COMING SOON - MURDER DOUBLES BACK!

 

 

 

It's been a long time coming but if you listen carefully you can hear the sounds of an Irish wolfhound running towards you. Whiskey is back!

We're celebrating the upcoming publication of our third book in the

Sullivan Investigations Mystery series,

MURDER DOUBLES BACK

with excerpts

from the first book - MURDER OFF THE BOOKS

and the second book - MURDER TAKES THE CAKE. 

"The gun should be right about there." Edgar pointed to a spot under a rose bush about a foot from where Mac was kneeling.

"Gun!" Mac's voice was a little louder than he'd intended, but the old man had failed to mention a gun before.

"What did you think we were digging for? Bulbs?" Edgar cackled and then coughed.

"Shush. We don't want to wake her up," Mac warned, glancing at the dark house, glad he'd left Whiskey in the truck.

The old man nodded, lowering his voice to a whisper. "It was late, just past 11 P.M. on Saturday night. The brother drove up and instead of going to the front door, he came around to the side of the house and started digging by that bush. I saw him pull a gun out of his jacket, wrap it in one of those knitted caps, and stick it in the hole. He covered it up real nice with some of that cedar mulch you see there."

"How did you see all that? The goggles?"

"Nah. Didn't need them. The Wilsons'," Edgar pointed to his right, "have one of those motion detector lights. When the brother walked across the yard, it lit up."

Mac looked towards the house the man had indicated. He didn't remember any light when Whiskey was busy stealing a ham on Sunday night. "It must not be working now."

The old man shrugged his bony shoulders. "Hasn't worked since the burglary. Think the thieves did that?"

"I don't believe in coincidences. What happened after you saw Thayer bury the gun?" Mac continued sifting through the loose soil and mulch around the bush, trying to avoid catching his coat on the thorns.

"He left. Just got in his car and drove away."

Mac leaned back on his heels. "Okay, I've found the hole but nothing is here now. How come you didn't call the police?"

"Did call–twice. They put me on hold–twice. I don't have enough time left in this world to be spending any of it on hold."

Mac dusted off his hands on his jeans. "You didn't see anyone around later that night? Or how about the burglary on Sunday night?"

Before the old man could answer, the lights in the house began coming on.

"Let's go," Mac whispered, scrambling to his feet.

The sound of the back door opening panicked both men.

"Save yourself," Edgar gasped, waving Mac towards the nearby oak tree. "Get up there. I'll divert her."

Feeling as foolish as he probably looked, Mac climbed the tree, hoping there were enough leaves left on the branches to hide him.

 

"Like I told you on the phone when I asked you to come in, Mac left me in charge until he gets back tomorrow," JJ announced to the man and the Irish wolfhound sitting in front of her desk. "He's in Boston checking out the police corruption Bridget was involved in. We're supposed to work on the turkey farm murder and try to keep tabs on Bridget without being too obvious about it. He also wants you to finish up that background check on Joshua Lasky." 

Edgar and the dog stared at her. 

"What?" She didn't need to ask why they were staring at her. After Mac's order to change her wardrobe, she'd visited a consignment shop. Currently she was wearing a circa 1930s, knockoff, Chanel suit. Even though she'd had to re-sew the seams, the old suit had still cost her more money than she was comfortable spending–especially just to make a point. It was black wool with gold metal buttons. She'd added a white silk blouse. Around her waist she'd cinched a black leather belt to hide the fact the jacket was a little large. The four inch heels were already killing her feet and it wasn't even noon yet. She'd left her jet-black hair in its normal spiked style, but she'd replaced her large hoop earrings with fake pearl studs and a matching double strand necklace. 

"You got one of those little hats with the black netting?" Edgar asked, waving one gnarled hand across his eyes showing where the netting would be. 

"Maybe." She had seen one of those at the shop and thought about buying it. But she wasn't about to take fashion advice from the old man. "Why?" 

"Widow's weeds. You could get a job as an extra at O'Herlihy's when Mac fires you. You know, as one of those paid mourners." He chuckled, and then coughed. "They still have those?" 

"I don't like you very much. If anyone is going to get fired around here, it's going to be you. You were the one who was supposed to research Brian Crager. Instead, at the least, you let us get fooled by an imposter and at the most, let a killer escape." 

Whiskey barked and looked towards Edgar. 

"I'm not the one who signed up a dead client and traded the services of this firm for a few turkeys and a percentage of nothing!" 

Whiskey turned towards JJ and whined.

"Hey, don't you start too. Who drove you through your favorite fast food place this morning?" 

"Now you're bribing the dog so she's on your side? Come here, girl!" 

Whiskey looked from one to the other, then stood and walked into Mac's office. 

The door slammed. 

JJ and Edgar both jumped.

They looked at each other, then the door. 

"Did she just.…" 

"I'm not even going there," Edgar mumbled. "Didn't happen."

 



 

------------------------------------

 

 

 

Sullivan Investigations Mystery
Murder Off the Books Kindle - Nook - Smashwords - Trade Paperback
Murder Takes the Cake Kindle - Nook - Smashwords - Trade Paperback 
Riley Come Home (short story)- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Moonlighting at the Mall (short story) - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

 

 

Zoned for Murder
Kindle
Nook
Smashwords
Trade Paperback

Brianna Sullivan Mysteries - e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
The Holiday Spirit(s) of Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Undying Love in Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
A Haunting in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Lottawatah Twister - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Missing in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Good Grief in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Summer Lightning in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

The Ghosts of Lottawatah - trade paperback collection of the Brianna e-books
Book 1 - I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries (includes the first four Brianna e-books)
Book 2 - A Haunting in Lottawatah (includes the 5th, 6th, and 7th Brianna e-books)

Romances
Love Lessons - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

Pick Me Ups

By Laura Bradford

Been feeling just a little off the last few days. The first day I managed to work around it. The second, proved to be a little harder but I still managed to make a go of my day. Yesterday, not so much. And today? Well, the verdict is still out.

Now here's the thing about me. I like to do stuff. As in real stuff. Other than writing and the time suck of social media, I'm not a computer girl. I don't have an I-Pod, I-Phone, or any of the other gadgets that take so much of people's time these days. I don't really watch TV (except Survivor and a very occasional--as in once every three weeks or so--episode of The Ellen Show). Sitting still, staring at a screen for too long bores me to tears. And sitting on a couch? Unless there's a fire nearby, I can handle that for a limited time as well.

I am, essentially, the anti-couch potato. So having something like M.S., that could, potentially, affect my mobility later in life seems rather ironic, don't you think?

Fortunately for me, I'm doing really well. The medication I take has kept the disease from progressing and I rarely have flares. Whether my current onslaught of symptoms is considered a real flare or not remains to be seen, but I'm hoping it's more of a mini-flare.

That said, I'm forcing myself to rest as I know it's the quickest way to rebound if it is, indeed, a mini-flare. So, I'm left with reading (which is great), writing in bed (which can work, too), and the pile of movies I've accumulated over the years for a quick pick-me-up.

My favorite go-to pick-me-up movies of choice?  27 Dresses, Hitch, and the still-makes-me-giggle Housesitter (Goldie Hawn and Steve Martin are awesome together).

What about you? What's your pick-me-up movie (s) of choice?

~Laura 

The Case of the Thin-Skinned Writer

A friend in the know—a book critic herself—once told me that Philip Roth, author of GOODBYE, COLUMBUS and PORTNOY’S COMPLAINT, to name two, never read reviews of any his books.  This was early on in my career and in a time when I devoured anything that was written about me or my debut mystery, MURDER 101.  The early reviews were good.  And then, something changed.  A negative one cropped up and then another, mostly on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.  (And by negative, I mean less than 5 stars. I was very naïve.)  The good outweighed the bad, but some people clearly didn’t find me or my book as enchanting as I found myself.

That hurt.

It wasn’t like I went into the book-writing business with blinders on.  I knew that there would be some people out there who didn’t like my plot, my characters, my setting…or a combination of the three…but still, it didn’t prepare me for what it felt like when I read those reviews and noted, with disappointment, the sometimes personal tone that the reviewer might take when penning their opinion.  Things like “she thinks she’s funny…but she’s not” or the person who called me anti-something regarding something that I am definitely not against.  One person told me I hate nuns.  (I don’t.  I think nuns are the backbone of Catholic education and a host of other Catholic social justice projects. Nuns kick ass, in my opinion.)  There have been other pointed comments that have made my heart hurt.  So, I stopped reading reviews unless they were sent to me by my publisher and vetted by the publicity department. I found that reading anything that took issue in a personal way or accused me of something that I didn’t believe to be true was just not good for me.

I don’t expect everyone to universally like—or god forbid, loathe—a work of fiction, even mine.  Heck, I have seen a movie recently that everyone loved—it was nominated for Best Picture this year—and I hated.  People can’t understand how I couldn’t love this movie; I can’t understand why anyone would like this movie.  And that’s as far as it goes; I won’t go on any site and detail my disgust but when it comes up in conversation, as it often does, I do give my opinion to the wide-eyed disbelief of whomever I am speaking.  However, if this particular director brings out another film that looks interesting, I may just go see it.  For the time being, however, I will only think about this movie if someone brings it up.  But other than, I watched it, hated it, and that’s the end of that. I won’t pontificate online about why I didn’t like it, or furthermore, why you shouldn’t like it either. 

I have a new book coming out in December, much different from any book I’ve ever written, so the anxiety is starting to ratchet up a bit.  I’m starting to wonder if people will like the book and what the reviews might be like.  As a result, I decided, as I often do, to ask my fellow blogstresses—the gang here at Stiletto—to see how they handle reviews, the bad ones mostly.  With one overwhelmingly consistent theme—we need wine to read or discuss reviews—there were some great insights.  I’ll share what I learned from everyone else below.

Marilyn wisely says that the good reviews outweigh the bad ones for her.  (I hope to get to that point some day in the near future and be able to compartmentalize the comments.)

Laura Spinella is just like me when it comes to reviews—and wine.  She doesn’t like to read the negative ones and enjoys wine.  (I’m thrilled to learn that.  Misery loves company.)

Joelle is happy—as is Maria—to get feedback and even a 1-star review floats her boat because at least that way she knows she’s struck a nerve with a reader.  To quote her directly, “the meh reviews really bug me.” Maria says a 1-star review  means that “I’ve gotten under someone’s skin.”  (Braver than I am that red-haired goddess [Joelle] and recent RITA nominee [Maria].)

Linda decides who’s reviewing and then makes a decision as to how seriously she’s going to take specific reviews.  She takes the comments seriously of professional reviewers and strives to make her writing better.  (Good advice.)

The Northern half of Evelyn David wisely points out that writing mysteries like we do is very personal and therefore, it’s hard not to take criticism personally. She also notes that “that we're all still learning, still struggling to find the right word, the perfect red herring, the clever ending -- and of course, characters that linger in memory long after the book is closed.”  (Perfect way to put it.)

Bethany plans on not reading reviews, but does anyway.  She considers the “headspace” of negative reviewers, which again, makes sense.  Maybe I wasn’t in the proper headspace to watch the universally loved movie that I didn’t like; anything’s possible.  But knowing that someone couldn’t suspend disbelief for whatever reason, or put him or herself in a character’s shoes due to a past experience, really makes a lot of sense. (Thanks, Bethany.)

As I always say, “It is what it is.”  But that doesn’t mean I will start reading reviews again.  I’ve discovered that for doing what I do, I’m far too thin-skinned and much too sensitive to see critiques that don’t offer a constructive way for me to make my next book better.  I’m even skeptical about the positive ones.  So, for now, I write this from my safest position—head in the sand—and hope that someone, somewhere laughs out loud, or cries a few tears, or even holds their breath as they read something I’ve written.

Maggie Barbieri

Everything Has been on Hold Because--

Our granddaughter, Jessi, her hubby Jerry, and their baby girl Aleena came to visit for a week. (Our pear tree is blooming in the background.)

Jessi lived with me and her grandpa off and one for most of her growing up years and for a short while after she and Jerry married. Then they moved to North Carolina because Jerry got a great job there.  Needless to say we spent as much time with her as possible while she was here.

Here she is with her dad, Matthew, our youngest son. He is recovering well from his near-death experience and this visit helped a lot.

Aleena at Lake Success, near our home.

This one is Jessi with her brother, Nick, and Aleena and his two kids, Julius and Kay'Lee.

And this one is with Jessi and her grandpa (my hubby, of course.)

Sadly, they left Sunday afternoon and now it's time for me to get back to work.

Marilyn

April's Fools

My co-author and I like our mysteries with a side of humor and a small scoop of romance.  In honor of April Fools Day we thought we'd share three favorite scenes from our psychic Brianna Sullivan Mysteries series:

from I TRY NOT TO DRIVE PAST CEMETERIES –

Detective Jackson didn't introduce himself. I guess he figured that if I was who I said I was, I'd know his name.

He cleared his throat.

I must have missed a question; he seemed to be waiting for an answer. Trying to be cooperative, I gave him one. "Yes."

Have you noticed that most people prefer "yes" as an answer over "no"? Of course I can imagine instances where that wouldn't hold true but I think as a general rule …Okay he's saying something again. Darn, I missed it.

I nodded. "Nods" generally work well too.

He motioned for me to precede him into a small room.

In my particular case I've found it's helpful to do what's expected. People are wary enough without me smiling inappropriately–or failing to answer a direct question in some fashion. It's no comfort to them if I explain that I was busy talking to someone else–someone they can't see.

"Have a seat." Detective Jackson pasted on a smile. I'm sure it's the same one he uses for small children and blithering idiots.

I glanced at the chairs, identical to the ones in the lobby. "Must I?"

He paused, caught half-way between standing and sitting. "Huh?"

Less than a minute and I'd screwed up. He's probably never had anyone refuse to sit–at least not someone who'd asked to meet with him. I could see his eyes change. In my mind I could see him wielding a black felt tip pen; scratching my name across a folder and the word "crazy" appearing in big block letters.

I sat down.

He sat down.

And we began.

from THE DOG DAYS OF SUMMER IN LOTTAWATAH

The corndog I'd had for lunch was just a memory by the time I locked up the sales office and got back to my motor home, I was checking out the contents of the refrigerator when Cooper came barging through the door. Apparently we were past the "knocking" stage.

"I'm not fixing you dinner." My proclamation was met with a patented Cooper smirk.

"Thanks. I appreciate that." He tossed a cream-colored square down on the counter. "I need a date for a thing this weekend."

"Did you come by to use my phone? Or do you want me to place an ad for you?" Never pays to be too available. Men take you for granted. Then they don't take you anywhere.

I pulled a single Lean Cuisine from the freezer, ripped the cardboard off, and stuck it in the microwave.

"It's my high school reunion. Starts Friday night. A weekend of all you can eat barbeque, football, and beer."

"Football? It's 100 degrees outside."

"The game probably won't last long."

"How many years?"

"Not even one – twenty minutes tops before George Willis passes out from heat stroke and the game is called."

"How many years since you graduated?"

"Twenty. Want to go with me? Jack's letting us use the old pavilion."

"Depends." The microwave dinged. I tested the rice and mystery meat dinner for doneness with my finger–desiccated on the edges and icy in the center. Kind of like my mood. The guy hadn't even picked up the phone and called me for two days and now he acts like nothing is wrong.

"On what?" He was standing behind me now, his mouth on that spot right behind my ear, his arms wrapped around my waist.

My stomach grumbled. Obviously part of me wanted to give in. If we made up now, there would still be time to go into town and have meatloaf at the diner. Or I could maintain my pride, tell him to go put his boots under someone else's bed, and leave me to eat my microwaved delicacy in peace.

Easy decision. Meatloaf tonight and I'd worry about my pride next week. Plus I really did want to go to his reunion. What better place to learn a man's deepest and darkest secrets?

from UNDYING LOVE IN LOTTAWATAH –

Great Aunt MaryEllen dogged me all the way to the Soak & Spin. She ... Look, I'm just going to call her Aunt MaryEllen from now on, and you'll have to remember the great that precedes it when I mention her. Aunt MaryEllen obviously had some unfinished business that had called her back from the great beyond. The problem was before we'd gone more than a dozen yards from Matilda; she'd forgotten her reason for the visit.

Numerous questions later, I had arrived at work without any helpful information beyond the fact Aunt MaryEllen liked gin, cigarettes, and dancing. And fashionable clothes of the best quality. Nice clothes, nothing like I was wearing according to her, well except for the gloves of course. Aunt MaryEllen was not going to be my favorite relative.

"You mentioned someone called Harry Grady? Is he about to show up too?" I tried to remember anything my grandmother might have told me about Aunt MaryEllen. There was something about her leaving home under less than desirable circumstances. People of my grandmother's generation didn't speak about certain things–especially to impressionable teens.

"You're a mite slow, aren't you dear? You probably get that from your grandmother. As a child poor my poor dear sister was always talking to people who weren't there." Aunt MaryEllen crossed her arms over her chest. "Harry Grady is dead."

"So are you, but here you are." I wasn't in the mood to placate the testy old lady. She'd insulted me and my grandmother. Plus my feet were frozen.

I opened the Soak & Spin door. "If you ever remember what you wanted, I'll be here until 7 pm. If not, well, tell all the family hello from me when you get ..." I looked up, then down. I wasn't sure what direction the old lady came from.

"He broke my heart. Harry broke my heart."

Leon, Miss Pearl's elderly bulldog got up from his favorite spot near the dryers. He bared his teeth, then started barking. Not at me, we'd reached a détente a few weeks ago over a box of dog treats. He was barking at Aunt MaryEllen.

"Heart? What?" I glanced back. Aunt MaryEllen looked irritated.

"Are you deaf in addition to being slow? I said he broke my heart!"

Leon barked louder. Apparently he wasn't deaf.

Distracted, I looked at the furious dog; worried the old guy was going to give himself a heart attack. Miss Pearl, the woman signing my paycheck, doted on that slobbering, incontinent fleabag.

When I turned back to Aunt MaryEllen a few seconds later she was gone.

I sighed, not because she was gone, but because I knew she'd be back.

I didn't even have to be a psychic to figure that one out.

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David

P.S. My eye problem has been cured and I'm enjoying normal vision again. Or close to it. Can't wear my contacts for another two months - but I can deal with glasses that long. Probably. Thanks for all the good wishes.

 

Brianna Sullivan Mysteries - e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
The Holiday Spirit(s) of Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Undying Love in Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
A Haunting in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Lottawatah Twister - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Missing in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Good Grief in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Summer Lightning in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

The Ghosts of Lottawatah - trade paperback collection of the Brianna e-books
Book 1 - I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries (includes the first four Brianna e-books)
Book 2 - A Haunting in Lottawatah (includes the 5th, 6th, and 7th Brianna e-books)

A Sea of Faces

By Laura Bradford

I'm in a hotel outside Franklin, NC today as part of a little mini book tour for my latest release, ASSAULTED PRETZEL.

I'll spend the better part of the afternoon at Dalton's Christian Bookstore before driving five hours to get to Nashville, TN for a signing at Mysteries & More tomorrow afternoon.

Early on in this book stuff, I felt sick every time I had to talk to a group of people. My voice shook, my mouth felt like I had bags of cotton in it, and I'd get this squirrley feeling in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't pretty, I'll tell you that.

Fast forward seven years and, well, no more cotton...no more shake...no more squirrley feeling. In fact, I think I'd even go so far as to say I enjoy talking in front of a group now. I suppose it has something to do with practice. Maybe some of it is the realization that most people are receptive. And maybe some of it is that after spending so much time alone with a keyboard during the writing process, I welcome the opportunity to see human beings. Toss in the fact these particular human beings are book lovers and, well, it's a pretty ideal situation.

Am I gifted at the public speaking gig? No. But I'm far better than I was, that's for sure.

So how about you? Is public speaking something in your comfort zone?

~Laura 

Happy Easter!

by Maria Geraci

I love Easter weekend! When I was kid, growing up in central Florida, Easter was one of the most anticipated holidays at my house. My parents, being strict Catholics, always emphasized the importance of the holiday over all the other religious holidays and made a huge deal of the entire weekend.
As a kid, the best part of Easter was that Lent was over. We didn't have to go to church on Fridays for Stations of the Cross and we could eat meat again any time we wanted. Plus, we could resume eating/doing whatever it was we'd "given up" for Lent.

One Lent I gave up chocolate and candy of any kind. Pretty tough for an 8 year-old. That Easter Sunday I woke up and promptly gorged on all the goodies in my Easter basket. I remember feeling sick all during Easter mass and vowed I'd never give up candy again. After all, if I hadn't deprived myself, then I wouldn't have felt the need to overindulge, right? (at least that kind of logic seemed to work for me at that age!).

The other best parts of Easter? Egg hunts, warm spring weather, pretty pink dresses, gloves (yes, white gloves!), white frilly anklet socks, and Easter hats. Aw, the joys of growing up in the 60s and 70s. I remember sitting in the pew, alongside my sister and parents, feeling very important in my Easter finery.  I don't think little girls wear white gloves on Easter anymore, but they should. If only to have the experience just once.

What are you fondest Easter memories?

Morals & The Neighbors

by Bethany Maines

So, I’m pretty sure my neighbor’s live-in boyfriend is a drug dealer. Now, on one hand, this really annoys the crap out of me. Such activity attracts a grungy, unwashed, tattooed smoker kind of crowd that hold loud, outdoor parties with clouds of pot smoke drifting over the hedge. Then there’s the fact that their life style brings an increased risk factor to the area.  Also, I kind of think one of their dogs died because it “ate that whole nugget.”  I’m not entirely sure what amount or type of drug a nugget is, but I’m pretty sure that it can’t be good for a fat, old bulldog.

On the other hand, since Scruffy Boyfriend moved in, the home maintenance is up and so are the weird, crime ridden stories I hear over the hedge. Here I was just pondering what kind of mind set one of my characters would need to indulge casually in crime and then Scruffy Boyfriend moves in next door.  Suddenly, I have a case study of how to do a drug deal one lawn over. This is fascinating stuff. Not to mention the fact that Scruffy Boyfriend is actually forcing Neighbor Girl into home maintenance. Up until recently, she’d simply been tossing bags of garbage over the back fence to pile by the garage door.  Upon discovering this he freaked out and insisted she clean up because he assumed (correctly) that it was only a matter of time before a neighbor got annoyed and turned them in – can’t have city officials visiting your place of illegal business.

But there are moral considerations at stake. Like, is it wrong to turn him in once I’ve learned all I need for my story? Is it wrong to rename my wireless network FBI Surveillance Van to mess with their heads?  Is it ok to not turn in Scruffy Boyfriend because I don’t think I can take Neighbor Girl’s dating anymore?  If only I could skip to the end like a Choose Your Own Adventure to see how things turn out.

Bethany Maines is the author of the Carrie Mae Mystery Series (Bulletproof Mascara, Compact With the Devil and Supporting the Girls) and the Tales From the City of Destiny Series. Catch up with her at www.bethanymaines.com or check out the new Carrie Mae youtube video.