Brand Series.

** Click the Cover Image to order online **

** Or order it in Kindle, Nook, or other eBook formats on Smashwords **

The trade paperback of Marco and the Devil’s Bargain is distributed by Epicenter Press/Aftershocks Media.

Kelly is the recipient of two RITA Awards from Romance Writers of America for Best Regency of the Year; two Spur Awards from Western Writers of America; a Whitney Award for Best Romance Fiction, 2011; another Whitney for Best Historical Fiction, 2012; and a Lifetime Achievement Award from Romantic Times.

“Marco Mondragón, a lawman on the New Mexican frontier in 1782, fears that his young wife, Paloma, will be stricken by the smallpox epidemic. When their Comanche friend, Toshua, rescues Anthony Gill, a white physician, from the desert, they strike the titular bargain: Anthony will inoculate Paloma and their neighbors, and Marco and Toshua will escort Anthony to a Comanche hideaway that he suspects harbors his kidnapped daughter. Kelly brings historical verisimilitude to the setting, and her story brims with compassion for the human condition…. [There are] powerful themes of disease, infertility, strength in the face of loss, and kindness between individuals whose cultures are at war. Though la viruela is, in some ways, the story’s main character, the love between Marco and Paloma, equal parts strong attachment and mutual high regard, takes emotional center stage, a satisfying oasis of beauty in the midst of stark harshness.”

—Publishers Weekly, 9/2014

Grade A: “To begin with, Marco and Paloma are a wonderful couple. They know each other very well, and in spite of not reading the first book, in which their characters were initially developed, I came to know them well too. Paloma is a strong, sweet woman, perfectly suited to her honorable, Spanish husband. They are both at their best when they’re together—not because they get outrageously maudlin when apart, but rather because they work as a team when they’re together, supporting each other as all good couples do. However, if Marco and Paloma were the only two characters I loved, this book would only make it to B+ territory for me. What made Marco and the Devil’s Bargain a DIK for me was the cast of secondary characters. Every single one of them, from Anthony Gill down to the Comanches Marco and Paloma met, was amazingly complex and realistic. I cannot think of the last time secondary characters seemed so vivid to me. There are some series which need to be read in order if they are to be understood. Carla Kelly’s Spanish Brand series is not one of these. Although I didn’t read The Double Cross first, as I should have, I still managed to fall head over heels for Marco and Paloma. To me, that is a good testament to Ms. Kelly’s amazing writing. I can’t wait to get my hands on another one of her books.” Read more ….

—Alexandra Anderson, All About Romance

“I found this book a pleasure to read, the characters well-formed and credible. Her knowledge and understanding of the era are excellent. I look forward to her next in the series. Highly recommended.”  Read more ….

—Historical Novel Society

“Kelly’s ability to transport the reader into the unsettled Spanish territory of New Mexico is remarkable. From the daily life on the ranch to the travels into the wild, every word and action is well researched and natural…. With historical events such as smallpox and Native American threats and alliances driving the plot, Marco and the Devil’s Bargain is a well-rounded story that is sure to please.”  Read more….

—Tara Creel, The Deseret News

“Marco and the Devil’s Bargain is Book Two of the “Spanish Brand” series, but it stands alone well. The time period is 1782 on the Spanish frontier of New Mexico, and Marco Mondragon has settled in on his land grant with his new wife Paloma Vega. All seems well, until the Dark Wind, smallpox, comes barreling down on them from the Comancheria. The Indians got it from the white man, who is busy sorting out the results of the American Revolution. A fascinating and different premise, with an arrogant English physician as the antagonist, and Comanches as surprising allies—a romance in the middle of a really good Western novel.”
Roundup Magazine

The year is 1782. Marco Mondragón, brand inspector in Spanish New Mexico, and his wife Paloma Vega have settled happily into married life on the Double Cross. And yet Paloma is convinced their joy will not be complete until she has a child. She longs to give her husband a baby to soothe his grief over the death from cholera of his first wife and twin sons.

Marco’s land grant stands at the edge of the most dangerous region in the Southwest: Comanchería. Both Paloma and Marco have suffered at the hands of the fierce Comanche, losing beloved family members in raids.

Despite their fear and mistrust of the Comanche, one lives among them. Paloma rescued Toshua from slavery and near death. As much as she respects the man now, Paloma wishes he would return to the Staked Plains, Comanche stronghold to the east in Texas. No one knows why Toshua remains at the Double Cross. Is it because his own tribe shunned him, or is he genuinely attached to its owners?

Now a new enemy threatens the Mondragóns’ domestic bliss: the Dark Wind—la viruela, smallpox—barreling down on the defenseless royal colony from Comanchería. A mysterious and arrogant English physician named Anthony Gill offers their one hope at salvation … but only if Marco agrees to his Devil’s Bargain.

Says Kelly, “There is something so fun about revisiting characters from an earlier book. I’ve come to know Marco, Paloma and Toshua well, and want to know more about them. The only way that happens is if I keep writing about them! I also understand why readers like series.”

A well-known veteran of the romance writing field, Carla Kelly is the author of thirty-one novels and four non-fiction works, as well as numerous short stories and articles for various publications. Carla’s interest in historical fiction is a byproduct of her lifelong study of history. She has a BA in Latin American History from Brigham Young University and an MA in Indian Wars History from University of Louisiana-Monroe. Click here to find Carla online.

Keep reading for an excerpt:

He must have noticed her hesitation, because he calmed himself, even as she watched. He took her hand and it trembled in hers.

“What, my love? Surely there is nothing worse that Señor Gil could have told you than what we already know is coming our way.”

Alert now, wary even, she watched his expression change into precisely that look of false good will that she had been thinking of practicing on him. This would never do. She grasped his hand and tugged him down the hall into Luisa Gutierrez’s sala, which she knew was empty now, all the knitters gone. He did not resist as she towed him along, a little woman dragging a tall man who put up no resistance. Good thing the governor could not see his juez de campo now.

She closed the door behind them and sat down on the earthen bench that was part of the inner adobe wall. She patted the spot beside her. When he sat down, she took his hand and clutched it to her breast. “What is it, Marco?”

He tried to smile, then obviously gave it up as a bad business. She could almost see him thinking something through; she knew him that well.

“I have very good news, my love. That man”—he nearly spit out the word, then collected himself with great effort—“that man is a physician. He has the capacity to inoculate you, and he will.”

Paloma closed her eyes and felt herself melt like butter, so great was her relief. “Gracias a Dios,” she murmured, and touched her forehead to his shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked at him again, mystified by the expression of vast disquietude. Surely he should be happy at this news. True, inoculations themselves could be dangerous, but that was a chance everyone took. There must be more.

“What else?” she asked.

“Nothing else,” he said too quickly. “We’ll take him with us and see how many of our people, Toshua included, will agree to inoculation. We’ll probably have to wait here a day while he inoculates my nephews, but then—”

She put her fingers to his lips, stopping the flow of words. “What else?” she asked again.

“Nothing else.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” She hadn’t meant her words to come out with such force. He winced, and Paloma knew he had never heard that tone of voice from her before. Well, too bad. He was not telling her what was written so clearly in his eyes and in the way his hands still trembled. “Not to me, Marco. Not ever to me.”

He leaned back against the wall, something he seldom did, this man who sat so straight, as though he were always in the saddle. He banged his head gently against the wall with increasing force until, horrified, she put her hand behind his head to cushion the blows. He stopped.

“What is he making you do?” she asked.

Deadly Shuffle, by Norma Lehr: Sudden Death at a Card Game

deadly_shuffleA Palm Springs poisoning stirs up the past.

Deadly Shuffle ($13.95, 218 pages, ISBN: 978-1-60381-979-4) is the second mystery by Norma Lehr featuring retired show dancer and Sacramento dance business owner, Abby Rollins. This adventure takes Abby to Palm Springs, where instead of enjoying a much-deserved weekend off, she must delve into her reckless mother’s past to find out why she has disappeared.

** Click the cover image to order online **

** Or order it in Kindle, Nook, or other eBook formats on Smashwords **

I RECOMMEND this fun, energetic, chick-lit mystery that keeps you enthralled and guessing. It features a seventy-ish show-biz mother and several of her past beaux, any one of whom might be fifty-ish daughter Abby’s father, and Abby’s new boyfriend, private eye Blade Garret, whose mother was a figure skater — hence the unusual first name. There is romance, murder, several family secrets, mob connections and a possible half-brother of Abby’s. You know, the usual family drama.”  Read more …

—Barbara B. Oliver, I Love a Mystery

Trish Malone is a member of the Malone Sisters’ singing trio, which rose to fame in the ’60s. She is also the mother of Abby Rollins, a retired dancer and owner of Starduds, a flourishing dance supply business. When Trish’s sister Ginny drops out of the Palm Springs Follies because of hip surgery, Trish wants to take her place, but first she must learn some basic dance moves. Abby gives her a few lessons, and her mother is hired.

Abby’s new beau, private eye Blade Garret, wants to whisk her away for a romantic weekend. What better destination than Palm Springs, where Abby can also visit her aunt Ginny and see her mother perform? Upon their arrival, things get complicated. First an old flame of her mother’s keels over dead during a poker game attended by several other men from Trish’s past. Then Trish vanishes, leaving an unlocked car and a briefcase full of papers from her real estate business. Dr. Thomas Levine, a plastic surgeon, was poisoned. Did Trish kill him? Is she hiding from the killer? Or is she dead, too—silenced to prevent her from revealing a terrible truth in her memoirs? Abby is determined to find out.

Trish Malone spent much of Abby’s childhood on the road, leaving many questions unanswered. Now Abby must fill in the blanks in time to save her mother’s life without losing her own.

A former nurse and health food store owner from the Bay Area, Norma Lehr has four children and five grandchildren. She lives in Auburn, California, in the beautiful Sierra foothills with her husband. Norma is a multi-genre author of short stories, a middle-grade ghost series, and an adult supernatural suspense novel, Dark Maiden (Juno Books, 2007). For more information, go to www.normalehr.com.

Says Lehr, “I’m an old movie buff. Whenever I visit Palm Springs, which isn’t often enough, my imagination reels back to the desert playground of the glamorous stars of the past. I find myself floating in a pool where Elvis once swam, then having a drink at a bar where Marilyn once sat. And then there’s The Fabulous Follies at the Historic Plaza Theatre. I’ve loved every sellout performance I’ve attended and I’m more than saddened that their final performance will be May 2014.”

Keep reading for an excerpt:

“Dawson’s still out by your mom’s car taking notes. We should probably join him.”

Abby grabbed his hand. “No, you don’t. You said this might be info about Trish. Stay here until you finish telling what happened.”

Blade nodded. “Okay, okay. But I’ll hurry. One drink led to two more before he admitted driving to the Palms to meet the client’s wife and escort her to the ball.

“The guy shrugged and said, ‘That’s as far as it goes, man. She’s staying with friends until she drives back home. Her old man wouldn’t take her to the ball.’ He snorted. ‘So what did he expect? You tell him if he’s got a beef, I’ll be waiting for him.’ ”

Abby waited. “So now what? How does this tie in? Is your job here finished?”

“Not quite. It all sounded innocent enough. If the guy was on the level, he’d let his client’s wife sort it out. So I decided to call the husband, send photos, and return my party suit. But not before I got paid. The Philly guy hung around. Figured he must like me or else he was drunk.”

Blade leaned across the table. “Now listen up. This is the important part. Before another round was ordered, he started grumbling about a poker game he’d attended the night before where one of the players keeled over. Dead!”

Trish’s game?

I put down my beer, ordered black coffee, sobered up and listened to the guy’s story. Crazy coincidence? You bet. And you’ll find this hard to swallow. He’s your mother’s literary agent.” Blade squinted. “You do know she’s writing her memoir?”

Abby nodded slowly. “She mentioned it. I didn’t take much notice at the time.”

“Well, she is. Seems back in the day she was involved with some big shot in the mob. Her agent says that if she includes that part of her life in the book, some mobsters aren’t going to be too happy.”

Abby closed her eyes. Mobsters. Good grief. No. Bad grief! Her mother was more trouble than her teenage twins ever were. What was it brought her to Palm Springs in the first place? Not specifically to see her mother on stage. Or to visit with family. She came here to get away from the stress and responsibility of her store for a couple of days. Maybe, just maybe enjoy a little romance with Blade at the Caliente. Now all of this was blowing up in her face.