Threads of Deceit (Vineyard Quilt Mysteries)
Paperback: 224 pages
Publisher: Annie’s (April 1, 2015)
ISBN-13: 978-1573674775
E-Book ASIN: B00Q1UF8X2

Synopsis

The first in a new mystery series—for quilters and mystery lovers alike!
Former antiquities bounty hunter, Julie Ellis, is on the run, trying to stay one stiletto step ahead of her past. She accepts a position as manager of the Quilt Haus Inn in Missouri wine country, thinking it the perfect place to keep a low profile and start a new, less-dangerous career. It is—until Daniel Franklin walks through the door and asks for a room.

Daniel claims he’s come to Straussberg in search of a famous sunken ship that he believes is buried in a nearby farm field. Julie finds the handsome historian’s story odd at best, but when a dead body is discovered at the proposed dig site, it becomes clear somebody else believes the theory and doesn’t want the ship or its secrets exposed. Who in the town would possibly care about the old shipwreck? As frightening things start to happen at the inn—all seemingly connected to the hunt for the missing ship—Julie and her quilting friends must unearth the truth before someone else is buried.

INCLUDES A FREE QUILTING PATTERN INSPIRED BY THE STORY!

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Excerpt

Alone in her room, Julie sighed softly as she kicked off her shoes. She needed to focus on her new life and stop pining for the one she’d left behind before it could kill her. She reached high over her head, her back slightly arched, and felt her muscles stretch from the demands she placed on them. That’s what she needed to do—stretch and appreciate the new demands of running an inn.

As she swung forward to reach her toes, a sound in the hallway caught her attention. She froze. The clock on her small fireplace mantle made it clear the hour was much too late for a guest to be wandering around on the third floor. She wondered for a moment if Hannah might be coming up to see her. Then she thought of Shirley. Perhaps Shirley had found something downstairs that needed Julie’s attention, or a piece of juicy local gossip she had to either share or burst. Julie raised herself to standing and waited for the knock at the door.

No knock came.

Quietly, Julie crept to the door and opened it a crack. She saw that the door to the tower suite hung slightly open. It seemed the mysterious Daniel Franklin had taken to wandering around at an unusually late hour.

I knew those blue eyes were trouble.

She slipped out of her room and tiptoed softly to his door. When she peeked in the open doorway, the room was empty. The beautiful brass bed was still neatly made. So why was her newest guest wandering around the inn instead of sleeping?

She padded barefoot down the smooth wood stairs to the second floor and glanced down the hallway. No sign of movement. She continued down to the first floor and peeked into the tearoom. The pastry case was empty for the night, but the case’s light was still on, bathing the room in enough light to be certain no one lurked inside.

Then she checked the small library located beside the tearoom. Shirley sat curled up in one of the darkly upholstered Queen Anne chairs next to the fireplace. She had half glasses perched on the end of her nose as she squinted at one of the leather-bound books about Missouri history. Julie backed up quietly without speaking. She didn’t want Daniel to be alerted by any sound, and a shouted greeting from Shirley would certainly carry over half the downstairs.

She walked across the foyer toward the breakfast room. The light of a full moon poured through the tall windows that flanked one wall of the room, casting pools of light and shadow. But Julie saw nothing out of place as her gaze swept over the room—until she noticed the door marked “Staff Only.”

It stood ajar.

She quickly jerked open the door and spotted Daniel crouched down in the hall outside the kitchen, poking around in the padlock on the cellar door with a thick piece of wire. His head snapped toward her at the sound, his eyes wide in alarm.

Julie crossed her arms over her chest. “Would you like to tell me why you’re practicing your lock-picking skills on my lock? Or shall I simply call the police?”

Review

I really enjoyed this cozy. It is a little different from others as the main character is a jewel/art “thief” that is laying low and is doing it at a quilting B&B. The characters are diverse which contribute to an interesting story. I think there will be an interesting love story in the future between Julie and Daniel.  The interaction between the two kept me engaged in the story.

There was some humorous moments that made me laugh out loud between many of the characters.  I think there is more to Julie’s story as to why she came back to Missouri and what interest she has in the town and the B&B that she is managing.

As far as “whodoneit”?  I didn’t figure it out until almost when the murderer was revealed.  I had some wild inklings but that is about it.

I think this is going to be a fun series and can’t wait for book 2!  We give it 5 paws up.

About The Author

Since my first magazine publication in the 1980s, I have been steadily writing for money in some form. Today I have over twenty books in print and still more in the pipeline – books for children and adults. I’ve also written for magazines, educational publishers and even a toy company!

Writing is the only thing I’ve ever done really well that didn’t eventually become more like work than fun.

Although I grew up in the South, I have lived in New England since 1998, when I married the kindest, most wonderful man I had ever met, and he proceeded to haul me all the way to Connecticut. He keeps my life, my computer, and my focus in good order. Together we have one brilliant daughter who has spent 15 years teaching me how little I really did know about parenting (and after I wrote all those parenting articles, tsk tsk tsk). Every day my family shows me again the value of laughing, and taking time for other things besides work. I hope they always will.

These days, I teach as an instructor for the Institute of Children’s Literature and serve as their webmaster. I jump back and forth between being a teacher and a learner every day and I think that is the best thing anyone can be. I want to learn something new every day, and find someone I can help with that knowledge, as well.

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Between Now and Never by Laura Johnston

Buh boom, buh boom.

My heart thrusts with a force that takes me by surprise. Telling me something I don’t understand. A splitting pain, a longing to slip back under. They tell me I was in a hit-and-run, but I can’t remember what happened that night. All I know is that I woke up with pictures in my pocket, a card from one of those photo booths in the mall. And I’m in the pictures. Cody Rush. Me and…

Julianna.

Her brother was there that night, and my dad, the FBI agent, was the one who put her mom behind bars. What’s the connection? And why won’t Julianna talk to me now? Somehow, she holds the key to it all, and getting close–real close—to her for the answers I need will be no hardship at all…

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Excerpt — Three Momentous Words

JULIANNA

I stare at my reflection, trying to steady my uneven breathing.

Giving up, I dash from the bathroom. Decision made. I’m not turning back now.

I pass the drinking fountain, searching the hallways. I fling aside all thoughts of Cody’s dad and my mom, all fears of Vic and my dad warning me against Cody. I turn down a maze of corridors, searching left and right. And then I see him. Alone. Pacing.

“Cody,” I say.

He turns at the sound of my voice but looks away again.

“Cody, look at me.”

Nothing. He rests one hand on his hip, the other hand digging into his hair. Frustration oozes from his rigid stance.

I start toward him, not about to back down. “What’s wrong?”

At last he turns. “You,” he says, his voice reverberating through the empty hall, bringing me to a stop.

“You and me; this is all wrong. It always has been.”

The words cut deep. Sting. “You don’t mean that,” I say, the hitch in my voice betraying me.

“You’re right,” he says. “What I’m trying to say is I love you.”

His words hit me, melting every last barrier around my heart. He loves me. Three momentous words out in the open.

He runs his fingers through his hair again, messing it up. Suddenly, he looks more rugged than put together. Seductive. It reminds me of when he first came to school, a total mess sitting in that wheelchair. I loved that boy, too. As senseless as it is, I’ve always loved him.

Cody shifts his weight from one leg to the other and gives me a look. “What do you want, Jules?”

Somehow I know this question is monumental, my answer pivotal.

I stare at him and falter. No one has asked me this in weeks, months. I think about all the things I’ve had my heart set on, worked to keep together, strived to accomplish. But looking at Cody now, it’s hard to think of anything else.

What do I want? How do you place your heart out in the open like this?

I want you.

The words tangle up, wedged like a knot in the back of my throat.

Cody brushes a curly lock of hair away from my face, his gaze following the motion. “’Cause all I want right now is to kiss you, and I’m sick of trying to think up more reasons why I shouldn’t.”

My breath catches in the back of my throat, my heart hammering with the need to reach out and give him what he wants—what I want.

Cody draws back, his hand falling to his side. Like he’s about to walk away again.

“Then stop trying,” I say.

Praise for Between Now & Never

“A romance that will keep teens turning pages.” ~ Janette Rallison

“This was a lot different than I was expecting and I was honestly surprised with how much I enjoyed it. The cover led me to believe this would be a cute, love story but it was a suspenseful and gripping read.” ~ Review from Goodreads

“Best book I read all year! On the edge of your seat suspense, heartwarming romance, and characters to cheer for—Between Now and Never is one you won’t want to miss.” ~Kelly Nelson, author of The Keeper’s Saga

“I had the privilege to read BETWEEN NOW AND NEVER when it was in manuscript form. I loved loved loved it from page one! Laura Johnson is such a talented author — really looking forward to reading more of her work!” ~Kay Lynn Mangum, author of The Secret Journal of Brett Colton

About the Author

Laura Johnston lives in Utah with her husband and two children. Growing up with five siblings, a few horses, peach trees, beehives and gardens, she developed an active imagination and always loved a good story. She fell in love with the young adult genre both through her experience in high school as well as her job later as a high school teacher. Laura enjoys running, playing tennis, sewing, traveling, writing, and above all, spending time with her husband and kids.

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Blog Tour Giveaway

$50 Amazon Gift Card or Paypal Cash

Ends 4/26/15

Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.

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Title: Terror Never Sleeps
Book 2: Jack Gunn Thriller Series

Author: Richard Blomberg
Publisher: Beaver’s Pond Press
Publication Date: February 15, 2015
Pages: 337
ISBN: 978-1592988952
Genre: Military Thriller / Suspense
Format: Paperback, eBook (.mobi / Kindle), PDF

Synopsis

Navy SEAL Jack Gunn’s life is turned upside down when terrorists kidnap his family and disappear without a trace. While Jack and his team search frantically for clues in Virginia, half-way around the world, his wife, Nina struggles to survive the terrorist’s daily persecutions as his hostage.

Terror Never Sleeps is an action-packed tale of Nina’s transformation into a warrior who is fighting for her life, and Jack’s relentless pursuit of the terrorists from Mali to Diego Garcia to Pakistan. A military coup, propaganda, dirty bombs, and the launch of Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal with one target—Israel—is all part of the terrorist’s master plan, who are hellbent on blowing the world back to the eighth century. The non-stop action keeps the reader constantly off balance with the bizarre and unexpected.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Dawley Corners, VA

“I’m scared, Mommy.” Barett sat back up in bed, clutching his dinosaur pillow under one arm and his frayed security blanket under the other.

“Don’t cry, honey. Daddy will be home tomorrow.” Nina brushed her son’s tears aside with her fingers, cupped his tender face in her hands, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. She inhaled the scent of baby shampoo from his tangled wet hair and snuggled him to her chest. Barett’s Mickey Mouse night-light cast a buttery glow across the carpet. A constellation of

fluorescent stars and planets were already glued to the ceiling of his brand-new bedroom and floating like luminous jellyfish in the dark above.

“But what if the bad guys kill Daddy?” Barett chewed on the fringe of his blanket.

“Nobody’s going to kill Daddy,” Nina quickly answered for the umpteenth time as she stroked his black hair. Barett nodded, locked on Nina’s eyes. She closed the bedtime storybook and put it back on the nightstand.

Barett’s lower lip quivered. “What if you die, Mommy? I heard you and Daddy talking.” He started crying again.

Nina gasped. “You don’t need to worry anymore, sweetie. Mommy’s cancer is all gone.” She crossed her hands across her chest and threw them up into the air. “Poof! And Daddy is a brave Sioux, just like you.” She poked Barett in the chest. “If the president of the United States trusts Daddy to protect his country, I don’t think we need to worry.”

Sorrow instantly overwhelmed Nina, sad that Barett’s last thoughts before falling asleep were to fear for his mommy’s and daddy’s lives—even though Nina frequently cried herself to sleep with those same fears. Barett, Nina’s angel throughout her chemotherapy, reached up and brushed her tears away with his baby-soft fingers as he had done so many times before.

If Jack was Nina’s soul mate, Barett was her heart mate. Nina’s first pregnancy ended horribly with a devastating and unexpected miscarrage. Her second ended the same way. So after nine months of living on the jittery edge of sanity, wondering what would go wrong the third time around, Barett was her gift from God who miraculously joined the world on Nina’s twentysixth

birthday. She loved her little bear more than anything. She loved Barett more than Jack.

Trying to stay strong and keep up a good front for Barett while Jack was away, Nina snatched the dreamcatcher hanging from a tack in the wall above Barett’s pillow and fanned his face with its eagle feathers as if she were trying to start a fire.

“Remember, Uncle Travis had a very special medicine man make this to protect you from bad dreams.” She tickled his chest until he giggled.

“He’s funny.”

“Now go to sleep, honey. Daddy will be home tomorrow.” She leaned over and gave him one last kiss.

Nina left his door half open, just how Barett liked, and went downstairs to lock up for the night. Everything in their condominium smelled fresh and new. The paint on the walls, the polish on the floors, and the carpet on the stairs. It was their first home and their first mortgage. Nina smiled, thinking of her husband, Jack, and how he had gone over the top to buy the most

expensive door and window locks.

Being a Navy SEAL and the head of the Counterterrorism Task Force (CTF) made it nearly impossible for Jack Gunn to trust anyone. The only people he trusted were the other SEALs on his Ghost Team and Native Americans, like Nina and him.

“I’m not going to be a prisoner in my own home, Jack. Spend all the money on locks and guns and whatever else you think we need, but take a look around. We’re not living in Afghanistan.” Nina had opened the blind so Jack could look out and see their front yard of new sod, their one-inch elm sapling held vertical by three posts and gardening wire, and the empty lots across the street staked out for new construction. No one else had even moved into their

building yet. They had first pick in the new ocean-view community in Dawley Corners, south of Virginia Beach.

“This is what I’ve always wanted, Jack,” Nina had told him. “I know it’s not Montana, but there’s no place I’d rather be.”

“The perimeter is secure,” she could almost hear Jack saying.

Her smile vanished as she pulled back a corner of the curtain and watched a windowless panel van slowly cruise past their condo. It was the type of hammer-and-nail-laden van construction crews drove through their neighborhood on a daily basis, but not after dark at nine thirty on a Saturday night.

There was something about the van that sent a shiver up her spine as it crawled around the cul-de-sac and came back. She let the sheer curtain fall back into place and watched the headlights. They stopped at the end of Nina’s driveway. With a growl of the engine, smoke puffed from the tail pipe into the chilled air. Now hiding behind the front door, she began to hyperventilate as she fought off the suffocating feeling of panic.

Nina felt guilty for cowering like a scared little girl. She knew if Jack were home, he would have put one of his patented kill looks on his face, stomped out the front door, and challenged the guys in the truck. He did stuff like that all the time. Most of the time, the other guys took off before he got close enough to do any harm; he looked that intimidating. Far from being politically correct, Jack was the man who backed down to nobody. Who feared nobody. Who suspected everybody.

Nina swallowed hard, checked the lock, and glanced up the stairs to make sure Barett was still in bed. Fingers trembling, she fumbled to get her cell phone out of her pocket to call Jack, but dropped it. Pieces of plastic and glass blasted in every direction, like a grenade exploding in the dark, when it hit the porcelain tile.

“Oh my God!” she gasped. That was her only phone. The van still rumbled in the street, not moving. She made out the silhouette of a stocking-capped, bearded man in the passenger seat. Her brain swelled like an expanding water balloon between her ears.

“Think, dammit. Think.” She heard Jack’s words reverberating in her head. It was late Saturday night, her phone was trashed, their home Internet was not scheduled to be activated until Monday, which had not been a big deal because her smartphone functioned as a mobile hot spot for her laptop. All that had changed the instant her phone crashed.

Her feet felt as if they were stuck in cement, nailing her to the floor behind the door.

“The gun. I’ve got to get the gun.”

She looked through the curtain at the van one last time, then stumbled up the stairs, went into their bedroom closet, and turned on the light. The gun safe still had the manufacturer’s stickers on the anodized steel door.

She dialed three numbers stuck in her head. Nothing. She tried again. Nothing. The combination to the safe lay splayed across the entryway floor downstairs in a worthless cell phone microchip.

A noise outside spooked her. Her fingers trembled on the dial.

She tried the lock one last time and prayed. “Hallelujah!” The door opened. She grabbed the loaded shotgun. Jack always said it was the best gun for home protection. Point the scattergun in the general direction of your target and pull the trigger. It would blow a hole in the door the size of a basketball.

Nina had pulled the trigger on a shotgun once before. She blasted tin cans and beer bottles with her brothers back at the reservation garbage dump in Montana when she was a kid. The gun kicked like a mule and knocked her on her butt. It seemed funny at the time.

She flipped the safety off, racked a shell into the chamber, turned off the light, and tiptoed back out of the closet. The gun went first, with Nina’s slippery finger on the trigger. Her eyes dilated to adjust back to the dark.

The condo was too new. Nothing looked familiar. Every shadow, every noise made her jump. The furnace kicked in. The bedroom curtain fluttered over the heat duct. She heard a noise in the hallway. Nina opened the door with the gun barrel.

“Mommy.”

“Barett. Oh my God. I almost . . .” She covered her mouth, overcome by a sudden wave of nausea. Nina swallowed hard to push the bile back down as she propped the gun up against the wall behind the door, out of Barett’s sight. She grabbed Barett, hugged him hard, and carried him back to his room. “Stay in bed, honey. Mommy will be right back.”

Nina snatched the gun with her shaking, sweaty hands and quickly crept back down the carpeted stairs, trying her best to keep quiet.

The front door was still locked. The van was gone. She held the shotgun against her chest and fixed her eyes on the doorknob, dreading movement of any kind. Her heart raced as she waited in the dark.

The wind blew. The furnace kicked off. The doorknob did nothing.

She turned on the entryway light and scraped together all the pieces of her phone.

I can’t call the police. The phone lines are down till Monday. I can’t call or text Jack. He’ll be pissed. It was probably nothing. No need to get all worked up. Just go to bed. Get a new cell phone in the morning before Jack gets home. And put that stupid gun away before you shoot someone.

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About the Author

Dr. Richard Blomberg has practiced anesthesia in the land of 10,000 lakes for twenty years. He grew up in an Iowa farm town, the oldest of ten, before serving as a Navy hospital corpsman during the Vietnam War. For generations, Richard’s family has proudly served in the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines. He is a graduate of the University of Iowa and currently lives in the Twin Cities with his wife and family, where he is working on his next Jack Gunn thriller.

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Synopsis

With shape-shifting abilities, Haven sets out on a path of revenge against child predators, while she searches for the monster who ripped away her innocence, murdered her trust and abused her body. Hoping one day she will come eye to eye with the man who stole from her the only thing that cannot be given back or replaced. But, when she discovers Cassidy and her mysterious Uncle Bryce, Haven’s world of secrecy is exposed. Her solitude life is challenged and the protective walls she built around her scarred heart begin to crumble. Tossing her into uncharted territory and reminding her of forgotten dreams. Struggling with the haunting memories of her past, the inability to trust and the hideous reality of abuse, Haven is thrown into a battle she never expected to fight and feelings she didn’t want to face. But, one question remains. Can a damaged shifter learn to trust and love again? Or, will it destroy what little is left of her shattered heart and allow the shadows of her past the control they relentlessly seek?

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About the Author

Frantiska Oliver currently resides in Texas with her husband, Billy, and their two children. Along with being a full time mom, she is also a part-time veterinary technician and will do almost anything to help an animal in need. Her love for fantasy and science fiction books inspired her to write her first debut novel, Never Forget the Past. Still to this day, when the sun sets and the stars appear, you will find her on the back porch with a notebook and pen writing about the adventures manifesting within her head.

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Synopsis

This second book in the series takes the reader further into the life of Alicia Trent and her friends. Magic, forgery, betrayal, and fabulous jewels surround Alicia as she struggles to find the reason for her friend’s death.

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Excerpt

We were nearly halfway up the stairs when I heard Lawrence groan. I turned to see what had happened. He was deathly white, and while I watched, he sank down on the closest step. He was sweating heavily and clutching his stomach. He didn’t seem coherent enough to answer any questions, so I ducked into my room and called for an ambulance. They only took about ten minutes to arrive, but it was horrible to wait. Lawrence was obviously in great pain, but couldn’t tell me what was wrong.

The ride to the hospital took an eternity. They wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance, and I was so afraid of what would happen before he arrived. I was shaking and behind the wheel of a car was the last place I should have been, but as the ambulance tore through the streets with the siren blaring, I was right behind them.

I ran from the parking lot into the emergency room just in time to see them take Lawrence through a set of swinging doors where I couldn’t follow. I slumped into a chair, and for the next two hours I sat in a waiting room with dull green walls and hard metal chairs. I never moved while I waited. My mind was busy begging Lawrence to hold on.

Since I was the only one waiting, when I saw an exhausted-looking man dressed in scrubs walk into the room, I took a deep breath and hurried to his side.

He said, “Are you the relative who brought Lawrence Hall in tonight?”

Afraid they wouldn’t tell me anything if I confessed to not being a relative, I just nodded.

“Mr. Hall is a very sick man. He’s been poisoned, and we think he must have eaten poisonous mushrooms. Our tests indicate they were probably green-spored lepiota.”

At this point I wanted to scream at him to just tell me his condition. He could explain the details after I knew how Lawrence was.

However, he wasn’t finished explaining. “This particular mushroom doesn’t normally cause death, but among its other symptoms it can dangerously lower blood pressure. Mr. Hall must be on some type of medication that has the same effect, or at least exacerbated the effect of the mushroom, because we nearly lost him. It’s a good thing you got him here when you did. We have him stabilized now, and he should make a full recovery.”

I barely heard anything the man said except the last statement. Lawrence was going to be all right! My knees weakened with relief and I sank into the nearest chair.

He continued, “He’s awake, and we need to monitor him closely for a while. We want to keep him tonight and tomorrow for observation, but he can probably go home after that. If you want to see him, you can visit for a short time, but first, can you tell me what type of medication he’s taking? He was still pretty confused when I talked to him and wasn’t able to tell me.”

“I don’t know the exact medication. Lawrence is bi-polar, so it has to be something for that. I’ll see if I can find out the name for you.”

I got the room number and was practically running in my need to see for myself that he was alive and recovering. I burst into the room, nearly knocking over a nurse on her way out. She cautioned me the patient needed rest and, with a frown in my direction, left the room. I pulled a chair up next to the bed and took Lawrence’s hand. “You look so much better already. You have some color back.”

He said, “You look terrible. You can relax. I’m going to be fine. I was a little worried in the beginning because the confusion felt the way some of my episodes used to begin. The confusion is gone now, and I really am fine. It’s left me very tired, but they don’t want me to sleep yet. Tell me exactly what happened. I’m sure the gory details will help keep me awake. The last thing I remember is starting up the stairs, and then brief moments in the ambulance.”

I wanted to answer in the same matter-of-fact way he’d asked the question. I tried, but before I could begin, tears were running down my face and I couldn’t find my voice. I didn’t sob or howl. Strangely, I didn’t make any noise at all. I just stared at Lawrence, horrified because he might have died trying to help me. All the while the silent tears kept coming.

He said, “Ali, we can’t have this. I’ve seen you go through some horrible times, but I’ve never seen you cry. There’s no need for you to be so upset. I promise you I will be out of here tomorrow, and all will be well. Even the doctor says so.”

I gulped a few times trying to find my voice. It didn’t sound good, but I managed to say, “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. When you get out of here, you’re going right back to Scottsdale! I should never have involved you in any of this.”

“Whoa there, girl! In the first place, I’m a grown man and you can’t involve me in anything I don’t choose to be involved in. In the second place, you and your crazy mixed-up life are the main thing keeping me from getting old and bored. Bad things happen sometimes, but none of this is your fault. Now dry those tears and tell me how I got here.”

I hiccuped a few times but got myself under control. “Okay, I’m not trying to take the blame for what happened, but I was so scared. It seems you were poisoned. I wasn’t in much shape to listen to the doctor, but it was some kind of mushroom. There were mushrooms in the food we ate at supper, but we both ate those. Someone targeted you specifically. At the moment, I have no idea why they did it, but I don’t think whoever did this was trying to kill you. The doctor said the symptoms were severe but not normally fatal. The problem seemed to be a reaction between the poison and your medication. Whoever did this couldn’t have known that you take anything, or at least not that your medicine would react with the mushrooms. The doctor asked me to find out the name of your prescription.”

“I vaguely remember him asking me, but I was pretty confused then and couldn’t remember. It’s Geodon. They tried dozens before, but nothing worked until this came along. I’m one of the lucky ones, because it not only keeps the problem in check, but I don’t suffer from any severe side effects. This reaction with poison mushrooms is something I certainly never expected. I should have told you ages ago in case of a relapse or some bizarre circumstances like these.”

“I’ll let the doctor know the name of the medicine. I don’t know if your medication lowers your blood pressure, but it dropped dangerously low. That’s what had the doctors worried.”

“I don’t know either, but the doctors will figure it out. I understand I have to be in here until tomorrow evening, even though I tried to talk them into letting me go sooner. You need to promise me you won’t do anything the least bit dangerous until I get back. One day isn’t going to make any difference. Whoever did this may have planned it to separate us for some reason. So promise me you’ll be careful and not spend time alone.”

The frowning nurse came back and warned me I needed to leave. Visiting hours were over and the patient needed rest.

I said, “Don’t worry about me. I promise I will take every precaution until you’re out of here. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon and will drive you to the house when they release you. Just get well!”

Outside the room, Detective Wilton was waiting for me.

About the Author

From living off the grid in the Arizona desert, Eileen has moved to the woods of upstate New York. She has authored a standalone adventure novel called Desert Shadow. She is also the author of Alicia Trent Series. The Black Cane : Dowager Diaries Book 1 is her latest release.

Title: Admit to Mayhem
Author: D.J. Adamson
Publisher: Horatio Press
Pages: 286
Genre: Mystery/Amateur Sleuth

Synopsis

With a contrary attitude and an addiction for independence, Lillian Dove admits she has not been a success in life. In fact, she considers failing as one of her addictions. Yet, when she comes across a suspicious house fire with a history of arson and murder, she instinctively attempts to help someone trapped. Lillian becomes the only possible eyewitness to criminal arson, and her life begins to spiral out of control.

Lillian Dove is an endearing “everywoman” struggling with life issues, emotional complexities and a habit of doing just the opposite of what she’s told to do. These qualities in a heroine give the reader an ability to vicariously struggle along with the protagonist in this intriguing Midwest Noir mystery.

Excerpt

My name is Lillian Dove. I am a recovering alcoholic, five years sober.

Five long years, yet the clink of ice in a glass still sets me on edge.

There is no graduation from alcoholism. Or life, for that matter. I am also addicted to Pepsi, chocolate, men, being afraid, being afraid of not being afraid, men—again–and my independence, co-dependence and unsettling ability to fail no matter my attempt. There are other compulsions and bad habits, but I can’t think of them right now. Memory loss, see? And I obsess on how much I forget, if I remember. Giving up alcohol turned out to be easier than changing some of my other behaviors.

Especially my bad judgment when it comes to men. The type of man I’m most attracted to is like a tall, Tom Collins on a sweltering, summer day: gin, a little lemon–but not too sour—with sweet syrup and bubbly soda. It’s hard to resist, even if I know it’s not good for me.

I’ve pledged a Tom-Collins-abstinence.

Yet, Chief Charles Kaefring began offering me his attention. I thought my sobriety realigned my sexual magnetism. I was attracting a different type.

He started coming to my desk to tell me he was leaving and instructed me to send all his calls to his assistant. At first I couldn’t figure out why he thought I needed this instruction. I already transferred his calls as a manner of routine. Then a week after making sure I was aware of his whereabouts, I bumped into him lakeside at Louise’s Italian Kitchen.

      Louise’s is my Friday night routine. I celebrate making it through another week. One spaghetti dinner at a time.

After that Friday night, I saw him at Louise’s every week. If he got there before me, I’d see him glancing toward the entry as if waiting for me to arrive. If I got there first, I’d pretend I never expected him to show up–which was the truth. Each and every time he arrived, I was flabbergasted.

I wasn’t sure what was starting up between the two of us or who started it. I mean, how could a man like him seriously be interested in me?

And even after weeks came and went, I still didn’t trust him. At each dinner he’d ask if I’d like wine with my meal. “Of course,” I’d say, letting my glass set without drinking it. If he worried the wine wasn’t good, I’d bring the glass to my lips, without sipping. I figured if he knew I had a drinking problem, he’d beat the hell out of there. Eventually though, he stopped asking if I wanted wine and only ordered one glass instead of two.

Still, he kept showing up.

I knew I was starting to slip into a situation that could toss my sobriety into the toilet, but meeting for dinner didn’t seem like backsliding into emotional drunkenness. Although, it never feels like slipping until you find yourself in a ragged heap of discontent.

Our routine altered when on a Sunday afternoon he telephoned giving me a weather report. He said the day was hot and getting hotter. He said he was putting a steak on the barbecue, and he just happened to have two. Are you hungry?

About the Author

D. J. Adamson is an award-winning author. Her family roots grow deep in the Midwest and it is here she sets much of her work. She juggles her time between her own desk and teaching writing to others at two Los Angeles area colleges. Along with her husband and two Welsh Terriers, she makes her home in Southern California.

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Title: Solo
Author: Kevin V. Symmons
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Pages: 353
Genre: Contemporary Women’s Fiction
Format: Paperback/Kindle

Synopsis

Jessica Long has the voice of an angel. But Jesse’s cold beauty masks a brutal past filled with privation and cruelty. As the talented soprano approaches her final year at New England Conservatory, she is faced with a choice: stay with her striking young lover or accept the offer of a successful Broadway producer. She chooses the latter only to discover that fame can exact a cruel price. After years of yearning, the lovers meet again – at Jesse’s ragged homestead on the Maine Coast.

Matt will reveal the benefactor who’s followed and protected Jesse as the lovers face a confrontation with the jealous pursuer who’s tried to destroy her. One final choice awaits that may cost Jesse both Matt and her life. The Broadway impresario, a mysterious crime lord, and Matt’s stunning literary agent head a cast of absorbing secondary characters. Filled with unexpected plot twists, Solo is a classic, leading the reader over a bittersweet tapestry spanning fifteen years.

Excerpt

It was sweltering. Sunday afternoon. But Sundays had no special meaning for Jesse. Just another crowded space on her calendar. Moving deliberately through the moist air that hovered over Boylston Street, the heat rising from the sidewalk penetrated the worn souls of her loafers. Perspiration grew thick on her skin, darkening her thin cotton blouse.

A massive steel skeleton stood nearby. Having grown to a height of thirty stories, it guarded Copley Square’s busy expanse. Half-way up the I-beams that comprised its brick-red frame an electronic sign flashed ‘93 degrees.’

Many residents hid, sheltered inside, letting their fans or air conditioners battle the early heat-wave while they lolled away this June afternoon watching the Red Sox or movie reruns. The more adventurous, young or athletic populated the banks of the Charles River or sought the cool breezes of South Boston’s Carson Beach.

Jesse found the summer heat in Boston unwelcome and unexpected. She could never remember any semblance of a spring, just a cool damp season that one day surrendered as the unrelenting damp heat emerged like a chrysalis. Thanks to the onshore breeze from Casco Bay, it was never this hot in Portland. But Portland held more demons than she could exorcise in one lifetime. Jesse was glad to be rid of it.

She swallowed deeply, clenching her fists. This job could mean the difference between continuing her career or returning to the bleak life she’d left in Maine. Now that her mother and daughter Alexis had appeared, she had to find more work to support them while she finished her training at the Conservatory.

She studied the brightly decorated windows of the cafes and boutiques, ignoring the glances of the men she passed. Young couples, stylishly dressed in their lightweight summer clothes moved aside as she moved on her mission toward the address on the slip of paper Mario had given her.

Arriving at her destination, Jesse peered through the murky glass. She scanned the adjacent shops, hesitating. Whatever it was, Martel’s Coffee Shop and Bakery played counterpoint to Boylston Street’s more fashionable establishments.

Her dim reflection showed a tall, slender young woman who favored her father. Or so they’d told her. She’d worn her best cotton slacks and a dark blouse. Jeans or shorts would send the wrong message, and Jesse couldn’t afford a bad first impression. Her thick black hair hung loose, framing her face. She took a deep breath to help her relax. Checking her image in the dirty glass, she wiped the perspiration from her forehead and neck, drying her palms on her pants.

Taking another deep breath, she opened the door. Prayer was not on Jesse’s agenda, but it crossed her mind. She knew the city was flooded with pretty co-eds and single mothers willing to work for almost nothing. Mario’s influence might be worth something, but she was taking no chances. She wasn’t given to fits of superstition, but she closed her eyes tightly and crossed her fingers. Anything that might give her an edge was worth a try.

“Please, Mr. Martel,” she whispered, looking around self-consciously. “I need this job.”

The door’s glass was so grimy she couldn’t see inside. Could Mario have been wrong? Was this place really open for business?

Inside the air was cooler, but not much. If Martel’s was air conditioned, someone should apply for a refund. The inside was dark—too dark. She froze as she searched the shadows, trying to understand why anyone would use such a gloomy color. Her throat tightened. She squeezed the doorknob as she thought about leaving. A few fluorescents lit the front, but the rear was hidden in shadow.

“It was my mother,” said a man’s voice from the shadows. Despite the quiet, almost soothing quality of the voice, Jesse jumped.

About the Author

Kevin Symmons has a BS and an MBA. He has attended the prestigious New England Conservatory of Music and studied in France. After a successful career in business management and consulting, he returned to his first love: writing. His first novel, a spell-binding paranormal romance titled “Rite of Passage” is set in the chaotic period after World War II. It’s received dozens of great reviews and was a RomCon Reader’s Crown Finalist for 2013. His second effort is a contemporary romantic thriller set near his Cape Cod home, titled “Out of the Storm.” Like his first novel, it is an Amazon Best-Seller and received many 5-star reviews. “Solo“, an intense and ambitious women’s fiction work, has been released from The Wild Rose Press, his award-winning publisher. It explores the devastating effects of privation and domestic violence on the beautiful and extraordinarily talented young heroine.

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