Posted in excerpt, Giveaway, Historical, romance, Spotlight on September 28, 2016

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THE PERKS OF LOVING A SCOUNDREL
By Jennifer McQuiston
Avon Books
September 27, 2016
ISBN: 9780062335142; $$7.99
E-ISBN 9780062335159; $5.99

Synopsis

New York Times bestselling author Jennifer McQuiston continues her enchanting Seduction Diaries series as a bookish spinster and an unrepentant rogue unite to unmask a traitor.

Every girl dreams of a hero….

No one loves books more than Miss Mary Channing. Perhaps that’s why she’s reached the ripe old age of six-and-twenty without ever being kissed. Her future may be as bland as milk toast, but Mary is content to simply dream about the heroes and adventures she reads about in her books. That way she won’t end up with a villain instead.

But sometimes only a scoundrel will do.

When she unexpectedly finds herself in the arms of Geoffrey Westmore, London’s most notorious scoundrel, it feels a bit like a plot from one of her favorite novels. Suddenly, Mary understands why even the smartest heroines can fall prey to a handsome face. And Westmore’s is more handsome than most. But far worse than the damage to her reputation, the moment’s indiscretion uncovers an assassination plot that reaches to the highest levels of society and threatens the course of the entire country.

When a tight-laced miss and a scoundrel of epic proportions put their minds together, nothing can stand in their way. But unless they put their hearts together as well, a happy ending is anything but assured.

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Praise

“McQuiston’s third Seduction Diaries novel is to be commended for its complex and unusual plot and for featuring characters the reader comes to care for. A surprising, readable story about healing, forgiveness, and trust.” — Kirkus

“The story is equal parts mystery and romance, and just when readers begin to feel cheated, the twists and turns navigate to a stunning ending.”— Publishers Weekly

“Pure Escapism. Ms. Mcquiston created a romance as epic as the characters who lived it. […] With easily identifiable main characters and a thrilling story, it was a no brainer for me to gift this book with 5 stars and a Top Pick.” — Night Owl Reviews

”McQuiston’s Seduction Diaries series captivates readers with clever plots and engaging characters. Incorporating plenty of sexual tension, bantering dialogue and a mystery into this installment delivers everything fans expect from McQuiston. This is truly a delightful addition to a reader’s library.”— RT Book Reviews

“THE PERKS OF LOVING A SCOUNDREL is full of interesting characters and their interactions, especially those between West and Mary. There is also plenty of suspense concerning the assassination. The era is also a change from the Regency that so Dominates British historical romances.”— Romance Reviews Today

“Regency romance fans will adore this addition to McQuiston’s Seduction Diaries series”— Booklist

Excerpt

From the Diary of Miss Mary Channing
May 24, 1858

Eleanor wrote today. I should have been glad to hear from her, given that she is my twin sister and I love her dearly, but it would be untruthful to say the contents of her letter pleased me. Her new husband, Lord Ashington, has been called away on business and she’s asked me to come to London to keep her company during the last two months of her confinement.

Can you imagine? Me, in London?

My family says I must get my nose out of my books and begin to live in the world around me. It is true I’ve never been further afield than a day trip from home, and that I have never slept a night outside my own bed. But why would I ever want to leave, when I have my books to keep me company? And a trip to London is not without its perils. I could very well end up like one of the characters in my beloved stories, snubbed by the popular crowd. Whispered about behind lace fans. Or worse . . . led astray by a handsome villain and then abandoned to my fate.

Yet, how could I not go? Eleanor is my sister, and she needs me. So I shall put on a brave face. Pack a trunk. Smile, if I must. But I can’t help but wonder . . . which worries me more?

The many things that could happen in London?

Or the thought of seeing Eleanor, with her handsome new husband, and her shining, lovely life, and everything I am afraid of wanting?

Chapter 1

London, May 29, 1858

The smell should have been worse.

She’d expected something foul, air made surly by the summer heat. Just last week she’d read about the Thames, that great, roiling river that carried with it the filth of the entire city and choked its inhabitants to tears. Her rampant imagination, spurred on by countless books and newspaper articles, had conjured a city of fetid smells, each more terrible than the last. But as Miss Mary Channing opened her bedroom window and breathed in her first London morning, her nose filled with nothing more offensive than the fragrance of . . .

Flowers.

Disconcerted, she peeked out over the sill. Dawn was just breaking over the back of Grosvenor Square. The gaslights were still burning and the windows of the other houses were dark. By eight o’clock, she imagined industrious housemaids would be down on their knees, whiting their masters’ stoops. The central garden would fill with nurses and their charges, heading west toward Hyde Park.

But for now the city—and its smells—belonged solely to her.

She breathed in again. Was she dreaming? Imagining things, as she was often wont to do? She was well over two hundred miles from home, but it smelled very much like her family’s ornamental garden in Yorkshire. She didn’t remember seeing a garden last night, but then, she had arrived quite late, the gaslight shadows obscuring all but the front steps. She’d been too weary to think, so sickened by the ceaseless motion of the train that she’d not even been able to read a book, much less ponder the underpinnings of the air she breathed.

She supposed she might have missed a garden. Good heavens, she probably would have missed a funeral parade, complete with an eight-horse coach and a brass band.

After the long, tiresome journey, she’d only wanted to find a bed.

And yet now . . . at five o’clock in the morning . . . she couldn’t sleep.

Not on a mattress that felt so strange, and not in a bedroom that wasn’t her own.

Pulling her head back inside, she eyed the four-poster bed, with its rumpled covers and profusion of pretty pillows. It was a perfectly nice bed. Her sister, Eleanor, had clearly put some thought into the choice of fabrics and furniture. Most women would love such a room. And most women would love such an opportunity—two whole months in London, with shops and shows and distractions of every flavor at their fingertips.

But Mary wasn’t most women. She preferred her distractions in the form of a good book, not shopping on Regent Street. And these two looming months felt like prison, not paradise.
The scent of roses lingered in the air, and as she breathed in, her mind settled on a new hope. If there was a flower garden she might escape to—a place where she might read her books and write in her journal—perhaps it would not be so terrible?

Picking up the novel she had not been able to read on the train, Mary slipped out of the strange bedroom, her bare feet silent on the stairs. She had always been an early riser, waking before even the most industrious servants back home in Yorkshire. At home, the cook knew to leave her out a bit of breakfast—bread and cheese wrapped in a napkin—but no one here would know to do that for her yet.

Ever since she’d been a young girl, morning had been her own time, quiet hours spent curled up on a garden bench with a book in her lap, nibbling on her pocket repast, the day lightening around her. The notion that she might still keep to such a routine in a place like London gave her hope for the coming two months.

She drifted down the hallway until she found a doorway that looked promising, solid oak, with a key still in the lock. With a deep breath, she turned the key and pulled it open. She braced herself for knife-wielding brigands. Herds of ragged street urchins, hands rifling through her pockets. The sort of London dangers she’d always read about.

Instead, the scent of flowers washed over her like a lovely, welcome tide.

Oh, thank goodness.

She hadn’t been imagining things after all.

Something hopeful nudged her over the threshold of the door, then bade her to take one step, then another. In the thin light of dawn, she saw flowers in every color and fashion: bloodred rose blooms, a cascade of yellow flowers dripping down the wrought iron fence. Her fingers loosened over the cover of her book. Oh, but it would be lovely to read here. She could even hear the light patter of a fountain, beckoning her deeper.

But then she heard something else above those pleasant, tinkling notes.

An almost inhuman groan of pleasure.

With a startled gasp, she spun around. Her eyes swam through the early morning light to settle on a gentleman on the street, some ten feet or so away on the other side of the wrought iron fence. But the fact of their separation did little to relieve her anxiety, because the street light illuminated him in unfortunate, horrific clarity.

He was urinating.

Through the fence.

Onto one of her sister’s rosebushes.

The book fell from Mary’s hand. In all her imaginings of what dreadful things she might encounter on the streets of London, she’d never envisioned anything like this. She ought to bolt. She ought to scream. She ought to . . . well . . . she ought to at least look away.

But as if he was made of words on a page, her eyes insisted on staying for a proper read. His eyes were closed, his mouth open in a grimace of relief. Objectively, he was a handsome mess, lean and long-limbed, a shock of disheveled blond hair peeking out from his top hat. But handsome was always matter of opinion, and this one had “villain” stamped on his skin.

As if he could hear her flailing thoughts, one eye cracked open, then the other. “Oh, ho, would you look at that, Grant? I’ve an audience, it seems.”

Somewhere down the street, another voice rang out. “Piss off!” A snigger followed. “Oh, wait, you already are.”

“Cork it, you sodding fool!” the blond villain shouted back. “Can’t you see we’re in the presence of a lady?” He grinned. “Apologies for such language, luv. Though . . . given the way you are staring, perhaps you don’t mind?” He rocked back on his heels, striking a jaunty pose even as the urine rained down. “If you come a little closer, I’d be happy to give you a better peek.”

Mary’s heart scrambled against her ribs. She might be a naive thing, fresh from the country, and she might now be regretting her presumption that it was permissible to read a book in a London garden in her bare feet, but she wasn’t so unworldly that she didn’t know this one pertinent fact: she was not—under any circumstances—coming a little closer.

Or getting a better peek.

Mortified, she wrapped her arms about her middle. “I . . .that is . . . couldn’t you manage to hold it?” she somehow choked out. There. She’d managed a phrase, and it was a properly scathing one, too. As good as any of her books’ heroines might have done.

A grin spread across his face. Much like the puddle at the base of the rosebush. “Well, luv, the thing is, I’m thinking I’d rather let you hold it.” The stream trickled to a stop, though he added a few more drips for good measure. He shook himself off and began to button his trousers. “But alas, it seems you’ve waited too long for the pleasure.” He tipped a finger to the brim of his top hat in a sort of salute. “My friend awaits.

Perhaps another time?”

Mary gasped. Or rather, she squeaked.

She could manage little else.

He chuckled. “It seems I’ve got a shy little mouse on my hands. Well, squeak squeak, run along then.” He set off down the street, swaying a bit. “But I’ll leave you with a word of advice, Miss Mouse,” he tossed back over one shoulder. “You’re a right tempting sight, standing there in your unutterables. But you might want to wear shoes the next time you ogle a gentleman’s prick. Never know when you’ll need to run.”

About the Author

A veterinarian and infectious disease researcher by training, Jennifer McQuiston has always preferred reading romance to scientific textbooks. She resides in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband, their two girls, and an odd assortment of pets, including the pony she promised her children if mommy ever got a book deal.

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Posted in Book Release, Cozy, excerpt, mystery, Spotlight on September 27, 2016

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Synopsis

Samantha Reynolds had hoped that moving to the resort town of Aloha Lagoon would be the start of an exciting new life. Sure the start may not be everything she had hoped for—she’s living with her mom, has no job, no income and absolutely no idea what to do next. But it’s a start! Out of options, she decides to take a job she’s a just a little under qualified for—a children’s surfing instructor at the Aloha Lagoon Resort. She can surf…she just doesn’t know how to teach surfing. But that soon becomes the least of her worries.

Throw in two dead bodies, two unexpected inheritances, and one hot bartender, and the heat in Aloha Lagoon has quickly turned up! Samantha just needs to figure out why her family is involved, control a group of preadolescent kids, keep her mom and brother out of jail, and get the hot bartender to notice her. It couldn’t be that hard could it? With the help of her new friend Alani and some of the quirky residents of Aloha Lagoon, she just may be able to pull it all off…and still keep everybody alive!

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Excerpt

Reaching the water depth I wanted, I did a quick head count of the kids on the sand. That was when I noticed the female lifeguard, Malie, running down the beach toward us. Panic took over for a moment as I saw the faces of ten children looking back at me, horrified.

What was wrong? Was a shark coming for me? I squealed and looked over my shoulder out to the ocean, but as I did, a wave came in causing someone to slam into me.

The person knocked me into the shallows, and I took in a lungful of salt water as I went. My board hit me in the leg, and I knew a bruise would appear later. I cursed the person who wasn’t watching where they were going.

As the water rushed back out, I stumbled to my feet, spluttering out what I’d inhaled. I hated the taste of salt water. Hated it. I could feel my bikini bottoms filled with sand and made sure they hadn’t moved down my legs. That would be embarrassing. My board was still caught in the water being pulled back out, dragging my leg with it as it went. I was unprepared for it, and the water pulled it from under me. I fell, landing on the person who’d knocked me over.

Rolling onto my back, I managed to pull at my leg rope and control my surfboard before the next wave brought it back to shore, hitting either me or the person facedown in the sand. I was about to stand and help him to his feet, when Malie reached us and pulled the man onto his back. I watched in horror as she put her arms under his shoulders and dragged him to shore.

It was only as the water rushed back in that I realized why the man hadn’t been watching where he was going.

This man was dead.

About the Author

Beth Prentice is the Bestselling Author of the Westport Mysteries. Killer Unleashed, her GHP debut novel, received a bronze medal in the Readers Favorite International Book Awards. Her main wish is to write books you can sit back, relax with, and escape from your everyday life…and ones that you walk away from with a smile! When she’s not writing you will usually find her at the beach with a coffee in hand, pursuing her favorite pastime—people watching!

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Posted in excerpt, Romantic Suspense, Spotlight on September 27, 2016

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Eugenia

Title: Eugenia: Destiny and Choice
Author: GEÓRGEOS C. AWGERINØS
Publisher: iUniverse
Pages: 280
Genre: Romantic Thriller

Synopsis

Debut novelist Georgeos Constantin Awgerinøs paints an epic love story and political thriller in EUGENIA: DESTINY AND CHOICE. The title character, Eugenia “Jenny” Corais, a Columbia University graduate, is an idealistic young feminist and intellectual who charts her destiny against such volatile backdrops as cabaret-era Berlin, America during the Civil Rights and anti-Vietnam War protests, and the violent final days of colonial Africa.

With its potent combination of politics and romance, EUGENIA: DESTINY AND CHOICE resembles  Erich Segal’s LOVE STORY, coupled with a tale of political intrigue that would fit comfortably in the novels of Graham Greene, John Le Carre or Stieg Larsson, and historical developments reminiscent of James A. Michener.

Awgerinøs’s title character, Eugenia, is complicated. Her idealism and social consciousness, the author notes, is tempered with “a compulsive curiosity for the weird, unusual, or forbidden. She aims at the light but she cannot resist the temptation of the darkness.”

Jenny’s co-protagonists include Dietrich Neuendorf, a charismatic and unyielding German human rights attorney haunted by his family’s past and his country’s history. He and Jenny quickly fall in love.

A third character, Desmond Henderson, attracts Jenny’s darker side. Despite his humble origins and abundant charm, Henderson has a deeply dark core. A former British colonial officer, he is the head of South Africa’s military industrial apparatus, linked to the high echelons of international corporate elite and secret intelligence. He is an immense figure who designs mass murder and forced relocations on spreadsheets and is involved in some of the most defining political acts of the 20th century.

But in this novel, even the most invincible have an Achilles heel. As Awgerinos puts it, “EUGENIA doesn’t romanticize power; rather, the book demystifies the powerful by exposing the intimate, vulnerable and disowned aspects of human psyche.”

Jenny, Dietrich, and Desmond cross paths and embark on a perilous journey together in an exotic African country, a wonder of nature that faces massive winds of historical tide and a catastrophic revolution.

“Through my characters and their interaction, I try to convey another view on love and sexual conflict, society, human nature and beyond-natural, democracy and collective mind control,” says Awgerinøs. “I also try to offer a historical account about a very volatile era in a turbulent region, Southern Africa.”

Awgerinøs hints that he is working on a sequel to EUGENIA: DESTINY AND CHOICE. Meanwhile, EUGENIA shows great potential to be adapted as an exciting and thought-provoking feature motion picture or TV movie.

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Excerpt

“Mr. Prime Minister, I urge you to reconsider your decision.”

The South African prime minister, a tall and imposing man with silver hair and a wide smile, dismissed the warning of his national security advisor.

“Dr. Duplessis, our republic is under imminent threat from within. I will never allow this country to be hijacked by a shadow government. In one hour, I will reveal to the parliamentary caucus what has been going on behind closed doors.”

“Never before has a public exposure of such marquee names come before the legislative assembly. This unorthodox approach is unheard of in the history of political affairs,” Dr. Duplessis commented, in his distinctive Wallonian inflection. He was a long-skulled, pale-skinned man of average build, no taller than five foot seven, with close-cropped gray hair, an icy stare, and robotic mannerisms. He listened as the prime minister went on with his rant.

“South Africa didn’t gain its independence from the British crown in order to subordinate itself to its military industrial complex. Apartheid was meant to protect the racial order in this country, not to become a self-destructive debt-spiral ploy.”

“Independence means the freedom to choose your own masters, Mr. Prime Minister, and racial order is a costly agenda.”

“This is the South African Republic, not South Africa, Inc.”

“It is the South African Republic, Inc. All states are corporate entities, monsieur, one way or another; this country is not an exception. With all due respect, presidents, prime ministers, even absolute rulers are the stage protagonists in the theater called politics; they are neither the writers, nor the producers of the show. This is a friendly reminder.”

The premier was aware that South Africa had become a “republic” because of Dr. Duplessis’s gerrymandering and intricate offstage diplomacy. He owed his prime ministerial chair to Dr. Duplessis’s byzantine machinations, but he would not yield to his trusted policymaker’s insolent innuendo and skillful pressure. When he spoke again, it was apparent that he had removed from his mind the last shadows of hesitation. The tone of his voice was conclusive.

“Dr. Duplessis, alea jacta est-the die is cast. The security operations units are on alert. The disarming of the Armée-Gendarmerie and the arrests of the Concession’s board members will begin once I commence my speech.”

“As you wish, monsieur.

The PM relaxed his tone with his advisor; he became genial as usual.

“On Thursday, I will turn sixty-five years young. I have a family gathering at home. You will be there, Fabien, you promise?”

“Of course Hendrik, I will,” Dr. Duplessis responded.

The prime minister watched his advisor retreat. As he sat alone he stared at the antique clock across from his oak-paneled desk. He checked once more the printed page of his speech, which he had placed on the desk. Today he would make an announcement signaling a shake-up in modern history, and in the process he would settle some old scores. For a few seconds he visualized the reaction of the caucus: a standing ovation for his daring initiative. Pleased with this thought, he approached the window and watched the midday bustle of Cape Town, his beloved city.

Nestled in the southwest corner of the African continent, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, with glistening coastlines and breathtaking views of Table Mountain, Cape Town, the parliamentary capital of South Africa, is a thriving metropolis with Dutch architecture, wide boulevards, colorful parks, and a flourishing business district. The city’s rich history contains an intriguing mix of European sophistication and Cape Malay exoticism that dates back to the seventeenth century, blended with subtropical African beauty.

Picturesque and prosperous though it might have been, Cape Town was not a paradise for all. The eye of the conscientious traveler in 1966 would observe, from stores to parks to the sandy beaches, two signs, in Afrikaans and English: “Slegs blankes/whites only” and “Slegs nie-blankes/non-whites only.”

Seven miles into the sea across the panoramic Table Bay was Robben Island. It appeared a tiny idyllic islet, which one might have guessed was a fisherman’s retreat; but such was not the case. Once a leper colony, Robben Island was one of the most infamous penitentiaries on earth. And yet, it hosted no penal convicts but instead, civil rights activists, some of them with world-renowned names: Govan Mbeki, Nelson Mandela, Jacob Zuma.

Just ten miles to the east of the majestic capital there was another world that most Capetowneans did not know existed: a district for natives only, which no whites except the police could enter. There, the neighborhoods of Langa, Nyanga, and Guguletu resembled more a massive dumpster than a sprawling suburbia. Newly built project buildings that reminded one of barracks sat beside wooden shacks with tin roofs. African women washed their clothes in rusty bins with boiled water outside their slum dwellings. Their children, most barefoot, played soccer with tin cans in dirt alleys with numbers for names, such as NY1 or NY4, which stood for native yards, as the city called these dusty, unpaved lanes.

It was 2:15 p.m., Tuesday, September 6, 1966, when the prime minister of the South African Republic made his entry to the House of Assembly to deliver his speech.

While he took the podium, a man with Mediterranean features dressed in a messenger’s uniform entered the building. He crossed unchecked through the heavily guarded lobby and approached the podium. Within seconds, the messenger pulled a dagger out of his jacket and stabbed the prime minister four times in the chest. Parliamentary members rushed to pin the assassin to the ground, while the PM’s blood gushed from the gaping wounds in his chest. An ambulance rushed him to the Groote Schuur Hospital, but it was too late. He was pronounced dead on arrival.

Later that day, television and radio stations around the world announced the staggering news. From nations opposed to the apartheid regime came lead stories declaring: “Demetris Tsafendas, the son of a Greek immigrant and an African woman from Mozambique, assassinated Dr. Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd, the prime architect of apartheid.” Conversely the local media stated: “A mentally disturbed extremist assassinated the father of white South Africa, motivated by hatred and rage.” The African underground press was jubilant: “Tsafendas inyanga yezizwe—Tsafendas, the healer of the nation!”

That evening witnessed an unusual commute in front of the ministerial houses below the campus of the University of Cape Town. Cars carrying government officials and parliamentary members came and went. It was after midnight when the gates of a palatial mansion opened, and three stretch limousines with black-tinted glass made their exit. The convoy moved slowly down Belleview Road, encountering little traffic. Police patrols created a strong presence that night. In the second car of the motorcade, two men sat in the back of the limousine. One was a short, plump gentleman in his sixties. After looking nervously at the car following them, he reached for the limo’s bar and took a bottle.

“Thirty-year-old Glenfiddich, Mr. Henderson? I know it’s your favorite,” he said and poured some into a shot glass.

“I’ll have tobacco instead, Minister,” his companion replied with a conspicuous English accent. He was a towering man with broad shoulders, a wide face with a prominent jawline, and a thick mustache. He resembled a nineteenth-century British colonial military officer. Oddly, he wore a safari pith helmet, like a jungle explorer ready to hunt his prey. He lit up and silently puffed on his cigar. He sat comfortably, apparently enjoying his smoke. At one point, he too glanced back to face the limo that was following. The headlights illuminated his face, showing a man in his late forties with harsh features and piercing dark eyes.

“What a night, Mr. Henderson.”

“It was a great night, Minister,” the big man with the pith replied, puffing his fat Havana.

“Now that the obstacles have been removed, the door is open for the government and the Southern African Development Concession to sign the agreement. The armaments production executive board will be replaced, and within a week the shopping list will be on your desk, Mr. Henderson.”

The Englishman stared outside the dark window, momentarily in thought.

“Minister, the signing of agreements is not enough. The Concession is part of South Africa’s apparatus, and we need our territory secured. We cannot intervene every time some careless bureaucrat in your administration oversteps or defies our initial arrangements.”

“What do you have in mind, Mr. Henderson?”

“The Southern African Development Concession needs ironclad legislation that secures our role in this country’s future. You did it with the Oppenheimer gold and diamond cartel; you will do it with us too.”

“That was the situation five decades ago, when this part of the world was the Wild South. This is 1966.”

But the Englishman didn’t seem in the mood to brook refusals.

“Rhodesia and South Africa will always be the Wild South. Africa is made by monopolies for monopolies; the Concession would have to refuse anything less. Without the Southern African Development Concession, apartheid will fall swiftly like a shack in a gale. You know that as well as I, Minister.”

The driver continued moving on the barren road. His burly build and crew cut made apparent his role as secret security rather than a mere chauffeur. Henderson puffed his Havana contemplatively while he rolled past the closed stores of Belleview Road. The South African minister of defence and national security refilled his glass.

“Are you sure you don’t want some malt?”

“I never mix liquor and business; and this is business, Minister.”

“I’ll make the arrangements tomorrow morning. Be assured that from tonight we enter a new period of friendly cooperation for both sides.”

Henderson seemed pleased with the minister’s conclusive reply. He looked at his watch.

“It’s already one o’ clock. I need to be back in Rhodesia in two hours, but I enjoy myself every time I am in the Cape, especially tonight.”

About the Author

Georgeos C. AwgerinosGeórgeos Constantin Awgerinøs, author of EUGENIA: DESTINY AND CHOICE was born and raised in Athens Greece. He lives in New York City.

www.EugeniaNovel.com * www.EugeniaTheBook.com *  www.EugeniaDestinyAndChoice.com * Twitter

Posted in 4 paws, Cozy, Giveaway, mystery, Review on September 26, 2016

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Murder in G Major

A Gethsemane Brown Mystery

by

Alexia Gordon

Genre: Cozy Mystery / Suspense / Paranormal

Publisher: Henery Press

Date of Publication: September 13, 2016

Number of Pages: 268

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synopsis

Stranded in Ireland after losing both a gig and her luggage, African-American classical musician Gethsemane Brown hopes to win her way back to the States by accepting a challenge: turn rowdy school boys into a champion orchestra. She’s offered lodging in a beautiful cliffside cottage once owned by her favorite composer. The catch? The composer’s ghost. He can’t rest in peace until he’s cleared of false charges of murder-suicide. Desperate after a quarter-century, he begs Gethsemane for help. A growing friendship with the charming ghost spurs Gethsemane to investigate. Her snooping provokes a long-dormant killer and she soon finds herself on the wrong sort of top ten hit list. Will Gethsemane uncover the truth as she races to prevent a murderous encore or will she star in her own farewell performance?

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PRAISE FOR MURDER IN G MAJOR

“Gordon strikes a harmonious chord in this enchanting spellbinder of a mystery.” —Susan M. Boyer, USA Today Bestselling Author of Lowcountry Book Club

 “Just when you think you’ve seen everything, here comes Gethsemane Brown, baton in one hand, bourbon in the other. Stranded in an Irish village where she know no one (but they all know her), she’s got just six weeks to turn a rabblesome orchestra into award-winners and solve a decades-old murder to boot. And only a grumpy ghost to help her. There’s charm to spare in this highly original debut.”  — Multi-award-winning author, Catriona McPherson

 “Gordon has composed a masterful and magical debut. . .Murder in G Major captivated me from the first page to the last, transporting me to the windswept cliffs of Ireland.”  — Gigi Pandian, USA Today bestselling author of Michelangelo’s Ghost

 “Alexia Gordon’s debut is delightful: an Irish village full of characters and secrets, whiskey and music – and a ghost! Gethsemene Brown is a fast-thinking, fast-talking dynamic sleuth (with a great wardrobe) who is more than a match for the unraveling murders and coverups, aided by her various –handsome – allies and her irascible ghost. Can’t wait to see what she uncovers next!” —J. Suzanne Frank, AKA Chloe Green, author of the Dallas O’Connor mysteries

Review

Music, murder and ghosts….a trifecta for me! And I didn’t even mention that it is set in a small town in Ireland. While I haven’t been to Ireland, perhaps one day and I can imagine this little town (small enough to ride a bike everywhere, or so it seems).

The characters are diverse and sometimes downright comical. I can imagine Gethsemane’s horror at being able to see a ghost and converse with him. I don’t think she expected that at all, but the upside is that he was an amazing composer that she admired.

Gethsemane is a strong woman in her own right and despite being an American in Ireland, she pushes local police to really figure out what happened 25 years ago to Eamon and Orla. She also has to gain the respect of teenage boys and bring them together for a competition for orchestras. That is no small feat in itself as she has 6 weeks to pull that off.

The mystery turns into more than just who killed Eamon and Orla, more people die as Gethsemane pokes into the 25 year old mystery. I won’t say that I figured it out entirely, I had my suspicions but had to wait for the author to reveal the motive to truly understand.

The book does leave you hanging a little bit (can’t say too much without giving it away) so I will have to read the next book to find out if the situation is resolved or not.

We give this book 4 paws up

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about the author

alexia-gordonA writer since childhood, I won my first (okay, so far, only) writing prize, a copy of Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends, in the 6th grade. I continued writing through college but put literary endeavors on hold to finish medical school and Family Medicine residency training. My medical career established, I returned to writing fiction.

Raised in the southeast and schooled in the northeast, I migrated to the southwest after a three-year stint in Alaska reminded me how much I needed sunlight and warm weather. I completed Southern Methodist University’s Writer’s Path program in Dallas, Texas then moved to El Paso, Texas where I currently practice medicine. If pushed, I will admit Texas brisket is as good as Carolina pulled pork. I enjoy classical music, art, travel, embroidery, and a good ghost story.

I am a member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, International Thriller Writers, and the Writers’ League of Texas. I am represented by Paula Munier of Talcott Notch Literary Services, LLC and published by Henery Press.

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Posted in Guest Post, mystery, Spotlight on September 26, 2016

americannights

 

Five Star Publishing

Series: A Moriah Dru/Richard Lake Mystery

Hardcover, 308 pgs

August 17, 2016, $25.95

Genre: Mystery

Synopsis

Saudi Arabian prince, Husam al Saliba hires Dru, a PI specializing in tracing missing children, to find his missing wife, Reeve Cresley and daughter, Shahrazad (Shara).

At a dinner to introduce himself and his story to Dru—and Richard Lake, her lover and an Atlanta police detective—he strikes Dru as charming but unbelievable. He tells of falling in love with Reeve, of turning his back on his possible ascendancy to the power structure in the kingdom for the woman he loves. He also talks of his king’s disapproval of him marrying and siring an infidel. But then he says his family wants him to return, marry his betrothed Aya and get in line to be an heir to kingship. Confused Dru thinks she’s fallen into a fairy tale. After all the prince is known to be a great storyteller and is partial to reciting tales from the Arabian Nights.

The investigation had just begun when Reeve’s parents, Lowell and Donna Cresley, who do not seem disturbed that Reeve is missing with Shara, are killed. That brings the Atlanta police into the case.

A U. S. resident, Prince Husam is a partner in a New York law firm. Reeve is a scientist who works for NASA. The couple spend little time living together. Husam goes off to Paris to see his Saudi princess, Aya, and Reeve is in an affair with Thomas Page. As Dru remarks, nobody in this tale is faithful. Then she finds out all have something too dreadful to hide.

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Guest Post

 

Publishers Weekly reviewed my first novel in the Moriah Dru/Richard Lake series, The End Game, writing:

“A well-researched plot and snappy dialogue—plus some fine rail-yard K-9 detecting by Buddy, a German shepherd, and Jed, a Labrador retriever—keep the action moving.

What? The PW reviewer didn’t think I knew all about trains and dogs without researching?

Having hopped a train once, I knew I had to jump off before it got moving too fast, and there have been few years in my life when I haven’t had a dog. But what did I know about a train yard and search-and-rescue dogs? Only what I see in the movies, on television and read in other books.

That easy way aside, I love to research. At times, I’d rather research than plot action or get inside a character’s head. When I’m stuck in a corner of my own making, I’ll throw something into the mix of which I know nothing, and go on a research mission.

I also love authenticity, which means I have to get to the source, the gritty in the nitty.  When I wrote The End Game, I knew from the start trains and dogs would figure prominently in my story. Computers, too, along with cops and prisons. Cops were easy. I worked with them when I reported for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. My heroine, Moriah Dru, is a former cop, now the owner of a PI firm specializing in finding missing children. Her lover, Richard Lake, is still a cop, handy for her to get all the information she needs on cases that involve cops.

The Moriah Dru/Richard Lake series is set  in Atlanta, where I’ve lived most of my life. But their investigations take them far and wide. The Last Temptation begins in Atlanta and then head West to Palm Springs. I’d gone there to play golf with my husband and decided I wanted to write a thriller set in that glitzy, zany place, and I did. We spent a week there, but I had to bone up on casinos, the Native Americans, the desert, the neighborhoods, the night spots—oh the night spots where the spirit of Frank Sinatra lingers large.

In The Devil Laughed I needed to learn about wine. I’ve drank my share, and have grown grapes in the past, but what did I know about wine-growing—the particular type of grape that makes either a cabernet or a sauvignon blanc or a pinot and what goes together to make other vintages. Our mountain region in Georgia grows different varieties of grapes than the Fear River region of North Carolina, another region I visited for the novel. Great place to be a tourist and visit the wine boutiques. In Running with Wild Blood, I got to get up close to motorcycle clubs.

In my most recent book in the series, America Nights, the research required was heroic. I had to learn all about the Saudi Arabian family, its food, culture, customs because Moriah Dru hired on to find the American wife of a Saudi prince. The prince loved to recite from the Arabian Nights. Fun to read those old tales again

To revolve back to SAR dogs—given to us mortals by a benevolent goddess—in my next life, I’m going to be a trainer. These canine specialists, I learned, do it for the pure joy of showing off their talents and a treat or two at the end of the search. They are tireless in their quest, and, like us, they suffer disappointment if they don’t succeed. In countless reviews, like PW’s, Buddy and Jed, came out heroes. Maybe because when I wrote them into the plot, they were my heroes.

Gerrie Ferris Finger

About the Author

Retireed journalist for The Atlanta-Journal Constitution,Gerrie Ferris Finger won the 2009 St. Martin’s Press/Malice Domestic Best First Traditional Mystery Novel for The End Game. The Last Temptation is the second in the Moriah Dru/Richard Lake series. She lives on the coast of Georgia with her husband and standard poodle, Bogey.

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Posted in 5 paws, Review, romance on September 25, 2016

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Synopsis

Cassandra Webb’s every waking minute is devoted to being a great mother and wife. She takes five-year-old Noah to the library each week, volunteers in his kindergarten class, and even coaches his soccer team. She makes sure her husband’s uniforms are always laundered—even though he hasn’t worn them the last six years—always has his game day snacks on hand, and meets him for date night every Friday—which consists of one sided conversations at his bedside and watching his favorite take out remain untouched.

Pearl, a mysterious visitor at the care center, suggests that it is only Cassie’s love still tying Devon to Earth when he has been ready to move onto Heaven for quite some time. If Cassie will but open her eyes and heart, she will discover the path she should travel, one that will bring relief to Devon and much joy to her own life. But Cassie vowed never to give up on him. She never has and she can’t now, even after meeting hapless, single soccer-dad Matt.

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Review

This story touched me in so many ways, I was a blubbering mess in many parts. Not that I could personally relate to Cassie’s life, but because she was so strong for her son and had such faith that her husband, Devon, would come out of his vegetative state. She did all of this for over 6 years and she never lost hope.

Enter Pearl (the matchmaker) – who imparts her wisdom to Cassie. But don’t think that her advice was heeded immediately, that wouldn’t make an interesting story if she did what she was told right away. Matt is a single dad having lost his wife to an aneurysm and life without her isn’t easy because he raising 2 rambunctious boys (4 and 6). However, Matt and Cassie meet and become friends and help each other out and improve each others lives.

As in all romance books, you know they will get together eventually….but the story leading up to it is one of strength and fortitude and patience. And maybe even a little laughter.

We give this 5 paws up.
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Posted in Cozy, excerpt, mystery, Spotlight on September 24, 2016

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Synopsis

Carrie McCrite, a volunteer librarian at Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Bentonville, Arkansas, discovers two versions of a portrait on loan to the museum. When a reporter writing about that portrait disappears, Carrie must choose between honoring Henry’s request that she stop jumping into danger on behalf of people in trouble–or work to find the woman who was a college friend of her son’s.

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Praise

“A charming marriage of love and mystery.” —Nancy Pickard, author of The Virgin Of Small Plains

“A delightfully clever novel that I thoroughly enjoyed. Radine Trees Nehring’s warm and believable characters are like good friends that I am happy to see again.  The Civil War history, train ride, antiques and diner food were icing on the cake! I look forward to Carrie and Henry’s next adventure.”  —Earlene Fowler, author of Love Mercy and State Fair

“What a great mix for Carrie’s latest adventure!  She and Henry have their hands full with suspicious characters aboard an excursion train, switched identities, Civil War treasures, stolen jewelry, rifled rooms, and a “safe house” incident. Did I mention a dead body?  Radine Trees Nehring has given us another ‘can’t put it down’ read.” —Joe David Rice, Arkansas Tourism Director

Excerpt

An excerpt from “A Portrait to Die For” by Radine Trees Nehring with two sentences with spoilers removed

At 8:20 the next morning Catherine sat in her car outside the workshop at Fred’s and wondered who was inside the building. There were two trucks parked in the lot. She supposed the newer pickup with the business name and logo on the door was Freda’s.

The other truck was unmarked. Maybe it was the older pickup she had seen here yesterday. She hadn’t paid much attention to it then, and wasn’t good at identifying trucks unless an automaker had displayed their company name and vehicle style prominently on the tailgate.

8:25.

Well, nothing ventured. Daddy had said that. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

    Zero hour. Catherine opened her car door and slid out, putting her cell phone in her pocket.

Twenty steps to the open shop door, and then Catherine was inside. It was very quiet. Should she say something? No, not yet at least.

Two steps. Lots of stuff, but no person, no sound, no movement but her own.

Two more steps.

Something on the concrete floor caught her attention. Blobs of oil? She stopped to stare, bent over to look more closely.

Drops of blood. Fresh enough to be red. Oh, dear God, NO.

    Catherine started to turn back toward her car and run. Panic had her breathing like a steam engine though she was trying to be quiet, to give no sign she was there. She must get to her car and hurry to safety, to be with Carrie and Henry. Get away, Get away! Get to Carrie and Henry, get them to come back here with her.

A groan stopped her, freezing her steps as she started toward the door.

Her mind tried to work sensibly. Someone groaning probably wasn’t going to attack her. Someone was hurt and needed help.

She turned around again and took two more steps into the building, avoiding the drops.

Step. Step.

A weapon! She should have a weapon in case something horrible and dangerous faced her on the other side of those boxes. The workbench next to her offered a huge hammer. She started to lift it, found it too heavy for one arm, re-enforced her grasp with her other hand and, hammer raised, moved forward again.

End of the row of boxes. With the hammer held as high as she could lift it, she went around the stack.

A shriek. Oh! That was her voice.

A choked laugh came from someone propped up against the back of the box stack. Another person faced her–Freda, with a raised hammer.

About the Author

radinetreesnehringFor more than twenty years, Radine Trees Nehring’s magazine features, essays, newspaper articles, and radio broadcasts have shared colorful stories about the people, places, events, and natural world near her Arkansas home.

In 2002, Radine’s first mystery novel, A VALLEY TO DIE FOR, was published and, in 2003 became a Macavity Award Nominee.  Since that time she has continued to earn writing awards as she enthralls her original fans and attracts new ones with her signature blend of down-home Arkansas sightseeing and cozy amateur sleuthing by active retirees Henry King and Carrie McCrite King.

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Posted in 5 paws, Cozy, Giveaway, mystery, Review on September 23, 2016

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dying-for-data

Dying for Data (Adina Donati, Accidental Sleuth)
Cozy Mystery
Release Date – August 21, 2016
2nd in Series
Paperback: 176 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1533676399
E-Book ASIN: B01JGHOQFW

Synopsis

Bad karma, a rival suitor, and a deadly attack are enough to put a damper on any date.

Just when Adina’s social life is looking up, her night out is interrupted by the scream of police sirens. Afraid her bartender boyfriend might be accused of murder, Adina’s neighbor enlists her assistance, and in the process exposes her to the seamier side of illegal immigration and crime in the city. Hard as she tries to limit her involvement, the more Adina learns, the more she needs to know – until a case of mistaken identity lands her in hot water. Will she uncover the truth before it’s too late?

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Review

This is a second in a series and I enjoyed this as much as the first book. I also liked the discussion about immigration, not too much, just enough. and since it is set in DC, it wouldn’t be a book without discussing politics and even brief mentions (generically) of the upcoming election.

Adina is a caring person, especially when she helps her Russian neighbor’s boyfriend who was attacked behind the restaurant where they work. It is quite interesting how they uncover who is behind the crimes and help the police take them down. The mystery is not complicated, but isn’t easy to figure out either. Enough twists to keep me guessing.

Adina has a couple of love interests, Bruce (volunteers at the animal shelter with her) and Jack (the police detective). Luckily it is an easy decision for Adina on who to keep and who to dump!

We give this 5 paws up.

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About the Author

Csalem

Cassidy Salem has always been an avid reader. She is especially fond of mysteries (both cozy and traditional) and police procedurals.  Cassidy also enjoys reading historical fiction focused on American and world history, as well as the classics.  When she’s not reading, she enjoys music and spending time with family and friends, and travels with her husband and son whenever possible. Her travels have taken her to destinations throughout the United States, Europe, and Scandinavia.

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Posted in Guest Post, Military, romance, Romantic Suspense on September 23, 2016

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Book Title: The Stranger

Author Name: Anna del Mar

Series: The Stranger, A Wounded Warrior Novel, Book Two

Genre: Romantic Suspense, Contemporary romance, SEAL romance, Military Romance

Publisher: Carina Press

Date of Publication: August 22, 2016

Synopsis

When a mysterious stranger is your only hope…

The scars of the past have left their mark, both physical and emotional, on former military pilot Seth Erickson. Off-grid in the far reaches of the bitter Alaskan wilderness, he wants only to be left alone with his ghosts. But he can’t ignore a woman in need—beautiful, stranded and nearly frozen with fear.

Summer Silva never imagined that the search for her missing sister would leave her abandoned on a wintry back road, barely escaping with her life from a cold-blooded killer for hire. Now, hiding out in the isolated cabin of the secretive wounded warrior who saved her, Summer knows she must do what she fears most. Putting her trust in a stranger is all she has left.

All defenses are down

After a fiery first night together, Seth and Summer are bound by a need as powerful as a Bering Sea superstorm—and vulnerable to enemies just as fierce. For Seth, reawakened by desire, there is no sacrifice too great, no memory too dark, to keep Summer safe. But murder and treason lurk everywhere and Summer may not survive Alaska’s ruthless winter.

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The Story Behind The Stranger

By

Anna del Mar

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I never really wanted to go to Alaska BAK, Before Adventuresome Kids. San Francisco and New York? Sure. London? Check. Rome and Paris? Absolutely. Alaska? Not so much. That is, until my daughter insisted on a trip that led to my son volunteering at Denali National Park. Each time I went back to Alaska, I fell deeper for it. So I kept going back for more.

From this personal, life-transforming journey comes my latest romantic suspense, The Stranger, the story of Summer Silva, a warmth-loving Miami architect who chases her reckless sibling to Alaska when her sister runs away with a guy she met on the internet. Summer is a tropical being, kind of like me, and yet as her story begins, we find her stranded on a desolate Alaskan road, having just survived a murder attempt with a Bering Sea superstorm bearing down on her.

The Stranger who reluctantly comes to her aid is Seth Erickson, an Alaskan tycoon with a quarreling family as complicated as Summer’s own. Seth is also a helicopter pilot, a wounded warrior struggling to recover from injuries he sustained while serving in Afghanistan. He’s got no time for a lady in distress and yet he can’t just abandon Summer to fend for herself. When they shelter in his high-tech cabin and she comes to his bed, he embraces her sweet seduction. Entwined in his arms, she becomes the superstorm of his lifetime.

But Summer has a secret. Dream chasing, the Native Athabaskans call it. You’ll have to read the novel if you’d like to know more about it. Yes, I’m grinning. And now two strangers from different worlds and opposite spectrums of the thermometer are caught in a vortex of passion that defies their differences and enrages their enemies. To survive, they must unravel the intrigues that threaten their lives and chase after a new dream in spectacular Alaska.

About the Author

Anna del Mar writes hot, smart romances that soothe the soul, challenge the mind, and satisfy the heart. Her stories focus on strong heroines struggling to find their place in the world and the brave, sexy, kickass, military heroes who defy the limits of their broken bodies to protect the women they love. Anna enjoys traveling, hiking, skiing, and the sea. Writing is her addiction, her drug of choice, and what she wants to do all the time. The extraordinary men and women she met during her years as a Navy wife inspire the fabulous heroes and heroines at the center of her stories. When she stays put—which doesn’t happen very often—she lives in Florida with her indulgent husband and two very opinionated cats.

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Posted in 4 paws, mystery, Review on September 22, 2016

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Synopsis

Kate Fox is living the dream. She’s married to Grand County Sheriff Ted Conner, the heir to her beloved Nebraska Sandhills cattle ranch, where they live with Kate’s orphaned teenage niece, Carly. With the support of the well-connected Fox Clan, which includes Kate’s eight boisterous and interfering siblings, Ted’s reelection as Grand County Sheriff is virtually assured. That leaves Kate to the solitude and satisfaction of Frog Creek, her own slice of heaven.

One night Kate answers a shattering phone call from Roxy at the Bar J. Carly’s granddad Eldon, owner of the ranch, is dead and Ted has been shot and may never walk again. Kate vows to find the killer. She soon discovers Ted responded so quickly to the scene because he was already at the Bar J . . . in Roxy’s bed. And to add to her woes, Carly has gone missing.

Kate finds out that Eldon was considering selling his ranch to an obscenely rich environmentalist. Some in town hate the idea of an outsider buying up land, others are desperate to sell . . . and some might kill to get their way. As she becomes the victim of several “accidents,” Kate knows she must find the killer before it’s too late.

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Review

I had read some other reviews of this book and wondered if I was going to like the storyline…so glad I decided to not listen to the reviews and judge for myself. the book was enjoyable and there were some twists and turns when tracking down the killer….I was shocked but probably shouldn’t have been because the killer usually turns out to be a person you least suspect.

Now when it comes to the relationship between Ted and Kate – how could everyone in town know he was cheating on her and not say anything to Kate? Of course, from the hints we are given into their lives, it isn’t too surprising that he cheated.

As it is with pretty much all small towns, everyone knows everyone else’s business and it is hard to keep anything a secret. But that is to Kate’s benefit as she tries to figure out who killed Eldon and why Ted is trying to take the blame. Her family is a bit dysfunctional too, but that isn’t always a bad thing because despite everything they do stick together.

We give this book 4 paws up.

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About the Author

Shannon Baker is the author of the Nora Abbott mystery series from Midnight Ink. A fast-paced mix of Hopi Indian mysticism, environmental issues, and murder. Shannon is an itinerant writer, which is a nice way of saying she’s confused. She never knows what time zone she’s in, Timbuck-Three, Nebraska, Denver, or Tucson. Nora Abbott has picked up that location schizophrenia and travels from Flagstaff in Tainted Mountain, to Boulder in Broken Trust and then to Moab in Tattered Legacy. Shannon is proud to have been chosen Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers’ 2014 Writer of the Year.

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