In most of the earlier books, Murdock operates from [...]]]>

Murdock Tackles Taos presents a new episode in the Matt Murdock Mystery series by Robert J. Ray ($16.95, 350 pages, ISBN: 978-1-60381-925-1). The adventures of this tough guy detective with a soft heart began with Bloody Murdock and continued through four other novels, all available through Camel Press.

In most of the earlier books, Murdock operates from Newport Beach, CA, although in Murdock Cracks Ice, he goes to Seattle, WA. This novel brings the PI to New Mexico, where he teams up with a sexy writer whose sleuthing instincts are equal to his own.

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** Also available in Kindle, Nook, and other eBook formats on Smashwords **

“Robert Ray is a gifted writer and the Matt Murdock series displays all his many talents. The prose is crisp, the characters vivid and the plot captivating. Read him now! Matt Murdock is part Jack Reacher, part Dave Robicheux. Fans of Lee Child and James Lee Burke will love Murdock Tackles Taos. A brilliant murder mystery with a splash of romance. The Matt Murdock series is one of my guilty pleasures!”

—Robert Dugoni, New York Times bestselling author

“Action and tension are high in a cleverly weaved ‘whodunit’ mystery. You actually know who did it very early on, but you read on for two reasons; one, the how do they get caught, and two, the why. I guarantee the why will knock your socks off.”  Read more …

–Joe Hempel, Top of the Heap Reviews

“Murdock makes me smile. He’s not a suave, sophisticated James Bond. He’s not a disheveled, bumbling Colombo either. He’s real. He’s kind. He’s somebody to share a good adventure with. Helene Steinbeck, retired town marshal turned successful author, is Murdock’s new sidekick and lover. She makes me just a tiny bit jealous. Robert Ray’s novel tossed me back and forth between the feel of a summer read and a study in human nature—either way Murdock Tackles Taos is a read you won’t want to miss.”

—Arleen Williams, author of The Thirty-Ninth Victim

“In Murdock Tackles Taos, Robert Ray takes risks that every good novelist has to take in order to push the limits of the genre without leaving his readers behind. As with all of Ray’s books, this one is so well written it’s a pleasure just to say the words. When Ray brings Helene Steinbeck, his second sleuth, on stage he drags Murdock into the 21st Century with a bang …. In this book, the rich eat the poor. Steinbeck and Murdock set things right.”

—Jack Remick, author of Blood, Gabriela and the Widow and The California Quartet series

“Robert J. Ray has succeeded in doing what Michael McGarrity excels at: developing characters that you want to take home. Murdock Tackles Taos is a can’t-put-it-down kind of book. Ray seduces the reader from the first paragraph, pulls them in with enticing promises, and doesn’t break up with them until the last page. Murdock is the perfect character. He keeps you at the edge of your seat waiting to surprise you with his next move.”

—Marie Romero Cash, artist and author of the Jemimah Hodge Mystery series

“Game, set, match. Murdock Tackles Taos puts readers through their paces, serving up breakneck action, intrigue and murder in this winner-takes-all mystery thriller set in serene Taos, N.M. Can’t wait for Murdock’s next case!”

—L.M. Archer, freelance author and wine blogger

“In Murdock Tackles Taos, Murdock makes us yearn for hexagonal sights to sharpen our aim. He is aging well, but feeling some ‘techodistance’ between himself and his younger rival for the heroine’s love. Yet Murdock prevails. His love, Helene Steinbeck, silently paces in their bedroom, and suddenly dust from gunshot riddled sheet rock drifts down into the room. Then the pair are on the move again to solve the mystery of more than one missing person. Murdock feels the tentacles of a monster in Taos, ‘reaching out, grabbing up innocent people and squeezing them to the maw of the octopus.’ Bob Ray’s character descriptions and scene settings are vivid. This book seems like a case study for The Weekend Novelist Writes a Mystery. There is lively writing throughout. Highly recommended to all Murdock Mystery fans!”

—Becky Warden, co-author, along with Kerri Hakoda, of The Currency Mysteries

“Whenever Matt Murdock is in town, trouble can’t be far off. This time it’s Taos, New Mexico, with an international cast of bad guys and more than a few beauties. The prose is tough, the characters quirky, and a depiction of the Taos landscape so vivid you can taste the red clay and the enchiladas. Funny, imaginative, and with a code of honor reminiscent of John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee, Matt Murdock gets his man.”

—Max Detrano, author of “Jasper Rincon’s Loft” and “A Hunk of Meat” published by 10,000 Tons of Black Ink–both nominated for the Pushcart Prize.

“This novel dishes up a whole lot of fun—and just in time for summer. With shades of Raymond Chandler’s tough-minded Marlowe, Murdock is a detective you can root for—slightly above the law, but only in the way we like to think that we are, too. Ray’s plot zips along, sweeping us past murder, seduction, human trafficking, and class issues. And that’s just in the opening pages. But even with the swift plot, the characters were what I flipped pages for: the quick-witted Murdock, his gutsy female sidekick, and a villain worthy of Ian Fleming. And the final line will stick with you for a long time.”

—M.C. Easton

“This eagerly-anticipated installment in Bob Ray’s Murdock P.I. series sizzles with fast-paced action and heats up the high desert nights with steamy chemistry between Murdock and his partner in crime-solving, the multi-talented novelist/ex-cop Helene Steinbeck. The suspicious disappearance of an Army buddy’s daughter from an artist’s colony brings Murdock to the Southwest, where he learns that here, bow hunting is not confined to wild game. In fact, the game gets wilder as Murdock uncovers more about the golden gods and goddesses that rule the country club tennis courts. The beautiful people are far from unblemished, and they have Murdock and Steinbeck in their sights. Those who loved the earlier Murdock books (Bloody Murdock, Dial M for Murdock, Murdock for Hire, Murdock Cracks Ice) will not be disappointed. Murdock may have aged a bit, but he’s still on his game. Action-packed and brimming with memorable characters, Murdock Tackles Taos is perfect summer fare, and required reading for noir fans.”

—Kerri Hakoda, co-author with Becky Warden, The Currency Mysteries

Weary but wise private-eye Matt Murdock is back, and he has met his match—a vital and attractive writer and cop’s daughter, Helene Steinbeck. Helene is hiking in the hills of Taos when she happens upon the corpse of a young woman downed by an arrow. Murdock appears on the horizon just in time to prevent a team of archers from using Helene as target practice. Murdock has been scouring Angel Mountain and vicinity for evidence that will help him discover the whereabouts of Barbi Bellini, the missing daughter of a friend.

Now that Helene has stumbled onto the scene, she has no choice but to join Murdock in his search for answers. Drawn to the detective’s integrity and quiet strength, she becomes both his apprentice and his lover. Their quest leads them to a cult of locals whose charismatic leader believes the “weak” are fair game. But this unholy brotherhood is just the poisonous tip of the arrow. The hunters have forged deadly alliances with the rich and powerful of Taos. Who can Helene and Murdock trust? Will they be able to outthink—and outrun—their many adversaries?

ROBERT J. RAY is the author of nine novels: Cage of Mirrors, The Heart of the Game, Bloody Murdock, Murdock for Hire, Dial “M” for Murdock, Merry Christmas, Murdock, Murdock Cracks Ice, and now Murdock Tackles Taos. Ray is also the author of a popular non-fiction series on writing, The Weekend Novelist, and he shares writing techniques on writing at bobandjackswritingblog.com. A native of Texas, Ray holds a PhD from the University of Texas, Austin. Tuesdays and Fridays, he writes at Louisa’s Bakery and Café in Seattle. For more information, click here.

Keep reading for an excerpt:

Helene felt the edge of fear. Maybe not fear, maybe curiosity. The kids were not in the room by chance. They had been sent by someone with a game plan and the sides were uneven. Eight sassy high school kids against one Helene Steinbeck. She was out-numbered, but why was she worried? Over forty people in the workshop. Plenty of adults. She was safe here.

Skye’s reading was a skimpy story about killing his number one rival on the high school soccer team. The killing was preceded by a manhunt, where Skye and his jock-friends chased the victim—identified as Manny Jones the Retard, a fat kid wearing a white polo shirt that glowed in the dark—up a steep hill, sharp rocks underfoot, and then through a wasteland wilderness of trees with witches arms for branches. As Skye finished reading and sat down, Helene looked at her group of teenagers. They had read her book and now they were playing with her. Toying with her, according to some kind of plan. There was an hour left. An hour to kill, or an hour to do her job. An hour before she could escape. Helene changed her workshop strategy—more writing, less reading.

For a solid fifty-five minutes, she had them write using prompts called Firsts and Lasts. “My first day at school,” for three minutes. “My last day at school,” for four minutes. “At my first birthday party,” write for five minutes. No reading, no chance to rattle Helene, just writing, switching back and forth—the beginning, the end, the beginning, and when the timer buzzed, Helene thanked them for coming.

Then the bookstore person brought in books for signing and a line of buyers formed. The senior citizens came first. They paid with credit cards from co-ops and local banks.

“To my sister in Des Moines.”

“To my grandchild in Topeka.”

The last senior walked away. Helene texted Murdock. “HLP.”

The teenagers clustered around the table. Grinning, smug with their sex appeal, confident in their youth, their collective force. The first teen customer was Tommy—handsome and cocky, flashing a black card from Amex that made the bookseller gawk. Tommy signed the ticket with flair.

When Tommy presented his book for Helene’s signature, he said, “What a great workshop, Miss Steinbeck. Oh, yeah, right, make it to my big brother, Gerry Junior—use his initials, ‘To G.J., from Helene, with love’—just kidding, but listen, Miss Steinbeck, I really want to be a writer, I mean, it’s like a lust, a craving, but my folks say no way to the artist’s life, so I was wondering, could we buy you a coke or something, like now? Pick your brain? Get your advice?”

Helene said thank you for the invitation but she was tired and maybe some other time. And the next teenage book buyer said the same thing. A yen for writing, parents doing the old roadblock thing, could we buy you a coke or something, pick your brain, maybe?

It was a rehearsed operation with ritual overtones. Automaton teens, mocking her, setting her up, for what she did not know. Helene said “No thank you.” She was tired. She was meeting someone. The invitations did not stop. She signed the last book and looked around for the bookstore person. Gone. She turned to pick up her rucksack. Skye was holding it out of easy reach. She reached for her cellphone. Moving fast, Tommy snatched the phone. His eyes looked nasty. The circle of teenagers tightened around her. Her Glock was back in the motel room. Where was Murdock?

** Click the cover image to order the 5×8 trade paperback online **

** Or [...]]]>

Treasure among the Shadows ($15.95, 310 pp., ISBN: 978-1-60381-907-7) is Marie Romero Cash’s third murder mystery featuring forensic psychologist Jemimah Hodge. This time around Jemimah and Sheriff Rick Romero are looking for answers in the death of a much-reviled female archeologist.

** Click the cover image to order the 5×8 trade paperback online **

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

“Jemimah Hodge has guts, heart and a brilliant sense of direction when she’s on the trail of something buried. Cash delivers a thrilling ride from start to finish. Riveting.”

—Chris Rogers, author, the Dixie Flannigan series

“Treasure among the Shadows is a fictional take on the controversial, real-life hunt for a treasure buried by Forrest Fenn that has attracted the attention of treasure seekers worldwide as well as the FBI. The author knows Fenn in real life; in the book he is renamed Tim McCabe and has strong ties to law enforcement, specifically Santa Fe County Sheriff’s Deputy Rick Romero, a straight-arrow local boy who is dating his esteemed colleague, forensic psychologist Jemimah Hodge. Hodge, who gets involved in the murder mystery beyond the scope of her job, has a curious back story: as a teenager, she ran away from a polygamist Mormon community to save herself from being married off to a stranger three times her age. She then put herself through school, earned a doctorate, and eventually landed in Santa Fe. Joining this crew as McCabe’s foil — and then the story’s next murder victim — is Gilda Humphreys, the frumpy, tyrannical state archaeologist who’s been leading a double life as a sex kitten. She’s fixated on the treasures to be found on McCabe’s ranch — property he bought from a pueblo and to which he insists the state has no claim. When real treasure is indeed found, the fun begins.”

—Pasatiempo, the New Mexican’s Weekly Magazine of Arts, Entertainment & Culture

“The essence of northern New Mexico permeates the pages of this nonstop murder mystery…. Congratulations to Marie Romero Cash for painting new shades into the rich New Mexico canvas.”

—Robert J. Ray, author of the Matt Murdock Murder Mystery series

A woman is strangled and shot. She was last seen alive at a casino near Santa Fe. Forensic Psychologist Jemimah Hodge is on the case, as is her new boyfriend, Sheriff Rick Romero. The trail has already grown cold when another woman is murdered under similar circumstances. The first dead woman left behind a disgruntled ex-spouse but no other obvious suspects. Gilda Humphreys, the second victim, is another story. First there is her househusband, then there are all her co-workers … It seems no one is shedding a tear for Gilda.

While going through Gilda’s field notes, Jemimah discovers that the woman was experiencing a sexual renaissance. Could one of her lovers have killed her? Then there is Tim McCabe’s treasure hunt. A wealthy gallery owner and collector, McCabe has buried a chest filled with valuable coins and jewelry and challenged the public to find it. When Gilda wasn’t dressing down her co-workers or dallying with lovers, she was searching for McCabe’s treasure.

Was it greed that killed Gilda? A scorned lover or vengeful co-worker? With so many suspects and so few clues, Rick and Jemimah face one of the most challenging cases of their careers.

Says Cash, “I got the idea for this book after reading the fabulous memoir of a long-time Santa Fe collector and owner of private Indian ruins near Cerrillos on the ranch that has been the site for my other books. As if his adventures weren’t exciting enough, Forrest Fenn tossed in an honest to goodness treasure hunt. Besides a fictional treasure hunt, my book has a murder attached and a few bad guys thrown in for good measure.”

Marie Romero Cash was born in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and has lived there most of her life. In her mid-thirties she discovered the traditional arts of northern New Mexico. After twenty years of creating award-winning art, she began to write about it. At fifty she enrolled in college and, five years later, graduated with a degree in Southwest Studies. In 1998, she received the prestigious Javits Fellowship to pursue her education. Since then Marie has written several books about the art and culture of the southwest, including a memoir about growing up in Santa Fe. Click here to find Marie on the Web.

Keep reading for an excerpt:

The tangerine glow brushed the mountain tops in the final moments of the sunset. Gilda had been tapping markers into the trees for over an hour to document her progress in the canyon. She leaned over to pick up her backpack. The crackling of leaves startled her. She could make out the silhouette of a man moving toward her. A look of anguish spread over her face as he came within a foot of her. She frantically reached for her cellphone.

He pulled a guitar wire from his inside pocket.

She gasped. “What …”

Inches from her she stared into the blank look in the deep wells of darkness that were his eyes. His breath was rank and heavy.

Her voice trembled. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”

He pushed his face into hers. “Nobody’s going to hear you.”

Gilda lurched forward. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back, knocking her to her knees. He squeezed the cord around her neck as she struggled to get free. He reached under his coat. The bullet shattered her head. A cloud of smoke filled the air around her as her lifeless body dropped to the ground.

He dragged her to the edge of the river and rolled her over the embankment, waiting for the splash. Looking over the ledge, he discovered she had fallen into a boat tangled in the bushes and roared with laughter.

“Would you look at that? Perfect three point landing.”

The stranger retrieved his gear, clicked on his flashlight and made his way down the hill where his car was parked behind a clump of chamisa. He was in no hurry. The job was done.

**CLICK THE COVER IMAGE TO ORDER THE TRADE PAPERBACK ONLINE**

**Also Available in Kindle, Nook, and [...]]]>

Miss Chartley’s Guided Tour ($13.95, 250 pp., ISBN: 978-1-60381-913-8) is Camel Press’s latest reprint of  popular regency romances by Carla Kelly. First published in 1989, the novel features a gentlewoman of reduced circumstances whose luck changes when she helps an abused runaway.

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**Also Available in Kindle, Nook, and 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; a Whitney Award for Best Romance Fiction, 2011; 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.

In coming months, Camel Press will also reprint Miss Billings Treads the Boards, With This Ring, Miss Milton Speaks her Mind, and McVinnie’s London Season. Camel will also be publishing Carla’s all-new Spanish Brand series. Book 1, The Double Cross, will be released on August 1, 2013.

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.” Wrote Library Journal has called her “one of the most respected Regency writers.”

“A milestone of originality,” wrote Romantic Times when Miss Chartley was first published. “Carla Kelly moves on to yet another triumph in this immensely appealing tale. Superlative.”

“All of Kelly’s characters shine, from her hero and heroine down to the smallest child,” wrote All About Romance.

To all appearances, Miss Omega Chartley is a schoolteacher on holiday. In fact she is a gentlewoman fallen on hard times, left at the altar eight years earlier and forced to make her own way in the world after the loss of her family fortune.

Omega’s modest tour of England is cut short when she comes to the aid of a runaway. Jamie Clevenden has fled the clutches of a brutal uncle, and Omega is determined to help him escape the law, as represented by Bow Street Runner, Mr. Timothy Platter.

Aided by a kindly war veteran and his adopted daughter, the two fugitives arrive at the home of Jamie’s other uncle, the Viscount of Byford—none other than Miss Chartley’s disgraced fiancé, Matthew Bering. There Miss Chartley will finally learn the secret that Lord Byford has hidden from her all these years, the story of a dark chapter in his past that stands in the way of not only their happiness but that of his nephew. Now they must face the truth together, no matter how dire the consequences.

“I wrote this book early in my Regency Romance career,” says Kelly, “and I’m delighted to see it in print again and ebook form. Since it came out so early, I suspect many of my readers haven’t had the pleasure of Omega Chartley’s company, as her simple trip to change jobs ends up involving a runaway, a Peninsular Wars veteran and a former fiancé. Nothing is simple in life, and that is even more true in a novel.”

A well-known veteran of the romance writing field, Carla Kelly is the author of twenty-nine 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 interest in 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 tried to think what to do. The only other recourse was to apply to Matthew Bering, Viscount Byford, for a loan. “Oh, God, I cannot,” she said.

“Cannot what, my dear?”

Omega jerked her hands away from her face and opened her eyes. Matthew was standing quietly in the doorway. He was dressed carefully in the elegance of a country gentleman again, stock neatly tied, coat smoothed across his shoulders without a wrinkle. He walked slowly to the other end of the table and sat down. “Cannot what?” he asked again when she did not seem disposed to reply.

There are moments when only the truth will do. “I cannot ask you for a loan to quit this place, Matthew,” she answered. “And I dare not tell Alpha my whereabouts, for he would surely challenge you to a duel. I hardly need scruple to describe the outcome of that to you, sir.”

Matthew considered her predicament. “If you cannot apply to me to bring you up to scratch, and you don’t want to risk Alpha’s health, whatever will you do?”

He was teasing her. There was a twinkle in his eye as he leaned back in the chair and regarded her. He was playing with her emotions like a musician with an instrument. How dare he? She rose to her feet slowly, horrified by the intensity of her rage. Had there been a pistol within easy reach, she would have shot him.

He saw the anger in her face. The twinkle left his eye and he sat up straight again. “That was unthinkable of me,” he said. “I have no business being unkind to you.” He waited a moment. “Oh, say something, Omega!”

She could think of nothing that would do justice to her feelings. There weren’t enough words in the language. She could only shake her head and hurry to the door, desperate to get belowstairs again.

There was another look in Matthew Bering’s eye that she couldn’t identify. A chill settled around her heart. She got to the door first and stepped into the hall in time to narrowly avoid Twinings, who was hurrying to the front door.

Hugh had returned. Thank God. That would be sufficient diversion to allow an escape. Besides, there was much to do belowstairs. Omega Chartley chose discretion over valor, and fled to the safety of the servants’ hall.

The Fallen Angels Book Club is the first book in an exciting new mystery series featuring amateur sleuth Hollis Morgan.

** Click [...]]]>

The Fallen Angels Book Club ($14.95, 264 pages, ISBN: 978-1-60381-917-6) is a mystery/suspense novel by new author R. Franklin James about a woman whose book club—supposedly composed entirely of white-collar criminals—may harbor a bona fide murderer.

The Fallen Angels Book Club is the first book in an exciting new mystery series featuring amateur sleuth Hollis Morgan.

** Click the cover image to order online **

** Also available in Kindle, Nook, and other eBook formats on Smashwords **

“Twists and turns keep this debut novel exciting to the surprising end.”

—Michele Drier, author of Edited for Death and The Kandesky Vampire Chronicles.

“R. Franklin James’ new book has everything a reader could ask for in a good mystery: intriguing plot, fascinating characters, and a few shockers thrown in along the way.”

—Shirley Kennedy, romance novelist

“Reading is murder in this must-read suspense novel filled with surprising twists and turns.”

—Cathi Stoler, author of mystery thriller, Telling Lies

“A fast paced plot with many twists coupled with a smart and determined protagonist make this a most enjoyable read.”

—Kathleen Delaney, author of the Ellen McKenzie real estate mysteries

“This debut novel set in the San Francisco Bay area is a first-person account told by amateur sleuth, Hollis Morgan. This is a very intriguing murder mystery with a startling cast of characters. This book allows the reader to take part in the investigation; I felt my suspicions sift as each new clue was revealed. This is a remarkable well-rounded mystery and I HIGHLY recommend this to anyone who enjoys crime fiction.”

—Heather Coulter, Books, Books, and more Books

“A very fast and enjoyable read and a real page turner. I was constantly wanting to know what was going to happen next and it managed to keep me guessing a lot of the time as well … If you love a mystery novel that doesn’t bog you down with unnecessary details but still has enough of a background and storyline to keep everything flowing, then I highly recommend giving this one a try.”  Read more …

–Beagle Book Space

“This book is full of murder, mystery and of course mayhem.  Thoroughly entertaining and a fast read, I can’t wait for the next book in the series. Excellent debut novel Ms. James!”  Read more …

–Tammy & Michelle, Nook Users’ Book Club

“This is R. Franklin James’ debut novel, a fact which I find hard to believe. She has created a character I love in Hollis Morgan, and a great plot …. I’m going to follow the series and R. Franklin James. I’ve found a winner.”  Read more ….

–Views from the Countryside Blog

“Highly inventive … a wonderful thriller. The tension mounts as Hollis becomes the target of the killer putting her life in great peril.  The Fallen Angels Book Club is loaded with twists and turns and red herrings that will leave you guessing all the while you are flipping pages to find out what happens next.  When you finish this book you will heave a hugely satisfying sigh because you have enjoyed yourself immensely.  Ms. Franklin James has provided us with a great new character in Hollis Morgan.  I am already looking forward to the next book in this series from this very talented author.”  Read more …

–Vic’s Media Room

“The author … does a excellent job of creating a story line that’s both realistic and suspenseful. There was never a dull moment. I really look forward to reading more from this author.”  Read more …

–Heather, Saving for 6 Blogspot

“A delightful read. It certainly contained mystery, murder and mayhem …. Like any good mystery, there was a mystery within a mystery and I found [Hollis'] exchanges with the older folks at the center refreshing and decidedly touching ….  The reader could feel Hollis’s fear with each event and her determination to clear her name.  Very well written and very well thought out! Well done Ms James, well done!”  Read more …

–Beth Art From the Heart Blog

The Fallen Angels Book Club has only two requirements: the members must love books and have a white-collar criminal record. Hollis Morgan fits the bill. Left holding the bag in an insurance fraud scheme concocted by her now ex-husband, she served her time and is trying to rebuild her life. All she wants is for the court to pardon her conviction so she can return to law school.

After one of her fellow members is murdered in a scenario straight out of a club selection, Hollis is once again the subject of police scrutiny. Refusing to get stuck with another bad rap, she sets out to investigate her fellow club members. Is one of them really blackmailing the others? As a second member dies in yet another book-inspired murder, Hollis realizes that time is running out. Everything rides on her finding the killer—not just her career aspirations. She must identify the killer before she herself becomes the next victim. Everyone is convinced she knows more than she lets on. But what is it, exactly, that is she supposed to know?

Says James, “My inspiration for the Hollis Morgan character originated with an online writing class. My fellow class members came from all over the world, from a variety of backgrounds and they included one sociopath. Only we didn’t know that until members started receiving email threats. Our instructor dropped him (or her) from the list, but I couldn’t shake the idea of a group of people coming together to share their art, only to be stalked or hounded by a greedy opportunist. I gave my group a secret—their criminal past—and the Fallen Angels were born.

R. Franklin James grew up in the San Francisco East Bay Area and graduated from the University of California at Berkeley. She and her husband currently live in northern California. The Fallen Angels Book Club is her first novel and the first book in the Hollis Morgan Mystery series. Click here to find R. Franklin on the Web.

Keep reading for an excerpt:

I looked through the peephole and froze.

“Who is it?” I said, hoping to buy myself a couple of seconds.

“Ms. Morgan? It’s Detective Faber. I’m with Detective Lincoln. Can we speak to you for a few minutes?” His voice sounded loud and clear, even through the door.

Taking a deep breath, I let them in. “Why have you come back?”

They looked around with curiosity as if they’d never been here before. I guided them once more into the living room. I didn’t sit because I didn’t want them to. We all stood around the coffee table.

Faber took out that thin black notebook of his and flipped open a page. “Ms. Morgan, do you know a Rebecca Lynley?”

They had me. I knew my voice would have a tremble. “I think you already know the answer to that. Yes, I legally changed my name. Hollis is my middle name and Morgan is my maiden name.”

Rebecca Hollis Morgan Lynley was my unlucky name. It was the name that brought shame to me, my family and my friends. It was the name I was known by when I served time in prison. It was the name I acquired when I married that jerk. Rebecca Hollis Morgan Lynley. It was a name I never wanted to hear again, but here it was, turning up like a bad penny. For one insane moment, I wondered what was behind that bad penny saying. I knew how that penny felt.

Lincoln said, “I see. Well, we talked to your former parole officer and he spoke highly of you. Does your employer know of your record?”

Ah, a man after my own way of thinking. Straight to the point of pain. My heart raced. “The ones who need to know do. Why? Is there a reason you’re asking?”

Lincoln seemed to come to life. “I wondered if you checked the felon box on your job application.” His expression told me that he expected I had lied.

So that was it; he liked pulling wings off butterflies. He wanted me to squirm.

“Detectives, is there a reason why you’re here? I admitted I changed my name. I don’t know any more about Rory’s death now than I did when you were last here.”

“Mrs. Lynley—”

“Morgan,” I insisted.

Faber gave me a condescending smile. “Okay, Ms. Morgan, we followed up on that book tip you gave us, linking it to the mode of Norris’ death. It was right on. Then we took things a little further, did a little research on the other members of the book club. You know what we discovered? A club of ex-felons.”

At that I had to sit. They followed suit.

My thoughts raced. “I know there’s a temptation to conclude that we’re plotting the downfall of the Western world, but all that we have in common—well, not all, I guess—is that we love books.”

“That so?” Faber’s lips were pursed just shy of a smirk. “Yet I would imagine all of you must live in fear of having your prison backgrounds exposed. A blackmailer would think he hit the lotto.”

Lincoln leaned over and picked a foil-wrapped chocolate out of the glass candy dish on the table. I tried to remember how long the candy had been there. One of the prison staff had given me a small box as a good luck gift. Could people die from eating candy three years past the “best by” date? He popped it in without noticing the thin whitish coating and grabbed for another.

I stared at the chocolates. “We don’t pry into each others’ pasts. That’s one of our rules. We only get together to share our opinions about books.”

Lincoln gave me a hard look. “We visited Mr. Norris’ apartment. We found canceled checks and bank statements that raise the possibility he might have been a blackmailer.” Lincoln chewed. “Was he blackmailing you?”

“Rory, a blackmailer?” I couldn’t stop my voice from trembling. “No. No. I’m not being blackmailed.”

“You didn’t know Norris was a blackmailer?” Faber asked.

“No,” I answered weakly. “I only knew him through the book club.”

“Yeah, so you said.” Faber flipped back a couple of pages in his notebook. “Mrs. Lynley—excuse me, Ms. Morgan—would you be surprised to know your husband’s name was in an address book we found in Mr. Norris’ apartment?”

The air fled my lungs as if I’d been punched. On top of that I thought my hearing must be impaired. “I’m sorry. Did you say Bill’s name was in Rory’s address book?”

“That’s right. How did they know each other?” Faber asked.

“Bill and Rory knew each other?” The words left my lips but sounded far away.

Faber leaned over to my side of the table. “Do you know where your husband is?”

“Ex-husband. I haven’t seen him since my trial.”

Only a half-lie.

To my relief, Lincoln pushed the candy dish away. “You haven’t had any contact with William Lynley since your conviction?”

I chose my words carefully. “We haven’t spoken since I was sentenced.”

Let’s try to maintain some integrity here.

I couldn’t tell if they believed me. They asked a few more questions about the club and then left with the promise to get back to me if they thought of anything else. Based on my last law enforcement encounter, I had a feeling their next step would be to obtain a search warrant.

I tossed the salad down the disposal and went out on the deck with my wine. I’d lost my appetite. The opposite of love isn’t hatred, it’s indifference. I was working on it, not every day, but as often as my sanity allowed. I was glad to feel almost nothing.

Nighttime was always the worst for me. Insomnia had become my companion. At night, I’d close my eyes, and the noises and smells from prison would assail me. A few months ago there was a special on TV about women in prison. I couldn’t watch it. Even though my cell was behind a door and not bars, I heard my fellow inmates crying and praying. It went on for hours on end. I could neither cry nor pray now.

I had to get a pardon. I’d do whatever it took. Rory’s unsolved murder could threaten my future dreams. I had to have another chance.

I had to.

Double Play ($15.95, 318 pp., ISBN: 978-1-60381-941-1) is the third book in Jen Estes’ mystery series featuring female sportswriter Cat McDaniel. Cat has relocated to Buffalo, New York, where she gradually realizes that her wastrel half-brother has become entangled in a gambling operation involving the team she reports for.

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Game’s on … all bets are off.

Double Play ($15.95, 318 pp., ISBN: 978-1-60381-941-1) is the third book in Jen Estes’ mystery series featuring female sportswriter Cat McDaniel. Cat has relocated to Buffalo, New York, where she gradually realizes that her wastrel half-brother has become entangled in a gambling operation involving the team she reports for.

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“The Soldiers are going into the playoffs. Brother Quinn quickly ingratiates himself with enough of the team to invite them to Cat’s place for poker (she and Benji are asleep), and one of their stars falls (or is pushed) off her balcony. He isn’t killed, but the rest of his season is shot. Fans blame Cat, and then she is forced to investigate. The deeper she goes, the worse it gets. Greedy ballplayers, owners, gamesters, all abound. Brother Quinn seems to be in the middle. What’s a girl to do? As usual, Cat’s pluck and intelligence switch into gear for a thoroughly entertaining whodunit.”

–Shelley Glodowski, MBR Bookwatch

“This is a cozy with lots of baseball and a reminder of Pete Rose’s problem.  If murder can leave you smiling, this one is for you.”

–Carolyn Lanier, I Love a Mystery

Double Play follows Curveball as Book 3 of the Cat McDaniel Mysteries, also known as the Foul Ball series. The series began with Big Leagues.

Team reporter Cat finally has her perfect lineup in Double Play. She’s reporting for the playoff-bound Buffalo Soldiers, she’s living large in a two-bedroom loft overlooking the Niagara River, and she’s sporting a diamond on her ring finger—nowhere as big as a baseball diamond, but big enough for her.

Just when Cat seems to be on top of her game, life throws her an off-speed pitch. A screwball clad in a leather jacket and biker boots—also known as her half-brother and full-leech, Quinn—shows up on her doorstep, or more accurately, her balcony. Her fiancé, Benji, although shocked to find out he has a future brother-in-law, welcomes the flighty Quinn, little knowing what havoc the man’s boozing and betting ways will wreak on their lives.

Soon after Quinn moves in, Cat’s team’s innings become his fat winnings. As the long shots turn into locks and hundreds turn into thousands, Cat’s curiosity steps up to the plate. Between the betting lines, she finds greedy gamesters, desperate ballplayers and an enterprising bookie looking to raise the stakes. Sometimes baseball isn’t just a game, it’s a matter of life or death.

Says Estes, “Gambling is the dirtiest word in baseball. Fans have overlooked performance enhancers, corked bats, juiced balls, illegal drugs, dogfights, cockfights and even a bizarre wife-swap back in the ’70s, but a professional athlete who wages on the game is shunned forever. As such, I couldn’t resist ‘taking a gamble’ on this unforgivable sports sin for my third book.”

Born and raised in Illinois, Jen Estes started her writing career as a baseball blogger in 2007 and expanded to freelance sports writing in 2009. She is an active member of the Society of American Baseball Research (SABR), Springfield Poets & Writers and the National Writers Union (NWU). When Jen isn’t writing, she enjoys running, yoga, traveling and watching baseball with her husband and cat. Click here to find Jen on the Web or go to her blog. Follow her on Twitter @jenestesdotcom.

Keep reading for an excerpt:

She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep when the scream tore through the dark bedroom and smacked her awake. Benji’s eyes snapped open, too. Simultaneously, they threw the comforter off and shot out to the hallway, hurrying into the living room. The remnants of the poker night were still visible, cards and beer bottles scattered over the table. The chairs were empty and her eyes darted to the balcony. The sliding glass door was wide open and a cold breeze blew through the room. The players all gathered near the edge.

“Quinn?”

Cat sprinted to the balcony. She breathed a momentary sigh of relief when she saw her brother in the corner, disguised by Benji’s spiraled boxwood topiary.

The telephone rang.

“That’s got to be Finley again,” Benji said, turning around to answer it.

Cat hopped out to the balcony, planting her feet on the coarse entry rug. It was still cold, but beat the bitter chill of the concrete. “What’s going on?”

Joel turned around and shoved past her, running into the kitchen. She heard him wretch and hoped he had made it to the sink.

Quinn, Damien Staats and Adam Alvarez were all peering over the balcony. Cat was filled with dread as she approached the ledge. “Guys?”

Where’s everybody else at?

Slowly, she began to recall the guests from earlier.

Quinn’s here.

So’s Damien Staats.

So’s Adam Alvarez.

Joel Faulk’s in the kitchen.

Her stomach dropped.

“Oh my God, where’s Spencer?”

No one answered her. She cringed as she finally made it to the edge and followed their gazes to the ground.

Damien bounced on his heels and repeatedly shook his head. “Shit man, shit.”

A twisted body lay on the grass two stories down. It wasn’t Spencer. Her friend was short and this figure spanned two sidewalk lengths. She recognized his shaggy, dirty blond hair immediately.

Ryan Brokaw.

Now she remembered him from earlier. The pitcher had sat on the loveseat, next to Adam. He’d made the “your mama” joke.

“Oh my God! Ryan? Ryan!”

He didn’t move.

Benji rushed to the balcony and looked over her shoulder. He gasped.

She pulled her hands away from her mouth. “We have to call nine-one-one.”

Benji nodded and ran to the phone.

She whirled around to the guys. “What the hell happened?”

Damien’s hands flew in the air defensively. “He … he ….”

Adam placed his hand on Damien’s shoulder. “He fell.”

“Fell? Quinn?”

Quinn nodded. “We were just having a smoke out here, shooting the shit and goofing around. Ryan leaned back and just … fell.”

Cat surveyed the railing. It was a concrete ledge but she pushed against it just to make sure it was sturdy. It was solid. “I don’t understand.”

Quinn shook his head. “Me, either. It happened so fast. He was leaning like this.” Quinn demonstrated by resting his hips on the edge. “He lost his footing and just tumbled back.”

Cat leaned over the side. “Ryan, can you hear me?”

His body still didn’t move. She pushed past Adam and ran out of the apartment. Her hand glided down the railing as she shot down the three flights of stairs. She sprinted across the grass. The blades felt like porcupine quills under her bare feet and the ground was cold and wet with frost. She reached his body and looked up at her lighted balcony. Quinn and the players were no longer there but she could see Benji pacing back and forth in the living room, the cordless phone pressed against his ear. She tore her eyes back to Ryan’s contorted body.

“Ryan?”

His arm was twisted behind his body like a cruller and his shoulder popped out like an extra glob of icing. “Ryan, it’s Cat McDaniel.”

I Left My Haunt in San Francisco ($15.95, 298 pages, ISBN: 978-1-60381-868-1) is Book 3 of Mark Everett Stone’s popular urban fantasy series featuring a super-agent employed by the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation. Next [...]]]>

Super-agent Kal Hakala and his team stand at the golden gates … of hell, with only a ghost of a chance to survive.

I Left My Haunt in San Francisco ($15.95, 298 pages, ISBN: 978-1-60381-868-1) is Book 3 of Mark Everett Stone’s popular urban fantasy series featuring a super-agent employed by the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation. Next up: Chicago, the Windigo City and Omaha Stakes.

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“Another high impact, fast moving story from Mark Everett Stone. I am really enjoying seeing his growth as a writer reflected in the strength of his characters and am looking forward to seeing what the future holds for Kal.”  Read more …
—Michelle Herbert, Fantasy Book Review

“The third in a series, I Left My Haunt in San Francisco is lively and smart. It is packed with action and just enough goop and gore to please fans of the genre without turning away newcomers to this subset of modern fantasy demon-busting …. Stone’s book moves fast and reads quickly. It is well-written and nicely paced, with a few short rest stops built in to allow the reader to catch his breath, all to better appreciate the at-times purple but always entertaining prose …. It is just great, grand fun.”  Read more …

—Mark McLaughlin, Foreword Digital Reviews

“Kal Hakala is at his finest, throwing out one liners and sarcasm like candy at the local town parade. There’s even some nifty new gadgets that would make Q green with envy. Stone concocts his tale with a generous helping of spells and weaponry, a dash of some familiar faces, a smidgen of new folks on the team, and tops it off with plenty of awesome battles with the Things That Go Bump in the Night …. A dish best read in one sitting because you won’t be able to put this one down.”
—Shay Fabro, award-winning author of the Portal of Destiny series

“The third episode of the Files of the BSI series is told with Mark Stone’s trademark tongue in cheek humor. It keeps you wanting more with each turn of the page, to not only uncover the mysteries of the story, but also to enjoy Kal’s quick but cynical wit.”
—CP Bialois, author of Call of Poseidon, The Sword and the Flame series, and Skeleton Key

Mark’s last book, The Judas Line, earned a starred review in Publishers Weekly, which wrote, “Stone’s depiction of magic is realistic and intelligent and his treatment of Catholicism refreshingly informed and three-dimensional. Even the obligatory near-apocalyptic ending is coherent, surprising, and exciting.” The Judas Line is currently a finalist for ForeWord Magazine’s Book of the Year Award in the Fantasy Category.

Fresh Fiction called The Judas Line, “A heavenly read …. simply brilliant.”

Books in Motion is producing audiobooks of Mark’s first two BSI novels, Things to Do in Denver When You’re Un-Dead and What Happens in Vegas, Dies in Vegas. Click here to order the audio version of Mark’s first book.

Mark’s first novel in the From the Files of the BSI series, Things to Do in Denver, 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.

After avenging himself on the mythical monster that killed his sister, Kal Hakela is back at the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation. But, with only a few months left on his contract, he’s tempted to retire along with his new love, former MI-7 agent Jeanie.

When a friend and former BSI agent in San Francisco kills himself, he leaves Kal a clue, one he cannot ignore. The city is full of bad memories for Kal. In his last mission there, he killed a deranged serial rapist who used magic to murder his victims. Though successful, the mission resulted in unfortunate collateral damage, which earned Kal the enmity of San Francisco’s ghostly Supernatural protector.

With the fate of every human on Earth at stake, Kal and his team confront a slew of Supernatural perils, from giant insects to gargoyles. And they must complete their mission without the help of the BSI, its magical weaponry, and the superhuman power of Kal’s legendary rage.

Says Stone, “Whenever a book is part of a series, the author must worry about plot development. Too many series suffer from what I call ‘The Same Story Syndrome,’ where the books have basically the same plot, and only the names, places, and circumstances have changed. I try to bring a different feel to each book, introducing new elements and characters that will keep the reader guessing and the ongoing storyline fresh.”

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:

“Boss,” Wilkes began. “What happened last time you were here? What was taken from Norton that he prized so much?”

Blood, black in the bright light of the full moon, splashed across the landscape of my memory. Last time in San Fran had been a dubious victory at best; we killed the bad guy and saved lives, but at the same time lost the heart of Joshua Norton.

“I’ll tell you later,” I muttered, the foul taste of the memory coating my tongue. Off to the right, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a young kid—perhaps thirteen, with long, stringy blond hair and a gray hoodie—pointing a stick. I saw a flash of mirrored sunglasses before the world went all jiggery.

Heat burned up my arm and the roof of the Suburban hit me in the face and torqued my head at a nearly impossible angle while the steering wheel hit me in the Misters. The cramping, grinding pain that shot through my crotch was a blunt message that my sex life would be curtailed for a while. A tail of yellow briefly flickered across my vision, accompanied by a strange crackling sound. Burnt pork assailed my nose. For some reason, everything was topsy-turvy and it slowly came to me that I hung upside down by my seat belt, which was odd but I couldn’t quite figure out why.

I tasted blood and burning plastic. A square of glass had invaded my mouth and spitting it out hurt like hell, but not as much as my left arm. What …? A body blocked my sight to the right, a big one. More blood filled my mouth and the universe spun on its axis. I felt the sudden urge to throw up. I wiped my eyes and realized that my left sleeve was on fire and the burning pork was ME! I smelled almost delicious but I couldn’t hear much because everything seemed to be muffled in a pad of cotton and when that cotton was suddenly ripped away, I could hear everything, a cacophony of harsh sounds—the blare of horns, the crackle and whoosh of fire, the jagged raw sound of metal slowly scraping asphalt. It all overwhelmed me and I could feel my eyes crossing in consternation.

Crunch, crunch, crunch …

The noise was close enough to draw my attention because for some reason the fire eating my arm didn’t hurt any more, but what was crunching my way with such slow, deliberate steps?

White high tops, Air Jordans, were all I could see of the person who calmly walked around the black SUV, rubber soles crackling the tiny bits of safety glass that were sprayed around the vehicle like a silicate web.

It hurt like a mother to twist my head around as the shoes made it to the driver’s side window and halted, the toes pointing straight at me. A black, bulky object lay next to my temple and I fumbled for it, driven by panic. Cool metal greeted my palm just as a face fronted by a pair of mirrored lenses peered in.

It was the kid, the kid with the stick, wearing gray sweatpants to match his/her gray hoodie. I couldn’t tell if the kid was male or female; its features were perfectly androgynous. Long blond hair that I had thought was stringy was instead silk-fine, hanging to an inch above the asphalt before fading into invisibility. The sight of that hair, the ends dangling into nothingness, sent a worm of fear gnawing at my gut and it wasn’t just the heat of my burning flesh that popped sweat on my forehead.

“A ghlacadh mé aon áthas seo,” he/she said in a high, fluting voice, full of music and chiming notes that brought a tingle to my ears. For some reason I thought of forest meadows and the taste of honey nectar. In contrast to the music of the kid’s voice, the face behind the mirrored shades was dispassionate, hard as mountain gutrock. “Ní hé seo an pearsanta, tá sé gnó.” That said, the kid raised his/her stick.

Something about that foot-long piece of wood struck me as the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen, not that it actually radiated menace or evil or had “One Stick to Rule Them All” inscribed on it in fiery runes. Terror seemed to be part of the reality that surrounded it and I did the only thing I could under the circumstances, I aimed Alex’s new invention (the object that had landed next to my skull) and pulled the trigger.

Clack.

Oh crap. Again, I pulled the trigger.

Clack. Nothing.

The kid smiled, revealing slightly oversized and very white teeth, and aimed that damn stick at my face. I knew I was dead, that whatever magic that piece of wood held would blow my head apart like a melon hitting the highway. I closed my eyes, hoping it wouldn’t hurt.

Linda Jacobs is the author of three other novels in the Yellowstone Series. She is a past recipient of the WILLA [...]]]>

Jackson Hole Journey ($15.95, 328 pp., ISBN: 978-1-60381-910-7), is an historical romance by Linda Jacobs. On a dude ranch plagued by natural disasters in the 1920’s, two brothers compete for the love of the same woman.

Linda Jacobs is the author of three other novels in the Yellowstone Series. She is a past recipient of the WILLA Literary Award and a SPUR Award finalist.

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JACKSON HOLE JOURNEY is distributed by EPICENTER PRESS/AFTERSHOCKS MEDIA.  Booksellers and Libraries, please contact: orders@epicenterpress.com.

4 Stars: “Jacob’s latest installment of her Yellowstone series will have readers clamoring for the series’ other books in hopes of capturing more of the incredible detail that she incorporates in this particular novel. In addition to creating a vast and charismatic cast of characters, Jacobs accurately captures the story’s era and the Gros Ventre, Wyo. wilderness, adding to the already rich historical tone of this novel. Without a doubt, readers will forge a strong connection to some of the characters and find themselves rooting for William and Francesca. Fans of western novels will also enjoy this historical fiction installment.”

—RT Reviews

“Jackson Hole Journey is an entertaining mix of a character rich story of people in peril, in love, and in everyday life, and almost a travelogue about one of America’s most scenic places.”  Read more ….

—Jane Bowers, Romance Reviews Today

“While the characters are bright and fascinating, the real star of JACKSON HOLE JOURNEY is the setting.  At times it’s peaceful and other times chaotic but one thing’s for certain, you won’t be bored.”   Read more ….

—Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies

“I enjoyed every word. Jacobs places the majestic Teton landscape before the reader in living color, and populates it with believable characters and a romantic story which never cloys. If you like a fast-moving story with adventure, history, love, and peril, try Jackson Hole Journey.”  Read more …

–Historical Novel Society

“A vivid portrait of ranch life and a devastating natural disaster.”

—Lucia St. Clair Robson, Spur Award winning author of Ride the Wind

“A captivating page turner that lets us all know why Linda Jacobs is an award-winning writer.”

—Jane Kirkpatrick, bestselling author of An Absence so Great

Francesca di Paoli, a gifted yet penniless chef, arrives in Jackson Hole in 1925. Rescued by William Sutton, the “steady” son of a dude ranching family, she begins to feel safe, until the historic Gros Ventre landslide buries her and William alive. Though they survive, the uncertainty in the valley, as a new lake forms perilously behind the slide debris, parallels the uncertainty of Francesca’s fate.

William saves her again, finding her work in the Suttons’ ranch cookshack. There she meets William’s brother, Bryce, a charming wanderer. William and Bryce, already rivals for their parents’ approval, begin to vie for Francesca’s attention.

Over the next two years, valley ranchers clash over a Park Service proposal to extend Yellowstone Park south to Jackson Hole. Bryce comes and goes, taking a piece of his parents’ and Francesca’s heart with him each time. Yet, when the Sutton’s Nez Perce uncle comes to the ranch to die, it is Bryce who helps nurse the sick man. William has never accepted his Nez Perce heritage and his uncle’s arrival rakes up the ire of an unsavory contingent in the valley. Men like Dieter Gross, who disdain Native Americans and foreigners like Francesca, may well resort to violence if they discover the Sutton ranch’s black foreman is seeing a white woman.

Meanwhile the earth has not finished trembling, nor the river rising. When the flood waters retreat, who will be left standing?

Says Jacobs: “My personal love affair with the Yellowstone region began in 1973, when I attended geology field camp in Alpine, Wyoming, south of Jackson Hole. The first time I saw the Tetons rear their majestic heads seven thousand feet above the valley floor, I was hooked. I turned my geologist’s eye upon the 1925 Gros Ventre landslide and the subsequent 1927 flood which wiped out the town of Kelly, Wyoming, and Jackson Hole Journey was born.”

After thirty years as a professional geologist, Linda Jacobs attended Rice University’s novel writing program and never looked back. She has published three books in The Yellowstone Series and two romances under the name Christine Carroll. Although the Camel edition of Jackson Hole Journey is the novel’s first time in print, an audio version was a finalist in the 2011 Spur Awards. Married to fellow geologist Richard Jacobs, Linda divides her time between the West and the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. Click here to find Linda her online.

Read on for an excerpt:

Past midnight, the wind came up and played a moaning dirge, making the big window shudder in its frame. Its keening cadence reminded Francesca of winter, when fierce gusts battered the cookshack.

Laura slept with her jaw slack. The irregular cadence of Cord’s snoring helped keep Francesca from nodding off.

She pulled out her rosary and murmured in Latin, “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us now and at the hour of our deaths ….”

She found herself counting the seconds between Bitter Waters’s breaths. He would inhale, chest heaving, then his lips would seal. Ten, thirty, forty-five seconds—by the relentless ticking of the wall clock—until, with a panicked snort, his mouth gaped like a fish’s on the bank and he continued to live.

Hours passed and the clock wound down and stopped. Francesca stared at it and at Bitter Waters, but the cessation of the ticking had not marked his passing. Finally, the realization that she hoped each time he stopped breathing would be the last drove her from the room. Cord and Laura still slept.

Bryce lay on the sofa, his head pillowed on his arm. She touched his shoulder and for a moment, they looked into each other.

“My turn?” His voice sounded thick.

Francesca moved so he could swing his long frame around to sit up. He stabbed both hands into his hair and made the sleep-tousled mess worse. “How is he?”

“The same.”

Bryce put a sinewy hand on each thigh and pushed to his feet. “The suspense is killing us all,” he said in a husky voice. “God strike me dead for wishing it over, but what he has now is not a life.”

The living hell of slow suffocation, whether her father with fluid buildup in his lungs, or Bitter Waters’ .…

In the flickering light, the kitchen clock said it was nearly four. Less than an hour until summer’s dawn would paint a seam of silver gray above the Gros Ventre.

Bryce went in to Bitter Waters and she lay down. The leather on the couch was still warm. The door to the lean-to opened onto blackness …. The candle had burned out.

Shifting her position, she tried to ease the places where knives seemed to have been inserted beneath her shoulder blades. She moved her restless legs. Hunger pangs roiled, but she did not want any broth.

Giving up on sleep, she went to the fireplace, stirred the embers and added two logs.

From the lean-to, she heard a rasping breath, followed by silence. Her shoulders hunched, her bare toes curled on the chill stone in front of the hearth.

Without warning, a wave of relief washed through her.

She seized the lamp from its hook and ran to the lean-to. In the wedge of light across the bed, she made out Bryce, sprawled awkwardly on the straight chair, asleep. His extended hand covered Bitter Waters’s.

Cord and Laura also slept.

Francesca tiptoed to the bedside. Bitter Waters mouth hung open; he did not blink at the light.

Though she felt certain his soul had departed, she stood a minute, and another, giving Bryce and his parents a little longer to live in the time before Bitter Waters died.

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“A quintessential [...]]]>

Reunion ($16.95, 344 pp., ISBN: 978-1-60381-889-6), is an historical romance by New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Mary Daheim. Originally published in 1986 as Pride’s Captive, the novel begins at the outbreak of the American Civil War.

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“A quintessential romantic novel with historical elements that will provide dramatic, engaging appeal, and a fun and whimsical read.”  Read more ….

–Historical Novel Society

Serena Farrar’s world is on the brink of self-destruction. Determined to do her part to free the slaves, she dreams of joining the staff of her cousin’s newspaper in Springfield as a journalist. But the only way she can move to Massachusetts is to bow to her family’s wishes and marry sea captain Brant Parnell, in her mind a reckless fortune-hunter.

After Serena goes to work for the New Bedford Mercury, her hopes and dreams are quashed by an ugly scandal. Not even Brant can help or comfort her, for her coldness has sent him back to sea, feeling used and rejected. Serena’s only recourse is to flee to her sister’s home in New Bern, North Carolina. There, in the shadow of the growing conflict, she throws herself into her work on the local newspaper, still wondering why her passion for writing about truth and justice wasn’t enough.

When Brant arrives in New Bern, Serena begins to question everything she has lived for. As conflict engulfs the city, she struggles not only as a Yankee in enemy territory, but as a woman who was born to love and be loved. From the primeval forests of Maine to the lush Inner Banks of North Carolina, Serena and Brant discover that love trumps the worst of human follies.

Says Daheim, “Although my primary field was European History, I knew more about the American Civil War than your average turnip, having taken three American history courses from Prof. Tom Pressly at the University of Washington …. But I wanted more than background. I needed something personal. By chance, a close friend had moved to New Bern, North Carolina. Her father knew a great deal of the Civil War. Thus, I had my setting. Now I needed a protagonist. Being a native Seattleite, I couldn’t quite get the mind-set of a Southern belle. My heroine had to be a transplanted Yankee, and to make her every-day world even closer to my own, a journalist. Thus, Serena Farrar emerged out of my typewriter and onto the pages of the book that was originally titled Pride’s Captive.”

Seattle native Mary Richardson Daheim lives three miles from the house where she was raised. Upon getting her journalism degree from the University of Washington, she went to work for a newspaper in Anacortes, Washington. She married David Daheim and moved to Port Angeles where she became a reporter for the local daily. Both tours of small-town duty gave her the background for the Alpine/Emma Lord series. Mary spent much of her non-fiction career in public relations. She began her career as a novelist with seven historical romances before switching to mysteries in 1991. She has published at least 55 novels. Mary’s husband David died in February, 2010; they had been married for more than 43 years. They have three daughters, Barbara, Katherine and Magdalen, and two granddaughters, Maisy and Clara. For more information, click here.

Read on for an excerpt:

She too had gotten up from her chair, trying to regain her dignity and poise, but aware that her voice and legs were both unsteady. “I’m not demeaning what other people do, I just feel that if a person has been given certain talents, they ought to be used. And used as fully as possible. I can’t imagine, as a writer, writing only for an audience of one.”

“Somehow, I wasn’t thinking of writing.” The bemused look had returned to Brant’s craggy face. He stood very close to Serena, and the sheen of his satin waistcoat seemed overly bright. It also seemed to match his eyes. “In terms of us,” he went on, putting his hand under her chin, “I was thinking of something else. You wanted me to kiss you that day in Livermore Falls, didn’t you?”

Again, denial sprang to Serena’s lips. But she didn’t want to lie to Brant, nor did she need to when the truth was so self-absolving. “I was somewhat … tipsy.”

“Being ‘tipsy,’ as you so quaintly call it, is always a wonderful excuse for acquiring the courage to do precisely what we want to do but under more sober circumstances would exercise rigid—if foolish—self-restraint.” He tipped her chin up to his face. “You’re quite sober now, Serena. Can you honestly say you don’t want me to kiss you?”

He was so close, so confident, so in control, despite his apparent easygoing manner. And she still had never been kissed, had no thrilling secrets to write to Cecelia or whisper to Abigail. One kiss from Brant would give her ample ammunition to regale them both with titillating feminine confidences. On the other hand, it might encourage Brant to continue his suit.

“You may kiss me. Once.” Serena closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable. It seemed to take a considerable amount of time for Brant to make up his mind, she thought with some impatience. Perhaps he was an honorable man. Was it possible that her father had coerced Brant Parnell into calling upon her? Was Brant faced with poverty because his whaling days were over? Was he actually to be pitied rather than condemned?

She opened her eyes just as Brant’s mouth came down crushingly on hers, nipping her lower lip with his teeth, pressing her against him until she could no longer breathe. Serena felt his tongue delving into the recesses of her mouth, sensed the brute strength of him straining against her body, wondered if this were the proper moment to faint or merely to be outraged.

And then she wondered nothing at all, dazed with the ferocity of his kiss, reeling from the intensity of his embrace. It was not at all like the gauzy passages of the popular monthly women’s magazines or even the more tempestuous novels she had read without her mother’s knowledge or approval.

When Brant finally released her, she was caught off-balance and collapsed onto the wing-backed armchair. “So now we’ve kissed,” Brant remarked idly and glanced at his watch, which hung on a plain gold chain. “Do you want to discuss our future together or shall I be off to ready myself for the poker game at the Tontine Hotel?”

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** Also available in Kindle and other eBook formats on Smashwords **

Ms. Kelly is the recipient of two RITA Awards from [...]]]>

Miss Whittier Makes a List ($14.95, 252 pp., ISBN: 978-1-60381-897-1), is a reprint of a regency romance by “the Grandmistress of the [Regency] genre,” (Romantic Reader) Carla Kelly.

** Click the cover image to order online **

** Also available in Kindle and other eBook formats on Smashwords **

Ms. 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; and a Lifetime Achievement Award from Romantic Times.

“I wish I had the words to really give the flavor of this remarkable novel. I can start by saying that I had a smile on my face almost through the whole of it. Hannah is the most delightful creature who never hesitates to speak her mind. The captain is stern and reserved, and while no one could honestly call him a softy beneath it all, we begin to see the whole man …. Even with a suspenseful plot, MISS WHITTIER MAKES A LIST is a fun book. Many minor characters add entertainment and sympathy to the whole. I highly recommend this lovely tale to you.” Read more ….

–Jane Bowers, Romance Reviews Today

“Everyone, go out and buy Miss Whittier Makes a List. Right now …. Ms. Kelly always brings an extraordinary magic to both the prosaic and the unusual.” Read more …

–Jean Wan, All About Romance

“Regency fans who like superior, well-written romances and the Age of Sail will enjoy this book. This reprint from 1994 by a multi-published, award-winning author will be a treat for those who have not already read it.”  Read more …

–Historical Novel Society

First published in 1994, this shipboard romance takes place thirty years after the U.S. Revolutionary War, when England was fighting a world war with Napoleon’s France, and the neutral United States was at cross-purposes with both.

In coming months, Camel Press will also reprint Miss Chartley’s Guided Tour and Miss Billings Treads the Boards. Camel will also be publishing Carla’s new series called The Spanish Brand. Book 1, The Double Cross, will be released in August of 2013.

“Carla Kelly’s Regency Romances are always superb and a timeless delight.”

–Romantic Times

In the early 1800s, seventeen-year-old Hannah Whittier is traveling by ship down the coast from her Quaker home in Massachusetts to her brother’s house in Charleston, South Carolina. To while away the dull hours, Hannah composes a list of qualities she wants in a husband. Boredom will soon be the least of her worries.

First the Molly Claridge is boarded by the British frigate, H.M.S. Dissuade, and forced to turn over any supposed Englishmen. Later the American vessel is blown out of the water by a French man o’war. After a long, harrowing day clinging to a grate and battered by the sun, Hannah is fished out of the water by the Dissuade and forced to sail toward England with the British crew and its imperious yet devilishly handsome captain, Sir Daniel Spark.

Proper young Quakeress Hannah locks horns with salty Captain Spark, who expects her to carry her weight by helping their cook and keeping watch. The captain has none of the qualities on Hannah’s list, so why is she so drawn to him? Could it be that loyalty and valor are more important than mild manners and patience? Hannah learns that Captain Spark has fought valiantly in England’s naval battles against France, and she sympathizes with his weariness in the face of so much death and destruction.

Captain Spark in turn values Hannah’s lively spirit and positive attitude. And, despite her tanned skin and cabin boy attire, Hannah presents quite a temptation to the captain who has been too long at sea. Now, if only they can make it to England in one piece ….

As for what inspired Miss Whittier, Kelly says, “I had been going through a ragged stack of my children’s old books, and came across one about Quakers. Hmm, I thought, what would be the absolute polar opposite of a gently reared, New England Quaker lady? Well, a British sea captain too long on the ocean, of course!” Although Miss Whittier and the Captain find true love in the end, they endure a number of trials and tribulations along the way. Says Kelly, “I’ve never seen any point in making life easy for my fictional characters. World war played a huge and terrible role in the early nineteenth century. England fought alone against France, and Royal Navy frigate commanders were the equivalent of World War II submariners, stalking their prey with one goal alone: to keep England safe. On an innocent trip from Nantucket to South Carolina, Hannah Whittier becomes another victim of this cruel warfare.”

A well-known veteran of the romance writing field, Carla Kelly is the author of twenty-six novels and three 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 interest in 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.

Read on for an excerpt:

The impressed seamen were quickly bundled over the side and hauled up onto the other deck. Captain Winslow dropped to his knees and wept, his head in his hands. It was more than Hannah could bear. She jumped up again and ran to the British captain, who waited to reboard his vessel. She grabbed his arms and tried to pull him around.

“Thee cannot do this! Have we no rights?” She tugged his arm, but he was anchored fast to the deck and would not budge.

“You have no rights,” he said quietly. “None whatsoever. You belong to an impertinent nation that will soon be a failed experiment. Let go of my arm.”

She did as he said and wiped her streaming eyes with her sleeve. “I wish thee to hell, sir,” she said, her voice as quiet as his and more fierce.

“Well I won’t go, Miss Spitfire,” he replied.

To her utter amazement, he grabbed her by the mass of hair on the back of her neck, hauled her close, picked her up, and kissed her. Her feet dangled off the deck and she grabbed onto him to take the pain off her hair, while he kissed her once, and then again more thoroughly. She clung to him, her head on fire, and tried to speak, even as he kissed her a third time, completely in command of the situation. Wild-eyed with fury, she stared at him, noting even in her rage how improbably long his eyelashes were. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

And then it was over. He set her back on the deck and released her hair. “I haven’t had that pleasure in two years,” he said softly. He stepped aside quickly in case she should strike out. “May I add that you needn’t improve upon a fine thing?”

He sprang to the railing, his arm draped gracefully in the rigging to maintain his balance, and then leaped across the space between the ships as his men laughed and cheered.

“Release the grappling hooks,” he ordered, and then looked at his first mate, who wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Wear the ship, Mr. Lansing, lively now.”

As she watched in total humiliation and stunning fury, the sailors on the opposite ship grinned at her and released the grapples from the Molly’s mutilated railing. The vessels moved apart quickly.