Posted in excerpt, Short Story on January 31, 2024

 

 

Synopsis

 

In the early summer of 2022, an idea came to me. Why not write a collection of stories using holidays as a theme? I took out a calendar and selected the first ones that came to mind, coming up with thirteen. These became the focal point for the subsequent thirteen chapters in the book. I wanted to link the stories together so I devised a family and introduced them with the first story set on Valentine’s Day, 1954. I was off and running. The project took on a life of its own as the characters were fleshed out with each subsequent chapter, becoming more and more alive as the book progressed. I found out that for this family not all holidays were enjoyable, but thirteen of them were certainly memorable. I hope you enjoy reading about them.

 

 

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Excerpt

 

From Orange Juice the first story in the collection “Holiday Stories.”

Back then, Mom was what you would call a little sensitive to things. Seeing new babies or puppies or kittens made her tear up. Same with certain shows on television. Holidays, too.

She loved to get gifts, and it’s my belief that she knew Dad had planned on doing something special for her on that day, the day I spoiled so momentously when I’d heaved the orange juice at Eric. She just didn’t know what it was that he planned to do, and my behavior spoiled the surprise. In her mind, she saw a nice, mellow, trouble-filled day (mostly with my dad) and I’d ruined the mellowness part of it. Who knew? It was my first exposure to how complicated life really was.

But on the day of the orange juice incident, I had no idea about any of that stuff. All I knew is that I’d made Mom sad and I wanted to do something about it. So, I did.

After Eric and I got back from skating, I went to our bedroom and got out some color construction paper and sat at desk (on a pillow for my sore butt) and went to work. Eric didn’t even bother me. He must have known I was serious because I was. I made Mom a Valentines’ Day card. It was the first one I’d ever made, but once I knew it was Valentine’s Day, I remembered seeing pictures of them.

The card I made was on white paper that I folded in half. On the front I glued concentric construction paper hearts I’d cut out, starting with a big red one and then filling it in with smaller and smaller cut out hearts colored, green, yellow and blue. Inside I used a red crayon and printed, Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom! I love you!! I signed it with my name, Ben.

I gave it to her later that afternoon when Dad went to get Aunt Bea. In spite of my behavior, Mom and Dad were still going on their special outing, I guess out to eat at some hotel in Minneapolis.

“Here, Mom,” I said, handing her my card. I’d even found an envelope for it. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and smoking one of her ever-present Kools.

She set her cup down and looked at me. “What’s this?” she asked, surprised. She snubbed out her cigarette and took my card in her hands. She smiled when she realized what it was and held it carefully, like she was holding a valuable gemstone. She grinned. “Oh, Ben. Whatever have you done?”

“It’s for you, Mom,” I said. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Then I shuffled my feet, hung my head and added, “And I’m sorry about the orange juice.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she said. Her face broke into a huge smile, and she gave me a big hug. “Thank you so much.”

It made me happy to see her happy. Which was a valuable lesson I learned that day: It was good to make people happy. I didn’t always remember that as I got older, but I tired.

“Open it,” I said.

And she did. She read the words and she cried, but they were tears of joy this time. I sat with her while she read and re-read my little card.

I gave her a handmade card every year after that. Even last year. And you know what? It always makes her happy. I know because she always cries. Tears of joy.

Sometimes I do too.

 

 

About the Author

 

Jim’s stories and poems have appeared in nearly five hundred online and print publications. His collection of short stories, Resilience, is published by Bridge House Publishing. Short Stuff, a collection of flash fiction and drabbles is published by Chapeltown Books. Periodic Stories, Periodic Stories Volume Two, Periodic Stories Volume Three – A Novel, and Periodic Stories Volume Four are published by Impspired. Dreamers, a collection of short stories, is published by Clarendon House Publishing. Something Better, a dystopian adventure novella, and the novel, The Alien of Orchard Lake, are published by Dark Myth Publications. In the fall of 2022, his collection entitled Holiday Stories was published by Impspired as was his collection of poetry, Haiku Seasons. In February 2023, Periodic Stories Volume IV was published, as was his collection of poems, The Alchemy of Then, both by Impspired. In June 2023, a collection of flash fiction, Dancing With Butterflies, was published by Impspired.In July 2023, his YA novella The Battle of Marvel Wood was published by Impspired. His short story “Aliens” was nominated by The Zodiac Press for the 2020 Pushcart Prize. His story “The Maple Leaf” was voted 2021 Story of the Year for Spillwords. He was voted December 2022 Author of the Month for Spillwords. He also reads his stories for Talking Stories Radio and for Jim’s Storytime on his website. He lives in a small town west of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

 

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Posted in fiction, romance, Spotlight on January 30, 2024

 

 

Synopsis

 

Two societies collide: the trendy, upscale, ultra-hip universe of Atlanta and the alluring, bound-by-tradition world of old India! Pressured by her challenging mother, Harlow Kennedy, an aspiring jewelry maker, agrees to marry politically ambitious pretty-boy Addison Whitmore. The match will elevate Harlow’s non-existent social standing and guarantee financial security for life. The wedding is scheduled to take place as soon as Harlow returns from her BFF’s wedding in India. On the other side of the world, the parents of Tej Mayur, the “it” chef of Atlanta’s hottest new Indian restaurant, are fretting about their son’s unmarried status. They summon him home. When Harlow meets Tej on a flight from Atlanta to Delhi, sparks fly. Unfortunately, Tej’s nuptials are already being arranged by his privileged East Indian family, and Harlow is not Indian. After touching down at Indira Gandhi International, they flee one another’s company–or so they think.

*Expanded edition now available, which includes recipes, discussion questions, acknowledgments, and author’s note.

 

 

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Praise

 

“Hudson-Maggio’s crisp, engaging prose and quick-paced storytelling will please readers of lively, travel-minded international fiction. Extreme poverty, enormous wealth, Ayurvedic spas, extravagant weddings, unyielding tradition, fantastic Indian cuisine, snake charmer-all the boxes for depicting India as an exotic backdrop for romantic adventure get checked.” –Publisher’s Weekly

“Readers will find this to be a gratifying and heartwarming story featuring two characters that they will be likely to find endearing despite their flaws. Each chapter alternates between the two main players’ perspectives as they grapple with their futures; this format results in a delightful and easygoing read that some will find to be reminiscent of Indian romance films.” –Kirkus Reviews

“Love Hudson-Maggio has written a fun, hip, and poignant debut novel. KARMA UNDER FIRE is a gem – you’ll fall in love with Harlow and Tej in a hot Atlanta minute!” –Addison Fox, author of Always Her Cowboy

“I was really interested in the premise of this book. The concept of an interracial love story where both parties are POC is unique, which I appreciate. I loved the characters and enjoyed seeing the layers and depth that they had. Overall a sweet heartwarming story!” –Alexa Esperanza, NetGalley Reviewer

“A fun, easy-to-read romance! [Hudson-Maggio] included awesome footnotes for some of the phrases and items I wasn’t aware of, making it easy to understand. The whole arranged marriage with the matchmakers was new to me and fun to learn about. The characters are cleverly crafted, funny, determined, and I really enjoyed the story.” –Janelle Will, NetGalley Reviewer

 

 

About the Author

 

Love Hudson-Maggio is CEO and Founder of a marketing technology firm with offices in Atlanta, GA and Manhattan, NY.  She writes southern women’s fiction with a travel flair about smart people with a lot to learn about life and love.  Love’s passion for travel shows up in her books as her characters find themselves transported between the southern sweetness of Atlanta, GA to other international picturesque locations like India. Love lives in Atlanta, GA with her husband, two sons and their dog.  Love was admitted as a screenwriting fellow at Columbia University for her short play As the Vow Breaks. Upon completion of her screenwriting fellowship her play Eating for Two was performed at a small theater in New York’s Lower East Side as a part of a female ensemble.  Love believes that the love you give away will find its way back to you.  Her books reflect this truth.

 

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Posted in Action, Adventure, excerpt, Giveaway, Historical, Review, romance on January 29, 2024

 

 

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

When Defending the Homeland Means Defending Your Heart.

Siberia 1581. When Umey, a young outcast woman, stumbles on a ravaged village, she uncovers a plot that threatens to devastate her beloved homeland. It’s furs—soft gold—the invading Cossacks crave, and the greediest of them is Yermak, the man who saved her life and raised her.

Armed with fearsome muskets, the Cossacks plunge deeper into the Siberian forest, crushing the tribal folk who stand in their way. Although prejudices are arrayed against her, Umey emerges as a tribal leader, albeit a reluctant one. She and Alexey, a Russian soldier who has seen too much war, are soon caught in an unfolding crucible of destruction where their courage and incipient love will be tested in a final collision with Yermak and his horde.

 

 

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Praise

 

“I was immediately drawn in by the atmospheric and descriptive effort that Czech put into his writing to bring the wilds of Siberia to life. I was fascinated by the customs and tribal people as well as the beauty of nature … Umey’s gentle but unwavering courage makes her a protagonist whom you grow to feel deeply for during the adventure. Overall, Kiss of Frost and Flame is a work that fans of historical adventures and cross-cultural writing are sure to enjoy as much as I did.”-K. C. Finn, author of Caecilius Rex and The Book of Shade 

 

 

Excerpt

 

The first metallic rays of the rising sun peeking above the hilltops caused Umey to stir, but it was the low, husky warble of a snow bunting that woke her. Perched on a bare branch a few feet away, the little white and black bird tilted its head as if to say, you do not belong here. When she stretched, it flew away.

Outside of her cedar tree shelter, the sun glinted from a dazzling layer of hoarfrost that coated the bare boughs of birch and poplar with a delicate skin of purest white. Thick, snowy shawls mantled the scattered pines and cedars. Against the azure sky, the awakening world resembled a crystal palace like the kind found in the tales of ice castles and princesses that Mama had once told her.

Umey studied her surroundings. White-clad peaks loomed to the north, while snow-covered ridges and valleys lay to the west. If she followed the ridges and valleys, she was certain she would eventually reach the flatlands where reindeer roamed. With luck, she might even stumble across a trail left by the herders. Luck! That was her Russian half thinking of such. Samoyeds did not believe in luck. They believed in skill and patience.

A horse neighed from far behind her, the sound carrying in the still air. Umey shaded her eyes and scanned the horizon. A single horse appeared, tiny in the distance. From the animal’s movements, its rider seemed to be following the path left by her skis. They would lead him to where she had bedded for the night, and after that he would find more telltale tracks.

Mother Forest! It had to be one of the Cossacks. What if Bugatov or Ivan Koltso tracked her? Whoever it was, he must have left the Cossack camp while she slept and made up ground on her.

Umey maneuvered along the next ridge. Using her ski pole as a sort of rudder, she glided downhill. The bottom of the ridge formed into a ravine. She glanced at the next slope. Too steep to climb. Better to stay down here.

Cattails poked out of the snow on the ravine’s floor. Animal tracks led in and out of the cover provided by the long stems. Water trickled at the base of the ‘tails and splashed over her boots. The ravine appeared to be the bed of a half-frozen stream.

The height of the ravine’s walls began to diminish. She took her eyes off its floor for a moment to look behind her and missed the thick, broken tree branch poking through the snow. Her ski hooked the branch, and with a loud cracking sound sent her sprawling. The contact with the frozen ground drove the wind from her. Pain knifed her chest and she clawed at the snow in agony until her breathing returned. She kicked out of the bindings and discovered her left ski had snapped near its tip. Muttering a Samoyed curse, she tossed the useless slats aside.

The horse neighed again, now much closer. She had laid in the snow for too long. Escape from the horseman would have to be on foot.

“Umey! I am coming for you!” the rider called, his words echoing among the hills.

Bugatov! That grating voice belonged to Stefan Bugatov!

Umey began to run. The wet snow dragged at her boots and slush speckled her trousers. The ravine’s floor widened and opened to a vast, flat, white expanse that glistened under the sun. She skidded to a stop. An ice-covered lake stretched into the distance. Patches of wind-driven snow laced its surface.

“Mother Forest, protect me,” she murmured as she dashed onto the lake, her arms twirling for a moment to keep her balance. Under her, the lake’s glazed surface groaned. The ice she slid over appeared grayish-white, not the stronger clear layer needed to support much weight. Bubbles, looking like boiled eggs, hung suspended inches below the surface. She knew what it meant. The combination of water from the stream flowing under the ice, the warm caress of wind, and the bold eye of the sun had weakened the lake’s coating in this area. Gray ice, soft and deadly.

From behind her, the crunch of the horse’s hooves as it broke through the crusted top layer of snow at the lake’s edge sent her heart skipping.

The wind carried Bugatov’s raucous shout of triumph. “Umey! Stop, or I will shoot you.”

She spun about to face him, her hands clenched. In his heavy bearskin coat, he appeared more beast than man. Frost rimed his beard and snot had frozen in his mustache. He clutched a pistol in one fist and held the leash in the other. Foam flecked his horse’s jaws and neck; a loop of saliva hung from its mouth. Gouts of white air blew from its nostrils and its whicker more a whimper of pain. Bugatov had ridden it hard to catch her. She doubted the poor horse was strong enough to carry him back to Koltso.

“Go ahead and shoot me,” she cried. “Then you can explain to the tsar what happened.”

 

 

Guest Review by Nora

 

A masterpiece of fiction from author Ken Czech! ‘Kiss of Frost and Flame,’ is a novel of pure genius from an author who always writes such wonderful books. Czech has a talent for atmosphere and setting that is unparalleled! I noted this when reading his last book, ‘The Tsar’s Locket,’ and time has only improved his craft.

‘Kiss of Frost and Flame,’ takes place in Western Siberia, in the year 1581.

Living on her own in the forest, Umey’s only thoughts are of survival and hunting. Though this is not always how she has lived, she finds the freedom edifying, and prefers to make her own rules and live in her own way. However, it is into this relatively peaceful life that chaos comes knocking.

Umey accidentally stumbles across a village that has been burned down, it’s people slaughtered.  Almost as soon as she discovers the village, she is attacked by what she thinks are Tatar warriors. Barely managing to escape, she is hit by a musket ball and almost dies before being taken in by a nearby village of Voguls.

As the Voguls care for her and nurse her back to full health, Umey believes that she owes them a debt of gratitude. She agrees to find out everything that she can about the attack on the village. In doing so, she travels to a nearby Russian army outpost, where she meets the man that will change her life forever.

Although he is not really guilty, Alexey Danilov was tried—and nearly executed—for treason against the Tsar. After being saved at the last second and sent to fight in the wilderness, Alexey knows that he must follow the rules if he is ever to earn back his rank of Lieutenant.

But falling in love with Umey is not in his game plan. Of course, things don’t always go as planned.

This story is not just a romance, but an action-filled historical novel that will keep any reader guessing from start to finish!

 

 

About the Author

 

Ken Czech is a retired history professor whose passion has turned to writing fiction.

His previous novels include BEYOND THE RIVER OF SHAME (All Things That Matter Press, 2017); LAST DANCE IN KABUL (Fireship Press, 2018); and THE TSAR’S LOCKET (Fireship Press, 2020). As a member of the Historical Novels Society, he has attended HNS conferences and workshops.

 

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Giveaway

 

This giveaway is for 2 print or ebook copies; print is open to the U.S. only. The ebook is open worldwide.

This giveaway ends on Feb 8, 2024, at midnight pacific time.

Entries are accepted via Rafflecopter only.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

 

Posted in 4 paws, humor, Thriller, women on January 28, 2024

 

 

Synopsis

 

Gina Marie Cototi is a feisty Sicilian sparkplug, a Brooklyn-based PI with a fondness for family, friends, and one roguishly handsome Casanova named Rocco Benelli. Hey, nobody’s perfect.

This headstrong sleuth drives a split-window ’63 Corvette coupe and never, I mean never, misses Sunday dinner with Ma, Dad, and her sister Theresa.

Broke, brooding, and breathtaking, Benelli, an out-of-work parole officer is cursed with more charm than any man deserves. Deep down, Gina knows she shouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole, but she’s got more cases than she can handle, and Benelli’s ready, willing, and able-bodied, the perfect partner to help her get the goods on Vlad “The Scud” Rzhevsky, a disreputable boxer running point on dirty deeds for Luca Mura, a mobster as evil as he is dangerous.

Gina must somehow close the case without losing her life to Mura or her virtue to Benelli, but a moth working alongside a flame is always in danger of catching fire.

For fans of Janet Evanovich. Think of Man-Killer as Stephanie Plum meets Moonstruck.

 

 

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Review

 

This book was quite a surprise. It was action-packed, funny, and had some over-the-top characters. I might admit that I read this book with a New York accent in my head. I think that made it more authentic.

I really liked Gina’s character. She is smart, modest, and tries to stay above the law, especially since her father is a retired police detective. Rocco was (and still is) a lady’s man with many conquests to his name. I think he has something for Gina, but she isn’t giving in to him despite wanting him. These two pair up to help her clear some of the insurance fraud investigations she has on her plate. Rocco is out of work and agrees to give her a hand for a hefty fee…in advance. Despite the plan to work on different cases, they cross paths when the family classic Corvette is stolen from the front yard. This event sends the pair down some shady and questionable paths.

I haven’t even mentioned Gina’s sister, Theresa. She is an over-the-top character. She is probably my least favorite character because I couldn’t relate to her at all, and she lacked some redeeming qualities other than being a devoted older sister. She is a good woman, just a bit too much for my tastes. But despite that, she isn’t afraid to jump in and help Gina out whenever possible.

I am unsure if this will be a series, but I think it should be. There are so many possibilities for Gina, Rocco, and the rest of the gang.

Overall, I give this 4 paws up.

 

 

 

 

Excerpt

 

Sitting at the café table with my back to the door I could feel my excitement building. Rocco’s scent sailed in on a breeze as he walked through the door, the unmistakable fragrance of his aftershave, his shampoo, and his musk, a perfect storm of sensory eroticism as evocative as hickory burning in the fireplace on a bitter and snowy night. He was well behind me and out of sight but I was sure it was him. The back of my neck tingled with the dance of a thousand rising hairs as his image took shape in my mind. I could picture his swagger as he came toward me—the slapping of his leather boots on the café’s oak floor, the rising and settling of his broad chest. Heart thumping, I reached for my coffee and knocked over the paper cup. A pool of rich brown awkwardness spread across the table before me. I caught my reflection in the liquid and thought, klutz!

I jumped out of my chair and right into his brawny arms. Somehow, I managed to suppress one hell of a telltale gasp, an I’m-swept-away gasp.

“Hey, Gina Marie, are you all right?” he asked in his throaty baritone, a voice that made me vibrate like a pitchfork all the way down to the tips of my toes.

His breath carried the mystery of every woman he’d ever been with, titillating and taunting me. “Hey, biyatch, we kissed Rocco,” they trilled, “mouth-to-mouth, tongue-to-tongue. Suck it!”

I couldn’t think of a thing to say to him while I stood there, dumbstruck, gawking at the iron of his stubble-clad chin and the fathomless depth of his brown eyes that matched the hue of his wavy ringlets. Time stood still while I was in his arms. I felt safe and protected. I kid you not, the man’s embrace was as enveloping as a fucking womb.

Hey, Gina Marie Cototi, snap out of itGet your head out of your ass. Slamming my open palm into the center of his chest, I shoved him away. “Getting a little handsy this morning, Rocco?”

Palms out, he backed away. “Whoa, easy, Gina. I was just trying to help.”

I felt my armor shoring up, the interlocking of a trillion nanobots erecting an impenetrable shield around me. “Yeah, right—you mean helping yourself to an early morning grope is more like it.” Meanwhile, coffee was dripping off the edge of the table, running down my leg, and puddling at the bottom of my left boot. The sticky liquid squished between my toes. Yuck.

 

 

About the Author

 

Lawrence Kelter hails from New York but now calls North Carolina his home. He is the bestselling author of more than twenty-five mystery and thriller novels including the Stephanie Chalice Mystery Series that has topped bestseller lists in the US, UK, and Australia. In 2017 he penned BACK TO BROOKLYN, the studio-authorized sequel to the cult comedy classic “My Cousin Vinny.”

Early in his writing career, he received direction from literary icon, Nelson DeMille, who edited portions of his early work. Well before he said, “Lawrence Kelter is an exciting new novelist, who reminds me of an early Robert Ludlum,” he said, “Kid, your work needs editing, but that’s a hell of a lot better than not having talent. Keep it up!”

His novels are quickly paced and crammed full of twists, turns, and laughs.

 

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Posted in Biography, Book Release, excerpt, Historical on January 27, 2024

 

 

Synopsis

 

Set in the author’s homeland, Colombia, this is the heartbreaking story of Leonor, former child soldier of the FARC, a rural guerrilla group.

Paula Delgado-Kling followed Leonor for nineteen years, from shortly after she was an active member of the FARC forced into sexual slavery by a commander thirty-four years her senior, through her rehabilitation and struggle with alcohol and drug addiction, to more recent days as the mother of two girls.

Leonor’s physical beauty, together with resourcefulness and imagination in the face of horrendous circumstances, helped her carve a space for herself in a male-dominated world. She never stopped believing that she was a woman of worth and importance. It took her many years of therapy to accept that she was also a victim.

Throughout the story of Leonor, Delgado-Kling interweaves the experiences of her own family, involved with Colombian politics since the 19th century and deeply afflicted, too, by the decades of violence there.

 

 

Amazon

 

 

Excerpt

 

From Chapter 8

 

After Mercedes whipped her, Leonor lost track of the number of nights that she slept on the street. Having learnt the lesson from her father’s behavior, Leonor dressed like a boy, and she believed it was insurance against men touching her. But by her dainty hands and her walk, and by her small waist (and perhaps she already possessed that habit of hers, of coquettishly swaying her shoulders), it was easy to tell—even by her voice—that here was a beautiful girl.

On the street, Leonor met Redhead. He was a boy her age—she called him “el pelirojo”—because he had paprika-like freckles sprinkled on his cheeks and hair like the head of a matchstick. To know that Redhead—though lanky and feeble—kept a piece of a broken bottle within his grasp consoled Leonor. She was sure he would protect her, and so she followed his lead, and they squatted inside deserted buildings. With him securing the space, she was able to give in to slumber for a few hours.

Some days, Leonor and Redhead sold slices of watermelon at streetlights. They were employed by an old woman who had approached them. But Leonor was often starved, and she devoured the watermelon, its juices jetting down her chin and arms. The woman slapped Leonor when she came back without money, and so Leonor went car-to-car begging drivers for pocket change. Most cars were scraps of tin, spewing dark smoke. Once or twice, a luxury car, overdone with tinted windows, shiny hubcaps and immense headlights, circled the neighborhood. As Leonor approached the cars, the drivers rolled up the windows. She stood by the car windows, and the drivers looked elsewhere or pretended to fiddle with the radio. She caught glimpses of her reflection on the cars’ side-view mirrors, and she was repulsed by her tattered clothes and soiled face.

Redhead was shrewd, and one day, he returned with plates loaded with mountains of rice and arepas. By word of mouth, he discovered they would be offered food if they showed up at FARC camps located in Mocoa’s jungle periphery. Feeling faint, aware she could not go another day without food, Leonor ventured into FARC camps to be fed. She accepted seconds of rice, beans, and lentils, and soon, she helped herself to them. She became a regular at the encampments, and she began thinking of FARC members as friends and allies, compassionate to her situation. A FARC nurse disinfected the wound on her leg, from her mother’s beating, and covered it with bandages after white pus oozed from it.

Some nights, Leonor lingered by the fire in the middle of camp while someone strummed a guitar and others sang. It was then she was able to sleep uninterrupted, without worrying whether Redhead and his broken glass were watching over her.

Members of the FARC intermingled in the daily life of her town and of the entire area, and many of them were people she knew. Some locals wore FARC fatigues, others didn’t—but nearly all of Mocoa’s residents were sympathetic to the group’s Communist roots. For Leonor and for many teens in Colombia’s southern communities, the FARC camps offered diversions. There was booze, and sometimes there was dancing, and there was also the thrill of being allowed to handle a gun. The camps were akin to a right of passage, a way to rebel against parents.

Mercedes kept the door of their home locked. When Leonor strolled by, Sergio rushed to the window and waved kisses at his sister.

 

 

About the Author

 

Paula Delgado-Kling holds degrees in comparative literature/French civilizations, international affairs, and creative writing from Brown University, Columbia University, and The New School, respectively. Leonor, for which she received two grants from the Canadian Council for the Arts, is her first book. Excerpts of this book have appeared in Narrative, The Literary Review, Pacifica Literary Review, and Happano.org in Japan. Her work for the Mexican monthly news magazine Gatopardo was nominated for the Simon Bolivar Award, Colombia’s top journalism prize, and anthologized in Las Mejores Crónicas de Gatopardo (Random House Mondadori, 2006). Born in Bogota, Colombia and raised in Toronto, Canada, Delgado-Kling now resides in New York City.

 

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Posted in 4 paws, excerpt, Review, romance, Science Fiction, Space Opera on January 26, 2024

 

 

Synopsis

 

Alien swarms.
Ceaseless wars.
Hive worlds, pirates and conflict without end.

For hundreds of years, the Conviction has kept these threats at bay. So why now are its forces suddenly disappearing?

Adroa is a bleak, backwater world on the edge of known civilisation, with every day a struggle to survive for Ellie and her two siblings. Yet when a heavily armed Conviction soldier falls from the sky and into her lap, she must face dangers even greater than the ravenous Rike swarms that threaten to consume her and her entire colony.

Something is stirring in the dark between galaxies as the greatest military power humanity has ever known empties its garrisons and leaves its worlds undefended. Can a simple melon farmer rebuild her shattered home in peace, or will Ellie and her family be dragged into a galactic conflict that could determine the future of the Conviction itself?

In this romantic, action-packed space opera of life and love, C.J. Watson weaves a captivating story of upheaval in a cold and uncaring universe – and the tenacity of those fighting to survive another day.

 

 

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Excerpt

 

Four: High Score

 

Ellie saw the captain was indeed out as they crested the top of the ramp to the spaceport’s main platform. It was next to impossible to miss him and his distinctly booming voice as it carried across the distance.

Ellie could see he’d already dealt with many of the larger farmers as large stacks of shipping containers were being loaded up the ship’s ramp by their respective mechs.

It was surprising, however, to see a number of the ship’s heavy loaders carrying many separate payloads out of the cargo hold. Giant construction haulers floated by above them with a throaty rumble. Of course, Ellie expected some offloading; it was the one delivery of the year that brought people whatever they may need from off-world. But as quadrupedal loaders stomped past the two of them and their little cart, Ellie could make out construction supplies, large metal and plasteel plates, as well as bags of instant cement stacked high atop one another. Even some large panels of framed glass moved past, reflecting the world in their mirrored finish.

Ellie tilted her head in curiosity. Almost all the buildings outside the area immediately surrounding the spaceport were earthen or wooden or else small, prefabricated dwellings like her own, a necessity of self-reliance on the tiny fringe colony. Metal for building material was used almost exclusively for swarm bunkers.

Not that it did the Sayers much good.

Ellie screwed her eyes shut, turning her head away from the procession and batting away the thoughts. Emotions welled deep down as she’d yet to fully process her grief over the loss of the Sayers and the multitude of emotions between which she’d been flung during her ordeal with Hunter.

But right now, Ellie couldn’t afford to let it affect her mood. She slammed the window shut on the emotional storm clouds gathering in the distance, simultaneously trying to harden her heart and soften her smile. Soon, she would have all the time she needed to process her emotions. But now was the critical moment that would determine what she would be able to feed Jonathan and Alayna for the next year.

Ellie nudged the cart and Jonathan along, pulling to one side and joining the short line of smaller farms shuffling forward bit by bit. Even at the back of the line, only a handful of people stood ahead of them.

“Are you okay with taking the cart the rest of the way?” Ellie turned to ask Jonathan softly.

Jonathan simply nodded, taking the full weight of the yoke so Ellie could slip under. Facing her back to the line ahead, Ellie tugged on the bottom of her skirt and straightened all the frills along its edges. She took care to pull up and position her bosom as well as she could, letting her natural curves accentuate the fullness of her chest and the graceful silhouette of her neck.

Reaching up, she quickly retied her ponytail, ensuring it looked fresh and making sure her fringe was swooping down just low enough to cover one eye perfectly.

“How do I look?” Ellie asked.

“You look… You look good,” Jonathan replied.

Ellie smiled at him, running her fingers through his hair one last time to straighten it neatly.

Ellie took position next to him, doing her best to stand easy and look casual. They shuffled along as the line progressed. Ellie did her best to discreetly listen to the deals the other farmers were cutting with the captain, specifically the prices they were negotiating for their goods so she’d have an idea of the window in which she had to manoeuvre. The captain held a monopoly over their prices as their primary link to space, excluding the occasional prospector or explorer. They were prices that could be decided on his whim and were affected by his mood. What they were able to negotiate the year before was no guarantee of what they’d get today.

But try as she might, their voices naturally dropped to an almost conspiratorial level when it came to actual negotiation. Ellie could make out the sounds, but not the words. The distance, noise of the heavy machinery and general bustle of the area proved too much for her ears to overcome.

“Captain, please. The colour is only due to nitrates in the soil. Trees can’t be rotated like other crops; the fruits more than make up for it in their extra size and juiciness from the rains!”

Ellie turned her head slightly, careful not to look over-interested in the scene playing out. The farmer ahead of her had raised his volume, a distinct note of desperation and pleading entering his voice.

A cold stone dropped in Ellie’s stomach. The farmer had just made a grave mistake, tipping his hand and letting his desperation show. No one liked a charity case except for the captain, and even then, only for all the wrong reasons.

“Ah, Mr Thomas, how many years have we been trading? I fully understand the difficulty of farming, and if it were up to me, I’d be paying you all twice the asking price currently on the market,” the captain replied, his words sympathetic, but his smile predatory. His tone indicated he knew that everyone else was aware of what he was doing. And yet he’d put on the theatrics anyway because there was nothing anyone could do about it.

“But the only ones I can sell it to are the colonies that don’t grow enough for themselves. Why, the cost of fuel alone to fly your produce all the way to Etheria, or even Newgate Station, let alone the cost of crew and maintenance… Imagine if I were to go to all of that expense, only for half the stock to rot on the shelves for not being ‘pink’ enough,” he said, holding up one of Mr Thomas’s Pink Lady apples that was almost entirely a pale yellow.

“Why, such a thing would ruin me. And then how would you or the rest of the colony feel when I have to close up shop and can’t make a run next year, or any other year, for that matter?”

“But…” Mr Thomas began, indignant but unsure of his footing.

“Now listen here. I can offer you twelve dols per tonne,” he continued as if Mr Thomas hadn’t said anything at all. “That seems more than fair; since each apple is, as you said, so much larger than last year’s, it should be much easier to hit that same weight with fewer fruits. Oh, and no need to thank me directly. Just keep it to yourself that I cut you such a good deal, yes?” he finished in that slimy, coy tone.

Ellie tried not to baulk, very aware she would already be in the captain’s peripheral vision. Twelve dols a tonne was nothing short of thinly veiled robbery.

Mr Thomas seethed, clearly backed into a corner.

“You’re a wretched bastard, Captain,” he said in earnest, holding out his hand.

The captain smiled.

“Why thank you. I take that as a compliment. Wouldn’t make it out here to buy up your slop if I wasn’t,” he said, nodding once.

Two blue circles appeared over the backs of their hands to confirm the transaction. The light had barely dissipated before Mr Thomas snatched his hand away and stormed off, a dark cloud hanging over his expression.

Grabbing his coat with both hands, the captain pulled down to straighten it before turning to acknowledge Ellie.

Captain Slackvore was a complete dichotomy of character. He wore a long, brown trench coat, tattered in places and well-weathered. Its creases ran deep, and its surface was cracked from years of use. Yet underneath, he wore vibrant, tailored pants and a complexly embroidered vest, the material a shimmering purple interlaced with intricate floral patterns, and its shades perpetually shifting from slightly lighter to slightly darker than the rest of the outfit. Equally ornate boots with black velvet trim worked together with a dark, wide-brimmed Stetson to vertically frame the odd man.

A slimy smile that always made Ellie feel as if she was on the wrong end of a bad deal she couldn’t understand hung below a pair of cunning, calculating eyes. His exact age was unclear. Older than Ellie for sure, but still far younger than one would expect of a man running a pirate crew. Then again, the man exuded a fierceness not difficult to pick up on.

“Melon girl!” he bellowed in welcome, a deep, booming voice scratched raw by the various questionable spirits Ellie knew the crew brewed, and occasionally sold.

“Captain Slackvore! It is so good to see you!” Ellie responded with a bright smile and a light, excited tone. Stepping forward, she threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed her entire body tightly against his, pretending the scene with Mr Thomas hadn’t just happened.”

 

 

Review

 

Sometimes, I like to try a genre or book that is a little out of my normal reading sphere. This novel is a cross between science fiction, fantasy, romance, and maybe even a little dystopian, and it was a delight to read.

Ellie is a tough young woman. She is only 21 but is taking care of her two siblings and trying to make it as a melon farmer on a planet that doesn’t have a lot going for it. One of her siblings, Alyana, is a bit of a hothead. So, the nickname she is tagged with from Jake (more on him in a moment) is more than appropriate. He calls her Spitfire. Jake is a savior, but does he have an ulterior motive? He has combat skills and is able to help Ellie and her family in some difficult situations. I like how he was raised to be kind and see the goodness in people. It does seem to contradict his career path, which is never fully defined, and we are left to guess what he did before coming to this planet.

I was taken away to a world that has little hope for anyone. The inhabitants are attacked by something called a Rike. We are never really told what a Rike is or why it attacks the people of the planet. The best description is some sort of beast that bleeds purple. We do know that everyone does what they can to protect themselves from this creature, including adding turrets to their homes to fight them off.

I admired Ellie for doing what she needed to do for her family to survive. It isn’t easy accepting Jake’s help, and she is suspicious about his true intentions. I can’t blame her; why should she trust him? But I think she is going to be surprised at how easily he will fit into her life if she will allow him to.

The author does a good job of building this world and bringing it to life, from the dark and gritty characters to those with compassion. While there are many unanswered questions, this is the first book in a series, and I have a feeling all of those will be answered soon.

There is an epilogue that gives a hint as to what Jake might be running from in his life. Only future books will tell.

We give this book a solid 4 paws up.

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Christopher is an Author, Cosplayer, ravenous reader, and all-around avid imaginer.
Writing stories since he was five, he decided sometime around 2018 that he should actually kick them out of his mind and into the world before they completely take up his rapidly diminishing head space. Having grown up on hard SciFi stories and grand space operatics, he hopes to pay homage to the great authors who influenced his developing years and, in turn, write stories that will inspire the next generation of bright young thinkers.

When he’s not running various I.T. departments for his day job, he can be found spoiling both his partner and their many, many cats somewhere around the desolate hellscape of Sydney, Australia.

 

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Comments Off on Review & Excerpt – Beyond Conviction by C.J. Watson
Posted in excerpt, Poetry on January 25, 2024

 

 

Synopsis

 

Nature speaks to us in many ways. In this collection of haiku written over the course of one year, Jim Bates has chosen the 5-7-5 syllable format to share his feelings for the natural world. He hopes you enjoy them.

After the snowstorm

Winter’s soft gentle beauty

Snow on evergreens.

 

 

Amazon

 

 

Praise

 

“Award winning author Jim Bates writes entire stories inside the parameters of a Haiku. Each word invokes imagery so impactful that one forgets it is wrapped in such few words. From the simplicity of a haiku comes boundless emotion and each one is to be savored.” – Acclaimed writer Sharon Frame Gay is the author of “Song of the Highway” and “Nomad Diner.”

“Jim Bates brings a clear view of nature in his tiny gems–a beautiful collection of the Haiku art form.” – Shelia Henry is an accomplished poet whose work appears in many anthologies and online publications.

Jim packs beautiful imagery into Haiku and within them manages to deliver to us deep insightful stories. This is a book you will want to read over and over. Charming! – Ger White is an Irish poet and storyteller. “Newspapers on the Floor” is her first collection of poems.

Jim Bates’ new book “Haiku Seasons” is filled with beautiful shortform poems that are meditative in their quality. Each poem evokes a visual image of seasonal wonder. It is a perfect book to relax you at the end of a long day. – Ann Christine Tabaka, is a poet & author whose most recent collection of poems is “Learning To Climb the Mountain.”

 

 

Excerpt

 

Haiku Seasons is a wonderful compilation of heartfelt, thoughtful, and soulful haiku.

 

Soft snowflakes drifting

Brushing eyelids so gently

Like a lover’s touch.

 

The book is divided into four seasons, and the haiku within each season reflects images, with words evoking snowflakes, bluebirds in the spring, geese winging south in the autumn, or childhood memories of a summer cabin.

 

By the forest path

Babbling woodland stream flowing

Music to dream by.

 

Some are joyful. Some are whimsical, while others reflect the quiet hours of a winter’s day before a soothing fire.

 

Northwest wind blowing

Cold gray winter day chills deep

Fireplace burns so warm.

 

Each haiku reflects the deep and sensitive soul of award-winning author Jim Bates, who delivers these special poems with a fine hand and a depth of spirit. I highly recommend this book.

 

Hot day on a dock

Feet dangling in cool water

Sunfish nibbling toes.

 

 

About the Author

 

Jim’s stories and poems have appeared in nearly five hundred online and print publications. His collection of short stories, Resilience, is published by Bridge House Publishing. Short Stuff, a collection of flash fiction and drabbles is published by Chapeltown Books. Periodic Stories, Periodic Stories Volume Two, Periodic Stories Volume Three – A Novel, and Periodic Stories Volume Four are published by Impspired. Dreamers, a collection of short stories, is published by Clarendon House Publishing. Something Better, a dystopian adventure novella, and the novel, The Alien of Orchard Lake, are published by Dark Myth Publications. In the fall of 2022, his collection entitled Holiday Stories was published by Impspired as was his collection of poetry, Haiku Seasons. In February 2023, Periodic Stories Volume IV was published, as was his collection of poems, The Alchemy of Then, both by Impspired. In June 2023, a collection of flash fiction, Dancing With Butterflies, was published by Impspired.In July 2023, his YA novella The Battle of Marvel Wood was published by Impspired. His short story “Aliens” was nominated by The Zodiac Press for the 2020 Pushcart Prize. His story “The Maple Leaf” was voted 2021 Story of the Year for Spillwords. He was voted December 2022 Author of the Month for Spillwords. He also reads his stories for Talking Stories Radio and for Jim’s Storytime on his website. He lives in a small town west of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

 

Website

 

Posted in Cozy, Giveaway, Guest Post, mystery on January 24, 2024

 

 

 

 

Twinkle Twinkle Au Revoir: A Mermaid Bay Christmas Shoppe Mystery
Cozy Mystery
2nd in Series
Setting – Virginia
Level Best Books (January 16, 2024)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 252 pages

 

Synopsis

 

Love is in the air when Hollywood arrives in Mermaid Bay, and the town may never be the same.

Fans will do almost anything to get a glimpse of the actors or a chance to be an extra in the Love Channel’s “My Coastal Valentine.” Crowds flock to the cozy beach town from all over and business is booming for Christmas shop owner, Jade Hicks until the body of a testy reporter is found in one of the actors rooms. And if murder isn’t bad enough, someone tries to kill the show’s star, hunky Raphael Allard.

The cozy little beach town feels cursed, as the Love Channel threatens to pull out of the project. Jade and the gang, Lorelei, Peppermint Patti, Bernie, Chloe, and Neville the Devil Cat, have to solve the crimes before it ruins the town’s reputation and breaks the hearts of fans across the country.

 

 

Amazon

 

 

Guest Post

 

What I Learned about the Writing Life from 1970s Cartoons

 

Heather Weidner, Author of the Mermaid Bay Christmas Shoppe Mysteries and the Jules Keene Glamping Mysteries

 

I’m first-generation Sesame Street and M-TV. I’m a Gen-Xer who watched way too much television in the 1970s and 80s, but all those hours in front of the magic box (with no cable or remote) taught me some things about mysteries and the writing life.

I have been a mystery fan since Scooby-Doo, Josie and the Pussycats, and The Funky Phantom. Saturday morning cartoons were part of every week’s ritual, along with the required bowl of overly sugared cereal. The sleuths in these shows were everyday kids (or a dog or a ghost). These cartoons showed me that you didn’t have to be an adult with a lot of training to solve a mystery and right wrongs. You could be heroic at any age. You just needed your wits and some creativity.

Use Your Assets – In most of these shows, the kids used what they had in the moment. Start with what’s already in your toolbox. You need to put in the time and energy to hone your skills and build your platform.

Everyone Needs Friends – Find Your Group – Scooby and Shaggy, Archie and Jughead, the Super Friends, Speed Buggy, and the Groovie Ghoulies – The writing journey is a long (often solitary one), you need friends, mentors, coaches, and cheerleaders. Find your crew and support each other. Make sure that you’re an active participant with the writing community. You don’t have to do everything, but you need to do something. Share ideas, experiences, and contacts. Provide feedback and guidance and make sure to support other writers.

People (or Dogs, Ghosts, Ghoulies) Are Willing to Help – The Writing Community is full of authors at different stages in their careers who are gracious with their time and advice. Find your writing allies and cherish them.

Often It’s Scary – How many scary monsters did the Mystery Inc. group battle in Scooby-Doo? (Hundreds!) Most of them turned out to be evil adults who were thwarted by a bunch of kids and Great Dane. There are some rough patches and scary stuff along the writing journey. Rejections, bad critiques, and nasty reviews aren’t pleasant. Learn what you can from them and keep going.

Be Flexible and Resourceful – Most of the characters on Saturday morning cartoons were amateurs, and not everything went according to plan (Wile E. Coyote, Hong Kong Phooey, The Hair Bear Bunch, Pebbles and Bam-Bam, …). You are going to run into all kinds of roadblocks and dead ends. Figure out ways to move forward and to advance your goals. Use your gifts. Be creative and find your way out of the spooky castle, the creepy swamp, or the eerie abandoned theme park.

 

Writing and publishing are a business. Your writing life is a rollercoaster of a journey, just like those cartoons from decades ago. It’ll be chock-full of thrills and anticipation, along with a few dips and hair-raising twists and turns. Arm yourself and hone your skills for the adventure.

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Through the years, Heather Weidner has been a cop’s kid, technical writer, editor, college professor, software tester, and IT manager. She writes the Pearly Girls Mysteries, the Delanie Fitzgerald Mysteries, The Jules Keene Glamping Mysteries, and The Mermaid Bay Christmas Shoppe Mysteries.

Her short stories appear in the Virginia is for Mysteries series, 50 Shades of Cabernet, Deadly Southern Charm, and Murder by the Glass, and she has non-fiction pieces in Promophobia and The Secret Ingredient: A Mystery Writers’ Cookbook.

She is a member of Sisters in Crime: National, Central Virginia, Chessie, Guppies, and Grand Canyon Writers, International Thriller Writers, and James River Writers, and she blogs regularly with the Writers Who Kill.

Originally from Virginia Beach, Heather has been a mystery fan since Scooby-Doo and Nancy Drew. She lives in Central Virginia with her husband and a pair of Jack Russell terriers.

 

Website & Blog * Twitter * Facebook * Instagram

 

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Giveaway

 

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Posted in 5 paws, excerpt, Giveaway, Historical, Literary, Review on January 23, 2024

 

 

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

If the fate of unrequited love survives fifty-one years, nine months, and four days in Gabriel García Márquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera, it leads the way for HER: The Flame Tree, a spare, remorseless love triptych that sweeps through the rich panorama of two generations of colonial and post-colonial Vietnam. The hopeless love of a young eunuch for a high-ranking concubine is one of this novel’s three stories that illuminate the oriental mystery of Vietnam, as epic as it is persevering,

Despite a rich trove of documentary films, Western readers know little of the spiritual face of Vietnam. Framed between 1915 and 1993, HER: The Flame Tree begins in Huế, the former imperial capital Vietnam. It is in the Purple Forbidden City, that Canh, the young eunuch, fulfills his vow to be near the girl of his dreams, a villager-turned imperial concubine.

The novel begins with an expatriate Vietnamese man living in the United States who journeys back to Vietnam to search for the adopted daughter of a centenarian eunuch of the Imperial Court of Huế to find out who she really is. His world takes on a new meaning after he becames a part of her life.

Phượng. Her name is the magnificent flame tree’s flowers that grace the ancient capital of Huế. Her father, mentor of Canh the young eunuch, was a hundred-year-old grand eunuch of the Imperial Court, who had adopted and raised her since she was a baby. Their peaceful world suddenly changed when one day, sometime in the early years of the Vietnam war, Jonathan Edward came into their lives. On his quest to search for his just deceased lover’s mysterious birth, there he met Phượng, an exquisite beauty.

Through the eye of her father, history is retold. Just before the fall of the French Indochina during the last dynasty of Vietnam, a young eunuch hopelessly fell in love with a high-ranking concubine. Once the eunuch had secured the concubine’s trust, it became a fatal attraction. The eunuch died. The concubine, still a virgin, lost her mind. Her father said she was possessed by the young eunuch’s spirit who had been madly in love with her.

HER: The Flame Tree does not have the flavor of historical fiction, plot-heavy and sexually graphic. Rather, it is atmospheric and impressionistic, in the style of Snow Falling on Cedars. The magnificent poinciana flowers, which grace the ancient capital of Huế, symbolize farewell in Vietnamese adolescent romance. Its symbolic image befits Phượng for her magnanimous nature and grace, and the scarlet blossoming flowers when Jonathan Edward bids Phượng farewell is beauty without sadness—Wait and Hope.

 

 

 

Amazon * Barnes&Noble * Bookshop

 

 

Praise

 

“In this almost folkloric saga of a royal eunuch, his adopted daughter and the tragedies and triumphs of love in their lives from the days of the emperor’s court to the war with America, Khanh Ha takes us deeply into the heart of traditional Vietnam in a tale told in such lushly poetic, descriptive language that it immerses the reader deeply and sensually into the gorgeousness of the land, the texture and taste of food, and the complex humanity of the characters. Her: The Flame Tree is an intricately woven, seductively fascinating story of family, sacrifice, loyalty and redeeming love in the face of heart-breaking loss that breathtakingly weaves the lives of individuals we come to know and care about into the saga of Vietnamese—and American—history.” —Wayne Karlin, author of Memorial Days

“Ha evokes a visceral image of Vietnam . . .  A vivid study of a country’s fraught history and how its people struggled to make sense of it.” —Kirkus Reviews

Her: The Flame Tree is a beautiful novel, rich with evocations of natural setting in coastal Vietnam; remembered action going back more than a hundred years; and characters both extraordinary and poignantly ordinary, developed by layer upon layer of stories.”—Elizabeth Harris, judge and author of Mayhem: Three Lives of a Woman

“Early in Khanh Ha’s latest novel Her: The Flame Tree, the author describes a book made of delicate leaves of gold. Such a volume would be ideal to record this shimmering and often tender tale of love, loss, and memory.” —Steve Evans, author of The Marriage of True Minds

 

 

Excerpt

 

Miss Phượng met the last concubine of Emperor Tự-Ðức when the woman was very old, in the final year of her long life. When the emperor died in 1883, she was only fifteen. She told Miss Phượng she was one hundred and twenty-three now. Small, birdlike, white hair parted in the middle, braided in two small plaits on the sides of her head.

She took Miss Phượng by the hand and led her into the cottage, which sat behind a bamboo hedge in the back of the mausoleum. She served tea from a tiny blue-flowered pot the size of her hand. The nougats she offered were made of egg whites and brown sugar and chopped nuts. Brittle, they melted quickly in the mouth.

“I used to make them for the emperor,” she told Miss Phượng. “A long time ago.” Then regarding Miss Phượng, she nodded, “See the banyan out there?”

It dwarfed the cottage with its shade, like an immense pavilion. Miss Phượng traced its tortuous roots to the steps of the concubine’s home.

“It was a little tree when I came,” the old woman muttered.

“Yes,” Miss Phượng said, “trees outlive us. My father had a magnolia planted outside the Trinh Minh Palace during his service as the grand eunuch for the imperial family. He would be three years older than you, Madam, if he still lived.”

In the deceased emperor’s personal room the old concubine sat down on the carved rosewood bed. Hunched between the parted panels of the yellow mosquito net, she sat amidst her husband’s belongings—the bed, its embroidered mat, the porcelain pillow, the tea, the rice liquor, the areca-nuts and betel leaves and a tiny pot of lime. They were here for him when he returned in spirit.

For one hundred and eight years she replenished them every morning so that when he arrived nothing was missing, nothing was stale. He could read his favorite books. He could write, as was his passion, in his annals, each page of which was a thin leaf of gold. He would find again his gold swords, jade shrubs, his chess men in green and white jade, chopsticks made of kim-giao white wood that turned black against any sort of poison. They were arranged there under glass.

Miss Phượng took the old woman’s hand and led her out of her haunt, passing candle-lit nooks and corners and the eternally mildewed air of the sunless chambers.

 

©Khanh Ha

 

 

Guest Review by Nora

 

A spellbinding novel from one of the greatest authors of our time– ‘Her: The Flame Tree,’ by Khanh Ha, is a one-of-a-kind story that allows the reader to travel deep into the heart of Vietnamese history.

Minh is a Vietnamese man now living in America who returns to his home country to seek out one very special woman and learn her story. Phuong is the adopted daughter of a former court eunuch who spent much of her life caring for her elderly father. Of both Vietnamese and French descent, Phuong knows nothing of her birth parents and has only ever known the love of her adopted father, Canh. But Canh has a storied history as well, and the novel unveils these three different timelines as it goes along.

From the halls of the palace of the Imperial Emperor to the packed streets of the marketplace, ‘Her: he Flame Tree’ takes you on a journey that you won’t soon forget.

I’m a huge fan of Khanh Ha’s writing and have enjoyed several of his books in the past, which is why I had a feeling I would enjoy this one. As an author, he has an undeniable way of crafting an atmosphere that makes the reader feel immersed in the story.

Between that creative blend of Vietnamese and American culture that Ha is so great at illustrating, and the strength and power of the characters, this book was a strong five star read for me!

I can’t imagine a better way to spend a winter evening than enjoying a book by this stellar author. This, being one of my first books of the year, was such a treat for both the heart and mind. I simply cannot wait to read whatever Ha comes out with next! I’m sure it will be extraordinary!

 

 

About the Author

 

Award winning author Khanh Ha is a nine-time Pushcart nominee, finalist for The Ohio State University Fiction Collection Prize, Mary McCarthy Prize, Many Voices Project, Prairie Schooner Book Prize, The University of New Orleans Press Lab Prize, Prize Americana, and The Santa Fe Writers Project. He is the recipient of the Sand Hills Prize for Best Fiction, The Robert Watson Literary Prize in Fiction, The Orison Anthology Award for Fiction, The James Knudsen Prize for Fiction, The C&R Press Fiction Prize, The EastOver Fiction Prize, The Blackwater Press Fiction Prize, The Gival Press Novel Award, and The Red Hen Press Fiction Award.

 

 

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Giveaway

 

This giveaway is for 3 print or ebook copies and is open to the U.S. only.

This giveaway ends on Feb 22, 2024, at midnight pacific time.

Entries are accepted via Rafflecopter only.

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Posted in Cozy, Giveaway, Guest Post, Monday, mystery on January 22, 2024

 

 

 

 

 

A Bean to Die For (A Coffee Lover’s Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
4th in Series
Setting – Florida
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Crooked Lane Books (January 9, 2024)
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 288 pages

 

Synopsis

 

Perfect for fans of Cleo Coyle and Lucy Burdette, reporter-turned-barista Lana Lewis is back on the case when a body is dug up in the community garden.

Lana Lewis is brewing up new concoctions at Perkatory, a popular café in Devil’s Beach, when she decides she wants to try her hand at growing her own coffee. She secures a gardening plot in the community garden, thanks to her father and the garden’s owner, Darla. Darla’s list of rules is long, but that doesn’t stop someone from leaving Jack Daggett’s body amongst the gardening plots.

Jack, an environmental activist, had been banned from the garden previously, because of his many fights with Darla about organic produce. Lana promises her boyfriend, police chief Noah, that she’s going to stay out of this case, having been too involved in previous cases. But when she learns that Jack died from an accidental overdose, and Darla is the top suspect because of her shady past, Lana can’t help but poke around in an attempt to clear Darla’s name.

As Lana dives deeper into the case, she learns that Jack had more enemies than she realized. When Darla turns up dead, Lana has to turn up the heat on her investigation. With Lana on the case, it won’t be long before someone spills the beans to crack this case wide open. But will she able to find the killer before they strike again?

 

 

 

Amazon * Barnes & NobleKoboBookshop

 

 

Guest Post

 

In the future, those of us who lived through the dark times of the pandemic will measure those years in what we watched while we tried to mentally disconnect from the virus and the world.

Binging streaming TV series was a balm for our stressed souls.

We started with Tiger King, a docu-series about troublingly strange people who were obsessed with big cats. Some of us sampled the sexy-yet-mind-numbingly dumb 365 Days, if only because the main characters were beautiful and were having the sex we weren’t.

After that, we did a one-eighty and tried to redeem what brain cells we had left with Ted Lasso, or perhaps the Queen’s Gambit.

By 2021, we were ready for a touch of the real world. But not too much, because things were still dicey.

And that’s when we were given the best viewing gift of all: a cozy mystery series. There is nothing like a little gentle murder, one that’s low-stakes yet interesting, to capture our attention.

Only Murders in the Building, starring Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Selena Gomez — along with a rotating list of A-list stars — was released in August of 2021, just as Hot Girl Summer was withering into another dreary, lonely fall.

Readers of cozy mystery novels recognized the series for what it was right away. It had all the hallmarks of the genre: amateur sleuths, a tight knit, closed community, a non-gory homicide, no on-screen sex. The premise was simple: three incredibly different people who all love true crime podcasts come together to make a podcast of their own when a murder happens in their New York City building.

Viewers fell in love with the series, and so did critics; it won multiple Emmys and Golden Globes.

I have a theory that since the pandemic, people have discovered, or re-discovered, cozy mysteries. The genre is perfect for armchair travel.  And in a world that’s become scary and complex, the concept of seeking justice for one homicide turns sharp reality into a comfy, manageable — and most importantly, bingeable — escape.

I published my first cozy mystery, Grounds for Murder, in December of 2020, about nine months before OMITB came out. That show is on its third season, my publisher is about the release the fourth book in the Coffee Lover’s Mystery Series in January. The title is A BEAN TO DIE FOR, and it has all of the cozy tropes readers love: a quirky setting, found family, eccentric characters, humor — and gentle murder.

 

Here’s an excerpt from my book:

 

Dad continued talking about Jack’s crop, and I walked on. Sure enough, there were some tall vines snaking up wire trellises. The spicy, earthy scent of tomato plants hung in the humid, heavy air. Maybe I’d get some free tomatoes out of this situation. Was that unethical, to take the previous guy’s fruit?

It was March, which meant the Florida growing season was in full swing. Unlike up north, it’s impossible to cultivate anything in Florida in the summer. I still didn’t fully know what this meant for my small coffee plants sprouting in the makeshift greenhouse back at my place. Would they grow as well as these tomatoes? I sure hoped so.

I was about to round the corner and walk along the last, long row of my plot when I stopped. There was something unusual lying on the ground.

Feet.

“Uh, guys.” Black sandals and white socks came into view, with the toes pointing to the sky. I leaned forward, unsure if I should pro- ceed further. “Hello? Are you okay?”

Erica slammed into my back, probably because she was looking at her phone. “Hello! What? I’m fine!”

“Not you. Him. There’s something other than tomatoes here,” I said in a shaky voice, pointing in front of me.

There, sticking out between two tall plants bursting with fruit, were the sun-beaten, motionless legs of an elderly man.

 

 

About the Author

 

Tara Lush is a Florida-based author and journalist. She’s an RWA Rita finalist, an Amtrak writing fellow, and the winner of the George C. Polk Award for environmental journalism.

She was a reporter with The Associated Press in Florida, covering crime, alligators, natural disasters, and politics. She also writes contemporary romance set in tropical locations under the name Tamara Lush.

Tara is a fan of vintage pulp fiction book covers, Sinatra-era jazz, 1980s fashion, tropical chill, kombucha, gin, tonic, seashells, iPhones, Art Deco, telenovelas, street art, coconut anything, strong coffee and newspapers. She lives on the Gulf Coast with her husband and two dogs.

Her debut mystery series is published by Crooked Lane Books.

 

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