Saturday, July 27, 2019

New release #detective Madison Knight from @Carolyn_Arnold #giveaway tour stop


Mystery Detective, Police Procedural, Crime, Suspense
Date Published: Between 2011-2019
Publisher: Hibbert & Stiles Publishing Inc.



Murder. Investigation. The pursuit of justice. Do you love trying to figure out whodunit? How about investigating alongside police detectives from the crime scene to the forensics lab and everywhere in between? Do you love a strong female lead? Then I invite you to meet Detective Madison Knight as she solves murders with her male partner, utilizing good old-fashioned investigative work aided by modern technology.


This is the perfect book series for fans of James Patterson, Michael Connelly, and JD Robb to name a few. This series is also bound to entertain those who enjoy Law & Order, CSI, Blue Bloods, Rizzoli & Isles, Women’s Murder Club, and Hawaii Five-O.


Read in any order or follow the series from the beginning: Ties That Bind, Justified, Sacrifice, Found Innocent, Just Cause, Deadly Impulse, In the Line of Duty, Power Struggle, Shades of Justice, Life Sentence (Bonus Prequel).




Meet today’s guest, Carolyn Arnold.


She is an international bestselling and award-winning author, as well as a speaker, teacher, and inspirational mentor. She has four continuing fiction series and has written nearly thirty books. Both her female detective and FBI profiler series have been praised by those in law enforcement as being accurate and entertaining, leading her to adopt the trademark, POLICE PROCEDURALS RESPECTED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT™.

Today, she answers a few questions for us and gives us insight into her life and journey as a mystery author.

Have you ever been on a manhunt or at the scene where a dead body was found?
I took part in my local police department’s Citizen’s Academy. As part of this, I received an inside look at seventeen divisions over a ten-week period. As an added benefit, each student was afforded a ride-along. And mine… Well, I went on the perfect one for a crime writer.

My ride-along actually started out with a manhunt. I experienced the excitement of wanting to find the guy and found myself scrutinizing every male I spotted in the area just to make sure he wasn’t the one we were after. Unfortunately, the search moved to the downtown area from the eastern end of the city where the hunt had begun, and the sergeant signed off the investigation. By the end of my ride-along, about five hours later, the man still hadn’t been found.

After the sergeant left the investigation, he turned to me as he was driving and asked if I had ever seen a dead body. I told him I had at memorials and funerals and then asked why. I soon found out that our next stop involved one.

I figured I’d catch a glimpse of the deceased under a tarp or being wheeled away, but I got far more than that. I received a front-row seat to a death investigation. For hours, the sergeant and I were mere feet away from the body. I witnessed firsthand how it changed color over time, but I also found that I went into detective-mode. The forensic identification unit—essentially CSIs—was called in and arrived with collection kits. The team members gloved up, snapped photographs, took fingerprints from the deceased, and more.

The entire time that I was on scene, I noticed myself going into a detached state—the result of adrenaline. Later that evening, it began to sink in that I had spent hours with a dead body, and I was nauseated. As more time passed, I became weepy as it sank in that the deceased had been a husband, a father, a lover, a friend…a person. That night I dreamed about the man. It wasn’t a nightmare, but I was an officer trying to figure out what had happened to him.

I couldn’t imagine returning to the field the next day and having a similar experience or witnessing something even worse, like a violent murder scene or that of a fatal car accident.

What do members of law enforcement say about your books?
Many testimonials attest that I am pleasing readers in law enforcement. They love that my mysteries are accurate in that regard, and they view that alone as a sign of my respect for them.


What did you do before you became a bestselling author?
For a living, I worked in accounts receivable for a few different companies collecting from businesses. Yet, despite working full time, in 2006 I was reunited with writing. I wrote every chance I got—before work, on lunch breaks, after work, on the weekends. I became so focused on writing and the publishing world that hardly a day went by without them being a part of my life, and since the summer of 2014, I’ve been a full-time author.

How do you know so much about what criminals think?
I can’t answer that without incriminating myself… Just kidding.

Everyone has what we call a “dark side.” In writing these books, I suppose you could say I tap into this side of my psyche. Whatever I can scheme up is possible, and I write that which scares and excites me.

When did you know that you had hit the big time with your books?
When I got to say good-bye to my day job! Even before I fully resigned, I had cut back a five-day a week job to four days, then to three. It got to the point, though, that I loathed going in for that many days, and I knew it was time to make the move and become a full-time author. That was in the summer of 2014. Since then, I incorporated my own publishing company in the summer of 2015, and, at the start of 2016, my husband joined me there full time.
Connect with CAROLYN ARNOLD Online:
Website | Twitter | Facebook
And don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter for up-to-date information on release and special offers at http://carolynarnold.net/newsletters.
About the Author


CAROLYN ARNOLD is an international bestselling and award-winning author, as well as a speaker, teacher, and inspirational mentor. She has four continuing fiction series—Detective Madison Knight, Brandon Fisher FBI, McKinley Mysteries, and Matthew Connor Adventures—and has written nearly thirty books. Her genre diversity offers her readers everything from cozy to hard-boiled mysteries, and thrillers to action adventures.

Both her female detective and FBI profiler series have been praised by those in law enforcement as being accurate and entertaining, leading her to adopt the trademark: POLICE PROCEDURALS RESPECTED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT™.

Carolyn was born in a small town and enjoys spending time outdoors, but she also loves the lights of a big city. Grounded by her roots and lifted by her dreams, her overactive imagination insists that she tell her stories. Her intention is to touch the hearts of millions with her books, to entertain, inspire, and empower.

She currently lives in London, Ontario, with her husband and beagle and is a member of Crime Writers of Canada and Sisters in Crime.



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Thursday, July 25, 2019

When veterinarian Emily Brownstone, 55, finds a poisoned wolf on the roadside, she doesn’t realize the chain of events that will follow. New release #PNR from @SuzyShearer and @evernightpub


A Wolf's Tale
by Suzy Shearer

Heat Rating : Level 2
Word Count: 33,527


BLURB:
When veterinarian Emily Brownstone, 55, finds a poisoned wolf on the roadside, she doesn’t realize the chain of events that will follow.

Someone is trying to kill off the native wildlife, and Emily’s action in saving the wolf will threaten her life, but will also bring her the man of her dreams.

Tate Collins, 57, can’t believe his luck—he’s finally met his soul mate after all these years. All he has to do is tell her his secret—and it is a big one! He just hopes she won’t freak out when she finds out he spends a lot of his time running around on four legs! 

But even if she does accept him, will they find each other only to be torn apart by the danger that threatens the wildlife—and Emily?


STORY EXCERPT:  
"There’s an injured animal on the road, but I can’t lift it by myself. Could you help me please? I want to put it in the rear of my car."
The two men exchanged a look, and Emily felt apprehensive. The look seemed like some silent conversation between them. She didn’t like it, but there was nothing she could do now.
"Injured animal. What sort?"
"A wolf."
Another looked passed between them, and Emily felt the hair on the back of her neck stand. They seemed to be communicating with just body language and looks. It freaked her a little. Before she could tell them to forget about it, they pulled their four-wheel drive to the side of the road and got out. Both men quickly went to the fallen animal. They whispered something to each other and turned to her. Emily could see they were extremely worried and upset, rather more than you’d expect.
"Ma’am, it’s pretty dangerous to put a wild wolf in your car. Why don’t you let us take it?"
Oh, oh.
Suddenly Emily realized these two could be poachers and here she was handing over a beautiful wolf to them. The trade in illegal wolf pelts was still happening and rather lucrative.
Firmly she said, "If you get it onto the back of my jeep, I can check it out and sedate it if necessary. I’m a vet."
Of course, Emily hadn’t practiced full-time for a few years. She’d retired but ran a small practice from her home. Still, she always carried an emergency kit in her car. The taller of the two men seemed to hover over her, and Emily began to back away to the jeep.
"I really think you should let us take it."
His voice was not quite menacing, but it had enough force to make Emily very nervous, but she was determined these two wouldn’t intimidate her and take the wolf.
"No. It needs medical attention."
He stepped very close to her. Regretting her decision to ask for help, she touched the back of the jeep. Casually putting a hand behind her, she groped inside for something heavy in case they attacked her. The shorter of the men leaned toward the other and whispered. The tall one glanced down at her, and he took a couple of backward steps.
© Suzy Shearer 2019
LINKS - WHERE TO FIND SUZY:                                                        


A FEW LINKS WHERE TO BUY:
Angus and Robertson: https://www.angusrobertson.com.au


BIO:
Renaissance woman, best-selling and Award winning author Suzy Shearer writes contemporary and paranormal erotic romances filled with mature and interesting characters. Her books always feature older heroes and heroines; ranging from mid 40s to 60s. The heroines are usually confident plus-sized women who are proud of their curves. Suzy feels it's important for readers to connect.

Suzy also wants her readers to understand just because people are older doesn't mean they aren't intriguing, desirable, open to challenges and willing to experiment. They may be older but not always wiser. Remember sexy isn't just for the under 30s.

A Buddhist and artist, Suzy lives in the Lake Macquarie region of NSW, Australia with one very spoilt dog and two equally spoilt cats keeping her company. When Suzy is not writing, she is usually painting - an accomplished watercolour Artist her subjects range from portraits and animals to nudes and landscapes. She is also a quilter, toy maker, sculptor and potter.
Suzy's Art





Tuesday, July 23, 2019

Lisabet Sarai’s Free Reading Fest! #Romance #Prizes #FreeStories



Lisabet Sarai’s Free Reading Fest!  #Romance #Prizes #FreeStories

During the next few weeks, while she’s roaming the world, out of reach of the Internet, Lisabet is running a special event: Free Reading Fest. Drop by her blog every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Each day, she’ll have a different erotica or romance story for you, which you can read for free. Enjoy the story, then leave a comment letting her know what you think. Every comment that includes an email counts as an entry into her giveaway, with the following prizes:

1st prize - $10 bookstore gift certificate
2nd prize - $5 bookstore gift certificate
3rd prize – your choice of any two ebooks from my indie backlist
4th prize – your choice of any single ebook from my indie backlist

The more stories you read and the more comments you offer, the higher your chances of winning!

The event starts on July 22nd, and runs through Monday August 12th.

Join the fun! It’s all happening at Beyond Romance:





Saturday, July 20, 2019

Pureblooded sylph Ophelia Flynn has a secret. She’s married to her neighbor. New release #PNR #romance Read a #teaser @RoseWulfAuthor @evernightpub




Blurb:
            Pureblooded sylph Ophelia Flynn has a secret. She’s married to her neighbor. They’ve been married nearly ten years, but no one can ever know. She’s tired of the lie, and of hiding her feelings, but she’s trapped.
            Her entire life has been built around a single, infuriating piece of paper.
            Half-salamander Batson Crosse isn’t any more thrilled with their living situation than his wife. All he wants is to tear down the walls between them, but he doesn’t know if she feels the same. Disregarding the contract could do more than cost his parents their mysterious alliance—it could cost him Ophelia.
            Their marriage comes into question when the couple is faced with an unexpected betrayal. Lines are drawn and old hatreds pulled into light as Batson and Ophelia find themselves forced to fight for the very marriage once forced upon them.
            But is that really what they want? Or are they better off free?



Excerpt:
Ophelia rubbed her fingers absently over the soft sleeve of her robe the next morning, watching from her seat at the small dining table as Batson finished plating their breakfast. He’d pulled on sweatpants but hadn’t bothered with a shirt, and since he hadn’t run a comb through his hair, the mop of brown on his head was even messier than usual. The combination was sinfully sexy. She smiled quietly to herself. It was the rare moments like these that almost made her forget their complicated lives. They almost never got to be so domestic. In truth, that was probably what made it the hardest.
If it could always be like this … it might be okay.
“Here you go,” Batson said, setting a plate of steaming, delicious-smelling food beside the cup of coffee she hadn’t yet touched. He set his own plate across from her, next to his cup, and claimed his seat.
“This looks amazing,” she said honestly. “I can’t believe how hungry I am.”
Batson had two fingers curled around the handle of his cup when he paused and lifted a brow in her direction. “You don’t want me to comment on that, do you?”
“Huh?” Ophelia flushed. “No, I do not.” She ducked her face in an effort to hide the stupid, strangely juvenile grin threatening her lips. This morning felt … different, somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Perhaps she was just in a particularly good mood.
He chuckled and for a moment, they focused on the meal and each other’s company. He was half done with his breakfast before he quietly said, “So, I was thinking of heading up the mountain for the weekend.”
Ophelia paused in the process of cutting through egg. “Oh?” He didn’t usually camp this time of year. But if it was just a weekend trip, it wouldn’t be too big of a deal with his job—she imagined his parents wouldn’t put up a fuss over short notice.
Batson lifted his gaze from his plate. “It’d be better with some company.”
Oh. She lowered her fork as a sharp stinging pain shot through her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I promised Alice I’d be around if she needed me.” Ophelia swallowed as the bigger reason reared its ugly head. “Besides, there’s … the rule.”
A harsh rush of air escaped him and Batson sat back in his chair. “Who would fucking know? It’s not like I report in about everything we do, and I know you don’t, either.”
Sure, he was probably right. On some level, she’d known that for a long time. But… “We signed the contract, Batson.”
His fists clenched over the table. “Screw the goddamn contract,” he said tightly.
Ophelia looked up at him with widened eyes.
He exhaled again and looked away. “Fuck.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, if it’s that big a deal, we could cheat a little. Tomorrow night, I could sleep on the ground. Hell, I could sleep in my damn scales if it’ll make you feel better.”
She cringed at the thought. It hadn’t taken her long at all to figure out how much he disliked his alternate form. Every nature being had one and his, as his race implied, was a literal salamander. Well, it looked like a normal salamander. They could still breathe fire. That’s beside the point. “I would never ask you to do that.”
“I wouldn’t fucking care,” he said. “You’d have the airbed all to yourself. Bullshit obligation met.”
Her lips twitched despite the conversation. “We both know that’s not quite what it means.”
“Who gives a crap what it means?” he returned. “There’s no small print, no subtitles, no layman’s translation.”
She bit her lips and lowered her gaze. They’d argued over the contract sporadically before but never in the sense of trying to get around it. More in an almost desperate need to blame someone else for why, exactly, they’d let it get to this point in the first place. This argument was different. Everything felt different. She didn’t know how to handle it.
“Shit,” Batson muttered. “Lia, don’t cry.” His chair scraped back. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m not mad at you.” He knelt beside her and rested a hand on her thigh, beneath the robe. “I’m mad, yeah, but not at you.”
Ophelia drew a breath and met his searching stare. She tried for a small smile. “I’m … confused,” she admitted. “Every time I think I understand things, it feels like something changes.” She reached out and slipped her fingers into his hair. She didn’t know why, but she loved his hair. It was surprisingly soft and cool, the complete opposite of the rest of him. “That’s not always a bad thing, it’s just, I don’t always know what to do about it.”
He frowned and pulled her to her feet, into his arms, shoving her robe behind her as he held her close. “You’re definitely not coming, huh?” He phrased it like a question, but the defeat in his voice assured her he knew the answer.


Buy Links:


About Rose Wulf
            Reader’s Choice Award Winning author Rose Wulf is a giant romance fangirl. Hot, protective, occasionally barbaric heroes and spitfire heroines are her favorites. Rose has been writing for as long as she can remember and has no intentions on stopping anytime soon! The bonds between characters have always captivated her, and as an author those are Rose’s favorite things to play with—not always to the relief of her fictional babies!
            Behind the scenes Rose is a quiet personality. She enjoys spending her non-writing time with her German Shepherd, Shadow, her mom, and her friends. Be it a fun game of Cards Against Humanity or a relaxing movie night, Rose believes everything is better with company. As for her own romance, she’s still searching for her hero—and hoping that, when she does find him, he’ll be willing to cook!

Where you can find Rose:

Thursday, July 11, 2019

In the warmth and heady atmosphere of the exotic city, Aiden takes a chance and approaches a handsome man. #newrelease #MMromance #gayromance @parr_books @evernightpub



Dear Heart,  new release from Evernight Publishing 

Aiden Flint goes on vacation with three friends to Pamplona, Spain. Seeking excitement, they will run with the bulls in the festival of St. Fermin. As the four friends enjoy the nightlife, they notice an attractive man watching Aiden in the bars they visit. In the warmth and heady atmosphere of the exotic city, Aiden takes a chance and approaches the handsome man.
Enigmatic Santiago Arista is sexy, kind, desperate for love, and achingly lonely. He’s just about given up on finding love, until one warm, summer night, sitting alone in a bar, he sees gorgeous Aiden. He’s elated when Aiden joins him at his table.
Deep attraction swirls between them. At the end of the night when they share a kiss, Aiden can’t believe the bliss that enfolds him, but have both men found someone to love just when fate is about to throw Aiden into mortal danger?




Read a teaser

Aiden poured some beer into the glass and sipped at it. He assessed Santiago as he replaced the glass on the table. He’s fascinating, polite, maybe shy, different, cultured—and yet, sex exudes from him. I bet he’s dynamite in bed.
Santiago’s low voice interrupted his thoughts. “I wonder if you’d take a walk with me. The old town is interesting, even at night.”
Aiden’s heartbeat sped up. The lure of being with Santiago in a place he might hold him close and taste his kiss brought a smiling assent from Aiden. “That’s a great idea.”
On the narrow sidewalk, when they’d left the bright lights of the bars behind, Santiago took Aiden’s hand.
Excitement rocketed through Aiden. He took a deep breath, and on a dimly lit side street, he turned to Santiago and dragged him close. He molded the length of his body to Santiago’s, breathing close to the gorgeous man’s lips. “Kiss me,” he whispered.
Santiago responded.
The gentle merge of his lips with Aiden’s sent wonderful melting sensations through Aiden’s body. He clung to Santiago, taking kiss after kiss, lingering in the delectable embrace, pressing his hips to Santiago’s, breathing with the gorgeous man, sighing at the same time, until his legs weakened with raw desire.
Santiago drew only a fraction away from Aiden’s mouth. “Your kiss is addictive. I don’t want to stop. I feel your need against my body, and I want to ease it.” He held Aiden’s face and kissed him again.
Waves of exquisite feeling rolled through Aiden. He murmured softly, incoherent sounds of pleasure onto Santiago’s lips each time they broke contact to breathe. His thoughts tumbled in those seconds. The kisses were the best he’d ever experienced. He’d never before felt the kind of sensations running through and over him. He rested his forehead on Santiago’s.
“I’ve never had such totally amazing kisses. I’m floating in pleasure.”
“Me, too, I want you so much.”
Santiago’s replying whisper teased on Aiden’s lips.
His stomach clenched. His cock grew harder. Pure sexual need zinged in every cell of his body.
A group of people shouting and laughing turned into the street. Their approach forced Aiden to drop his arms from Santiago’s waist.
Santiago’s eyes flashed silver in a sudden shower of light from a door, thrown open to welcome the group. Regret filled his expression. He gazed with longing at Aiden. “Dear heart, walk with me.” He turned.
Aiden followed, his ears full of the endearment Santiago had assigned to him, his body drifting in delight, and love seeding in his heart for the man he’d only just met.
The river ran in a loop close to the old quarter, and Santiago clasped Aiden’s hand in his as they crossed a medieval bridge.
Aiden enjoyed the gentle strength surrounding his hand. He walked closer to Santiago.
“Do you live nearby?”
“In the old quarter—yes.” Santiago stopped and turned in an elegant move to Aiden. He held Aiden’s hands in his. “I wish you wouldn’t participate in the running tomorrow, or ever … I fear for you.”
Awash with sensation from Santiago’s palms pressed deliciously on his own, Aiden snatched a kiss from the man whose tone held affection and concern. The kiss brought a purr of delight to Aiden’s lips. He took another delicious kiss then murmured, “You called me dear heart…”
Santiago bowed his head. “You don’t like that.”
Aiden pulled a hand from Santiago’s grasp and slipped it around his face. He gazed into Santiago’s bright eyes. “I do like it.” Aiden smiled gently at the man who intrigued and lit him with desire. “Who are you really, Santiago? I feel wrapped in passion, cared for … and yet … well, we’ve only just met.”
Santiago’s words whispered across his lips. “Perhaps we’ve each met someone to love.”
Tingles ran up Aiden’s spine. The words were full of portent. He’d welcome love, and the way he felt kissing Santiago was the best ever. Yet, he couldn’t let himself comment. It’s too soon. What if I fall in love with him and in a week’s time, I have to go home, to work, to my life?
He took refuge in Santiago’s anxiety about him running with the bulls the next day.
“Santiago, I have to join the bull running. My friends expect it. I said I would. That’s why we’re here. I would never live it down if I didn’t do it at least once. I confess I’m scared now, but I have to do it.”
His handsome companion crushed him close. “Then take care.” He ran a hand down the back of Aiden’s head, stopping to tangle gentle fingers in his hair.
E.D. Parr, Copyright 2019, Evernight Publishing
BUY the BOOK
On release special price only from Evernight Publishing
https://www.evernightpublishing.com/dear-heart-by-e-d-parr/ https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07V3LV5Q3
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07V3LV5Q3
https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07V3LV5Q3
All other Amazon http://mybook.to/DearHeart
Coming to Siren Bookstrand
Nook


KOBO




Tuesday, July 9, 2019

Set your smartphone alarm for Thursday July 11 New release #MMromance a beautiful sizzling #gay love story @evernightpub @parr_books


Dear Heart
Releasing Thursday July 11

Aiden Flint goes on vacation with three friends to Pamplona, Spain. Seeking excitement, they will run with the bulls in the festival of St. Fermin. As the four friends enjoy the nightlife, they notice an attractive man watching Aiden in the bars they visit. In the warmth and heady atmosphere of the exotic city, Aiden takes a chance and approaches the handsome man.
Enigmatic Santiago Arista is sexy, kind, desperate for love, and achingly lonely. He’s just about given up on finding love, until one warm, summer night, sitting alone in a bar, he sees gorgeous Aiden. He’s elated when Aiden joins him at his table.
Deep attraction swirls between them. At the end of the night when they share a kiss, Aiden can’t believe the bliss that enfolds him, but have both men found someone to love just when fate is about to throw Aiden into mortal danger?



Tig isn't a detective. She just played one on TV. Will that be enough to help her find the killer? New release #mystery #giveaway book tour @JessaArcher


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Coastal Playhouse Mysteries #1
Cozy Mystery
Publisher: Archer Mysteries
Date Published: July 9, 2019


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ROMEO, ROMEO, WHEREFORTH ART THOU?
Acting jobs are scarce now for former TV teen detective Antigone Alden. So when a teaching position opens up at Southern Coastal University, Tig packs up her teenage daughter and heads home to the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

The house she inherited from her mother isn't entirely empty, however. Her mom seems stuck between this life and the next, and now Tig is a local reporter's prime suspect in the murder of the former theater professor. Given his reputation as ladies' man, there are plenty of people with a motive.

Tig isn't a detective. She just played one on TV. Will that be enough to help her find the killer?


Excerpt


The discovery of Amundsen’s body meant that all of my classes were canceled. Lunch with Dean Prendergast was canceled, as well. I was perfectly okay with that since I no longer had the slightest bit of appetite.

Dr. Martin Peele arrived at Muncey Theater just before campus police, about ten minutes after Ben phoned him with the news about his junior colleague. Most of my interviews for the open position had been handled in an online video conference, but I’d met Dr. Peele in person once, when I was on campus with my mother a few years back. A short, squat man with thick eyebrows and an expressive face, he reminded me of a slightly taller and younger Danny DeVito. My first thought when I met him—aside from the fact that he had sweaty palms—was that he was tailor-made for character acting.

As soon as Dr. Peele was inside, campus police turned their questions to him, which made sense, given that I’d never even met Amundsen…well, at least not when he was alive. So I slipped out the side door with a book, in search of someplace quiet, preferably with lots of fresh air. I ducked into the cafeteria to grab coffee from the vending machine and then found an empty bench at a little park between Muncey Auditorium and the main campus. The last inch of the coffee remained in the bottom of the cup as I sat on the bench reading, so that I could bring it up to my nose and breathe it in as needed. Even a half hour later, out in the wide open where the January air carried a hint of the ocean, the awful smell from the theater remained lodged in my nostrils.

The scrappy girl detectives on Private Eye High encountered a corpse in pretty much every episode, and there were even a few cases where they stumbled upon a long-dead body. Given that the makeup department generally did an excellent job of making the bodies look real, I would have sworn that I was fully inoculated against squeamishness. But I’d never really considered the olfactory element. Murder mysteries will be much less popular if anyone ever invents smell-i-vision.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Antigone Alden. How is it that you’re in town less than twenty-four hours and we already have a dead body?”

I hadn’t heard Alicia Brown’s voice in more than twenty years, but the nasal twang was unmistakable. When I left Caratoke High School at the end of my sophomore year, after landing the part in Private Eye High, Alicia was the reigning Queen Bee-with-an-itch. She didn’t like me for one simple reason: Travis Lamm did like me. In fact, he liked me so much that we’d ended up dating for over three years, even keeping the relationship going after I was in California.

Sighing, I snapped shut the technical theater text I’d been thumbing through halfheartedly. “The body’s been in the trap room for way more than twenty-four hours, Leash.”

I didn’t even have to look up to know the expression on Alicia’s face when I pulled out the old nickname, Leash. I could picture the woman’s ferretlike nose twitch perfectly. That’s one good thing about old frenemies. You already know which buttons to push.

“You stepped right into his job,” Alicia said. “That might make some people a little suspicious. Or maybe trouble just follows you around like a bad stink. Can’t believe you’ve decided to come back and live among us commoners. Is California’s cost of living too high for washed-up has-beens?”

At that point I did look up and was surprised that the Alicia in my head didn’t look much like the one standing in front of me. Alicia’s hair was platinum now, rather than her natural brassy blonde. Two decades of tanning booths, Quarter Pounders, and cigarettes had taken a toll. Alicia now looked more like her mother, who’d sat in the bleachers at home games, than the pert and perky head majorette who had strutted across the field at halftime.

Rather than try to cover my surprise, I decided to use it. “Wow. I am so sorry, Mrs. Brown! I could have sworn I was talking to your daughter, Alicia.”

Alicia cocked her head to one side. I could almost hear the hamster wheel spinning away as she tried to dredge up a smart retort.

I decided to spare her the torment, thinking maybe if I just cut to the chase, Alicia would leave. “Did you want something, Alicia?”

“Actually, I do. I’m the lead reporter for The Clarion these days and unfortunately, my editor tasked me with writing a human-interest piece on your move back to Caratoke. Us being old friends and all. I have to get a photo to go with the article, so say cheese.” Alicia held up her phone and snapped the picture before I even had time to smile. She tucked the phone back into her little red handbag and then turned on her heel to walk away.



About the Author

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Jessa Archer writes sweet, funny, warm-hearted cozy mysteries because she loves a good puzzle and can't stand the sight of blood. Her characters are witty, adventurous, and crafty in the nicest way. You'll find her sleuths hand lettering inspirational quotes, trying to lower golf handicaps, enjoying a scone at a favorite teashop, knitting a sweater, or showing off a dramatic side in local theater.

Jessa's done many things in her long career, including a stint as a journalist and practicing law. But her favorite job is spinning mysteries. She loves playing small town sleuth and transporting readers to a world where the scones are delicious, wine pairs with hand lettering, and justice always prevails.


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Friday, July 5, 2019

When attorney Cullen Molloy attends his fortieth high school reunion, he doesn’t expect to be defending childhood friends against charges of murder… New release #mystery




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Coming of Age / Mystery / Humor
Date Published: June 8, 2019
Publisher: Acorn Publishing

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When attorney Cullen Molloy attends his fortieth high school reunion, he doesn’t expect to be defending childhood friends against charges of murder… 

In a small town on the high plains of Eastern New Mexico, life and culture are shaped by the farm roads defining the 640-acre sections of land homesteaders claimed at the turn of the Twentieth Century. Cullen and Shelby Blaine explore first love along these section roads during the 1960’s, forging a life-long emotional bond.
  
      As junior high school band nerds, Cullen and Shelby fall under the protection of football player and loner, Buddy Boyd. During their sophomore year of high school, Buddy is charged with killing a classmate and is confined to a youth correctional facility. When he returns to town facing the prospect of imprisonment as an adult, Cullen becomes Buddy’s protector.


       The case haunts the three friends into adulthood, and it isn’t until their fortieth reunion, that they’re forced to revisit that horrible night. When a new killing takes place, Cullen, Shelby and Buddy find themselves reliving the nightmare.

  

         Murder is an easy thing to hide along old country section roads.




Advance Praise

“An ambitious, evocative small-town tale located somewhere between Peyton Place and The Last Picture Show.” –Kirkus Review

Read the Full Review

Read a teaser


July 2009 Friday

“I’ll ride with Buddy,” Shelby whispered. “Do you mind? It’ll give us a chance to talk.”
“No, I think that’s a good idea.” Cullen lifted his eyebrows, which Shelby dismissed with a wave.
                Buddy stood a little apart from them at the Enterprise counter. They’d been through the greeting rituals. A hug for Shelby, which she returned with a kiss to his cheek. A polite, interested handshake with Lori.
Cullen and Lori left them and began an hour-long drive through the agricultural blight of West Texas.     
 “So, what’s the deal with Buddy?” Lori asked. “I know you worked together a long time ago, but you really haven’t talked much about him.”
They drove along a paved road—an impossibly straight line heading north. Deep green alfalfa fields alternated with stubby rows of cotton and weedy, untilled soil bank every few miles forming a pattern replicating itself off into a horizontal infinity. Heat waves shimmered along the pavement. From the soil bank, dust and debris climbed columns of rising, swirling air.
At the age of five, Cullen came to believe these thermal dust devils were pathways for souls fleeing to heaven. He believed this because on the summer day his grandmother was buried at a rural cemetery with brown grass and a few gnarled, wind-battered elms, one of these dust devils sprang from an uncultivated field across the road and as it grew—sucking dirt and paper and tumbleweeds along—passed over the mounded red earth marking the new grave. A spurt of dust leaped from the mound, painting a segment of the great undulating pillar a pale rosy shade. This pink apparition climbed as the thermal moved across the cemetery, finally disappearing into a hot, whitish-blue, eastern New Mexico sky.
Dust devils always made Cullen think of the people he loved who were no longer alive. His mother and father rested with his grandmother at that same cemetery.
Cullen had a ready description when his friends asked him about his home town. Arthur, New Mexico, along with hardscrabble oil patch towns like Hobbs, Artesia, Midland and Odessa, was located on a high plane called Llano Estacado which, Cullen originally speculated, was Spanish for something like really windy dry flat place.
 Occupying Eastern New Mexico and Northwest Texas, the region is characterized by hot blustery summers and even colder blustery winters. The wet part of the Llano received barely twenty inches of rain during a good year. “Arthur,” Cullen would note, “is in the dry part.”
Bleak as they might be, the Hobbses, Odessas and Artesias of the world were at least plopped down atop semi-vast underground puddles of oil. Not Arthur. Not a drop. If tumbleweeds had been a cash crop, though, the homesteaders would have prospered.
Arthur and Arthur County were named for Chester A. Arthur, America’s twenty-first president. Researching a junior high school history assignment, the most compelling facts Cullen found about him were that Arthur was America’s fifth fattest president and owned eighty pairs of pants.
The community of eight thousand—at an elevation of four thousand feet above sea level—had nothing geographical, like a river or a canyon or an oasis, to warrant its location.
Arthur just was.
The flat monotony spread in every direction. “Given a clear day,” Cullen was fond of saying, “you could climb a six-foot stepladder and see the earth curve.”
He often puzzled over the pioneers’ judgment. Certainly, more attractive locations waited further west. He supposed the settlers might have been tired and stopped to rest, thinking they would wait for a good rain to replenish their water supplies before they moved on. And when the livestock had all died of thirst, they were stuck.        
Still, despite this hardship, there grew a civilization defined geographically by dirt roads that formed the borders of all those perfectly square six hundred and forty-acre sections of land claimed by early twentieth century homesteaders.
As Cullen composed his answer to Lori’s query about Buddy, he thought of those section roads, and all the ways straight lines and straight laces had twisted the paths of this small group of friends.
“I told you about Christy Hammond, didn’t I?” Cullen answered. “The girl who was shot to death our sophomore year?”
Lori gave a little gasp. “That was Buddy? Oh, no. And he went to jail?”
“Juvenile detention. He pled guilty to manslaughter. They kept him until his eighteenth birthday. They took him away in November of 1966. He came back May of 1969.”
“At least he got to come back.”
Cullen gave a rueful laugh and shook his head.
“No, that was part of the punishment. A lot of people thought he should have been charged with murder. They thought he should have been sent away for life. When the judge didn’t agree, half the town was furious at the injustice of it all. Christy’s uncle is a lawyer. He convinced juvenile court authorities to make Buddy finish high school here as a condition of his release.”
“But why would they—”              
“It was their last shot at punishing him,” Cullen said. “They had a few weeks to give him hell when they knew he couldn’t fight back.”



About the Author

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Mike Murphey is a native of eastern New Mexico and spent almost thirty years as an award-winning newspaper journalist in the Southwest and Pacific Northwest. Following his retirement from the newspaper business, he and his wife Nancy entered in a seventeen-year partnership with the late Dave Henderson, all-star centerfielder for the Oakland Athletics, Boston Red Sox and Seattle Mariners. Their company produces the A’s and Mariners adult baseball Fantasy Camps. They also have a partnership with the Roy Hobbs adult baseball organization in Fort Myers, Florida. They love baseball, fiction, cats and sailing. They split their time between Spokane, Washington, and Phoenix, Arizona. Mike enjoys life as a writer and old-man baseball player.


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