Posted in excerpt, fiction, Historical, Spotlight on March 11, 2019

Synopsis

WARNING! This book may contain NUTS! (Non-Uniform Text Speech)

In other words speech in what some have called “Olde English Vernacular”. It is spoken by characters in the book from the North, the Midlands and the South of England. There is a glossary at the end of the book to help if you can rise to the challenge. It adds shades of colour to this 19th century story that you may not be expecting.

When Mrs Alexander wrote about “the rich man in his castle, the poor man at his gate” and declared that “God made them, high or lowly, and order’d their estate” in the ever popular hymn All Things Bright and Beautiful, she was probably reflecting one of the mores of the times. It would fit in well with prejudices and beliefs of the middle and upper classes that paternalism had indeed been intended by God, thus laws protecting the workers in their fields, mills and factories were not necessary. In the words of Browning so long as “God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world!”

The continuing story of the Quarry Bank Runaways is about what happened to two cotton apprentices over three decades during the Industrial Revolution; first as qualified young men with hopes and later when they are full grown. By the start of the Victorian period the fates and their ambitions would have collided. Serious events and incidents, both personal and national, were about to impinge upon the lives of Thomas Priestley and Joseph Sefton, who had earlier run away from their apprentice master, Samuel Greg. What would cause a qualified mule spinner to give up his comparatively safe job and risk failure, ridicule or destitution? Ambitious and determined working class individuals like Tommy and Joe had to carefully step through a pathway involving love, loyalty and legal persecution and prejudice, from within the social hierarchy of the times.

Excerpt

An extract from Mules; Masters & Mud – the sequel to The Quarry Bank Runaways.

It is the chapter about the runaway apprentice Thomas Priestley when, as an adult, he is wounded while attending what became known as the Peterloo Massacre.  To understand a bit more about how the author wrote the dialogue, take a look at his blog post about this situation.

Chapter Ten: Injury

On a fine sunny morning in August 1819 Thomas, with eight other cotton workers, was travelling on a horse drawn cart to Manchester. The road from Mellor was not one of the best in wet weather, but the rain had stopped as they joined the turnpike road, passing through Stockport, to pick up Tommy and some other club members, when everyone was in high spirits. They were all looking forward to hearing Henry Hunt speak to an assembly of people on Parliamentary reform and against the Corn Laws, for which the high price of food was being blamed. The many peaceable workers, like Thomas, had high hopes for a non-violent orator like Hunt to bring to the attention of the government the claims of “ordinary folk” of the causes for the many hardships in their lives. It was rumoured that hundreds would be there in St. Peter’s Fields and that it would remain peaceful enough for women and children to be present.

‘Wotcher, Tommy, ’ow’s things?’

‘Pretty fair, Jacob, pretty fair… What’s that clothes prop for, then? It looks like a flag.’

‘Clothes prop? Nay, mate that’s me banner demandin’ the vote, ain’t it.’

Jacob was a secret convener of club meetings and groups for the surrounding mills of Stockport. He had become quite a confidante of Thomas and Will Souter and kept them informed as much as he could about changes in employment law and other developments. He had listened to Francis Place speak against the Combinations Acts and had joined the march two years earlier when the workers had hoped to present a petition to the Prince Regent in London. The large group of protesters had walked but a few miles south of Manchester when troops had broken it up, causing more dissidence to spread to many more workers.

There were eight leather flagons on the cart with contents that added much to the holiday mood amongst the men aboard. As soon as the scrumpy cider had all disappeared everyone was agreed the ale would be most welcome. Even with an early morning start to the journey the cart was not going to reach Manchester much before lunchtime. Frequent stops for the relief of eight bladders had a lot to do with the delays and word had reached the pie-men and other purveyors of food about the meeting on St. Peter’s Fields. The suppliers of such refreshments were scattered along the route every half mile or so and they were doing well. The cart from Mellor found it was one of very many by the time they reached Ancoats. Most of the men on the cart had never been to Manchester and while they were most impressed by the many enormous mills that towered above them, they were alarmed to see how densely populated the area was. Dozens of people walked to and fro while small gangs of small children played in the filth.

‘Where do all these people live?’ asked Thomas.

‘Why in these tenements an’ back-to-back houses, Tommy. Oh, an’ though they’ve got better roads around ’ere it’s for the convenience o’ the mill owners an’ merchants, see: for the transport o’ bales an’ what ’ave thee.’

‘Look at the state o’ the roads,’ said Tommy.

There were piles of discarded bits of broken furniture, rotting vegetables, filthy soiled clothing and stinking excrement littering the sides of a yellow stream. The yellow stream was an open running sewer that would eventually find its way into the Rochdale Canal or either of the rivers Mersey or Irwell.

‘Aye, an’ ’alf these ’omes ’ave got no privies or plumbin’, pal,’ said Will. ‘No surprise, there’s so many poor kiddies dead afore they’re ten around the town, eh,’ he continued. ‘Thee can nigh see th’ miasma that’s acomin’ up off them streets; causin’ all sorts o’ diseases, see.’

The wagoner driving the cart was attempting to find a way through Redhill Street and as they passed by the enormous eight storey edifice that was McConnel’s Mills he told Jacob that he was about to stop.

‘See, Jacob, ah needs ter find a farriers ter attend to me hoss… Mebee, a stable somewhere round ’ere, if ah can… Hoss is trottin’ a bit lame, see.’

‘No problem, mate,’ replied Jacob. ‘It ain’t that far ter walk from here… Ah knows the right road. We go past th’ Infirmary on Piccadilly?’

The wagoner nodded and the workers got down from the cart, still in high spirits, chatting about the high hopes they had about Orator Hunt and what they expected to hear in his speech. There were no open public spaces neighbouring the many mills; no parks for the group to stroll through or sit and chat; no public buildings nor churches with churchyards. Everything about the place where they had stopped was about cotton: scotching it; carding it; spinning it; weaving it and selling it. They were in the growing heart of Cottonopolis.

The group from Mellor and Stockport were amazed to see dozens of wagons and carts lined up around the streets bordering St. Peter’s Fields. But the sheer numbers of happy people, men, women and children, congregating upon the site meant for the speeches was a shock – there were many, many thousands and they all seemed to be in the same holiday mood as all of the club members. There were sideshows, entertainers of all kinds, pedlars and stalls with refreshments; the carnival atmosphere belying the serious nature of the reasons for such an assembly of thousands from the working classes of the north of England. Henry Hunt’s reputation as a radical reformer had reached the local magistrates and they had called upon the Yeomanry of Manchester and Cheshire to stand by in case of insurrection from the crowds. A narrow passage, lined by constables, allowed Hunt and others to approach the raised platform amidst the packed assembly and the suffocating heat of the middle of the August day. Watching from his room at the corner of St. Peter’s Field the chairman of the magistrates was encouraged by Hunt’s enthusiastic reception to issue warrants for the arrest of the speakers and send orders for dispersal of the assembly. He feared for the preservation of the peace, ensuing riots and, therefore, that lives and property were in danger; not only that but he assumed what he saw was but a part of a nationwide rebellious movement.

The speeches began; banners were waved; repeal of the Corn Laws was demanded; shouts and cheers followed; universal suffrage was reasonably demanded; more cheers and cries of: ‘Hear, hear! Well said, sir! Hurrah, that’s right!’ could be heard above the holiday hum of the crowd. Up on their platform Hunt and his entourage were growing ever more animated and arms were raised, waved in the way of many a country church choir master. The people, many still dressed in their plain working clothes, were unaffected by the contrast with the fine apparel worn by the lecturers. Ordinary people were whooping and applauding with such exuberance that they could be heard miles away.  The swelling sound was now about to be misinterpreted by the Yeomanry, strategically assembled to the west and east of St. Peter’s Fields, supported by hundreds of constables and a company of hussars. The poorly trained, volunteer cavalrymen of the Yeomanry were commanded by Captain Birley, who was also a local factory owner.

It was not ten minutes after one thirty when the captain led his cavalry towards the platform of speakers. This was to assist the chief of constables and his men in the arrest of those same speakers. In attempting to force their way through, the horsemen lost all sense of self-control and drew their sabres, hacking their way through everyone in their path, men, women and children! In the panic of people trying to get out of the way the untrained horses reared and plunged into them, injuring many more. When the arrest warrant had been served by the police officer, the Yeomanry then set about seizing and destroying the many flags and banners, and to disperse the crowd further. But this was not possible while the main exit from the area was blocked by rows of foot soldiers with fixed bayonets.

Thomas and Jacob became incensed at the sight of a large group of flag-carrying women from a female reform society, all dressed in white, who were being savagely attacked by horsemen. More spilt blood conflicted horribly with the white dresses of the women and a few brave souls attempted to defend themselves with their short flag staffs. With eyes as wild as those of their steeds the cavalrymen slashed out, not caring whether the flags parried their deadly sabres or whose head was split open.

‘Come on, Jacob!’ yelled Thomas as he flung himself forward at one of the horsemen and held on to his weapon arm. The man would not be pulled down from the saddle and received a hefty blow to his back from Jacob’s banner pole. This was then a signal to the soldier’s comrades to turn their attention to the two men and rain blows upon them. Thomas and Jacob were not alone in attempting to return the fight physically, while the many brickbats and loud curses from the people heard by the magistrates caused them to rouse the hussars into the fray.

‘The crowd must be dispersed! The yeomanry are now being assaulted! Go to it!’ they ordered the officer commanding the hussars. Within ten, or maybe, fifteen minutes the assembly in St. Peter’s Fields had been dispersed, although riots continued throughout the streets of Manchester for hours. Bloodied and injured bodies in their hundreds strewed the area and later it was found that there were eleven fatalities among them, including nine men and two women. Thomas and Jacob, with three of the women reformers, lay unconscious where they fell. They were surrounded by others, similarly wounded and bleeding, unable to hear the groans and cries of pain that arose like an invisible cloud of doom over the field.

The majority of the ruling classes did not save their blame and recriminations just for those working class people who were able to walk away from St. Peter’s Fields free of injury. Many of the wounded did not seek medical treatment for they were certain that it would invite retribution from the authorities. Rumours of such a spiteful attitude had a strong basis in fact. The mill owner who had captained the unruly yeomanry, one Hugh Birley, was greatly offended when he discovered that one of his male workers had dared to attend the meeting in St. Peter’s. His hurt and annoyed feelings were somewhat appeased, however, when he subsequently sacked the three sons of the man later. The surgeon in the Infirmary who was attending to the wounds of some of the workers brought there had definite views about the ‘upstarts’ from the lower classes learning a suitable lesson as a penalty for their ‘crimes’. Unfortunately, Thomas and Jacob were two of those on the receiving end of the surgeon’s disciplinary measures as they lay awaiting treatment.

‘The sabre wounds to your heads are going to need sponge cleaning and packing, gentlemen. The redness and pus that is forming indicates to me that wound fever has begun, but of course that is quite normal where sepsis is concerned. Are you in pain?’

Both men had not ceased groaning since they had recovered consciousness and the red swelling around the cuts was considered by the surgeon to be a sign of healing, rather than one of serious infection. Their bodies and limbs were covered in bruises and this was considered to be of very little concern. Jacob’s cuts to his crown and ear were deeper than those to Tommy’s head and arm and causing him considerable pain.

‘Will thou see ter me companion first of all, sir? I think he’s a sufferin’ most,’ said Thomas.

The surgeon drew closer with his bowl of vinegar water and the same cloth that he had been using all afternoon.

‘I expect you two foolish fellows will be returning to work peacefully quite soon. No doubt you’ll agree that you’ve had your fill of these ill-advised Manchester meetings.’

Despite the pain and the temptation to swoon again into a state of unconsciousness Thomas and Jacob shook their heads, just a little, as much as the soreness would allow.

‘Oh, no, sir; our cause is just. We mun stick together an’ demand the vote an’ better workin’ conditions,’ answered Jacob.

‘While them laws as keeps the price o’ bread up too ’igh is there we gotter keep goin’, sir. Folks is starving’ while wages is pressed down by factory owners,’ added Thomas.

Their replies appeared to upset the disposition of the surgeon. The discussion that followed, for more minutes than the time it took the hussars and cavalry to disperse the assembly of people, was a diatribe from the medical man versus an insistence of more rights from the two wounded men. It ended when the surgeon ordered the pair to be taken away by their friends and to be taken ‘back to whence they came’ – untreated!

***

Eddy had begged to be allowed a day off to see his wounded brother in his simple lodgings near to the bleaching works in Edgeley. He had got a lift on a wagon and was unable to pay much attention to the garrulous driver in his anxiety about Tommy’s injuries. Will Souter had stayed with Thomas for as long as he could before returning to work at Quarry Bank and his news of the events in Manchester had caused a hotchpotch of opinions about the wisdom of attending the meeting. Condemnation came naturally from the managers while support for fellow workers was the popular emotion from the spinners. Will was relieved to find that he still had his job but the overlookers reminded him again and again that that would not be the case once Robert Hyde Greg assumed the reins and took over from Samuel, his father.

John, the wagon driver, was still chatting to Eddy as they approached Edgeley along the main Cheadle road.

‘Oh, aye, lad, ah remembers all this ’ere land afore they come along an’ planted woods an’ dug the reservoyer… Twas long afore Sykes come along an’ took it for their bleachin’ works, tha knowst.’

‘Huh, huh,’ responded Eddy but deeply distracted by his own worried thoughts.

‘Ah’ll drop thee off by them rows o’ cottages then, lad,’ he said nodding in their direction. ‘S’near to the Manchester road, ye seem ter think, eh?’ John gave up waiting for an answer; then he called to his horse, ‘Whoa!’

He waited and Eddy suddenly came to life, realising they had stopped. He jumped down from the wagon, muttering garbled words of appreciation.

‘Oh, aye… Right… Thanks, John.’

‘Glad ter ’elp, lad. Hope thy brother’s owreet. Bad do that in Manchester… Aye, very bad!’

But Eddy had quickly walked well away, looking around, trying to remember which house matched Will’s description. He knocked at one of the doors and waited, his heart pounded against his ribs.

‘Thee found it alright, then?’ said a plump woman with rosy cheeks and wearing a long apron. She beckoned him in to the sparsely furnished and damp smelling front room.

‘How’s Tommy doin’?’

‘Not so bad as when his pal called me in. Will was it?’

Eddy drew cautiously closer to the bed.

‘Aye, but he don’t look too good, to me,’ said Eddy.

The nurse attending to Thomas was standing at the foot of his bed holding a bowl of pink water, a pink-stained towel and a large pink block of carbolic soap. Thomas was lying there mumbling deliriously, his face covered with perspiration, his left arm horribly swollen below the elbow. A rough cap of blooded cotton covered most of his head and he kept twisting his face from side to side.

‘Tommy’s a strong man,’ said the nurse. ‘If we can keep ’is strength up wi’ a bit o’ me chicken broth an’ a sip o’ sherry water when e’er we can, I think ’e might be all right for a while… But…’

She sucked her long next breath in through a row of gappy blackened teeth and held Thomas’ uninjured right arm by the wrist, a grim expression changed her face. ‘But we may need th’ medic or a barber for ’is bad arm… Very bad that is, son. We needs ter bleed him I thinks – unless thee wants to do it alone?’

‘What! No, no, I could never do that… Can… can thou find a proper bloke ter do it, nurse?’

Thirty minutes later she’d returned with a local barber who was known to apply simple surgery or traditional remedies to the sick – bleeding or horse leeches were his speciality. Eddy was not sure he liked the idea of a man who was not a doctor. If only Milly were here to tell him what it was best to do. The young man felt like he was just a little child again, confused and distraught.

‘Eh up, lad! Let’s ’ave a look at ’im, then.’

The man had a leather bag of water under his arm that sloshed about as he handed it to Eddy, while he prodded and poked Thomas’ injured arm, causing terrible groans of pain from him to rebound from the damp, unpainted walls. The screaming stayed in Eddy’s ears for a while, obliterating his bewildered fears but bringing back the tears, all of which he had suffered while the nurse had been gone. Eddy had knelt beside the bed praying for help from God, grateful for his brother’s guidance in how to speak to the Lord when feeling helpless and alone. He had gently slid his hand under Thomas’ left hand and stared intently at the remaining stump of his forefinger, remembering when Tommy had told him the story of losing it in a spinning mule, how it had become a focus for him when he had run away from Quarry Bank Mill, how Tommy had continued to use it as his lucky talisman – his “rabbit’s foot” – over the successive years, how he’d found strength when obstacles lay in his path and he’d had to battle on. And now the stump was swollen like a scarlet blister at the end of his swollen and scarlet arm.

‘Dost ’ave ter cause Tommy pain like that?’ demanded the youth.

‘Aye, lad, if’n thee wants me ter ’elp thy brother. Ah needs to see ’ow much poison’s in theer… An’ it ain’t lookin’ right cheerful ah can tell thee.’

The big man turned to the nurse as he grabbed the leather bag from Eddy with his large hairy hands. ‘Martha, thee did reet ter fetch me but I ain’t too sure that there’s much blood left in this ’ere arm for me leeches. They ain’t too partial ter pus an’ poison, see.’

So saying he took six leeches, one at a time, from the bag and carefully placed them on the red and yellow swellings on Thomas’ bloated forearm.

‘It ain’t so bad if I shares the poison art among them, see. But there’s a lot in theer an it’s a spreading round the poor feller.’

He then placed a gentle hand on Thomas’ brow.

‘He’s burnin’ up… An thee could ’ave ter fetch a surgeon ter tek ’is arm off, son. Best not delay too long.’

‘I thought thee might say that,’ said Martha. ‘Can thee pay?’ she asked Eddy.

‘Is he gunner die, then?’

‘The leeches could gi’ ’im a bit o’ time, son – but it’s gunner keep festerin’, see. An’ the more o’ that poison gets inter ’im… less likely he’ll live. Best tek ’is arm off afore it spreads into the rest on ’is body, pal… Dost want me an’ Martha ter tek care on it? We’ve done it afore, tha knowst.’

The big man put a friendly arm around Eddy’s shoulders and Martha nodded, reassuringly, to Eddy. Seeing his confusion and moistening eyes Martha approached the pair and put her hand on his chest. What was he to do? Of the only two people he truly trusted in the world, one was dying in front of him, while the other was far away in London. He was tempted to burst into tears once more and flee from the room, leaving it all to the adults. How could he give permission to them to cut off Tommy’s arm, so losing his hand and lucky charm, his source of strength?

They slowly became aware of a new sound in the room, a struggling, fractured voice: ‘Eddy… Eddy, pal… C’mere, mate.’

About the Author

G J Griffiths grew up in the Midlands, in the UK. He went to a boy’s grammar school in the nineteen fifties and sixties and later spent several years in photographic retail and distribution. After graduating as a mature student in Physics and Chemistry GJG became a Science and Technology teacher, for two decades, in various comprehensive schools. He has always enjoyed reading a wide range of literature, both fiction and non-fiction, and has written poetry and stories, and occasionally scripts, for many years.

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Posted in Cozy, Giveaway, mystery on March 10, 2019

Broken Bone China (A Tea Shop Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
20th in Series
Berkley (March 5, 2019)
Hardcover: 336 pages

Synopsis

Theodosia Browning serves tea and solves crimes in Charleston, a city steeped in tradition and treachery in the latest Tea Shop Mystery from New York Times bestselling author Laura Childs.

It is Sunday afternoon, and Theodosia and Drayton are catering a formal tea at a hot-air balloon rally. The view aloft is not only stunning, they are also surrounded by a dozen other colorful hot-air balloons. But as the sky turns gray and the clouds start to boil up, a strange object zooms out of nowhere. It is a drone, and it appears to be buzzing around the balloons, checking them out.

As Theodosia and Drayton watch, the drone, hovering like some angry, mechanized insect, deliberately crashes into the balloon next to them. An enormous, fiery explosion erupts, and everyone watches in horror as the balloon plummets to the earth, killing all three of its passengers.

Sirens scream, first responders arrive, and Theodosia is interviewed by the police. During the interview she learns that one of the downed occupants was Don Kingsley, the CEO of a local software company, SyncSoft. Not only do the police suspect Kingsley as the primary target, they learn that he possessed a rare Revolutionary War Union Jack flag that several people were rabidly bidding on.

Intrigued, Theodosia begins her own investigation. Was it the CEO’s soon-to-be ex-wife, who is restoring an enormous mansion at no expense? The CEO’s personal assistant, who also functioned as curator of his prized collection of Americana? Two rival antiques’ dealers known for dirty dealing? Or was the killer the fiancée of one of Theodosia’s dear friends, who turns out to be an employee—and whistle-blower—at SyncSoft?

INCLUDES DELICIOUS RECIPES AND TEA TIME TIPS!

 

About the Author

laura-childsLaura Childs is the New York Times bestselling author of the Tea Shop Mysteries, Scrapbook Mysteries, and Cackleberry Club Mysteries. In her previous life she was CEO/Creative Director of her own marketing firm and authored several screenplays. She is married to a professor of Chinese art history, loves to travel, rides horses, enjoys fund raising for various non-profits, and has two Chinese Shar-Pei dogs.

Laura specializes in cozy mysteries that have the pace of a thriller (a thrillzy!) Her three series are:

The Tea Shop Mysteries – set in the historic district of Charleston and featuring Theodosia Browning, owner of the Indigo Tea Shop. Theodosia is a savvy entrepreneur, and pet mom to service dog Earl Grey. She’s also an intelligent, focused amateur sleuth who doesn’t rely on coincidences or inept police work to solve crimes. This charming series is highly atmospheric and rife with the history and mystery that is Charleston.

The Scrapbooking Mysteries – a slightly edgier series that take place in New Orleans. The main character, Carmela, owns Memory Mine scrapbooking shop in the French Quarter and is forever getting into trouble with her friend, Ava, who owns the Juju Voodoo shop. New Orleans’ spooky above-ground cemeteries, jazz clubs, bayous, and Mardi Gras madness make their presence known here!

The Cackleberry Club Mysteries – set in Kindred, a fictional town in the Midwest. In a rehabbed Spur station, Suzanne, Toni, and Petra, three semi-desperate, forty-plus women have launched the Cackleberry Club. Eggs are the morning specialty here and this cozy cafe even offers a book nook and yarn shop. Business is good but murder could lead to the cafe’s undoing! This series offers recipes, knitting, cake decorating, and a dash of spirituality.

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Posted in excerpt, Historical, romance, Western on March 9, 2019

Cowboy’s Honor

By Amy Sandas

Publication date: 2/26/19

Synopsis

Three runaway brides

Determined to escape their fates

Flee West to find freedom that can only be had in a cowboy’s arms…

Courtney Adams never questioned the future her parents laid out for her…until the day she was to marry one of Boston’s elite. Desperate, she flees the church in a flurry of bridal finery and trades her pearls for a train ticket to Montana—only to be mistaken for a surly cowboy’s mail order bride!

Dean Lawton doesn’t want a wife—especially not some fancy Eastern lady he believes his brother “ordered” behind his back. Yet one mistake leads to another, and before the dust can settle, he finds himself married to a woman who challenges him at every step…and sets his wounded heart ablaze. But the clock is ticking on this marriage of inconvenience, and soon Dean must decide: convince Courtney to remain in his arms, or lose her light forever…

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Excerpt

“Is there a hotel in town where I might procure a room for a few days?”

“Miss Mabel has a boardinghouse down the road, though I don’t know for sure if she’s got any open rooms.”

Courtney smiled her thanks to the postal clerk, already envisioning a quaint but comfortable room with clean sheets on the bed. Maybe even a hot, tasty meal. She had given up on finding food that was near the same quality she was accustomed to, but she would settle for edible and filling right now. She couldn’t very well expect a rugged town in the Western Territories to provide the same levels of comfort as a big city back East. She had left Boston in search of a new life. It was time to embrace all of what that meant.

As she stepped onto the boardwalk, blinking against the bright summer sunlight, Courtney didn’t realize she had stepped right into someone’s path until it was too late.

And of course, it had to be Mr. Martin.

What should have been just a very brief bumping of elbows and shoulders became much more when he took swift advantage of the encounter by wrapping his arms around her in an exaggerated and unnecessary attempt at steadying her.

Courtney immediately put her hands up to try to shove him away, but her efforts were ineffectual. He was intent on holding her close.

“It’s my lovely traveling companion,” he exclaimed. His face was so close that she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. “What a pleasure to run into you again so soon.”

“I would thank you to release me, sir.”

“Not yet, sweetheart. I never did get your name.”

“And you never will. Now let me go,” Courtney stated more forcefully. Her stomach turned in distress as she glanced around to see if there was anyone who might come to her aid.

“Let the lady go.”

Despite their low timbre, the words were spoken from behind her in such a hard and forceful tone that Mr. Martin’s grip around her waist loosened as though on command. She did not waste time in giving a solid push against his chest and wrenching free. She quickly backed away from Mr. Martin’s grabby reach, which brought her closer to her unknown rescuer.

Turning to acknowledge the man who had come to her aid, all she saw was the expanse of a broad male chest covered by a faded blue cotton shirt. The scents of horse and leather and sunbaked earth filled her nostrils. Distracted and still a little distressed, she felt her foot catch in the twisted length of her skirts on her next step, and she started to stumble. Warm, rough, capable hands grasped her arms as the stranger held her secure until she regained her balance. A low sound escaped the man’s throat as his hands dropped away.

“My apologies,” he muttered as he stepped back from her. The velvety texture of his voice soothed and flustered at the same time.

Courtney took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure after the discomfiting experience of being handled so familiarly first by Mr. Martin and then by the tall stranger. She wasn’t used to such treatment…but while Mr. Martin’s assistance had caused only irritation, this stranger certainly deserved her thanks. She corrected her posture and made sure her expression was perfectly neutral before she lifted her chin, prepared to utter a swift expression of gratitude.

The words never made it past her lips.

In fact, everything—her train of thought, her breath, time itself—just stopped.

The man stood a few inches taller than her and wore a wide-brimmed cowboy hat that blocked the sun, giving her an unimpeded look at one of the most handsome faces she had ever seen.

His skin was bronzed from exposure to the sun, and a hint of sandy-brown beard shadowed a hard jawline and square chin. Though his mouth was pressed into a firm line, it didn’t disguise the masculine beauty of his arched lips beneath a well-shaped nose and strong cheekbones. His features were put together in a way that was rugged yet undeniably attractive.

But his eyes—pale blue like a summer sky brushed with wispy clouds—were what had given her the intense little shock of awareness. It was like being woken up from a hazy dream. Everything just suddenly became more vivid, more…awake. His gaze held a hint of impatience as he looked down at her from beneath a furrowed brow.

While she stood dumbfounded, he swept his stunning gaze over her person.

His hard expression tensed even more as he took in the sight of her elaborate wedding gown before finally returning to her face. Only now, instead of impatience, she saw the glimmer of something more in his eyes.

She had to consciously tell herself not to react to the way he eyed her so openly. Keeping her expression calm and unruffled under this man’s intense regard was not an easy task, especially now that she was dealing with strange little sparks that had ignited beneath her skin everywhere his gaze had fallen.

She was accustomed to inciting admiration in the gentlemen of her circles—she had been told she was beautiful often enough throughout her life to believe it was so. But she could not say she had ever inspired the flash of irritation she noted in his eyes when he finished his perusal.

He sent a focused glare toward the post office behind her before looking down at her once again. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered, his smooth-textured voice a strange contradiction to his harsh visage.

He was scowling. At her.

About the Author

Amy Sandas’ love of romance began one summer when she stumbled across one of her mother’s Barbara Cartland books. Her affinity for writing began with sappy pre-teen poems and led to a Bachelor’s degree with an emphasis on Creative Writing from the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities. She lives with her husband and children in Wisconsin.

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Posted in 5 paws, Historical, Inspirational, Review, romance on March 8, 2019

A TENDER HOPE

The Cimarron Creek Trilogy, Book 3

by

Amanda Cabot

Genre: Historical Romance / Inspirational

Publisher: Revell

Date of Publication: March 5, 2019

Number of Pages: 352

Scroll down for the giveaway!

As far as Thea Michener is concerned, it’s time for a change. With her husband murdered and her much-anticipated baby stillborn, there is nothing left for her in Ladreville. Having accepted a position as Cimarron Creek’s midwife, she has no intention of remarrying and trying for another child. So when a handsome Texas Ranger appears on her doorstep with an abandoned baby, Thea isn’t sure her heart Can take it.

Ranger Jackson Guthrie isn’t concerned only with the baby’s welfare. He’s been looking for Thea, convinced that her late husband was part of the gang that killed his brother. But it soon becomes clear that the situation is far more complicated than he anticipated–and he’ll need Thea’s help if he’s ever to find the justice he seeks.

Amanda Cabot invites readers back to Cimarron Creek for a tender story of loss, betrayal, and love in the majestic Texas Hill Country.

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Praise

“Such beautiful words flow from Amanda Cabot’s pen–words that lead characters from tattered situations to fresh beginnings and culminate in tender story endings that make a reader sigh in satisfaction. I’ve never been disappointed by a Cabot tale.” — Kim Vogel Sawyer, bestselling author of Bringing Maggie Home

 

Inspiration for A Tender Hope

A Little Help from My Friends

These gifts encouraged me when I hit rough spots in the book and reminded me of what’s important in life – love, friendship, and hope.

While not an official reviewer for this tour, I was able to pick up a copy from Netgalley.  I’ve read the first two books in this series and I had to know what happened next for the sleepy little town of Cimarron Creek.

This is the last book in this series and the author does an amazing job of wrapping up all of the personal storylines and making sure there is plenty of happily ever afters for the citizens of Cimarron Creek.  This book focuses on Thea and Jackson, but there are also storylines for Warner, Patience, Nate, and Aimee.  I enjoyed how each story interconnected with others and I found myself rooting for each character and whom they might end up with as their soulmate.  Along with the romance, there is action and suspense when it comes to the Gang of Four and their search for Thea because they think she knows things that her deceased husband might have told her.  There were times I wondered what could possibly happen next to these characters and would everything turn out ok in the end?

There are plenty of cameos from characters in the first books like Lydia and Travis and even Andy and Catherine.  I was excited to see Grace reunite with her daughter, but not without some trials and tribulations to get to that point.

We give this 5 paws up and highly recommend this trilogy – but start with A Stolen Heart and then A Borrowed Dream before reading this one mainly for continuity.  You could read out of order but it will make more sense to read in order.

 

About the Author

Amanda Cabot is the bestselling author of A Stolen Heart, the first book of the Cimarron Creek trilogy, as well as the Texas Crossroads series, the Texas Dreams series, the Westward Winds series, and Christmas Roses. Her books have been finalists for the ACFW Carol Awards and the Booksellers’ Best. She lives in Wyoming.

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1ST: Copy of A Tender Hope + Spa Basket

(An assortment of Cru de Provence lavender vanilla scented spa products fills this lovely basket including lotions, soap, bath salts, waffle slippers and much more.) 

2ND: Copy of A Tender Hope  + $25 Barnes & Noble Gift Card

3RD: Copy of A Tender Hope  + $10 Starbucks Gift Card

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VISIT THE OTHER GREAT BLOGS ON THE TOUR

3/5/19 Character Interview Chapter Break Book Blog
3/5/19 Bonus Post Hall Ways Blog
3/6/19 Review Carpe Diem Chronicles
3/7/19 Author Interview Story Schmoozing Book Reviews
3/8/19 Scrapbook Page StoreyBook Reviews
3/9/19 Review Missus Gonzo
3/10/19 Excerpt Momma on the Rocks
3/11/19 Review The Love of a Bibliophile
3/12/19 Series Spotlight All the Ups and Downs
3/13/19 Review Reading by Moonlight
3/14/19 Review That’s What She’s Reading

 

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Posted in Cozy, Giveaway, mystery on March 8, 2019

Beach Blanket Homicide (Whispering Bay Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Independently Published (November 27, 2018)
Paperback: 268 pages

Synopsis

The first book in a fun, quirky chick-lit mystery series featuring Lucy McGuffin, world’s best muffin maker and amateur sleuth.

Everyone agrees that Lucy McGuffin bakes the best muffins in Whispering Bay, but she’s got another talent, one that she’s tried her whole life to hide. Lucy can always tell when a person is lying or telling the truth. Being a human lie detector isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Especially when you don’t really want the answer to the universal question: Does this dress make my butt look too big?

When Lucy is hired to cater the grand opening celebration of the city’s new community center, she stumbles across the dead body of Abby Delgado, a prominent member of the Sunshine Ghost Society. Lucy’s brother, Father Sebastian, a local priest, is the last person to have seen Abby alive. Convinced he’ll be breaking a confidence, Sebastian refuses to cooperate with the police, forcing Lucy to put her skills to the test to save her brother’s good name.

Enter the town’s new hotshot deputy, Travis Fontaine. Travis doesn’t want an amateur like Lucy snooping around his turf, so he offers her a deal. He’ll stay out of her kitchen if she’ll stay away from his crime scene. But Lucy isn’t about to let her brother’s fate rest in the hands of an arrogant cop. Good thing she has her best friend Will and her new little rescue dog, Paco, to back her up, because its up to Lucy to figure out what everyone in the quaint little beachside town is hiding.

About the Author

Maria Geraci writes quirky, fun, romantic women’s fiction and cozy mysteries. She’s a two time RITA® Finalist, as well as a finalist in the National Readers’ Choice Awards and Romantic Times’ American Title Contest. She lives in central Florida and is always on the lookout for the perfect key lime pie recipe (but not the kind they served on Dexter).

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Posted in Giveaway, mystery, Spotlight on March 7, 2019

As Directed (A Maggie O’Malley Mystery)
Mystery
3rd in Series
Henery Press (March 12, 2019)
Hardcover: 286 pages

Synopsis

In the shadow of a past fraught with danger and tainted by loss, former pharmaceutical researcher Maggie O’Malley is rebuilding her life, trading test tubes for pill bottles as she embarks on a new career at the corner drugstore.

But as she spreads her wings, things begin to go terribly wrong. A customer falls ill in the store. Followed by another. And then more.

The specter of poisoning arises, conjuring old grudges, past sins, buried secrets and new suspicions from which no one is immune.

As Maggie and her best friend Constantine begin to investigate, they discover that some of the deadliest doses come from the most unexpected places.

About the Author

Kathleen Valenti is the author of the Maggie O’Malley Mystery Series, which includes her Agatha- and Lefty-nominated debut novel, Protocol. When Kathleen isn’t writing page-turning mysteries that combine humor and suspense, she works as a nationally award-winning advertising copywriter. She lives in Oregon with her family where she pretends to enjoy running.

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Posted in Cozy, Giveaway, Guest Post, mystery on March 6, 2019

Final Exam (A Witch City Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
8th in Series
Kensington (February 26, 2019)
Mass Market Paperback: 368 pages

Synopsis

A cold case update in Salem, Massachusetts . . .

Life at the house on Winter Street is abuzz with preparations for Aunt Ibby’s 45th high school reunion, and Lee Barrett is happy to pitch in, tracking down addresses and licking envelopes. But as a field reporter for Salem’s WICH-TV, her priority is to be on top of the town’s latest news before anyone else.

When the local police dredge up a vintage sports car containing human remains, Lee is thrilled to be the first reporter on the scene. Once she learns the car is connected to the cold case her boyfriend Pete happens to be working on, her powers of investigation are quickly alerted. But it’s her Aunt Ibby’s emotional reaction to Lee’s TV report that puts her on the case. With the help of O’Ryan, her psychic feline sidekick, she’ll have to unravel a tangled past of secrets and promises to stop a killer from making history again . . .

 

Guest Post

All of the Witch City Mysteries are set in—where else?–the famous Witch City itself, Salem Massachusetts. That magical city also happens to be my birthplace, and as the publicity folks at Kensington Publishing were delighted to learn, I was born there one dark and stormy Halloween eve!

I’m so glad I chose Salem for my background locale. Of course, it helps that I know my way around there pretty well, but mostly I’m finding that Salem’s rich history is a never-ending source of inspiration for plot twists and intriguing details for my characters to discover.

Many of the places I mention in the books are real. I actual streets and buildings as much as possible. Even the house on Winter Street where my heroine Lee Barrett and her tech-savvy librarian Aunt Ibby live is based on a real house. I enjoy sending Lee and her detective boyfriend Pete Mondello to restaurants Salem people recognize like Dube’s or Bill and Bob’s or Gulu-Gulu.  The couple often visits the Salem Willows Park or take long walks on Deveraux Beach in nearby Marblehead. Some of the places are made up, of course. Lee is a field reporter at WICH-TV. There is no such station—but shouldn’t there be?

Sometimes I rearrange things to suit my storyline. In Final Exam, I needed some deep old granite pits so I put some a lot closer to Salem than actually exist there. In the next book in the series, Late Checkout, I completely rearranged the interior of Salem’s main library. One of the joys of writing fiction is the ability to move things around in time and space.

Every cozy mystery heroine needs a dependable “side-kick.” Lee’s best friend is a practicing witch I named River North. (River’s name is a little “in-joke” for Salem readers. The North River flows through Salem!) River is also a Tarot Reader with her own show and the beautiful Tarot cards often provide clues for Lee to interpret—usually with the help of her wise (and maybe psychic) cat, O’Ryan.

Though I live in Florida, my husband Dan and I try to visit Salem at least once a year—preferably when the weather is pleasant. However, I still often use Google Earth to find my way around the city so that I won’t send Lee in her blue Corvette convertible up any one-way streets the wrong way.

I hope my readers will enjoy a fictional visit to my magical city along with a good mystery. Perhaps you’ll even want to visit there someday for real!

About the Author

Carol J. Perry knew as a child that she wanted to be a writer. A voracious reader, whose list for Santa consisted mostly of book titles, she never lost sight of that goal. While living in Florida, Carol was on assignment for Southern Travel Magazine, preparing an article on the world’s largest sand castle which was being built near her home. That combination of events inspired her first young adult novel, Sand Castle Summer. That book was soon followed by half a dozen more.

Carol has always been an avid reader of mysteries. Her debut mystery novel is set in Salem and involves O’Ryan, a most mysterious cat, several witches and some strange Halloween happenings. Appropriately enough, this Salem-born author celebrates her birthday on Halloween Eve! Carol and her husband Dan live in the Tampa Bay area of Florida with two cats and a Black Lab.

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Posted in excerpt, Fantasy, Giveaway on March 5, 2019

Synopsis

Bohan, a king, is at war with Jerado, an evil wizard who controls four neighboring kingdoms. Bohan, his wizard, Ansgar, and his guards are trapped in a cave by Jerado who magically seals the cave. Ansgar casts a sleep spell on all of them. It will last until the cave is unsealed.

More than 200 years later, an earthquake unseals the cave and frees Bohan. While catching up on history, he learns Jerado is still alive and rules the country as dictator. Bohan learns this from a sympathetic constable named Leticia. After talking to Bohan and his guards, she recognizes him from school lessons as the King Who Disappeared. Bohan determines to go to the capital, Dun Hythe, and gain revenge. Leticia promises to go with him to find out what happened to her father who was arrested and disappeared.

Jerado learns that Bohan is still alive and headed to confront him. He tells Lithgow, his son, and Flavia, his daughter about Bohan. Lithgow is the War Minister and Flavia the Minister of the Interior. They hate each other and each plans to succeed their father when he retires.

Jerado orders Lithgow to use his soldiers to block and kill Bohan. Flavia, who also has troops, decides to kill Bohan before Lithgow can. Bohan and his guards, all heroes, brush past Flavia’s soldiers and route Lithgow’s. Jerado now orders Lithgow’s troops to seal all the city’s gates and search everyone entering the city.

Meanwhile the citizens in Dun Hythe are suffering from Jerado’s rule and from Flavia’s imposition of lower wages to raise profits for the many businesses she controls. The wage restrictions impact on the Godmother’s bottom line. She is the head of a crime family who controls all vice in the city. She is also the head of the two largest and most powerful labor guilds, the teamsters and the dock workers. With Flavia’s wage restrictions in place the citizenry does have any money to have fun in the Godmother’s saloons or gambling halls. Also the workers don’t make enough money to feed their families.

Jerado’s Treasurer, Maurice, learns a few of Jerado’s family secrets. He knows how Flavia embezzles vast amounts of money from the contracts she gives out. Maurice learns about Bohan and the attempts to kill him. These and a few other secrets ensure his early death if Jerado ever finds out what he knows. Maurice meets with the Godmother and they agree to help each other for their mutual protection.

Now close to Dun Hythe, Leticia agrees to enter the city and scout it out. Hopefully she can find a way for Bohan to enter the city. She also wants to meet with the Godmother because her father was once a high-ranking official in the dock workers guild. Leticia hopes the Godmother can find out where her father is.

Within the city, rumors swirl about the reappearance of the King Who Disappeared. The Godmother ignores the rumors and is stunned to learn from Leticia that Bohan is really alive and outside the city. After a lively discussion, The Godmother agrees to smuggle Bohan into the city in return for a guarantee from Bohan for protection for her business.

Bohan and his mates enter the city by boat in the middle of the night and meet with the Godmother and Maurice who tells Bohan the layout of the palace and how to sneak into it. To make a distraction, the Godmother will call a city-wide general strike to coincide with Bohan’s attack on Jerado.

Bohan and Ansgar sneak into the palace at night with Maurice in the lead. Leaving Maurice behind, they advance into the living quarters and confront Jerado. A confusing battle ensues as the two wizards throw spells at each other. Using Ansgar’s spell as a distraction, Bohan gets close enough to Jerado to use his sword on the wizard thus gaining revenge.

With Jerado out of the way, Bohan arrests Lithgow and Flavia, proclaims himself king and agrees to work with the Godmother, orders a wage increase for all the workers.

Everyone is happy except Jerado’s children who must perform menial work for the rest of their lives.

Excerpt

Backstory: Jerado is the antagonist and a wizard. Over time, he’s conquered all the small kingdoms and dukedoms in the land and now rules Gundarland as President for Life. Remy is his personal assistant. He is a halfling who Jerado found on the side of the road as a newly-dead victim of robbers. Jerado reanimated Remy to serve as cheap help.

In order to appear accessible, President Jerado began a process that allowed citizens to petition for a short private audience with him.  Applicants could apply for an audience once every two weeks.

To ensure that no one was ever granted an audience, Jerado put Remy in charge of the interview process.

Remy entered the interview room on the first floor of the Presidential Palace.  Along the way, he walked past two pike carrying guards.  The small, drafty room was lined with benches on three sides broken only by the door the petitioners used.

Remy walked to the desk in the front of the room and sat down. At Jerado’s insistence that he look presentable, he wore a rust-colored robe over his threadbare, heavily patched clothes. He glanced around. Most of the applicants had been here a few times before.  He noticed two new ones and pointed a finger at one. The man moved forward and stood by the desk.

Remy questioned the man and wrote his name and address on a sheet of paper.  He wrote the runes very slowly and precisely, more slowly than he normally would. The objective of the process was to get people to leave in disgust because of the delays.

“W . . . hat do you want to talk to the President about?” Remy asked.

“I’ve developed a way to make inexpensive cloth. I want to build a factory and I’ll need steam engines. If I can get the President’s approval, I’ll be able to get bank loans and the steam engines.”

Steam engines, recently developed, were a government monopoly.

“H . . . have a seat. Next?”

A young dwarf presented himself in front of the desk. After stating his name, he said, “I just graduated from college and I’m hoping for a job.”

“W . . . what did you study?”

“Art and literature.”

“W . . . hat type of job are you looking for?”

“I don’t care. Anything that pays well and has decent hours.”

“H . . . ave a seat.” Remy picked up the two applications and started to stand when the door burst open and a tall, obese man in a green cassock entered. “I demand an audience with the President.” He strode to the desk and glared at Remy. “Immediately. I’m a busy man.”

“N . . . ame?”

“I am Bishop Connors of the Snotish Church. Where is the President?”

“W . . . hat do you want to see him about?”

“I don’t discuss church business with minions. Are you dead?”

“I . . . ‘ve been dead for a long time.”

“The Snotist Church has vowed to destroy abominations like you.”

“Th . . . ank you for sharing that. W . . . hat do you wish to discuss with the President?”

The bishop growled under his breath and said, “I wish to build a temple in town and it’s the government’s job to fund the construction.”

Remy wrote the information on a paper, stood up and left the room.

He went to his office on the fifth floor. Sitting at his desk he filled out two forms and then played a few games of Tic-Tac-Toe. Playing the “X’s”, he lost a seven game tournament four games to one.

After a while, he returned to the room and pointed to three folks who had been there before. “T . . . he President has denied your requests for audiences. You may leave.”

He beckoned to the inventor and said, “H . . . ere is an authorization to buy steam engines. T . . . his is a grant of twenty-five silver pennies to help you along.”

“What about me?” the bishop demanded.

“T . . . he President is considering your request. H . . . e wants to see a plot plan and an estimate of construction costs.”

“What! I don’t have either of those documents.”

“W . . . ell, you have two weeks to get them before the next audience session. O . . . therwise, your audience request will be denied.”

Remy then announced, “The President will not hold any audiences today. P . . . lease leave and return in two weeks if you wish.”

‘More bureaucratic nonsense.” The bishop took a step toward the door by the guards. “Where is he? I’ll see him now.”

“T . . . he guards will prevent you from passing through the door.”

“Nonsense! I’m a bishop. My person is inviolate”

“G . . . o near the door and the guards will use their pikes. T . . . hey don’t care who you are.”

The bishop left, barging past the folks crowding around the door.

Remy watched him and grinned. He planned to jerk the bishop around for months; the young college graduate not so long.

Remy loved his job.

About the Author

 

Hank Quense writes satirical fantasy and sci-fi. Early in his writing career, he was strongly influenced by two authors: Douglas Adams and his Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy and Joesph Heller’s Catch-22. Happily, Hank has never quite recovered from those experiences.

He lives with his wife in northern New Jersey, a mere 20 miles from Manhattan, the center of the galaxy (according to those who live in Manhattan). They have two daughters and five grandchildren all of whom live nearby.

For vacations, Hank and Pat usually visit distant parts of the galaxy.  Occasionally, they also time-travel.

Besides writing novels, Hank lectures on fiction writing, publishing and book marketing. He is most proud of his talk showing grammar school kids how to create a short story. He used these lectures to create an advanced ebook with embedded videos to coach the students on how to create characters, plots, and setting.  The target audience is 4th to 7th graders.  The book’s title is Fiction Writing Workshop for Kids.

 

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Giveaway

 

The King Who Disappeared is a new satiric fantasy novel that will be published on April 15 in print and ebook editions.

The novel will be sold on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and many other online book sites.

On March 15, The author, Hank Quense, will hold a random drawing to give away 10 ebook copies of the novel.  To enter the drawing, all you have to do is subscribe to his quarterly newsletter.  You can subscribe to his quarterly newsletter and find out more on the #Giveaway here or click on the image below.

Posted in excerpt, nonfiction, Sports, Spotlight on March 4, 2019

Synopsis

The thrill of victory, agony of defeat and human drama of competition are the fundamental allure of sport.  Its glorious unpredictability is truly captivating and nothing captures our imagination more than a contest which suddenly comes alive after the result appeared to be a foregone conclusion.  Whether it’s the anguish of a choke or the brilliance of a comeback, Days of Miracle and Wonder captures these moments and tells the unique stories behind 25 of the most incredible sporting victories.

Excerpt

At its best, sport requires athletes to give more than they thought they could – physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.  I know from personal experience that a person is rarely more alive – or living in the moment – than during an intense sporting event.  There are no regrets about the past or angst about the future in the heat of competition.  Life is now.  As a match ebbs and flows, it can be a wild ride.  At crucial moments, the most difficult questions can be posed and only champions are able to answer.

Some teams and players can’t deal with pressure.  They reach the brink of success and then implode spectacularly in what we refer to as a sporting choke.  When it happens, it becomes a part of sporting folklore, unforgettable for all the wrong reasons.  Choking in sport has been called ‘analysis paralysis’; the point where physical and mental changes occur due to increased tension.  Strategies are changed to cope with the situation and if it doesn’t work, confidence can be lost to the point of panic.  It’s a lonely and helpless feeling.

On the other hand, a player or team rising from the canvas to fight their way back into a contest is one of the most exciting things about being a sports player or fan.  No matter the level of competition, no matter the sport, no matter the importance of the game, there is something exhilarating about seeing a player or a team dig down deep to overcome the odds.  A comeback has even been described as “the single greatest aspect of competition that most embodies the spirit of what makes sport extraordinary.”

When it’s impossible to determine exactly what happened, it is often left to perspective.  Which player or team were you supporting?  In the anguish of a defeat, it’s comforting to think the opponent ‘came back’ to win, whereas in victory you can say ‘they choked’.  In the end, the result stands either way and in the quest for a common goal, there can be only one winner.  Names etched onto cups and trophies record these results but sporting chapters are not written on the bare facts of score lines.  The glory of sport is in the contest itself.

About the Author

I’m originally from New Zealand and now live in Brisbane Australia. My passions in life are travel, outdoor adventure and sport.

I’ve explored over 50 countries across 5 continents of the world, which inspired me to create a website and write two travel books. Travel Unravelled is a guide book for anyone wanting to travel the world on a budget and Around the World in 80 Tales is a collection of my experiences doing exactly that.

More recently, I have begun a series of sports books. ‘Days of Miracle and Wonder’ tells the unique stories behind 25 of the most incredible sporting victories and the impact they had on the lives of those involved. There will be more sports books with amazing true stories coming soon!

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Posted in 5 paws, Cozy, Giveaway, mystery, Review on March 3, 2019

One Feta in the Grave (A Kebab Kitchen Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
3rd in Series
Kensington (February 26, 2019)
Mass Market Paperback: 352 pages

Synopsis

As summer comes to an end in her Jersey Shore town, Lucy Berberian continues to manage her family’s Mediterranean restaurant. The Kebab Kitchen also has a food tent at this year’s beach festival. But now a local businessman is under the boardwalk—dead by the sea …

With a sand castle contest and live music, Ocean Crest bids a bittersweet farewell to tourist season. Summer will return next year … but Archie Kincaid won’t. The full-of-himself store owner has been fatally shot, soon after a screaming match with Lucy’s best friend. Katie’s far from the only suspect, though, since Archie had some bitter rivals—as well as some relationships no one knew about. It’s up to Lucy to look into some seedy characters and solve the case before the wrong person gets skewered …

Recipes included!

Review

If you enjoy Mediterranean food (like I do) and like a good mystery, then this is a series you will want to read.  From the characters to the tantalizing dishes, everything falls into place and makes this a fantastic read.

This is the third installment in this series and I have enjoyed watching the characters develop, the family dynamics, and the mysteries being hidden in plain sight.  Well, maybe not quite in plain sight because I have yet to figure out the killer.  There are twists and turns that I didn’t expect which kept me on the edge of my seat wondering what could possibly happen next.

I enjoy the potential love triangle between Lucy, Azad, and Michael.  Granted, Lucy claims that Michael is just a friend but I think if he had his way they could be more.

This series continues to improve so we give it 5 paws up and perhaps one day I’ll try one of the delicious recipes that tease us in the book.

 

About the Author

Tina Kashian spent her childhood summers at the New Jersey shore, building sand castles, boogie boarding, and riding the boardwalk Ferris wheel. She also grew up in the restaurant business where her Armenian parents owned a restaurant for thirty years. She worked almost every job—rolling silverware and wiping down tables as a tween, to hosting and waitressing as a teenager.

After college, Tina worked as a NJ Deputy Attorney General, a patent attorney, and a mechanical engineer. Her law cases inspired an inquiring mind of crime, and since then, Tina has been hooked on mysteries. The Kebab Kitchen Cozy Mystery series launches with Hummus and Homicide, followed by Stabbed in the Baklava and One Feta in the Grave by Kensington Books. Tina still lives in New Jersey with her supportive husband and two young daughters. Please visit her website and join her Newsletter to enter free contests to win books, get delicious recipes, and to learn when her books will be released.

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