Friday, October 21, 2016
I've finished "Wedding Bell Blues" by Ruth Moose.
Beth McKenzie, owner of the Dixie Dew Bed and Breakfast, is enjoying an exciting affair with her new love, Scott. Meanwhile, the town of Littleboro, North Carolina is abuzz with gossip about Crazy Reba's upcoming nuptials. Most brides go crazy at some point, but Littleboro's resident homeless lady has had a head start: she's beloved, indulged, and most of all, eccentric. But at almost 60 ― or thereabouts ― her marriage seems a little peculiar. Sure, she's sporting a diamond big enough to choke a horse, but no one can tell if it's real, or just a Cracker Jack prize she pilfered from a yard sale.
Crazy Reba's wedding plans go confirmedly awry when the bride-to-be is arrested for her fiancé's murder. Beth, determined to clear Reba's name, gets in over her head when a lady wrestler who threatened to kill her books a room at the Dixie Dew, and Robert Redford, her neighbor's white rabbit, disappears.
Then Littleboro's First Annual Green Bean Festival gets up and running, a famous food writer becomes deathly ill, and Beth must battle through madcap mayhem to apprehend the culprit and save the day.
Wedding Bell Blues is Ruth Moose's sequel to her winning debut, featuring her colorful array of characters and more laughs and hilarity.
About the Author
RUTH MOOSE is the 2013 winner of the Malice Domestic Best First Traditional Mystery Novel Competition. She's published collections of short stories and several collections of poetry. She was on the Creative Writing faculty at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill for fifteen years and received the Chapman Award for teaching. She lives in Pittsboro, North Carolina.
Series: A Beth McKenzie Mystery (Book 2)
Hardcover: 336 pages
Publisher: Minotaur Books (August 23, 2016)
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Please list the books from your wishlist that you are hoping to add to your shelves in a comment, thanks.
Cozy, Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Books, I'm Waiting For:
Sometimes, what you can’t see will kill you
Kendra is surprised when she is visited by Dr. Charles Waldridge, the researcher who gave her sight through a revolutionary medical procedure developed by England's Night Watch Project. All is not well with the brilliant surgeon; he’s troubled by something he can’t discuss with Kendra. When Waldridge disappears the very night he visits her, Kendra is on the case, recruiting government agent-for-hire Adam Lynch to join her on a trail that leads to the snow-packed California mountains. There they make a gruesome discovery: the corpse of one of Dr. Waldridge’s associates. But it’s only the first casualty in a white-knuckle confrontation with a deadly enemy who will push Kendra to the limits of her abilities. Soon she must fight for her very survival as she tries to stop the killing and unearth the shocking secret of Night Watch.
MURDER IN EDEN
Felled by a cowardly shot to the back, Stanton Youngblood has just enough time before he dies to leave a single clue to his killer's identity: the word Wayne, scrawled in his own blood.
That word means everything to his widow. Leigh Youngblood was once Leigh Wayne, but she left her wealthy family behind thirty years ago when she fell in love with Stanton, a betrayal the Waynes have never forgiven. Now she publicly vows to discover which of her siblings thinks money and power are enough to cover up a murder.
Back in town to find his father's killer, prodigal son Brody finds his search for justice comes with an unexpected ray of light. He's loved Talia Champion forever, but when she said she couldn't marry him, he left town and never looked back. This time it's Talia who needs him, and it isn't in him to deny her anything.
But the killer still has a score to settle, and if that means spilling more blood — so much the better.
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
I am so excited to have Maia Chane here at Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Review.
Thanks Maia and Meryl Moss Media Ltd. for allowing me to join your Teetotaled Blog Tour!
Please take it away, Maia!
By National Bestselling Author Maia Chance
After her philandering husband died and left her penniless in Prohibition-era New York, Lola Woodby escaped with her Swedish cook to the only place she could―her deceased husband’s secret love nest in the middle of Manhattan. Her only comforts were chocolate cake, dime store detective novels, and the occasional highball (okay, maybe not so occasional). But rent came due and Lola and Berta were forced to accept the first job that came their way, leading them to set up shop as private detectives operating out of Alfie’s cramped love nest.
Now Lola and Berta are in danger of losing the business they’ve barely gotten off the ground―work is sparse and money is running out. So when a society matron offers them a job, they take it―even if it means sneaking into a slimming and exercise facility and consuming only water and health food until they can steal a diary from Grace Whiddle, a resident at the “health farm.” But barely a day in, Grace and her diary escape from the facility―and Grace’s future mother-in-law is found murdered on the premises. Lola and Berta are promptly fired. But before they can climb into Lola’s brown and white Duesenberg Model A and whiz off the health farm property, they find themselves with a new client and a new charge: to solve the murder of Grace’s future mother-in-law.
Teetotaled, Maia Chance's sparkling new mystery will delight readers with its clever plotting, larger-than-life characters, and rich 1920s atmosphere.
MAIA CHANCE writes historical mystery novels that are rife with absurd predicaments and romantic adventure. She is the author of the Fairy Tale Fatal series, The Discreet Retrieval Agency series and the Prohibition-era caper, Come Hell or Highball. Her first mystery, Snow White Red-Handed, was a national bestseller. Maia lives in Seattle, where she shakes a killer martini, grows a mean radish, and bakes mocha bundts to die for. She is a Ph.D. candidate for English at the University of Washington.
by Maia Chance
(Discreet Retrieval Agency, Book 2)
Minotaur Books; October 4, 2016
304 ages; $24.99 U.S. ISBN: 978-1-250072214
The Discreet Retrieval Agency #2:
Everything in life that’s any fun, as somebody wisely observed, is either immoral, illegal or fattening. —P. G. Wodehouse
July 14, 1923
The afternoon Sophronia Whiddle offered us the diary job, it was so hot you could’ve sizzled bacon on the sidewalk. Which wasn’t a half bad idea, come to think of it, except that I was out of funds for bacon. I’d been living on shredded wheat for days. All right, hours.
My detecting partner Berta Lundgren and I were reading at the kitchen table in our poky little Washington Square apartment, waiting for the telephone to ring. Stagnant city air puffed in from the window. My Pomeranian, Cedric, panted in front of an electric fan. I yawned, and turned a page of the latest issue of Thrilling Romance.
“Mrs. Woodby, would it be remiss of me to suggest that you spend your leisure hours reading edifying publications?” Berta asked in her stern Swedish accent. She held up her book. Mexico City Mayhem, by Frank B. Jones, Jr. The cover depicted a man in a fedora wrestling a sinister-looking fellow in some sort of Aztec temple.
“That is edifying?” I asked.
“Indeed. Thad Parker’s advice for decrypting ancient hieroglyphics could benefit our detective agency. Thrilling Romance is merely, well, pulp.”
“But Jake Cadwell, Wall Street tycoon, is about to propose marriage to innocent young Lucinda from the typing pool. It’s all she’s ever dreamed of.”
“I do realize you are pining for the absent Ralph Oliver —”
“Pining? What absolute hooey.”
“— but between you and me, Mrs. Woodby, if a man abruptly ceases to telephone, well, it is an indication that he has lost interest.”
“I don’t give a squirrel’s acorn about what Ralph Oliver may or may not be interested in. Besides, he’s on a job in Cuba.”
“If you say so.”
I gave Thrilling Romance a shake and resumed reading.
The clock ticked.
I looked up. “I happened to notice that you boing like a broken spring every time the telephone jingles.”
“I am hopeful for detective work.”
“Not hopeful that Jimmy the Ant wishes to squire you the movie palace?”
“Mr. Ant must keep a low profile for a time.”
“He’s hiding from the Feds, you know.”
Berta sent me a dirty look, patted her gray bun, and went back to her book.
Is this what had become of the newly-hatched Discreet Retrieval Agency? Two sweaty, bickering ladies waiting for ginky fellows to telephone?
We needed work.
A knock at the apartment door launched me to the little entry foyer. Berta wasn’t far behind. Cedric made a half-hearted yap but stayed in the kitchen. He had been lackluster lately because he was on strict kibble rations. If he didn’t slim down in time for his photograph session in two weeks, the people at Spratt’s Puppy Biscuits weren’t going to use him in their advertising campaign. Cedric’s career would be over before it began.
“You do not have shoes on, Mrs. Woodby,” Berta said. “If it is a client—”
“Oh, they’ll understand,” I said, and opened the door. At first it seemed that no one was there. Just the stairwell, stinking of mildew and fried onions. Then I noticed the snub-nosed five-year-old boy.
“Oh, hello, Sam,” I said. “What have you there?”
“Five cents, m’am,” Sam lisped. He held up a grubby nickel. “Ma said this is for finding Puffy.”
“Thanks awfully, Sam, but why don’t you keep your money? Tell your mother the job is on us. Puffy was only behind the water tank on the roof. He wasn’t really lost.”
“Okay, sure, thanks something fierce, Mrs. Woodby!” Sam pocketed the nickel and scampered up the stairs in the direction of his family’s third-floor apartment.
I shut the door and turned.
Berta blocked the foyer doorway like a daunting garden gnome. “This simply will not do,” she said.
“You’re preaching to the choir.”
“What has our commission been since we printed our business cards? Zilch.”
“Don’t remind me. I drank the last drop of whiskey last night. I’m now an unwilling teetotaler.”
We drifted back to the kitchen.
In the past month, our fledgling agency had solved a total of five cases: Disappearing milk bottles, nicked newspapers, two lost cats (including Puffy) and a spying endeavor involving the teenaged Martin Ulsky and his two-timing ways. The only payment we’d accepted was a set of Mrs. Bent’s hand-knitted egg cozies. The egg cozies were pretty cute.
“The rent will be due again,” Berta said.
“That’s the trouble with rent.”
“Perhaps we should take out a larger newspaper advertisement. I knew the one-and-a-half inch square would not attract enough notice.”
Another knock sounded on the door. Cedric didn’t bother yapping this time.
Berta and I locked desperate eyes.
“For pity’s sake, Mrs. Woodby, put on your shoes.”
Once I’d stuffed my feet into a pair of t-straps, Berta opened the door.
“I had almost decided that I had the wrong address,” a stout, elegant, middle-aged woman said. “But I see it is indeed you, Lola Woodby.” Her eyes flicked to Berta. “And . . . your cook?”
“Mrs. Lundgren used to be my cook,” I said. “How pleasant to see you, Mrs. Whiddle.” Seeing Sophronia Whiddle was about as pleasant as an ingrown toenail. Sophronia was not only a New York grande dame, but my own mother’s bosom friend. Mother, by the way, had no inkling that I’d gone into the gumshoe trade. I was supposed to be mourning my recently popped-off ball and chain, Alfie. But since Alfie had left me high and dry, I was no longer a pampered, thirty-one year old Society Matron. I was a working lady. At least, I was trying to be a working lady.
Sophronia did a once-over of my wrinkly, last-season dress, my mussed dark brown bob, and my wide mouth and blue eyes that I hadn’t spruced up with lipstick or mascara. I was conserving the last of my department store cosmetics.
“Might I come in?” Sophronia asked.
“Of course,” I said.
Berta and I led Sophronia through to the sitting room. I slid magazines and dime novels under a sofa cushion. I hid the dregs of last night’s highball behind knick-knacks on the mantel. “Please, sit,” I said.
Sophronia perched gingerly on the sofa as though she feared contracting a health concern. Which was indeed a faint possibility, given that this was Alfie’s former love nest. Untold cavortings with chorus girls had occurred on that sofa.
Berta and I sat in the two chairs facing the sofa.
“What brings you here, Mrs. Whiddle?” I asked. “I wasn’t aware that Mother knew of this address. Is it something to do with the Ladies’ Opera Society?”
“Your mother knows nothing of this, and she never shall.”
Oh, thank goodness.
Sophronia extracted a slip of newsprint from her handbag and unfolded it to reveal our advertisement. “‘The Discreet Retrieval Agency’? ‘No job too trivial’?”
“Oh. Right. Yes, that’s us,” I said. “You weren’t surprised to see us, yet our names aren’t on the advertisement. How did you know?”
“Does it matter? I have a job for you. I wish to keep the matter among the right sort of people, you see.” Sophronia folded the paper and replaced it in her handbag. “You must retrieve my daughter Grace’s diary.”
“Can’t you do that yourself?” I asked.
“No, no. Quite impossible. You see, Grace is a peculiar girl, an awkward wallflower, really, and although, alas, she is not terribly bright — she takes after her poor deceased father’s family in that regard—she has, since the age of ten, been a passionate diarist. Scribbles in it incessantly, keeps the back-logs locked in a small safe in her bedroom. She has always guarded her diary with an unbecoming ferocity.”
“Would you explain, Mrs. Whiddle?” Berta asked.
“Once when Grace was fourteen years old — she is nineteen now, you know — I was mildly concerned about her possible interest in a rather too forward grocer’s delivery boy. I wished to look into her diary to discover if I had any real reason to worry. Well, I attempted to take it from Grace while she was sleeping—she sleeps with it under her pillow — and she woke, raving and thrashing, and she bit me! It was terrifying, really.”
“Why do you wish for us to retrieve this diary?” I asked.
“Grace is to be married in eight days — surely you are aware of this, Mrs. Woodby. It is to be the society wedding of the summer. I believe I sent you an invitation months ago.”
“I’d plum forgotten,” I said.
“Grace is to marry Gilbert Morris — you do know the Morrises?”
I nodded. Winfield Morris, Gilbert Morris’s father, was not only a high-society fat cat but a New York state senator.
“Grace will not have another chance like this,” Sophronia said. “She is plump, you see, and she requires glasses. I fear there may be things in her past, recorded in the diary, that could jeopardize her marriage.”
“How do you propose that we retrieve the diary?” I asked.
“How? Well, I would assume that devising the how of the matter is your job, Mrs. Woodby.”
True. “From your house?”
“No, no. From the health farm. Grace is booked in for the week.”
“If your daughter is to be a bride,” Berta said, “why is she visiting a health farm?”
“To slim,” Sophronia said. “She will wear my own wedding gown and the seamstress has already let it out to its utmost capacity. I told Grace it was up to her to do the rest.”
“A nice strong girdle might do the trick,” I said.
Berta said, “In my village in Sweden, the plump girls were the most popular. Men prefer girls who are liberal with butter.”
Sophronia compressed her lipsticked mouth. “At any rate, while Grace is booked into Willow Acres Health Farm on Long Island — do you know it?”
I fell sideways in my chair. “No,” I lied.
“But I understand that your brother-in-law, Dr. Chisholm Woodby, is the owner and head doctor,” Sophronia said.
“Oh, that Willow Acres. Yes. I mean, no. I mean to say no, we simply can’t accept the job.”
“Of course we will accept the job,” Berta said, cutting me a death glare.
I got up and went to the window. I had to look like I was noodling profoundly, even if there wasn’t an ice cube’s chance in Hell that I would say yes. “The job will be compromised,” I said over my shoulder. “Not only are you, Mrs. Whiddle, my own mother’s friend, but Dr. Woodby would not be keen on me checking into his farm. We aren’t precisely pals.”
“We are a discreet agency, Mrs. Whiddle,” Berta said loudly, “and as such we select our cases with great care. . . .”
“Yes, of course,” Sophronia said. “You must discuss it in privacy. I’ll just go and fix my hat in the powder room.”
“Down the hallway on the right,” I said.
Berta and I waited until we heard the bathroom door shut.
“Are you mad, Mrs. Woodby?” Berta whispered. “We must take this job. We are nearly broke.”
“If my mother finds out about our agency, she’ll be angrier than a wet cat and she’ll do everything in her power to put an end to it. She will say I’m ruining the family’s social standing and Father’s Wall Street connections. That I’m crushing Andy’s and Lillian’s” — these were my siblings — “chances of being invited to play tennis with Vanderbilts and Rockefellers and, oh, I don’t know, the King of England. And she’d be correct.”
“Your mother will find out about our agency sooner or later.”
“Golly, I hope not. It’s grisly enough that I’m making a mess of my own life without bringing down my entire family. Anyway, Berta, what about Chisholm? If we go to his health farm, we’ll be at his mercy! I wonder what he does to his patients at that farm. I’d bet a million bucks that health bread has something to do with it.”
“Health bread?” Berta hesitated. “Well, it will only be for a day or two, surely.”
“There’s no guarantee of that.”
“If we are to make a go of this agency, we must do our utmost. Are you willing to do you utmost, Mrs. Woodby?”
Berta was right: I had to take the plunge. Say toodle-pip to my old life and take my future by the horns.
“Well?” Sophronia said, coming back into the sitting room. “If you don’t wish to accept the job, there is another agency that —”
“We’ll do it,” I said.
“I might rely upon your utmost discretion?”
“Of course,” I said, and Berta nodded.
We worked out all the details. Sophronia would pay for our stay at Willow Acres and we would endeavor to pry the diary from Grace Whiddle’s clutches posthaste. Once we delivered the diary to Sophronia at her Long Island estate, Clyde Bluff, we would collect our fee of five hundred clams.
The Discreet Retrieval Agency was back on its feet.
Alex Cross chases a cold-blooded killer with a conscience.
Shots ring out in the early morning hours in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. When the smoke clears, a prominent police official lies dead, leaving the city's police force scrambling for answers. Under pressure from the mayor, Alex Cross steps into the leadership vacuum to crack the case. But before Cross can make any headway, a brutal crime wave sweeps across the region. The deadly scenes share only one common thread--the victims are all criminals. And the only thing more dangerous than a murderer without a conscience, is a killer who thinks he has justice on his side. As Cross pursues an adversary who has appointed himself judge, jury, and executioner, he must take the law back into his own hands before the city he's sworn to protect descends into utter chaos.
Monday, October 17, 2016
Weekly Cozy, Mystery Thriller and Romantic Suspense Reads is a weekly Monday Meme that is hosted by Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Reviews:
Post the books you read last week and books being read this week.
Read Last Week:
1. Troublemaker - Linda Howard
1. Sugarland - Martha Conway
2. Teetotaled - Maia Chance
3. Wedding Bell Blues - Ruth Moose
4. Bullseye - James Patterson
Sunday, October 16, 2016
I am so excited to have Diane Vallere Moran here at Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight and Giveaway.
Thanks Diane and Great Escapes Virtual Book Tours for allowing me to join your Masking for Trouble Blog Tour!
Please take it away, Diane!
Masking for Trouble (A Costume Shop Mystery)
2nd in Series
Berkley (October 4, 2016)
E-Book ASIN: B01AHKXIHY
Halloween brings more tricks than treats for costume shop owner Margo Tamblyn in the second in a new cozy series from the national bestselling author of the Material Witness Mysteries.
Halloween conjures up big business for Margo Tamblyn’s costume shop, Disguise DeLimit, but this year, the holiday comes knocking with serious trouble. Venture capitalist Paul Haverford plans to rezone historic downtown into a glitzy commercial area which would push out local business. Margo is set on saving her family’s store, especially after a nasty run-in with the chain-store tycoon, but after Haverford’s body is discovered during a spooky party at the derelict Alexandria Hotel, Margo finds herself dressed as the police’s prime suspect.
Anxious to clear her name, Margo begins hunting down anyone who might have wanted Haverford dead. Between all of his malicious maneuverings, the murdered mogul had buckets of people anxious to see him gone. Now, Margo will have to use every trick in the book to find a cloaked killer — before someone else winds up wearing a death shroud.
About The Author
I’m a former fashion buyer turned mystery writer, trading fashion accessories for accessories to murder. I was bit by the mystery bug as a kid reading Trixie Belden, Connie Blair, and The Three Investigators. Now I’m writing three series: the Style & Error Mysteries, the Mad for Mod Mysteries, and the Material Witness Mysteries.
The Costume Shop mysteries debuted with A DISGUISE TO DIE FOR, which introduces Margo Tamblyn, costume shop owner, who helps solve a murder after one of her clients is found dead at his own costume party (dressed as Sherlock!). MASKING FOR TROUBLE, the second in the series, will be out in October 2016, just in time for Halloween.
The Material Witness mysteries feature Polyester Monroe, who inherits the fabric shop where she was born. Books include SUEDE TO REST and CRUSHED VELVET . The third, SILK STALKINGS, was just released.
The Style & Error Series features former fashion buyer turned amateur sleuth Samantha Kidd. Books in that series include DESIGNER DIRTY LAUNDRY ; BUYER, BEWARE ; THE BRIM REAPER ; and SOME LIKE IT HAUTE . (A short story, “Just Kidding ,” tells the story of how Samantha first met shoe designer Nick Taylor). Book 5, GRAND THEFT RETRO, will be out in 2016.
The Madison Night Mysteries feature a modern day interior decorator who specializes in midcentury design (studying Doris Day movies to get the look right). Books are PILLOW STALK ,THAT TOUCH OF INK , and WITH VICS YOU GET EGGROLL . A prequel novella, “Midnight Ice,” can be found in OTHER PEOPLE’S BAGGAGE .
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Saturday, October 15, 2016
I am so excited to have Laura Childs and Terrie Faley Moran here at Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight and Giveaway.
Thanks Laura and Terrie and Great Escapes Virtual Book Tours for allowing me to join your Crepe Factor Blog Tour!
Please take it away, Laura and Terrie!
(A Scrapbooking Mystery)
14th in Series
Berkley (October 4, 2016)
Hardcover: 320 pages
E-Book ASIN: B01AHKY37I
The Winter Market in the French Quarter is in full swing, but murder isn’t taking a holiday in the latest from the New York Times bestselling author of Parchment and Old Lace.
The holidays are a busy time for scrapbook shop owner Carmela Bertrand — but not so hectic that she doesn’t have time to enjoy browsing the booths at the Winter Market with her best friend Ava. The last thing the ladies expect to see is a lurching man stabbed by a serving fork, dying in front of them.
The victim is loathed restaurant critic Martin Lash, who posted his scathing reviews on the Glutton for Punishment website. And the prime suspect is New Orleans restauranteur Quigg Brevard — who was seen giving the critic a tongue-lashing minutes before someone stuck a fork in him. An old flame of Carmela, Quigg asks for her help, which does not please her current beau, Detective Edgar Babcock, to say the least.
Before her relationship is the next victim, Carmela needs to find a murderer who had no reservations about punishing the culinary curmudgeon.
Scrapbooking tips and recipes included!
About The Authors
Laura 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.
Webpage – http://www.laurachilds.com/
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/laura.childs.31
Short-listed twice for The Best American Mystery Stories, Terrie Farley Moran is delighted to introduce mystery fans to the Read ’Em and Eat café and bookstore, which debuted with Well Read, Then Dead. followed by Caught Read-Handed and Read to Death released in July of this year. The only thing Terrie enjoys more than wrangling mystery plots into submission is playing games and reading stories with any or all of her grandchildren.
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I am so excited to have Linda O. Johnston here at Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight and Giveaway.
Thanks Linda and Great Escapes Virtual Book Tours for allowing me to join your Unlucky Charms Blog Tour!
Please take it away, Linda!
Unlucky Charms (A Superstition Mystery)
3rd in Series
Midnight Ink (October 8, 2016)
Paperback: 288 pages
E-Book ASIN: B01APSYQ5G
Rory Chasen, manager of the Lucky Dog Boutique in Destiny, California, hopes her new line of good-luck doggy toys will be a hit, especially the stuffed rabbits with extra-large feet. The timing of the line’s debut proves ill-fated, though, as several local shops ― including Rory’s ― are ransacked and vandalized with spilled salt and other unlucky charms.
The most likely culprit is disgruntled real estate agent Flora Curtival, whose issues with the town give her a motive. But when Flora is murdered and one of Rory’s toy rabbits is found with the body, Rory needs all the luck she can get while trying to determine just who killed the superstitious vandal.
About The Author
Linda O. Johnston’s first published fiction appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine and won the Robert L. Fish Memorial Award for Best First Mystery Short Story of the year. Since then, Linda, a former lawyer who is now a full-time writer, has published more short stories, novellas, and 38 romance and mystery novels, including the Pet Rescue Mystery Series, a spinoff from her Kendra Ballantyne, Pet-Sitter mysteries for Berkley Prime Crime, and Harlequin Romantic Suspense as well as the Alpha Force paranormal romance miniseries for Harlequin Nocturne. She additionally writes the Superstition Mysteries for Midnight Ink.
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