Giveaway – The Counterfeit Wife by Mally Becker @partnersincr1me @mally_becker

The Counterfeit Wife

by Mally Becker

September 19 – October 14, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Philadelphia, June 1780. George Washington’s two least likely spies return, masquerading as husband and wife as they search for traitors in Philadelphia.

Months have passed since young widow Becca Parcell and former printer Daniel Alloway foiled a plot that threatened the new nation. But independence is still a distant dream, and General Washington can’t afford more unrest, not with food prices rising daily and the value of money falling just as fast.

At the General’s request, Becca and Daniel travel to Philadelphia to track down traitors who are flooding the city with counterfeit money. Searching for clues, Becca befriends the wealthiest women in town, the members of the Ladies Association of Philadelphia, while Daniel seeks information from the city’s printers.

But their straightforward mission quickly grows personal and deadly as a half-remembered woman from Becca’s childhood is arrested for murdering one of the suspected counterfeiters.

With time running out – and their faux marriage breaking apart – Becca and Daniel find themselves searching for a hate-driven villain who’s ready to kill again.

Praise for The Counterfeit Wife:

The Counterfeit Wife by Mally Becker has it all — adventure, romance and deceit … [w]ith smooth-as-ice prose and pitch-perfect dialogue.”

Tina deBellegarde, Agatha- and Derringer-nominated author of the Batavia-on-Hudson Mystery Series

The Counterfeit Wife is a not-to-be-missed adventure that gives new meaning to rebel and loyalist, spy and spouse.”

Lori Robbins, award-winning author of the On Pointe and Masterclass Mystery series

“As the young country struggles for independence, so does Becca, and she will have you turning pages well into the night … I highly recommended The Counterfeit Wife and I’m already anxious for the third of the series.”

Eileen Harrison Sanchez, award-winning author of Freedom Lessons—A Novel

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: September 2022
Number of Pages: 300
ISBN: 9781685121587
Series: A Revolutionary War Mystery
Book Links: Amazon

Read an excerpt:

Heat rose from Rebecca Parcell’s chest, climbed her neck, and stamped a flush on her cheeks. She knew what would happen next. It was time for the toasts.

“Steady now,” Daniel Alloway whispered. They stood alone in a corner of the crowded ballroom. His good hand brushed hers for reassurance. His other hand hung at his side, deadened by the injury he’d incurred escaping from a British prison ship a year ago.

Becca scanned the room to assure herself that no one watched them. Even his light touch was frowned upon by polite society, but it brought her warmth and comfort.

Their host rapped an ornate silver fork against his crystal goblet again and waited for the magpie chatter of gossip to quiet. He stood by the large fireplace, his feet planted wide as if he were standing on the deck of one of his ships. Mr. Thaddeus Barnes was the wealthiest merchant in Philadelphia, which meant, she knew, that he was one of the richest men in all of North America.

Becca had rarely seen luxury like this, not even last winter in New York City. The ceiling dripped curved garlands of flowers carved of plaster. Blue and white vases from China rested on the carved marble mantel. Cherry wood tables hailed from France, and the glass chandelier from Venice.

“I’d be much more comfortable with a bow in my hand,” Becca murmured. “Or a knife. A knife would do.”

“You’d rather hunt in Morristown than here?” Daniel smiled, his green eyes filled with amusement. The gaunt, haunted look he wore when she met him last winter was gone. But his features still seemed to be carved from stone, all hard angles and shadows. Except when he smiled at her like this.

Despite being tall, Becca had to tilt her chin up to see eye-to-eye with Daniel. “Hunting here will do.” she said, sounding more prim than she intended, and Daniel laughed. “Even this type of hunting.”

They were in Philadelphia, searching for the counterfeiters flooding the colony with fake money. They were the obvious, though unconventional, pair for the job, General Washington had said when he assigned them. Daniel because he was a former printer with the skills to evaluate ink and paper and Becca for her talent with numbers, accounts, and codes, which had already served the general well.

The clink-clink of metal on glass rang through the air again, and Mr. Barnes’s guests finally quieted. “A toast,” he called, beginning the first of the three he would raise to Becca and Daniel. It was the same at each of the parties held in their honor these past few weeks. Always three. Becca dreaded the third. “To independence.”

Becca lifted her goblet and sipped to a chorus of “huzzahs.” One, she counted to herself, because counting was soothing but not soothing enough for what was to come.

When the cheers faded, Mr. Barnes raised his glass again. The wine-filled cup glimmered red beneath the crystal candelabras. “To General Washington.”

“Huzzah!” The ballroom cheered again. Two, Becca counted.

She should be grateful to Mr. Barnes, not gritting her teeth over his toasts. He had opened his home to them at the Washingtons’s request, and he was introducing them to the finest families in Philadelphia, who were happy to welcome two friends of General and Lady Washington.

At least that much was true. Since last February, she and Daniel had become regular visitors to the Washingtons’ residence in Morristown after uncovering a plot that threatened the new nation.

Another round of cheers. Some guests made the mistake of lowering their glasses.

“And…” Mr. Barnes crowed.

A man with ginger-colored hair lounging by the doorway sighed loudly, catching her eye.

Becca couldn’t have agreed more.

The stranger gave her a slow, lazy smile. His expression was almost intimate, as if he were trying to draw her in. She turned away quickly.

“Finally…” Mr. Barnes added.

Becca took a deep breath, inhaling the warm scent of beeswax candles.

“…let us wish the newlyweds a joyous and productive marriage.” Mr. Barnes, a long-time widower, winked at Daniel. “May your hearts ever be at each other’s service.”

The cream of Philadelphia society turned in unison to Becca and Daniel.

She dropped her gaze to avoid the stares.

“A delicate flower, you are,” Daniel whispered without moving his lips.

She banged his ribs with her elbow and heard a satisfying oomph.

Anyone watching her redden and look away at the mention of their marriage might indeed take it that she was a shy, delicate flower. This was false.

She was not shy.

She was not delicate.

And, more to the point, she and Daniel were not married.

Mr. Barnes nodded to a double-chinned musician in the corner dressed in maroon breeches and a matching silk coat. At the signal, he tucked his violin into his neck, lifted a bow, and attacked his instrument. Two men laughed at something a third said. A few women formed a group and chatted, and the high-ceilinged room filled again with noise.

Barnes knew the reason they were in Philadelphia. General Washington had trusted him with that information. But their host believed that Becca and Daniel were wed. This way, Mr. Barnes could rightfully claim to be as outraged as everyone else if their deceit came to light.

Memory pulled Becca back to a dinner with the Washingtons in Morristown. “Perhaps this is unwise.” The general voiced a rare doubt after they agreed to come to Philadelphia. “You are unmarried and unchaperoned. It is scandalous. Society will close ranks against you. You’ll learn nothing.”

Lady Washington had taken a small sip of sherry. Her blue eyes lit with humor. “Then they must appear to be married while maintaining all the proprieties.”

The general made a choking sound that Becca and Daniel decided later was laughter. And so they’d agreed to play the part of a newly married couple, with Daniel looking for a new business opportunity in Philadelphia. It was a brazen plan but might just succeed.

Becca startled. The ginger-haired gentleman suddenly stood before her.

He extended a silk-clad leg and bowed, then rose, displaying the same secret smile that made her uncomfortable minutes ago. His nose was straight, his eyelashes pale against close-set blue eyes. Perhaps his chin was a bit heavy, his mouth a bit small. His features were not memorable, but something about him commanded attention.

It wasn’t just his shock of red hair combed back neatly and tied low along the back of his neck, nor the well-made clothes of ivory silk and gold embroidery. Everyone in the room bore similar signs of wealth. It was the confidence with which he moved, the sense that his regard flattered anyone upon whom it was bestowed.

“You’ve kept her from me, Alloway. I thought I knew all the beautiful women in Philadelphia.” His eyes locked on Becca’s.

She stiffened. It took discipline not to raise her hand and double check that the lace covering the top of her breasts was in place. He made her feel naked.

Daniel stiffened, too. “Mrs. Alloway, may I introduce Mr. Edmund Taylor, another merchant here in Philadelphia.”

Taylor’s light eyebrows shot up in mock distress. “Just another merchant? One of the most successful in the colonies, despite the war.” His gaze dropped to Daniel’s injured hand.

“And is your wife here, too?” Daniel bit down on the words, “your wife.”

Irritation crossed Taylor’s face so quickly Becca thought she imagined it. “My dear,” he called loudly.

A woman standing near the fireplace tensed, then moved toward them with the elegance of a swan. Her hair was honey blond, her skin unblemished, and her eyes a liquid blue. She stopped before them, wearing a tentative smile.

“I’m honored to present my wife, Charlotte Taylor.” He completed the introductions.

“It is a pleasure. I hope you enjoy our city.” Her voice was breathy and slow. There was a stillness about her, as if she had her own secrets to guard.

“I am enjoying it.” From downstairs, Becca heard the butler’s placating voice, then a woman’s shrill, demanding response.

Moments later, Mr. Barnes’s butler, Eli, slipped into the room.

Heads turned to the butler with a mixture of curiosity and mild surprise.

He whispered to Mr. Barnes, who nodded.

Then Eli strode toward them. He cupped his hand over his mouth and leaned toward Mr. Taylor.

“Begging your pardon, sir. There’s a woman at the front door. She says she’s yours, and that she must see you now.”

Becca couldn’t help but overhear. She says she’s yours. The woman at the door must be enslaved. Neither her dead husband nor father had owned slaves. But even she knew that enslaved people did not enter by the front door.

Color leeched from Taylor’s face.

“I will see her.” Mrs. Taylor swept from the room without waiting for her husband’s response.

“How do you find Philadelphia, Mrs. Alloway? Your husband says that this is your first visit,” another guest, who had turned to them at the servant’s approach, asked to mask the embarrassment of the moment.

When Becca didn’t answer, Daniel elbowed her gently. “Yes, Mrs. Alloway. How do you find Philadelphia?”

She really must do a better job responding to her married name. “People have been kind here. I hardly expected it.”

Mr. Barnes joined them, interrupting, “How goes your business, Taylor?”

“We don’t want to bore the ladies.” Taylor glanced at Becca.

“Please, don’t stop on my account. I comprehend so little, but hearing you speak of business never bores me.” Becca would have fluttered her eyelashes if she were the sort of woman who could manage it without appearing to have caught a speck of dirt in her eye.

She pasted a pleasant far-away expression on her face. Men spoke of business and politics as if she couldn’t understand a word, as if she didn’t listen and pass anything of interest back to General Washington. She took a small sip of the straw-colored dry sherry.

“Are you paying your investors in silver or paper these days?” Barnes asked.

Becca admired his playacting. Daniel and their host had rehearsed their lines. They asked the same questions at each party.

Taylor glared. “Sterling, of course. What are you accusing me of?”

Becca slowly lowered her glass. Taylor was the first to interpret the query as an accusation. An accusation of what? Having less silver than a man of his stature should? Or of passing along fake dollar notes?

Barnes nodded to Taylor. “No offense intended. I started seeing badly printed dollar notes again this spring. Merely asking whether you’re being cautious about paper dollars these days, given the situation.”

Taylor nodded curtly.

By now, five men had formed a tight ring as if warming themselves round a campfire. Becca stood just outside their circle.

Another of the merchants stepped up. “I thought I was the only one who noticed the forgeries.”

Daniel feigned surprise. “Has that been a problem here?”

“The British—damn them. They’re printing false money and spreading it as fast as they can,” one of the men said.

“There are worse problems, surely,” Daniel said.

“Ah, a young man who believes war is only about battles,” another guest drawled with feigned pity.

The others chuckled.

“If not winning battles, then what?” Daniel smiled, but the skin around his eyes tightened. He’s offended by the condescending tone, Becca thought.

“The counterfeits will set this country ablaze.” Barnes sputtered. “There have been food riots already. The poor are starving, and they can’t afford bread. How soon until people seek another king, another tyrant who swears that only he can save them?”

“When no one can tell whether money is real, the price of bread goes up, and everyone—everyone—turns against the government,” another man added. He looked to the group for support.

Becca studied them, shaken. She had thought of this trip as a lark, a way to spend more time with Daniel while unraveling a simple puzzle for General Washington.

Daniel bowed to Mr. Barnes. “It does sound terrible. My apologies.” He turned to Taylor. “And what do you think of all this, sir?”

Taylor shrugged. “Mr. Barnes is right. The economy is undone. I’d look to the traitors’ wives first. I wouldn’t put counterfeiting past them.”

“Who are the traitors’ wives?” Becca asked, catching Taylor’s attempt at redirection.

The men turned to her in surprise.

Oh bullocks. “Traitors? I don’t see any traitors at this party. Mr. Barnes wouldn’t allow it.” There. That sounded more like the simple, oblivious young woman they expected her to be.

Taylor and the others chuckled indulgently. “Nothing for you to worry about, Mrs. Alloway. Our apologies.”

“Do you know something specifically about these women, or are you trading in rumors?” Daniel’s voice was soft, but the challenge was clear. Neither he nor Becca cared for baseless rumors, not after gossip had almost ruined her life last winter.

“My husband’s passions sometimes lead him astray.” Charlotte Taylor had returned. “There are times that he causes harm when it is least intended.”

The husband and wife stared at each other from across the small circle of guests. He looked away first.

***

Excerpt from The Counterfeit Wife by Mally Becker. Copyright 2022 by Mally Becker. Reproduced with permission from Mally Becker. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Mally Becker

Mally Becker combines her love of history and crime fiction in mysteries that feature strong, independent heroines. She is the Agatha Award-nominated author of The Turncoat’s Widow, which Kirkus Reviews called, “A compelling tale… with charming main characters.” Her first novel was also named a Silver Falchion finalist and a CIBA “Mystery & Mayhem” finalist.

A member of the board of MWA-NY, Mally was an attorney until becoming a full-time writer and an instructor at The Writers Circle Workshops. She is also a member of Sisters in Crime and the Historical Novel Society. Mally and her husband live in New Jersey, where they raised their wonderful son and spend as much time as they can hiking and kayaking.

Catch Up With Mally Becker:
www.MallyBecker.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @mallybecker
Instagram – @mallybeckerwrites
Twitter – @mally_becker
Facebook – @mallybeckerauthor

 

 

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Giveaway – The Henrietta & Inspector Howard Novels by Michelle Cox @iReadBookTours @michellecox33


 


Join us for this tour from Sep 26 to Oct 21, 2022!

Book Series Details:

Book Series:  The Henrietta and Inspector Howard Novels by Michelle Cox
Category:  Adult fiction (18+), 200-400 pages each
Genre:  Historical Fiction, Historical Mysteries
Publisher:  She Writes Press
Release date:  April 2016; April 2017; April 2018; April 2019; April 2020, Oct 2022
Tour dates:  Sep 26 to Oct 21, 2022
Content Rating: This book series is rated R. Books 1 – 2 do not have sex scenes, but they are implied and the content is mature (prostitution, gambling, alcohol, murder, serial killer). Book 3 introduces tasteful sex scenes between a married couple and there is one rape (not graphic at all). Books 4 – 6 usually have 2 tasteful sex scenes in each Swearing is present in all 6 books, but is minimal.  
“Downton Abbey meets Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries!”

“Henrietta and Clive are a sexy, endearing, and downright fun pair of sleuths. Readers will not see the final twist coming.” 
Library Journal, starred review

“Fans of spunky, historical heroines will love Henrietta Von Harmon.” Booklist, starred review

“Henrietta and Inspector Howard are the best pair of sleuths I’ve come across in ages. A fantastic start to what is sure to be a long running series.” ―Tasha Alexander, New York Times bestselling author 
Book Series Description:
A GIRL LIKE YOU: Beautiful Henrietta Von Harmon works as a 26 girl at a corner bar, Poor Pete’s, on Chicago’s northwest side. It’s 1935, but things still aren’t looking up since the big crash and her father’s subsequent suicide. Left to care for her antagonistic mother and seven younger siblings, Henrietta is persuaded to take a job as a taxi dancer at a local dance hall. Henrietta is just beginning to enjoy herself, dancing with men for ten cents a dance, when the floor matron suddenly turns up murdered. The aloof Inspector Clive Howard then appears on the scene, and Henrietta unwittingly finds herself involved in unraveling the mystery when she agrees to go undercover for him in a burlesque theater where he believes the killer lurks.

Even as Henrietta is plunged into Chicago’s grittier underworld, she struggles to still play the mother “hen” to her younger siblings and even to the pesky neighborhood boy, Stanley, who believes himself in love with her and continues to pop up in the most unlikely places, determined, ironically, to keep Henrietta safe, even from the Inspector if needs be. Despite his efforts, however, and his penchant for messing up the Inspector’s investigation, the lovely Henrietta and the impenetrable Inspector find themselves drawn to each other in most unsuitable ways. 

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Giveaway – The Sleeping Giant b Tammy Lowe @XpressoTours

The Sleeping Giant
Tammy Lowe
(The Acadian Secret, #2)
Published by: The Wild Rose Press
Publication date: September 21st 2022
Genres: Fantasy, Historical, Time-Travel, Young Adult

When a tormented man begs 17-year-old Elisabeth London to travel back in time to save his life, she reluctantly agrees. Assuming Scotland is the destination, she ends up in Ancient Rome instead.
The good news is she finds the man; now a bold 17-year-old named Aquarius. The bad news is he’s an indentured slave, sentenced to death in the arena, and doesn’t even know her yet.
Elisabeth helps Aquarius escape and becomes an outlaw herself. Armed with her wits and his rock sling, the new friends are on the run from a relentless slave dealer, Rufus Leptis.

Elisabeth soon realizes she’s not here to save Aquarius from Rufus, but from the doomed city of Pompeii. Although trying to be brave, the thought of remaining in Aquarius’ swashbuckling world a minute longer than necessary is inconceivable.

At least, it used to be.

Before that darn, happy-go-lucky slave stole her heart.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

The thundering sounds all around them seemed to fade into the distance as Elisabeth stood pinned against the side of the cliff. Her gaze darted up to the grassy overhang. There were only two ways off this ledge; the tunnel or the rushing river that would sweep them over the falls within seconds. About to hyperventilate, Elisabeth buried her face in David’s back. Every millisecond moved at an unbearable speed. She held her breath as the inevitable moment drew nearer. Their only chance would be if Rufus didn’t step outside of the tunnel, but that would take a miracle. David looked prepared to fight, but from the side of a mountain ledge with a giant of a man? That could end up a bigger disaster.

She pushed a pile of rocks aside with her foot and shuffled as far along the ledge as possible so David could step back and they’d be flush against the wall. When they heard Rufus grumbling, she knew he had to be near the end of the tunnel. Her leg muscles tightened. Elisabeth wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.

He was so close.

Too close.

She dared not look to see if he had walked onto the ledge. He would only need to step outside to see them.

What was that noise?

Hissing?

Elisabeth felt the color drain from her face, and then turned ever so slightly to look at the ground beside her.

She gasped, and the sound of her heartbeat thrashed in her ears. If anyone thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, they’d be wrong. Coiled at her feet, next to the dislodged rock, was a snake, looking as startled as Elisabeth. Her mouth fell open, repulsed, but unable to look away from the creature.

“No…no…no…” she whimpered.

Author Bio:

An adventurer at heart, Tammy has explored ruins in Rome, Pompeii, and Istanbul (Constantinople) with historians and archaeologists.

She’s slept in the tower of a 15th century castle in Scotland, climbed down the cramped tunnels of Egyptian pyramids, scaled the Sydney Harbour Bridge, sailed on a tiny raft down the Yulong River in rural China, dined at a Bedouin camp in the Arabian Desert, and escaped from head-hunters in the South Pacific.

I suppose one could say her own childhood wish of time traveling adventures came true…in a roundabout way.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram / Pinterest


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Giveaway – A Reservoir Man by L J Ambrosio @iReadBookTours

I am excited to share L J Ambrosio’s Guest Post for A Reservois Man and to be a part of this I Read Book Tours tour.

Guest Post By L.J. Ambrosio, Author of “A Reservoir Man”

Sherry @ Fundimental

Title: “Michael’s Relationships With People”

In the novel, Michael’s relationship with his parents is extremely simple, they love each other. Though Michael always thinks of his parents as the two separate individuals, “Francis” and “Andy,” he never dares call them anything except their proper titles, Mom and Dad. Michael never discusses his life choices with his parents, they always support him in his life’s endeavors, they understand him through the bad and the good. Michael’s relationship with them, though sometimes imperfect, is ideal for his character as a young man coming of age.

In Michael’s first year of college, he develops a very strong relationship with Claire. A marriage of the two characters seems likely at this time.  Michael at the same time develops a relationship with a male character named Raphael. Within six months, both relationships end, though Claire and Michael remain friends. These two relationships are symbolic of so many relationships Michael has in his life, people come and go constantly. Somehow, their departure is Michael’s choice.

Michael finds at the end of his life the most unconditional relationships with his children and even his dogs, like Buddy. Though it was a difficult road to bring the children up alone, they both become very successful and stand by him. This is true even of the character, Buddy, with whom Michael reaches one of the greatest moments of catharsis and truth in his entire life. One of the greatest disappointments Michael has in his life, is in the sheer number of friendships where he genuinely sought to help someone, in these instances, the vast majority of these people vanish and never offer anything in return.


 


 

Join Us For This Tour From:  Sep 6 to Sep 26 

Book Details:

Book Title:  A Reservoir Man by L.J. Ambrosio
CategoryAdult Fiction (18+), 340 pages
GenreFictionalized Memoir
Publisher: Self-Published, Amazon
Publication Date: May 25, 2022.
Content Rating: PG-13 +M: There is a few explicit sex scenes, some mentions of sexual abuse, some bad language   

Continue reading

Giveaway – Veronique’s Journey by Patti Flinn @XpressoTours

Véronique’s Journey
Patti Flinn
Publication date: September 1st 2022
Genres: Adult, Historical

In 18th century France, the choices for a young black woman of modest means are slim.

Véronique Clair loves her parents and their small home in the countryside of Burgundy but dreams of using her talent for sewing and embroidery to make her own way, without having to rely on a man.

When Véronique’s well-meaning parents find her a suitor of elevated station their happiness turns into her despair. Véronique must make the difficult choice between agreeing to an arranged marriage–with its promise of elevated status in society–or embark upon an unpredictable journey across France and into a world she’s never known.

…for a young woman of honor, only the heart can guide the way.

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EXCERPT:

The pastor began to speak but was interrupted as a former childhood friend of mine entered behind us, causing many of us to turn around and look. She was red-faced with embarrassment. Big with child and holding onto the hand of two small children on either side of her and sporting a freshly blackened eye. She held her chin up and hustled her babies into a seat as her husband came in behind her, his face a mask of arrogance, daring anyone to say anything. He took the seat beside his family, slouched in the chair like a pouting child.

I leaned to whisper to my mother, eyes still on the man. “He will beat or breed her to death. The bastard. When he was courting her he had nothing but fine words about how well he would treat her. Now she is stuck with him, forever.”

“Oui,” Maman nodded, her pretty features turned down in a frown. “It is a shame. He is angry that he is a married man…”


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Giveaway – The Unveiling of Polly Forrest by Charlotte Whitney @GoddessFish @CWhitneyAuthor

The Unveiling of Polly Forrest by Charlotte Whitney

GENRE: Historical Mystery

BLURB

Rural Michigan, 1934.

During the throes of the Great Depression Polly marries for money. After her husband Sam dies in a bizarre farm accident, new bride Polly assumes she is set to pursue her dream of opening a hat-making business. Instead, she becomes the prime suspect in Sam’s murder. Secrets abound and even Polly’s family can’t figure out the truth.

EXCERPT

Sunday, August 19, 1934

Having no choice, I began climbing the exterior ladder that ran up the height of the silo. I got up five or six rungs before my fear of heights kicked in. My body started shaking and I willed myself not to look down. I kept putting one foot above the other. The towel around my wounded right arm had loosened and I let it fall to the ground, not wanting to remove my other hand from the rung.

Every step required my mind telling my arms and legs to move. My hands were jittering and I could hardly grip the ladder. You can do this, I told myself. You can. You can.

“Keep going.”  His voice was piercing.

I willed my feet to move up the ladder. My body convulsed. I was about five rungs from the top when I stopped. Reason told me I needed to quit shaking and get my body under control or I would fall. Then it occurred to me. He’s not going to push me into the soft silage. He’s going to knock me off the top of the ladder down to the hard earth.

Dried flower on concrete stone surface background. Flat lay, top view, minimal style concept. Greeting card or web banner mockup for wedding anniversary, birthday, womens day.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Charlotte Whitney is the author of historical fiction set during the Great Depression in the rural Midwest. Her most recent work, The Unveiling of Polly Forrest, a stand-alone historical mystery follows her groundbreaking novel, Threads A Depression-Era Tale, which was met with both critical acclaim and commercial success. She received a master’s degree in English at the University of Michigan, and after a short stint of teaching at two community colleges, worked at the University of Michigan where she was an associate director of the Lloyd Scholars for Writing and the Arts. Currently living in Arizona with her husband and two dogs she enjoys hiking, bicycling, swimming, and yoga.

  • Author’s website:  https://www.charlottewhitney.com
  • Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Charlotte-Whitney/e/B001KCTFWQ
  • Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/CWhitneyAuthor
  • LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/charlotte-whitney-8235463a/
  • Twitter: https://twitter.com/CWhitneyAuthor
  • Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/charlottewhitney65/
  • BUY LINK: https://amzn.to/3y7RLcQ

Follow the tour and comment. The more you comment, the better your chance of winning. Follow the tour HERE.

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Giveaway – Death At The Manor by Katharine Schellman @partnersincr1me @katharinewrites

Death at the Manor by Katharine Schellman Banner

Death at the Manor

by Katharine Schellman

August 8 – September 2nd, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Death at the Manor (Lily Adler Mystery, #3)

Amazon

Synopsis:

The tortured spirits of the dead haunt a Regency-era English manor—but the true danger lies in the land of the living in the third installment in the Lily Adler mysteries, perfect for fans of Deanna Raybourn.

Regency widow Lily Adler is looking forward to spending the autumn away from the social whirl of London. When she arrives in Hampshire with her friends, the Carroways, she doesn’t expect much more than a quiet country visit and the chance to spend time with her charming new acquaintance, Matthew Spencer.

But something odd is afoot in the small country village. A ghost has taken up residence in the Belleford manor, a lady in grey who wanders the halls at night, weeping and wailing. Half the servants have left in terror, but the family seems delighted with the notoriety that their ghost provides. Intrigued by this spectral guest, Lily and her party immediately make plans to visit Belleford.

They arrive at the manor the next morning ready to be entertained—only to find that tragedy has struck. The matriarch of the family has just been found killed in her bed.

The dead woman’s family is convinced that the ghost is responsible. Lily is determined to learn the truth before another victim turns up—but could she be next in line for the Great Beyond?

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Crooked Lane Books
Publication Date: August 9th 2022
Number of Pages: 352
ISBN: 1639100784 (ISBN13: 9781639100781)
Series: Lily Adler Mystery #3
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | Bookshop.org

Read an excerpt:

As they walked, Mr. Wright fell in step next to Ofelia. “Have you ever seen a ghost before, Lady Carroway?”

“I have not,” she replied, as polite as ever in spite of the hint of skepticism in her voice. “Pray, what does it look like?”

“Like a lady in white and gray,” he said, and Lily was surprised to see how serious his expression was. His frivolous, unctuous manner had dropped away, and he shivered a little as he gestured toward the windows. “No one has seen her face. The first time I saw her she was standing right there, bathed in moonlight, when I was returning from a late night in the village. And my sister saw her in the early morning only two days ago. Some nights, we have heard her wails echoing through the halls, even when she is nowhere to be seen.”

Lily exchanged a look with her aunt, who seemed surprised by the detail in Thomas Wright’s story and the quaver in his voice. Either he believed wholeheartedly in his ghost, or he was putting on a very convincing performance for his audience.

“And what does she do?” Ofelia asked, sounding a little more somber now, as they drew

to a halt in front of the windows. The small party looked around the corner of the hall. It was unremarkable enough, with several large paintings, and a tall, handsome curio cabinet standing in an alcove. An old-fashioned tapestry hung across one wall, though it was worn and faded enough that it was hard to tell exactly what picture it had originally presented.

“Nothing, so far,” Mr. Wright said, a sort of forced theatricality in his voice that left Lily puzzled.

She had expected, based on what Mr. Spencer had said the night before, to find an eager showman in Thomas Wright, ready to bask in the attention of curious neighbors, not a true believer in the supernatural. Glancing at Mr. Spencer out of the corner of her eye, she thought he looked equally puzzled.

“She stands and weeps, or floats around the hall and wails. Usually, if someone tries to draw close, she vanishes. But last month—” Mr. Wright’s voice dropped a little. He still glanced

uneasily toward the other end of the hall, as if momentarily distracted or looking for someone, before quickly returning his attention to his audience. “Last month she became angry when one of our housemaids came upon her unexpectedly. The lady in gray pursued her down the hall, wailing. Poor Etta was so scared that she fell down the stairs in her haste to get away. That

was when our servants started leaving.”

“I trust the housemaid has recovered?” Mr. Spencer asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“She has,” Mr. Wright replied. “But no one has tried to approach the lady in gray again. We think she wishes to be left alone.”

“Well,” Lily said, attempting a return to lightness, “as far as ghosts go, that sounds reasonable enough. I confess I feel that way often enough myself, especially after too many busy nights in a row.”

Ofelia, who had been looking a little wide-eyed, giggled, and Mr. Spencer quickly covered a cough that might have been a chuckle.

Mr. Wright scowled, his expression halfway between unease and displeasure. “I take it you are not a woman who believes in ghosts, Mrs. Adler?”

“I have never had the opportunity to find out whether or not I am,” Lily replied. “The homes I have lived in have all been stubbornly unhaunted.”

“For your sake, madam, I hope they remain that way,” Mr. Wright said. There was an unexpected note of resignation in his voice as he added, “It is not a comfortable thing to live with.”

“I would have thought you to be fond of yours, sir,” Lily said. “If you dislike her so, why go to the trouble of showing visitors around and telling them the story?”

Mr. Wright smiled, some of the showman creeping back into his manner. “Because you are here, dear ladies. And how could I resist such a beautiful audience?”

“Tell me, has your family any idea who this lady in gray might be?” Lily’s aunt asked politely.

He nodded, his voice dropping even further, and they all reflexively drew closer to hear what he was saying. “We each have our own theory, of course,” he said. “I believe it is my father’s great-aunt, Tabitha, whose bedroom was just this way. If you would care to see the spot?” He held out his arm to Ofelia, who took it. Mr. Wright, engrossed in his story once more, turned to lead them down the closest passage. “Tabitha died there some fifty years ago, of a broken heart, they say, after news arrived of the death of her betrothed in the colonies—”

His story was suddenly cut off by screaming. Not a single shriek of surprise or dismay, but a cry that seemed to go on without ceasing. Thomas Wright froze, the genial smile dropping from his face in shock. “Selina?” he called.

The screaming continued, growing more hysterical. Dropping Ofelia’s arm, he ran toward the sound, which was coming from the far hallway, past the stairs. The others, stunned into stillness, stared at each other, unsure what to do.

“I think it’s Miss Wright,” Mr. Spencer said, all traces of merriment gone from his face. “Wait here—I shall see if they need any assistance.” He made to go after, but Thomas Wright was already returning, rushing down the hall next to another man, who was carrying the screaming woman.

“The parlor, just next to you, Spencer!” Mr. Wright called. “Open the door!”

Mr. Spencer, the closest to the door, flung it open, and the hysterical woman was carried in. She was laid on a chaise longue in the middle of the dim little room, Mr. Spencer stepping forward to help settle her as the man who had carried her stepped back. Lily, glancing

around as she and the other ladies crowded through the door, thought it looked like a space reserved for the family’s private use, which made sense on an upper floor. Thomas Wright knelt next to the hysterical woman for a moment, clasping her hands.

“Selina?” he said loudly. But she kept screaming, her eyes wide and darting about the room without seeing anything. Judging by the round cheeks and dark hair they both shared, Lily thought she must be his sister. Whether they had other features in common was hard to tell when Selina Wright was in the middle of hysterics.

“Miss Wright?” Matthew Spencer tried giving her shoulders a shake. “You must stop this at once!”

But she clearly could not hear either of them. Thomas Wright took a deep breath and looked grim as, with a surprising degree of practicality, he slapped her across the face.

The screams stopped abruptly, her blank expression resolving into one of terror before her eyes latched on her brother. Her face crumpled in misery. “Oh, Thomas!” she sobbed, gasping for breath.

He gave her shoulders a little shake. “Selina, stop this—you must tell me what happened.” But she only shook her head, clutching at his coat with desperate fists and dropping her head against his shoulder, her weeping shaking them both. Mr. Wright turned to the servant who had carried his sister. “Isaiah, what happened to her?”

Isaiah was a young Black man with very short, curly hair and broad shoulders. His plain, dark clothing marked him clearly as a servant, though it was nothing so formal as the livery that

would have been worn in a great house. His wide stance spoke of confidence, and the easy way that Thomas Wright addressed him indicated long service and familiarity.

But there was no confidence on the manservant’s face as he hesitated, gulping visibly and shaking his head. His eyes were wide, and he stumbled over his words as he tried to answer, either unsure how to respond or not wanting to. “It’s . . . it’s Mrs. Wright, sir. She didn’t open her door when we knocked, and Miss Wright . . . she asked me to open it, since no one has the key . . . and she was there, sir—Mrs. Wright. She was there but she wasn’t moving. There was nothing we could do, but there was no one else there what could have done it. She’s dead, sir,” he finished in a rush. “Mrs. Wright is dead. She was killed in the night.”

Beside her, Lily heard Ofelia gasp, though she didn’t turn to look at her friend. Mr. Spencer looked up, his dark eyes wide as he met Lily’s from across the room. She stared back at him, frozen in shock, unable to believe what she had just heard.

“Killed?” Thomas Wright demanded, his voice rising with his own disbelief and his arms tightening around his sister.

“It killed her, Thomas,” Selina Wright said, raising her head at last. Now that her hysterics had faded, her cheeks had gone ashen with fear. “There was no one else who could have entered that room. The lady in gray killed our mother.”

***

Excerpt from Death at the Manor by Katharine Schellman. Copyright 2022 by Katharine Schellman. Reproduced with permission from Katharine Schellman. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Katharine Schellman

Katharine Schellman is a former actor, one-time political consultant, and now the author of the Lily Adler Mysteries and the Nightingale Mysteries. Her debut novel, The Body in the Garden, was one of Suspense Magazine’s Best Books of 2020 and led to her being named one of BookPage’s 16 Women to Watch in 2020. Her second novel, Silence in the Library, was praised as “worthy of Agatha Christie or Rex Stout.” (Library Journal, starred review) Katharine lives and writes in the mountains of Virginia in the company of her husband, children, and the many houseplants she keeps accidentally murdering.

Catch Up With Katharine Schellman:
KatharineSchellman.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @katharineschellman
Instagram – @katharinewrites
Twitter – @katharinewrites
Facebook – @katharineschellman

 

 

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GIVEAWAY:

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Katharine Schellman. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

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Giveaway – The Final Crossing by Vince Santoro @GoddessFish @vsantoro14

I love to give authors a podium and the freedom to share whatever they like. I found Vince’s Guest Post to be interesting and it got me thinking….

Guest Blog Post

Which two authors would I have dinner with?

Ernest Hemingway and Taylor Caldwell have been known for their inspiring and exceptional writing. So, what would it be like to have dinner with them?

Let the fantasy begin …

As we waited for our drinks, I leaned over to Ernest. “Put that cigar away,” I whispered, to avoid embarrassment.

“It’s Papa,” he replied in his usual charismatic tone. “I told you many times, call me Papa. And this is no ordinary cigar. It’s a Cuban puro.”

“I know what it is,” I said as my eyes followed the waft of smoke charging towards me like one of the bulls from his book, The Sun Also Rises. I moved my head to the side and added, “This is not El Floridity and it’s not 1952. It’s 2022 in Sotto Sotto, Toronto. You remember Toronto, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” Ernest said as he extinguished his cigar. “The Toronto Star. I started there as a freelancer and eventually worked as a foreign correspondent in Europe writing stories about post-WWI conditions.”

I looked over to Taylor. She wasn’t a bit annoyed. The curl of her lip suggested she rather enjoyed the exchange and would have also enjoyed a Cuban cigar.

Our server came with our drinks. “Two daquiris,” he said. Ernest smiled and tapped his finger on a space on the table in front of him. “Martini for you, madam. And Negroni for you, sir.” We toasted to friendship and writing and as the food and drinks came in plenty, so did the conversation.

“Congratulations,” Taylor said, raising her glass to me. “I thoroughly enjoyed reading The Final Crossing. Well done.”

“As did I,” Ernest said. I thanked them, smiled, and took a sip of my Negroni.

Then Taylor turned to Ernest. “Papa, you should have added more religious themes in your books.”

“You mean like your stories?”

“You know very well I have written on a broad range of subjects, not just stories related to real historical events or persons. I do not need to defend my work.”

Ernest smiled and raised his glass in tribute of her accomplishments. It was probably more in his appreciation of a woman who exemplified his own persona – strong-minded, adventurous, and passionate about her craft. The wise fisherman was no match for this marlin, at least not this time.

“And don’t forget,” I said. “While you published The Old Man and The Sea in 1952, for which you later won the Nobel Prize, Taylor had written The Devil’s Advocate, set in a dystopia where North America came under Communist rule.”

Ernest leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his drink. Then he began to talk about his time in Cuba and in Paris and in Spain. Taylor raised her hand. Ernest stopped and remained quiet. She then leaned forward towards him and said, “Don’t let the past steal your present.”

The place fell in deafening silence as if everyone had heard our conversation. I broke the stillness with my own curiosity about their work.

“Papa, did writing come easy for you?” He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat as if ready to respond in an interview with a seasoned journalist.

“Writing is something that you can never do as well as it can be done,” he said. “It is a perpetual challenge, and it is more difficult than anything else that I have ever done—so I do it. And it makes me happy when I do it well.”

Then I turned to Taylor. “You have always been outspoken which is reflected in your intricately plotted, suspenseful stories depicting family tensions. Much of this stemmed from your childhood. Would you agree?”

“To some extent,” she replied. “As you know, I emigrated to the U.S. with my parents and younger brother in 1907. Shortly after my father died and the family struggled. I think I tapped into those experiences and wrote them in my stories.”

“I believe you started to write at the age of eight and wrote your first novel when you were twelve.”

She smiled. Then, as if the memories surfaced, her smile faded. “My ill health prevented me from doing many things, except writing of course. I buried myself in writing and the world knew little about me. Many presumed I or rather the author, was a man. That was my first editor’s doing, giving me a pen name. When my identity was eventually made known there was even some public fuss over it.”

“Did that experience change how you thought about people?”

“The nature of human beings never changes. Political fads come and go; theories rise and fall; the scientific truth of today becomes the discarded error of tomorrow. Man’s ideas change, but not his inherent nature. That remains.”

My eyes darted towards Ernest who sat with his hand on his chin, and I could tell he learned something new about Taylor.

“OK, now please humour me,” I said. I reached into my pocket and pulled out three pens, one for each of us. I then took out a piece of paper, ripped it in three and distributed them. I had obviously planned for this moment.

I continued. “If we were stranded on an island and brought with us only one book, what would it be? Write it down, fold the paper and pass it to me.”

They were pensive at first. But then, in unison, they wrote down their answer and handed it to me. I also wrote mine. I unfolded each one and placed them on the table for us to see which book we would have had brought with us.

Taylor wrote, The Old Man and The Sea. Ernest wrote, The Devil’s Advocate. I wrote, The Final Crossing.

We laughed and laughed. We ate and drank. We savoured the evening until the place had emptied, except for three revelling authors.

And the fantasy ended.

What a fun post. I know I have read The Old Man and The Sea, but the others….I’ll be checking. I loved the post and you made it so enjoyable, Vince. Thank you very much.

The Final Crossing: A Tale of Self-Discovery and Adventure by Vince Santoro

GENRE:   Historical Fiction

BLURB

In this tale of self-discovery and adventure, we are connected with a history we’ve come to know as the cradle of civilization.

Nenshi, an Egyptian house servant, raised in nobility, is well-schooled, a master huntsman and hungers to be free. His master agrees to grant his freedom but while the petition is set to be heard, Nenshi’s indiscretion gets in the way. He is caught in a secret love affair with a woman above his social status.

As punishment, he is exiled to labour in the Nubian gold mines. His life turns upside down as he is thrust into a world for which he had been ill prepared. He escapes from the mines and vows to return to Thebes, but his attempts push him farther and farther away on a journey that redefines him – a journey mired with cruelty, bloodshed, and the discovery of a new deity.

In the end Nenshi learns his freedom has been granted and must decide whether to return to his homeland or start a new life.


“I greatly enjoyed this well written story by Vince Santoro. He takes us across the Ancient World
through the protagonist, Nenshi, an exiled Egyptian servant who struggles with class structure, both around and within himself. Santoro weaves a story of ideas – a sense of belonging, monotheism, and the human soul – told through Nenshi’s rite of passage through to his final crossing. The setting is visually evocative of “spirit of place” as the novelist and travel writer Lawrence Durrell called it. It’s a story worth reading.” – Terry Stanfill
Award winning historical fiction author of The Gift from Fortuny, Realms of Gold, The Blood Remembers and other works.

“Vince Santoro is a gifted storyteller. I found The Final Crossing difficult to put down because it is
well written. As an historian and author of non-fiction books, I am impressed with the amount of research that Santoro has done to prepare this story of adventure and romance set in the ancient Middle East. The customs, the beliefs and even the character names are all authentic to that region and era. With so many plot twists and turns, Santoro will keep you guessing about what might happen next to the protagonist until the very end!” – John Charles Corrigan
Author of The Red Knight and “Love Always”

EXCERPT

Twilight was fast approaching, and they returned to the trail. From a distance they saw an abundance of trees and vegetation that sprung from the hard soil. Moments later, they heard rushing water. A twisting river murmured. It called out and invited them to consume its wealth. Nenshi and Aziza went to explore it.

Aziza stopped and kneeled to examine small flowers in bloom. On the river’s edge Nenshi bent over and splashed water on his face. He cupped his hands and drank its cool refreshing offering. Rocks jutted out from the shallow water. He heard footsteps and threw a glance behind him. Aziza, ran towards him, as free as the wind blew, eager to jump into the river. Nenshi screamed from the top of his lungs to warn her.

“Aziza … Aziza … be careful, the water is shallow! There are rocks!”

Her excitement muffled his warning. Nenshi then stood, flapped his arms to get her attention. She pushed her legs hard against the water to run faster until it was just deep enough to jump in.

“Aziza …. Aziza … stop …” Nenshi cried. Aziza took another step but this time slipped and almost fell. She tried to regain balance and continued moving forward. Nenshi gasped hoping she realized the danger and would stop. But she didn’t and it was too late. She slipped again, fell and hit a rock. Nenshi immediately ran to her, stepping and slipping on rocks that almost caused him to lose balance. Babak who had heard Nenshi’s cries dashed to the river. Nenshi crouched over the wet and motionless body.

“Help me get her out,” Nenshi cried out as he lifted her, propped her head and shoulders in his arms. Blood, washed by the water, dripped from her head.

AUTHOR Bio and Links

Vince is an Italian-born Canadian who grew up in Toronto, Canada, and now lives in Pickering, a suburb of Toronto.

In his youth, education and sports became a priority. A private boys’ school, St. Michael’s College in Toronto, provided the opportunity for both. He graduated from York University, Toronto, with a degree in history and a minor in behavioural science.

Vince was always up for new challenges. After completing his studies, he set his eyes on Europe and played professional basketball in Italy. When he returned home, he shifted gears and worked in the aerospace industry in several capacities. The most rewarding was managing internal communications for a large aircraft manufacturer. It was during this time he decided to hone his writing skills by studying journalism at Ryerson University, Toronto, and he had several articles published.

His career in communications along with studies in history and journalism prepared him to take on his next challenge: to write a book. His debut novel, The Final Crossing, has been a labour of love, one he worked on for many years. It reflects life experiences, woven into a story that inspires and entertains, and perhaps even show the world in a different way.

CONNECT WITH VINCE SANTORO

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New Release – Deadly Keepsakes by Anita Dickason @anita_dickason

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Such a lovely cover, don’t you think?

Deadly Keepsakes: A Tori Winters Mystery

Amazon / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

I have loved all the books I have read by Anita Dickason, but Deadly Keepsakes is my FAVORITE. It all starts with the lovely cover, add in an historic house with hidden secrets, some wonderful characters that stole my heart, and I am hooked.

Alone. A hospice nurse. A mysterious death. A vicious dog. Sure did get me going, from the opening pages and I love when an author hooks me so quickly I am unable to look away.

It was the beginning of her descent into a living hell of fear

She knew the police couldn’t protect her. It was up to her to protect herself. Like her, I had thought danger would be over after the trial, but the story would have been over too soon and Anita Dickason wouldn’t have it. Now I know why. Thrills and chills coming up.

Anita Dickason didn’t take the story where I thought it would go. Well done, Anita. I do love when an author can throw a surprise my way and I should have known better than to leap to conclusions with an author like Anita.

The best thing that ever happened to Tori Winters was meeting MIa…and Cammie, Heidi and Tina. I loved watching Tori grow, along with her friendship with these amazing characters, so well fleshed out I wanted them for my friends too. I laughed and cried with them.

I was swept up in the intrigue that became Tori’s life. Who to trust? What the heck is going on? How much danger is she in? Where is it coming from?

I have to come back to the characters, so richly developed. I love the ladies. The more I read of them, the more I came to love them, their generosity, their desire to help a newcomer to their town, their selflessness, doing something good for someone and expecting nothing in return…but Tori will show them how much she appreciates and loves them.

The suspense is not in your face, fast paced danger and thrills, but an underlying current of menace and intrigue flows through the entire novel. I didn’t want to put the book down, but sleep was calling to me.

I love the historical elements, Benny Binion, Top O’Hill Terrace, Granbury, Texas. I love when an author adds elements that make the book special to me, touching on familiar things and introducing me to new things that make me want more.

WOW! I am blown away and super excited about more to come. I can’t say much more or I may include spoilers that are worth discovering for yourself, but I will repeat myself, WOW. I want more of these characters and I can hardly wait to see what is in store for them next.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Deadly Keepsakes by Anita Dickason.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
5 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

The past becomes a deadly future.

Stalked and nearly killed for her role in a murder trial, Tori Winters isn’t giving the killer a second chance. On the run, she’s desperate to find a place where she can’t be found. A puzzling phone call about a vague inheritance seems to be the answer. After all, who would look for her in a Granbury, a small, quaint Texas town?

Instead, Tori’s life is about to spin into an existence where nothing is as it seems. The historic house she inherits is steeped in secrets from the past. Secrets that could prove deadly. There is the disinherited step-grandson, and the lawyer and his son. What are they hiding?

When a killer strikes again, who can she trust? Tori’s newfound wealth may not be a blessing. It could be her death warrant.

ABOUT ANITA DICKASON

Anita Dickason

Code Name: Trackers: The elite of the elite. FBI agents, each with a secret, an extra edge, that defies reason and logic.

Characters with unexpected skills—that extra edge for overcoming danger and adversity—have always intrigued Anita. Adding an infatuation with ancient myths and legends of Native American Indians, and Scottish and Irish folklore creates the backdrop for her characters.

Anita is a retired Dallas Police Officer. During—what she refers to as an extraordinary career—Anita served as a patrol officer, undercover narcotics officer, advanced accident investigator, and SWAT entry/sniper.

Upon retirement, she became involved in a research project that dealt with the death of a witness to the Kennedy assassination. The research led to her first book, JFK Assassination Eyewitness: Rush to Conspiracy, that details the results of her reconstruction of a 1966 motor vehicle accident that killed Lee Bowers, Jr., a key witness to the assassination.

Once the Bowers book was written, Anita reached the same point many authors ultimately face: I’ve written it, now what do I do? Answering that question has become another career, one she has wholeheartedly embraced. The publishing field is in a constant state of flux, offering unlimited possibilities for an author, but also endless landmines.

Anita started a new company, Mystic Circle Books & Designs LLC, offering cover design and manuscript services. In addition to her works as an author, she enjoys helping other authors see their dream become a reality.

Website / Twitter

MY ANITA DICKASON REVIEWS

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Giveaway – When We Return by Eliana Tobias @GoddessFish @TobiasElliana

When We Return by Eliana Tobias

GENRE:   historical fiction

BLURB

Who should be held responsible for public wrong? By 2008, it finally seems that the Peruvian government is ready to make amends to its citizens after the violent guerilla movement of the last three decades.


Otilia and Salvador, a mother and son torn apart during the conflict and separated for twenty years, are eager to have their pain and suffering acknowledged. But they hit a roadblock when the government denies responsibility in their legal case.


Things begin to look up however when Otilia meets Jerry, a kind man and the son of Jewish parents who escaped the Holocaust. Grappling with his own upbringing and the psychological struggled his parents endured, Jerry is just the person to empathize with Otilia’s feelings. Together, Otilia, Jerry and Salvador must support one another through the turbulent journey that is healing from historical trauma. And through it, find the courage to rebuild their lives and open themselves to love and companionship.


Artfully weaving together different timelines and countries, this novel examines the nuanced topic of grief a community endures after a collective tragedy. In this exploration of the culture of remembrance following displacement and loss, we discover what happens when out past calls us back to what we must do to achieve justice and reconciliation when we return.

EXCERPT

Salvador entered the prison gates, following an orderly line of elderly men carrying multiple plastic bags. When a person in the back started to yell, the advancing lineup came to a stop. Almost immediately a guard raised his baton and struck the unruly man to one side.

At the first security checkpoint, bags were opened for inspection. Since Salvador carried no package, he was told to move on. Next, he spread his legs wide for a pat-down. Up ahead, after showing his identity card, he was given a metal token with a printed number he’d have to return to the guards on his way out to account for his visit. Lastly, while shuffling along, he was asked to contribute a few coins for soft drinks for the guards. He reached into his pockets and found some money for drinks for the guards, which he dropped in a box at the end of the corridor.

In the prison yard, Salvador was keenly aware of the throng of people milling about. These places are jam-packed, he thought as he looked for his uncle in the crowd. Inmates talking to suited lawyers, visitors meeting up with family members, joggers getting exercise, and a group of men shooting hoops. Cooked meals, fruit, drinks, batteries, radios and clothes for sale were set up in stalls against decrepit walls. Long lineups of raucous men waited to use a few public phones that only accepted calling cards. Among the cacophony, supervising guards moved through, keeping an eye on the inmates while yelling into their megaphones.

Salvador noticed Tomas, drawn and frail, walking slowly toward him dragging his feet, his face grim. He seemed shorter than Salvador remembered him. It’d been years since they’d seen each other last, and the man had aged badly.

Tomas let out a deep breath, nodded, and pointed to a bench. Salvador checked out the courtyard, wrinkling his nose at the stench. Before Tomas rolled down his sleeves, Salvador noticed the naked female tattooed on his uncle’s forearm. Tomas pulled two cigarettes out of his stained pants pocket and held out one for Salvador.

“No Thanks, I don’t smoke.”

“So you found me, kid. How about that?” His voice was loud. He lit his cigarette with trembling hands. “How’s life?”

Salvador had no stomach for small talk. It was colder than usual for the end of March, and he wanted to be out of there as soon as he could.

Tomas coughed.”I’m stuck in this fucking place.”

“I’m here for only one reason,” Salvador said, staring him in the eyes.

“Thought you’d be wearing your cop uniform.”

“Cut the crap,” Salvador snapped.

Tomas looked puzzled, his face carved with age.

Salvador removed a pad of paper and pen from the inside pocket of his light jacket.

“What the fuck is that for?” Tomas sneered.

“I need facts.”

“Say that again; I’m hard of hearing,” Tomas said leaning in.

“Since when?” Salvador looked at Tomas doubtfully.

“Be nice. Remember that I took you in when you were an orphan – when your mother and father left you alone. You were just a grimy little beggar. Now it’s your turn to take care of me- get me out of this nightmare.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links

Eliana Tobias was born in Santiago, Chile, to immigrant parents who escaped

the Holocaust. She graduated from the University of Chile then completed

other degrees in early childhood and special education in the United States and

Canada. After working in this field in various capacities, including teaching at

the National University of Trujillo in Peru, she moved to Vancouver, where she

has lived for thirty years and where she discovered her love of writing. Her rich

experience of political turmoil, of listening to stories of the Holocaust when

Jewish communities in Europe were shattered, of losing family in Chile under

military dictatorship, and living in Peru during a time of intense civil conflict,

fueled her passion to write about the ways in which people caught in devastation

rebuild their lives. Eliana Tobias lives in Vancouver, B.C.

Website / Twitter / Goodreads

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