Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for COWBOYS AND CHAOS (Magical Mystery Book Club Book #3) by Elizabeth Pantley on this Partners In Crime Book Blast.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt form the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
This is no ordinary book club! When the group chooses a book, they are whisked away from reality to find themselves totally immersed in the story. The characters, the setting, and the murder all come to life. In order to exit the book, they’ll need to solve the mystery and reach The End.
This time, the club chooses a mystery that takes place in a quaint western town – in the old Wild West. That sounds like great fun, until they arrive in the dusty old town in the Arizona desert, among cowboys and saloons. They discover that the outhouse isn’t the worse thing about this trip.
The good news is that Paige, Glo, Zell, Frank, and the other members of the club discover plenty of surprises here, and they have a great time visiting a piece of history. They’ll get to live through many exciting moments as they unravel this cozy mystery story.
Genre: Paranormal Cozy Mystery Published by: Better Beginnings, Inc. Publication Date: November 2022 Number of Pages: 250 ASIN: B0BB1HS7XL Series: Magical Mystery Book Club #3
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
COWBOYS AND CHAOS (Magical Mystery Book Club Book #3) by Elizabeth Pantley is another entertaining adventure in this cozy paranormal mystery book club series. Each book can easily be read as a standalone because every mystery book the club is pulled into is unique, but I enjoy reading them in order to follow all the book club members’ evolving interactions.
The book club has a new member, Dr. Atticus Papadopoulos to bring their total number of members to eight once again and they are ready to have a book club meeting to decide on their next adventure. Zelda’s choice is picked this time around and it is the second book in a cozy mystery series set in the Old West. What the others don’t know is that Zelda has picked this second book for a specific reason.
There are many surprises awaiting the book club in Bandana, AZ and not just the murder mystery to solve.
I just love this series and all the book club members. It is a fast, fun read with a mystery setting that always changes. I solved this Wild West mystery before the resolution, but it still has many red herrings and plot twists that could easily have taken me in the wrong direction. Each book club member is unique in what they bring to the group, including Frank, the talking cat which leads to lively discussions while trying to solve the mystery and humorous dialogue. Ms. Pantley does a wonderful job of pulling the reader into each setting and making them feel immersed and yet also always reminds the reader they are in a fictional setting. The surprise character the group discovers in this book is wonderful.
I highly recommend this cozy mystery book and encourage you to try the entire series. They are charming and just so much fun!
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Excerpt
Excerpt – Chapter 2
“Hey,” said Forrest. “Who’s that guy in the backyard?”
Everyone shuffled over to the window. A man was roaming around the property with what appeared to be a metal detector in his hands.
He removed his brown fedora, and his wild brown hair joined his golden scarf to blow wildly in the wind. He methodically ran the device back and forth over the lawn. Every few minutes he would stop and kneel on the grass, leaving wet spots on the knees of his khaki cargo pants. He’d put his ear to the ground, then pop up with a gleeful look on his face and continue scanning the lawn. He reached into one of the pockets of his brown safari jacket and pulled out a pair of binoculars. He aimed them around the yard and then up into the sky.
I opened the back door and stepped outside.
“Hello? Excuse me?” I called. “Can I help you?”
The man walked briskly over to us. He thrust out his hand toward me. “Dr. Atticus Papadopoulos. A pleasure.”
“Paige Erickson. Nice to meet you.” Even in shock, my manners prevailed.
The group had followed me outside and were standing in a circle gawking at him. The man put down his device and efficiently went from person to person. He reached out and shook each person’s hand. He looked each one in the eye and listened intently to their name as if he were memorizing it. He even reached down and shook Frank’s paw.
Frank looked him up and down and examined his archaeological professor-like outfit. “Hello Dr. Jones. Welcome to the Snapdragon Inn.”
“Ah! Wonderful, wonderful. The cat speaks! Marvelous!” He clapped his hands. “Actually, it’s Dr. Papadopoulos, but you can call me Atticus,” he said, totally missing Frank’s reference to Dr. Indiana Jones from Raiders of the Lost Ark. “Your ability to communicate is one more sign that the crossover exists at this point! Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!”
When he completed the circle, he verified my suspicion that he’d been memorizing our names by pointing at each person in turn. “Paige. Glo. Zell, Sebastian, Vee, Moonbeam, Forrest. And of course, the fascinating, remarkable Frank.”
The cat stood taller, and I could just about see his head growing in size. Exactly what we needed, a person to boost Frank’s already bursting ego.
“Sooo, Atticus. What are you doing here?” Glo asked as she came to stand beside me, hands on her hips, looking the stranger in the eye.
“Yeah,” said Zell, charging to the front of the group and standing nearly toe to toe with him. She looked up into his face, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. With her diminutive size and cotton ball-like hair she looked anything but intimidating. “And what’s with the metal detector? Looking for buried treasure?”
“Ah, good question, Zell. This is not a meager metal detector. It alerts me to points of extraterrestrial energy.”
“Are you a kook, then?”
Atticus threw back his head and laughed, his wild hair flopping back and forth with the movement. “No, madam, not a kook. I am a doctor of astrobiology; my major area of interest is extraterrestrial technology and travel.”
“What the heck is astrobiology?” Zell squinted her eyes at him.
“A woman with a curious mind. I like it.” He nodded in approval.
I glanced at Glo and rolled my eyes. Great. Now another ego being stroked. Zell and Frank were already impossible to live with, this would boost their annoy-ability level.
“Astrobiology is the academic field that studies the origins of life on our Earth and the existence of life elsewhere in our universe. The study of extraterrestrial visits is my main area of interest. Your inn happens to be at a key crossover point for a confluence of energy.” He put his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels looking pleased with his discovery.
Zell had an abnormally studious look on her face. “What do you mean by a confluence of energy, Doctor?”
Glo and I chuckled, since Zell’s normal response to him would have been, “Huh? Whatcha talking about?”
“Excellent question, again.” He pointed at Zell with a snappy movement. “Energy encircles our planet both horizontally and vertically.” His arms flailed about as he demonstrated the circles, then he crossed his arms, one atop the other. “At certain points the lines join and there is a high level of intra-space energy. These locations are an ideal landing spot for extraterrestrials, or for the creation of a time/space portal. This inn sits directly atop a high energy confluence crossover point.”
“Well, that’s not a surprise,” said Zell. “We do have an enchanted library with magical books that take us inside them for adventures.”
“Zell!” We all yelled as one.
“Yes! I knew it!” Atticus pumped his arm. “I want in. Can you take me on one of your adventures?”
***
Author Bio
Elizabeth Pantley says that writing her Mystery and Magic book series is the most fun she’s ever had at work. Fans of the series say her joy is evident through the engaging stories she tells. Elizabeth is also the international bestselling author of The No-Cry Sleep Solution and twelve other books for parents. Her books have been published in over twenty languages. She lives in the Pacific Northwest, a beautiful inspiration for her enchanted worlds.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post for END OF STORY (End of Story Book #1) by Kylie Scott on this HTP Books Winter 2023 Rom-Com Blog Tour.
Below you will find a book summary, an excerpt from the book, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Summary
Fans of bestsellers like In Five Years will fall for this unexpected love story about a woman and her contractor who discover a divorce decree with their names on it … dated ten years in the future.
When Susie inherits a charming fixer-upper from her aunt, she’s excited to start living her best HGTV-life. But when she opens the door to find that her contractor is none other than her ex’s (very good looking) best friend Lars—the same man who witnessed their humiliating public break-up 6 months ago—she isn’t exactly eager to have him around. But, beggars can’t be choosers and the sooner the repairs are done, the sooner she can get back to grudgingly accepting the single life.
Things go from awkward to unbelievable when Lars knocks down a bedroom wall and finds a divorce certificate dated ten years from now…with both their names on it. It couldn’t possibly be real…could it? As Susie and Lars try to unravel the document’s origins, the impossibility of a spark between them suddenly doesn’t seem so far-fetched. But is any kind of relationship between them doomed before it’s ever begun?
END OF STORY
Author: Kylie Scott
ISBN: 9781525804793
Publication Date: February 14, 2023
Publisher: Graydon House
***
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
“This is awkward.”
The big blond man standing on my doorstep blinked.
“How are you, Lars?” I gave him my very best fake smile. “Nice to see you.”
“Susie. It’s been what…five, six months?” Setting down his toolbox, he gave me an uneasy smile. It was more of a wince, really. Because the last time we saw each other was not a good night. Not for me, at least.
“Something like that,” I said.
“This your new place?” He nodded at the battered arts and crafts cottage. “The office said you had some water damage you wanted to start with?”
“Yeah, about that. I was told Mateo would be doing the work.”
“Family emergency.”
“Oh.”
He gazed down at me with dismay. The man was your basic urban Viking marauder, as his name suggested. Longish blonde hair, white skin, blue eyes, short beard, tall and built. I was average height and he managed to loom over me just fine. In his mid-thirties and more than a little rough around the edges. Nothing like his sleek and slick bestie. An asshole whose continued existence I’d prefer to be reminded of never. But we don’t always get what we want.
I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll show you…”
“Okay.”
“Don’t worry about taking your boots off. The shag carpet isn’t staying.”
Heavy footsteps followed me through the living room and into the dining room where we turned left to enter the small hallway. From this point we had two options, the bathroom or the back bedroom. We headed for the latter.
“The water was getting in through a crack in the window for who knows how long,” I explained. “I only inherited the place recently. There were all these boxes piled up in here. No one could even see it was an issue.”
He grunted.
“I spent the first month just sorting through things and clearing the place out.”
Beneath the window frame, a large stain spread across the golden-flecked wallpaper. As if it weren’t ugly enough to begin with. That was the thing about my aunt Susan; she wasn’t a big fan of change. The two-bedroom cottage had belonged to her parents and everything had pretty much been left untouched after they passed. Apart from the addition of Susan’s junk. Which meant that while the wallpaper and carpet were from the 1970’s, the bathroom was from the 1940’s, and the kitchen cabinets from the 1930’s. At least, that’s what I’d been told. The place was like an ode to 20th century interior design. The good, and the bad.
He got down on one knee, inspecting the damage. “The bottom of this window frame is warped and needs replacing.”
“Can you do that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I need to have a look behind here. You attached to the wallpaper?”
“Heck no.”
He almost smiled.
“The sooner I can repaint and get new flooring down, the better.”
Nothing from him. A knife appeared from the tool box, sharp-pointed with jagged teeth. He punched the blade through the drywall with ease and started cutting into the wall.
“How is he?” I asked the dreaded question. Curiosity was the worst. “Enjoying London?”
“Yeah,” was all he said.
“And how’s Jane?”
“We’re not together anymore.”
Not a surprise. Lars went through various girlfriends during the year I’d been with what’s-his-face. Neither he nor his friend were down with commitment. Which was fine if you just wanted to have fun. But Jane was a keeper, smart with a wicked sense of humor. Lars definitely had a type. All of his girlfriends were petite, perfect dolls who behaved in a ladylike manner. The opposite of buxom, loudmouthed me.
He pried a square of drywall loose. “You thinking of living here permanently or flipping and selling the place, or what?”
“Haven’t decided.”
“Great location. A bit of work and it’d probably be worth a lot of money,” he said, keeping the conversation on the business at hand. As was good and right.
Using the flashlight on his phone, he inspected the cavity. The man was all handyman chic. Big ass boots, jeans, and a faded black tee. All of it well-worn. And the way his blue jeans conformed to his thick thighs and the curves of his ass was something. Something I hadn’t meant to notice, but oh well, these things happened. Maybe it was the way his tool belt framed that particular part of his anatomy. For a moment, I couldn’t look away. I was butt struck. Which was both wrong and bad. It would not be smart for me to notice this man in the sexual sense. Though it was nice to know my thirst meter wasn’t broken.
I don’t know if Lars and I were ever really friends. We had, however, been friendly. Though that was romantic relationships for you. One moment you had all of these awesome extra people in your life and the next moment they’re gone.
I tugged on the end of my dark ponytail. An old nervous habit.
“At this stage, it looks like the damage is only superficial,” Lars said. “These two sections of drywall have to go. Once I’ve done that, I’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”
“Okay.”
“But it wouldn’t surprise me if some or all of that one needs replacing too.” He pointed to the wall the bedroom shared with the bathroom. “See how there’s bubbling along the joins of the wallpaper there?”
“Right.”
“Do I have your approval to get started?”
I nodded.
None of this was exactly unexpected. Old buildings might have soul, but they could also have heavy upkeep. Renovations cost big bucks. While my savings were meagre, lucky for this hundred year old house, my aunt left me some money. Which was a point of contention for a few of my family members. Like any of them had time for Aunt Susan when she was alive. Besides being my namesake, she was also the black sheep of the family. A little too weird for some, I guess. But weird has always been a trait that I admired.
“I’m going to make myself coffee,” I said. “Would you like some?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“How do you take it?”
“White. No sugar.”
“You’re sweet enough, huh?” And the moment those words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake. Talk about awkward.
He snorted, then said, “Something like that.”
*
Lars didn’t mess around. By the time I returned, he’d removed the first two panels of drywall. Hands on hips, he stood staring at the interior of the wall with the problematic window. Mostly it looked like a lot of dust and a couple of cobwebs. But then, I’m not a builder. When I handed over his mug, he gave me a brief smile before taking a sip.
“How is it looking?” I asked.
“Your house has good bones.”
“Great.”
“As long as the damage on that wall is due to the moisture spreading from the window and not a leaky bathroom pipe, this should be pretty straightforward,” he said.
I’d taken over the main bedroom, but this room still held a lot of sentimental value for me. Whenever Mom and Dad were busy or needed a break from us kids, my brother would stay at a friend’s house and I’d be packed off to Aunt Susan’s—to this bedroom in particular. Which was fine with me. Andrew was an outgoing jock while I’d been kind of awkward. In this house, I was accepted for who I was. A nice change. With my parents divorced, growing up between three households and living mostly out of a school bag sucked. But Aunt Susan gave me the security that was lacking elsewhere.
“Is the floor okay?”
“Let’s pull up some carpet and see.” He set his coffee on the windowsill. Then, knife back in hand, he got busy with the shag. It was impressive how the tool became a part of him. An extension of his body. “You’ve got good solid hardwood under here.”
“Ooh, let me see.”
He tugged the tattered underlay back further. “Oak, by the look of it.”
“Wow. Imagine covering that beauty up with butt ugly brown carpet.”
“No sign of water damage. You were lucky.”
I smiled. “That is excellent news.”
“Now let’s see what’s behind this.”
I took a step back so he could start removing the next section of drywall. He had such big capable hands. Watching him work was pure competence porn. . As a mature and well-adjusted thirty year old woman, I definitely knew better than to have sexy times thoughts again. The best friend of my ex is not my friend. Confucius probably said that.
“Looks like there’s something back here,” he said, setting a panel of drywall aside.
“Something good or something bad?” I winced as a big hairy spider scurried out of the cavity. “Ew.”
“It’s just a wolf spider. Nothing dangerous.”
“But there might be more.”
Without further comment, he reached down and picked up a piece of paper. It looked old. Which made sense. Lord only knew how long it had been in the wall. It was kind of like opening a time capsule.
“What is it?” I asked, more than a little curious.
His gaze narrowed as he read, his forehead furrowing. Next his brows rose and his lips thinned. His expression quickly changed from disbelief to fury as he shoved the piece of paper at me. The open hostility in his eyes was a lot coming from a man of his size. “Susie, what the fuck?”
“Huh?”
“Is this your idea of a joke?”
“No. I…” The paper was soft with age and the writing was faded but legible. Mostly. Superior Court of Washington, County of King was written at the top. There was also a date stamp. This was followed by a bunch of numbers and the words Final Divorce Order. “Wait. Is this a divorce certificate?”
“Yeah,” he said. “For you and me. Dated a decade from now.”
I scrunched up my nose and ever so slightly shrieked, “What? Hold on. You think I put this in there?”
“No,” he said, getting all up in my face. “I know you put it in there, Susie.”
“Take a step back, please,” I said, pushing a hand against his hard chest.
He did as I asked, some of the anger leaching from his face. Then he grumbled, “Sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“Why would you do that? Actually, it doesn’t matter. Find someone else for the job,” he said, gathering up his tools. “I’m out of here.”
“Can you just wait a second?”
Apparently the answer was no. Because the man started moving even faster. “I don’t know what game you’re playing. But I’m not interested in finding out.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I did not put this in the wall, Lars. Think about it. You’re a builder. Had any of the wallpaper or drywall been disturbed in the last forty or fifty years?”
“You could have accessed it from the other side. I don’t know.”
“I didn’t even know you were coming here today.”
He grunted. “Only got your word for that.”
“And I’ve only got your word that you didn’t put this in in the wall for some stupid reason,” I said, thinking it over. How did that not occur to me? “Of course you put it there. I wasn’t the first one to have access to that space. You were. A quick sleight of hand is all it would have taken. This is so unprofessional.”
“Very nice. I’m sure you prepared that speech at the same time you planted it, knowing I’d inevitably be the one who first touched it.”
“And I’m sure you prepared that speech at the same time you planted it, knowing I’d suspect you.”
He glared at me. “Why the hell would I, Susie?”
“Why the hell would I, Lars?” I bellowed. “This is ridiculous. I just want my house fixed. That’s all. And I specifically asked who would be doing the job because I didn’t feel the need to see you again.”
With his back to me, he paused.
“No offense. But I knew it would be wildly uncomfortable.”
“Why’d you use the company I work for then?”
“Because I know they’re reputable and do good work. You yourself said that’s one of the main reasons why you’ve stuck with them. Because they don’t encourage you to cut corners or use shoddy materials and they treat their staff well. Also, they pretty much do everything. These things matter.” I raised a finger. (No. Not that one.) “Take car repairs for instance. Because I know little to nothing about cars, I get ripped off by repair shops—I’m sure of it. I didn’t want that to happen here.”
Another grunt. What an animal.
“I wish neither to marry nor divorce you, Lars. And I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual. So this piece of paper I’m holding in no way benefits me. Look at me. Am I laughing? No, I’m not. Nor am I enjoying all this drama. Confrontation stresses me the fuck out,” I said, my shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what else to say. This is ridiculous.”
“You already said that.”
“It’s worth repeating.”
He gave me a look over his shoulder. “If you’re messing with me…”
“I’m not. Are you messing with me?”
“No.”
“Then what the hell is going on?” I asked the universe.
Without another word, he got to his feet and strode out of the room, heading straight into the bathroom next door. There he made quick work of checking everything. The tiling and paintwork, around the white pedestal basin, inside the mirrored cabinet set into the wall, and the end of the claw foot bath tub. Then he turned around, face set to cranky. “Access point for the attic?”
“Hallway.”
In no time flat, he had the ceiling hatch open and the ladder down. Then up into the darkness he went. His cell phone doubled as a flash light again.
“Lot of stuff up here,” he commented.
“That does not surprise me. My aunt was kind of a hoarder. Not as bad as the people on those TV shows, but…yeah.”
He sneezed. “A lot of dust, too.”
“Bless you. I haven’t even been up there yet,” I said. “Cleaning and clearing space out down here has taken all of my time.”
His big boots disappeared up the last rungs of the ladder while I waited below. After all, I’d only be in the way. It had absolutely nothing to do with my fear of creepy crawlies. Someone had to wait below with the weird ass document. The sounds of him stomping about and things being shifted came next. Something heavy was pushed aside. Something else fell and glass broke.
“Sorry,” Lars called.
“I’m sure it was nothing valuable. Hopefully.”
Then his face appeared in the dark hole overhead. “Looks like they built the attic to use as another bedroom or office at some stage. The floorboards and everything are tight. No real access into the walls below.”
“Mm.”
“Plus there’s about an inch of dust on the ground and no sign of any footprints other than mine.”
“Good work, Nancy Drew,” I said. “Is the basement next?”
He gave me a flat, unfriendly look. “Yes.”
Maybe I’d be better off finding another builder. In fact, I knew I would be. Though it would only be trading one peace of mind for another. While Lars would no longer be in my face, I wouldn’t be able to trust the new builder’s work to the same degree. Which would be anxiety-inducing and possibly costly. Talk about a no-win situation.
Back into the dining room then through to the kitchen at the back of the house, we went on our not-so-merry adventure. I opened the door to the dingy staircase. “I like to call this the murder room. Dark, dank, dangerous. It’s got it all.”
No response from him as we made our way down. Tough crowd. It was just a basic concrete room with a boiler, laundry area, and more assorted crap. But the old boiler, the one before this one, used to make creepy noises. Hence my childhood fears of the basement. Helping with the laundry was always an ordeal. I usually avoided it by offering to do the dishes instead.
Lars began examining the ceiling.
“When did you find out you had this job?”
“Around eight this morning. The office called,” he said. “Mateo’s boyfriend got hit by a car riding to work.”
“Is he okay?”
“A few bumps and bruises and a sprained wrist.”
“Phew.”
“Yeah,” he said. “The job I was on was close to finishing and they could spare me, so they asked me to come here.”
“What gets me is that the paper looks old. I mean, the way the text is faded and everything.” I carefully turned the certificate over in my hands. “I wonder if we could get it tested, somehow.”
He scoffed. “You don’t actually think it’s real?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I said. “What I do know is, if you didn’t put the certificate there to mess with me—and I guess I believe you when you say you didn’t—then I can think of no rational explanation for how it got there.”
He frowned harder and kept right on inspecting the ceiling. Even he had to admit that it was highly unlikely I’d put the decree of dissolution in the wall. Surely.
“Does your middle name start with A?”
“Alexander. Yes.”
“So the details are right, at least. No money judgement ordered. No real property judgement ordered. This marriage is dissolved. The petitioner and respondent are divorced. Not much information there to go on.” I chose my next words with care. “You know, my aunt, she was kind of eccentric. She was always burning candles and buying crystals.”
Looking back over his shoulder at me, he raised a questioning brow.
“The thing is, she used to talk to the house sometimes,” I finally said. “Like it was an actual living breathing entity. And yes, maybe she was lonely or a little strange. Please don’t say anything mean or dismissive about her.”
“I’m not going to say anything about your aunt.”
“Thank you.”
He didn’t even blink. “But it’s not supernatural, Susie. This was no ghost or spirit or whatever you’re suggesting.”
“Okay. Fine. I just thought I’d put that out there,” I said. “Did you find anything down here?”
“No.”
“So now what?”
Face set, he walked over, staring into my eyes as if he could read my soul.
“Susie.”
“Lars.”
“I want to believe you when you say you had nothing to do with it. You always seemed like a pretty honest person to me,” he said. “A bit too honest, sometimes.”
“How so?” I asked, only mildly annoyed—although I was exercising great restraint.
“Some of the stuff you come out with sometimes is…unnecessary.”
“Let’s agree to disagree,” I said.
He shook his head.
“I would point out, however, that I’m not brutal. Ever notice how people who say they’re just being honest usually are?”
His nostrils flared on a deep breath. How that was in any way attractive I had no idea. Something must be wrong with me. Guess my vibrator was getting a little boring. Maybe it was time for me to get out there and meet some men. Then again, not dating for the rest of my life would also be great.
“For the last time,” he said, speaking nice and slow, “did you put that piece of paper in the wall?”
“No. I swear.”
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Fuck,” I agreed.
He sighed. “Someone’s messing with us.”
***
Author Bio
Kylie Scott is the New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal and international bestselling author of 19 novels including the Stage Dive series, the Dive Bar series, the Larsen Brothers series, and West Hollywood series. Her most recent release, Pause, debuted on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into fourteen languages, and she has sold over 2 million copies worldwide.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE BONE RECORDS by Rich Zahradnik on this Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Good luck on the giveaway and enjoy!
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Book Description
NY Police Academy washout Grigg Orlov discovers an eerie piece of evidence at the scene of his father’s brutal murder: a disc-shaped X-ray of a skull. It’s a bone record–what Soviet citizens called banned American songs recorded on used X-rays. But the black-market singles haven’t been produced since the sixties. What’s one doing in Coney Island in 2016?
Grigg uncovers a connection between his father and three others who collected bone records when they were teenage friends growing up in Leningrad. Are past and present linked? Or is the murder tied to the local mob? Grigg’s got too many suspects and too little time. He must get to the truth before a remorseless killer takes everything he has.
Genre: Mystery Published by: 1000 Words A Day Press Publication Date: November 2022 Number of Pages: 338 ISBN: 9798985905649
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
THE BONE RECORDS by Rich Zahradnik is a non-stop fast paced thriller filled with Russian mobsters and government agents, corrupt NYPD police, and FBI agents, good and bad, all after a young protagonist caught up for unknown reasons in international intrigue.
Grigg Orlov has never felt he belonged in his neighborhood of Little Odessa. Born of a Russian immigrant father and a Jamaican mother, he is plagued with prejudice his entire life. His father reappears after a six-month absence only to have both chased and his father killed. Grigg finds a disc shaped x-ray of a skull on his father’s body. It has an individual old song recording on the opposite side. He learns the discs were called bone records which in the old Soviet Union were sold on the black market with banned American music, but what does this have to do with his father?
Grigg and his ex-girlfriend, Katia, discover an old connection his father had to a group of friends in Russia and bone records, but what does that have to do with the present day run for his life from Russian mobsters and government spies? With no help from law enforcement, Grigg must find the truth before he and Katia end up dead.
This is a thriller with a stubborn and flawed young protagonist that the author is able to make me still care about and follow on this harrowing investigation and run for his life. The history of the bone records was interesting and new to me. The vivid descriptions of the neighborhood of Little Odessa and Coney Island made both feel real and integral to the story. I felt at times the number of mobsters, spies and corrupt law enforcement officials was over the top, but it certainly kept the action and Grigg moving. Every plot thread is tied up at the climatic ending, I just wish a few were answered sooner in the story because for me, all the solutions were rushed into the last chapters with much of the story being threat and chase.
I recommend this entertaining thriller with its unique protagonist and plenty of action and suspects.
***
Excerpt
Chapter 1
Friday, August 19, 2016
Grigg’s reunion with his father was brief—eight minutes to be exact—and ended when a man with a nickel-plated revolver shot Dad twice.
Three hours before the violence began, Grigg struggled through the crowd on the Coney Island subway platform. He was the last to reach the stairway to the station’s exit. Again. Even the old folks were gone. His wrecked knee held him back.
Outside the station, Deno’s Wonder Wheel turned slowly, towering over the amusement park that took its name from the ancient fifteen-story ride. The wheel’s spokes glowed a hot neon white. Hazy coronas surrounded all the lights.
Tick-tick-tick-tick.
Grigg had started wearing his father’s Timex soon after he had gone missing. He put the watch up to his ear, as he’d done too many times before. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard. The clockwork noise was in his head. Maybe a reminder to keep looking. Maybe a reminder that six months was already too long in missing persons cases.
His father’s watch read 8:18 p.m.
He limped away from Coney Island’s amusement parks toward his house on West 28th off Mermaid Avenue. As he did, the street darkened. He checked behind him more than once. The neighborhood became far less amusing as night came on—and the farther you went from the fun parks. Mugging wasn’t the thrill ride Grigg needed. He didn’t want any more trouble. He had a lifetime’s supply. His long days pinballed him between two jobs and the search for his father.
But despite Grigg’s best efforts, the minutes and hours and days kept spinning off the Timex, found by the police in a Howard Beach motel room, the last place his father was seen before he vanished into the thin March air. Their empty house waited to reflect Grigg’s loneliness back at him. His mother had died when he was eighteen months old. His boss at the city’s claims adjustment office rarely talked to him outside of giving orders. All of his connections—he couldn’t really call them friends—in the neighborhood he owed to his father. Dad, like the rest of them, had immigrated from Russia. Unlike the rest of them, he’d married a woman from Jamaica, a union that guaranteed Grigg would always be on the outside in Little Odessa.
The rubber soles of his cheap dress shoes slapped the wet pavement. A thunderstorm had blown through while he was on the subway, leaving behind the sticky-thick humidity. His messenger bag tugged on his shoulder.
He went over the lead he’d uncovered tonight. Going door-to-door in a Midwood apartment building full of Russians, he’d talked briefly to a tenant named Freddy Popov, who recognized Grigg’s father when shown a photo. Popov said a man—maybe a cop—had been canvassing the building with a picture of Grigg’s dad four weeks earlier. Inside the man’s apartment and shielded by Popov, someone said something in Russian. Popov got hinky, then said he didn’t know anything more and slammed the door. Grigg banged on it until a woman across the hall threatened to call the cops. He left with only the knowledge that someone else—maybe a cop?—was also searching for Dad. Still, that bit of info was his biggest lead to date.
Grigg limped up to the small, two-story brick house—kitchen, living room, two bedrooms over a garage—a duplicate of the other attached homes on the street. He unlocked the steel gate, then the front door, and stepped inside.
The thunk of the door closing echoed through the house. Two days ago, Grigg had moved everything out except for the sleeping bag in his bedroom of twenty-seven years and a blue duffel, readying the old house for its new owners. He turned the deadbolt.
He shouldn’t be staying here tonight. He’d spent all his free time on the search for Dad, right up until the closing on the sale of the house. Even at the end, he’d hoped for a breakthrough that would save him from selling. He’d signed the papers yesterday, writing a check for $1,650—most of his savings—because the house was underwater on a second mortgage his father had taken out. Grigg knew the out-of-state buyers wouldn’t be moving in for three weeks, so he’d kept a copy of the key.
Trespassing in my own house. Inviting trouble when I already have too much.
The plan was to use the next three weeks to find an apartment share, but the lead from Popov tugged at his thoughts. Would it pull so hard that he’d spend his free time searching for Dad and end up homeless? He ducked his own question and instead pictured going back to demand Popov tell him more. He shook his head. He could barely keep his mind on his housing problem for the space of a single thought. He took a beer out of the refrigerator, went up to his room, and rolled his sleeping bag into a fat pillow to lean against.
Grigg popped open the 90 Years Young Double IPA. Nine percent alcohol. The strong stuff he’d dubbed “floor softener.” He downed two sixteen-ounce cans, and the ache faded from the muscles in his damaged leg.
He took out his phone. He’d run through his data allowance last week. Three days until the new billing cycle. At least he had his music. He played the Decembrists, their songs about revenge and ships at sea set to jangly indie rock. He followed with the Killers, then Vampire Weekend.
Tick-tick-tick-tick.
His father’s watch read 11:20 p.m.
He opened his notebook and wrote down “Day 191” along with what he’d learned. It was longer than any previous entry—yet not long at all. So many days. The silence in the house chilled him, sending goosebumps in waves over his arms and thighs. He got up and turned down the air conditioner. It wouldn’t help. He missed his father’s voice, the way it had warmed their home. They could talk about everything and anything, a lot of anything, but such interesting anything. Dad was always there with his questions, his curiosity, and his deep interest in whatever Grigg was up to. There were days his father was more intrigued by Grigg’s job than Grigg was. Even that helped.
A fourth beer. He floated on the wood floor of his empty bedroom. Slept.
A thump. The floor hardened underneath him. Another thump. Half buzzed, halfway to a headache, Grigg opened his eyes. He heard it again. Not a dream. On the roof. He followed the steps above him to his father’s empty bedroom. He was about to switch on his phone’s flashlight when legs—silhouetted by the glow from the street across the way—dangled over the room’s tiny balcony. They descended slowly, inching, hesitating, as if the intruder were no expert at this sort of move. The toes stretched to touch, and finally, the person dropped, stumbled, and landed on their knees.
Grigg didn’t know whether to laugh or arm himself. If this was a robbery, then the joke was going to be on a thief who’d picked a house with nothing in it. Grigg decided discretion was the better part of whatever, returned to his bedroom, and pulled the stun gun from his messenger bag. Ever since he’d been attacked when he was in the police academy—suffering the knee injury that forced him to drop out—he hadn’t felt safe unless he carried the weapon.
He placed the messenger bag next to his duffel in the hallway in case he needed to get out fast. In the kitchen, he grabbed his second six pack as a backup weapon.
Of course, he could escape by the front and leave the intruder for the police to deal with. But if he did, then the buyers would be notified, and he’d lose the three weeks of temporary housing he’d been counting on.
He crept through the doorway into the main bedroom.
The figure, whose face remained in deep shadow because of the streetlight glow from behind, rattled the handle to the single balcony door, used his elbow to smash in the square pane nearest the knob, reached in, and turned the simple metal lock. As he pushed the door open, Grigg stepped forward, hit his phone’s light, and thrust forward the stun gun.
“Get the fuck out of my house!”
The figure froze. “I’m not going to hurt you, Grigg.”
Grigg moved closer.
“Dad? Dad!”
Full beard and longer hair, but it was him.
Grigg didn’t know whether to hug his father or scream at him.
“I came to say goodbye,” Dad said.
“Goodbye?”
“I’m leaving. For Russia. I don’t know when I’ll be able to return. It’s the only way.”
“I don’t understand.” Any of it. “You said you’d never go back.”
“It’s the only way to fix things.”
***
Mystery writer Rich Zahradnik
Author Bio
Rich Zahradnik is the author of the thriller The Bone Records and four critically acclaimed mysteries, including Lights Out Summer, winner of the Shamus Award. He was a journalist for twenty-seven years and now lives in Pelham, New York, where he is the mentor to the staff of the Pelham Examiner, an award-winning community newspaper run, edited, reported, and written by people under the age of eighteen.
Today is my turn to share my Feature Post and Book Review for CHAOS ON THEISLAND (DI Liam O’Reilly Mysteries Book #9) by Stewart Giles on this Books ‘n’ All Promotions Blog Tour.
Below you will find a book blurb, my book review, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Blurb
If there’s one thing Detective Liam O’Reilly hates, it’s bombs.
The Irishman transferred to the peaceful island of Guernsey to escape that kind of thing.
So, when random explosions start taking the people on the island by surprise, O’Reilly wonders if moving to Guernsey was such a good idea.
It soon becomes clear that the bombs are a smokescreen for something else. Something more sinister is going on, and when a gang of masked men enter the equation, O’Reilly realises this has nothing to do with blowing things up.
A team of armed men, dubbed the Fab Four Robbers by the press, soon capture the hearts of the people of Guernsey, and chaos hits the island.
O’Reilly is facing the worst dilemma of his career.
Many residents of the island are championing these thugs.
This new breed of criminals disguised as John, Paul, George and Ringo are about to educate O’Reilly in the fine art of chaos.
CHAOS ON THE ISLAND (DI Liam O’Reilly Mysteries Book #9) by Stewart Giles is another engaging mystery/police procedural featuring DI Liam O’Reilly and his team on the island of Guernsey. This is the ninth book in the series and while the characters’ relationships continue to grow, each crime plot is unique and is solved by the end of the book so they can be read as standalones.
April Fool’s Day is not a good day for police, and it is an especially bad day for DI Liam O’Reilly as a bomb explodes on Guernsey island. Liam hates bombs. As everyone is busy at the site of the blast, four men in Beatles masks rob a high-end jewelry store. The island paper nicknames them “The Fab Four” as they continue to cause chaos on the island. At first there are no casualties, but that soon changes with Liam and his team no closer to uncovering who they are and understanding what their motive might be.
Liam knows there must be a motive for the Fab Four’s crimes, but it will take his and his team’s usual dogged determination and out of the box investigative skills to stop the chaos on the island.
Once again, Mr. Giles has led me on an exciting chase with DI Liam O’Reilly. I love this protagonist and series. Not only is the crime mystery captivating, but there are also many changes going on in Liam’s personal life in this book. I always look forward to catching up with Liam, his daughter, and the members of his detective squad. The Fab Four disguises were an entertaining way to bring song references and debates about who you liked best of the four into the story even though these four were killers. I was guessing and surprised right up to the end in this fast crime read that I could not put down.
I highly recommend this crime mystery addition to the DI Liam O’Reilly series!
***
Author Bio
After reading English at 3 Universities and graduating from none of them, I set off travelling around the world with my wife, Ann, finally settling in South Africa, where we still live.
In 2014 Ann dropped a rather large speaker on my head and I came up with the idea for a detective series. DS Jason Smith was born. Smith, the first in the series was finished a few months later.
3 years and 8 DS Smith books later, Joffe Books wondered if I would be interested in working with them. As a self-published author, I agreed. However, we decided on a new series – the DC Harriet Taylor: Cornwall series.
The Beekeeper was published and soon hit the number one spot in Australia. The second in the series, The Perfect Murder did just as well.
I continued to self-publish the Smith series and Unworthy hit the shelves in 2018 with amazing results. I therefore made the decision to self-publish The Backpacker which is book 3 in the Detective Harriet Taylor series which was published in July 2018.
After The Backpacker I had an idea for a totally new start to a series – a collaboration between the Smith and Harriet thrillers and The Enigma was born. It brought together the broody, enigmatic Jason Smith and the more level-headed Harriet Taylor.
The Miranda trilogy is something totally different. A psychological thriller trilogy. It is a real departure from anything else I’ve written before.
The Detective Jason Smith series continues to grow. I also have another series featuring an Irish detective who relocated to Guernsey. The first 8 books in the Detective Liam O’Reilly series are now available. There are also 3 stand alone novels.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE ACCIDENTALSPY by David Gardner on this Partners In Crime Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Description
Harvey Hudson is an emotionally scarred, fifty-six-year-old history professor who has lost his job, his wife and his self-respect. In desperation, Harvey takes a high-tech job for which he is totally unqualified.
So he outsources it to India.
Then Harvey discovers that a Russian intelligence agency owns the outsourcing company and are using him to launch a cyberattack on the U.S. petroleum industry.
Harvey now finds himself in a world of trouble with the Russians and the FBI, and he has fallen in love with the woman from New Delhi who’s doing the job he’s outsourced—who might be a Russian agent.
Genre: Humorous Thriller with Literary Pretensions Published by: Encircle Publications, LLC Publication Date: November 2, 2022 Number of Pages: 274 ISBN: 9781645994206
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
THE ACCIDENTAL SPY by David Gardner is a satire of a spy thriller novel with a bumbling college professor who loses his job, marriage and life savings and yet manages to outwit Russian spies, foil their plot and win the girl. This standalone is a humorous story with moments of suspense, moments of heroism and moments of “Really?”.
Harvey Hudson is a fifty-six-year-old man who begins this story down and out with little self-esteem left after the college he taught at closes and his wife divorces him after running through his life savings. He is left with a pity job from an old high school flame as a technical writer by day and a pizza delivery man by night. When he “outsources” his day job on the sly to India, he meets Amaya. But there is more to this chance pairing then meets the eye and Harvey is about to learn more than he ever wanted to about Russian spies, FBI handlers and international espionage.
Harvey is an anti-hero you come to care for over the course of this life-changing adventure. The plot is unique and while it only occasionally feels fast paced with action and suspense, this is more Harvey’s story of transition and triumph over his past even with all the crazy espionage antics. I was sucked into Harvey’s story and pleasantly surprised at the unique twists, his wry wit and my hope for his ultimate triumph all along the way.
***
Excerpt
Accidental Spy: “Some poor jerk dragged into a world of trouble.”
Harvey Hudson
Chapter 1: Bunny Ears
Summer, 2019
Harvey Hudson released the steering wheel and swatted at the blue balloon (“Congrats! You Did It!”) that was banging against the back of his head.
What was the ‘It’ for? Someone earned a law degree? Pulled off a bank heist? Successfully underwent potty training? All three?
One day before turning fifty-six, and here he was, delivering balloons. How had he let this happen to him?
He chewed on the last of the Skittles he’d swiped from a bulky candy basket attached to a red balloon shaped like a birthday cake. Too many sweets for some spoiled kid. He was doing the pudgy brat a favor. The Snickers bar was tempting. Maybe later.
Harvey reached across the front seat, grabbed a handful of candy bars from the Skittle-less basket ($149), and dropped them into its modest neighbor ($39). He often shifted candy from larger baskets to lesser ones. He thought of himself as the Robin Hood of balloon-delivery individuals.
He’d had just $87 in the bank a few weeks ago when he’d shambled past a help-wanted sign in the front window of the Rapid Rabbit Balloon Service. He paused and reread the sign. “Part-time Delivery Person Needed. Become a Rapid Rabbit!” Yeah, what the hell. He hurried inside before he came to his senses. He would have taken any gig—balloon-delivery specialist, male stripper, or get-away driver for a grizzled bank robber.
With his part-time job delivering balloons and his full-time work as a beginning technical writer, Harvey could just stay afloat. His ex-wife had cleaned him out.
He double-parked on a smart street of brick-front homes on Boston’s Beacon Hill. Hesitating, he clamped the hated bunny ears over his head and attached the spongy red nose. Sighing, he grabbed the $149 basket and, head down, ambled up the walkway and rang the bell. The balloon bobbed overhead, taunting him.
The woman who opened the door was a slim and pretty brunette in her fifties. She had a narrow face and large, dark eyes.
She was his boss at his day job.
Also his high school sweetheart.
Harvey wanted to disappear into the ground.
Margo took a step back. “Oh.”
Harvey pulled off the bulbous red nose and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. “Uh…this is where you live?”
Margo shook her head. “I’m here with my daughter for a birthday party.”
Harvey shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m…um…delivering balloons just for tonight to help out a buddy who had two wisdom teeth pulled this morning, a professor who lost his job the same time I did.”
Margo blinked twice.
“A sociologist,” Harvey added.
Margo gripped the edge of the door.
“Named Fred,” Harvey said.
Margo nodded.
“The guy took the job in desperation because he’s broke, recently divorced, and down on his luck,” Harvey said and realized he was describing himself.
He handed the basket to Margo.
Did she believe him? Probably not. Did the company have a rule against moonlighting? He’d soon find out.
Margo poked around inside the basket. “There’s too much candy in here.”
“At least there aren’t any Skittles.”
Margo selected a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. “I’ve moved tomorrow’s team meeting up to 10:00 A.M. Did you get my email?”
Harvey nodded.
Was that her way of telling him that moonlighters don’t get fired? He hoped so. He was pathetically unqualified as a technical writer, and his job was in jeopardy.
Harvey hated meetings. Sometimes he thought the software engineers asked him questions he couldn’t answer just to see him squirm. Many were kids in their twenties, making double his salary.
And he hated lying to Margo. At least he could be honest about one small thing. “Actually, this is my night gig. I’ve had it for a few weeks.”
Margo unwrapped the Reese’s, nipped off a corner, chewed and said, “Is that why I caught you asleep at your desk yesterday?”
No, it’s because the job is so goddamn boring. He shook his head. “I wasn’t sleeping. I have the habit of relaxing and closing my eyes whenever I’m searching for the perfect way to convey a particularly difficult concept to our worthy customers.”
“And snoring?”
Margo was smiling now. That same cute smile from high school. He remembered it from the time they’d sneaked a first kiss in the back row of calculus class. The girl he’d loved and lost.
She set the basket down and pulled a twenty from the side pocket of her slacks. “Um…would you…uh…accept a tip?”
“No.”
She shoved the bill into his shirt pocket. “Yes, you will.”
Harvey shifted his weight to his left foot. A liar doesn’t deserve a $20 tip. At most, a few dimes and nickels, couch-cushion change.
Margo finished the peanut butter cup in silence.
He didn’t quite know what to say now.
Yes, he did know. He should tell her the truth.
He’d outsourced his job to India.
Was that illegal? Probably not. But highly unethical. Would she protect him after he’d confessed? Unlikely, which meant he would lose his job. But living a lie was exhausting and just plain wrong. She’d hired him and trusted him. She deserved better. He cleared his throat, once, twice, a third time. “Margo, there’s something I have to tell you. It seems I—“
“Is that the balloon guy?” a young woman called from inside the house.
“That’s my daughter,” Margo said and picked up the basket. A blue balloon bobbed on a string attached to the handle. “I’ll be right back.”
Harvey stood at the open door, trying to think of some way to soften his upcoming confession. Or maybe just blurt it out and get it over with?
“Happy birthday, Dad!”
The daughter’s voice again from inside.
“Candy and a kid’s balloon again this year! Are you trying to tell me something?”
The daughter laughed.
Harvey recognized the man’s voice.
Tucker Aldrich was the CEO of the company where Harvey worked. He was also Margo’s ex-husband and a first-class dickhead.
So, it meant the balloon and candy basket were for Tucker and not some child. Harvey was sorry he’d passed on the Snickers bar.
The hell with telling the truth.
***
Author Bio
David Gardner grew up on a Wisconsin dairy farm, served in Army Special Forces and earned a Ph.D. in French from the University of Wisconsin. He has taught college and worked as a reporter and in the computer industry.
He lives in Massachusetts with his wife, Nancy, also a writer. He hikes, bikes, messes with astrophotography and plays the keyboard with no discernible talent whatsoever.
Set in the City of Light and starring Julia Child’s (fictional) best friend, confidant, and fellow American, this Magnifique new historical mystery series from the acclaimed author of Murder at Mallowan Hall combines a fresh perspective on the iconic chef’s years in post-WWII Paris with a delicious mystery and a unique culinary twist. Perfect for fans of Jacqueline Winspear, Marie Benedict, and of course, Julia Child alike!
As Paris rediscovers its joie de vivre, Tabitha Knight, who recently arrived from Detroit for an extended stay with her French grandfather, is on her own journey of discovery. Paris isn’t just the City of Light; it’s the city of history, romance, stunning architecture . . . and food. Thanks to her neighbour and friend Julia Child, another ex-pat who’s fallen head over heels for Paris, Tabitha is learning how to cook for her Grandpère and Oncle Rafe.
Between tutoring Americans in French, visiting the market, and eagerly sampling the results of Julia’s studies at Le Cordon Bleu cooking school, Tabitha’s sojourn is proving thoroughly delightful. That is, until the cold December day they return to Julia’s building and learn that a body has been found in the cellar. Tabitha recognizes the victim as a woman she’d met only the night before, at a party given by Julia’s sister, Dort. The murder weapon found nearby is recognizable too—a knife from Julia’s kitchen.
Tabitha is eager to help the investigation but is shocked when Inspector Merveille reveals that a note, in Tabitha’s handwriting, was found in the dead woman’s pocket. Is this murder a case of international intrigue, or something far more personal? From the shadows of the Tour Eiffel at midnight to the tiny third-floor Child kitchen to the grungy streets of Montmartre, Tabitha navigates through the city hoping to find the real killer before she or one of her friends ends up in prison . . . or worse.
MASTERING THE ART OF FRENCH MURDER (An American in Paris Book #1) by Colleen Cambridge is the entertaining first book in this new historical mystery series set in Paris post WWII featuring a young American transplant in Paris who is the best friend of Julia Child. After reading and loving Ms. Cambridge’s historical mystery series set at Mallowan Hall with Agatha Christie as the best friend of the protagonist, I was excited to try this new protagonist and series.
Tabitha Knight grew up in Detroit, but her Grandmere was French and Tabitha grew up bilingual. With the passing of her Grandmere, she travels to post WWII Paris to stay with her Grandpere and Oncle Rafe. She is tutoring French to Americans in Paris after the war and has become friends with Julia Child. When returning from the market, Tabitha and Julia learn of a murdered girl in the cellar of Julia’s apartment building. Tabitha recognizes the victim from a party the night before and the murder weapon discovered by Inspector Merveille is one of Julia’s expensive chef knives from her kitchen.
The suspects are all from the English-speaking theater troupe Julia’s sister, Dort works for that were at the late-night party, Tabitha is determined to clear her friend’s names even with the Inspector telling her to stay out of the investigation. With some aide from her Grandpere and Oncle, Tabitha hopes to find the real killer before any of her friends are jailed or even worse.
This is an exciting amateur sleuth mystery set in an interesting time and location. Tabitha is a resourceful and brave protagonist, who also gets herself into a few dangerous situations due to her excessive curiosity. The friendship with Julia Child is a perfect setup for fun dialogue as Julia tries to teach Tabitha how to cook and shop at the local market so she can prepare dinners for her Grandpere and Oncle. I look forward to discovering more about these gentlemen, because there is definitely more than what has been yet revealed about their lives prior to Tabitha coming to live with them. The plot has plenty of red herrings and twists that kept me reading through all of Tabitha’s adventures and discoveries, but it does start out a bit slow. All plot threads come together and are satisfactorily revealed at the conclusion. I am looking forward to reading the next book in this series and learning more about all these characters.
I recommend this historical mystery with memorable characters and 1950’s Paris.
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About the Author
Colleen Cambridge is the pen name for an award-winning, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. From a young age, Colleen has loved reading mysteries and now she couldn’t be happier that she is able to write them.
Under several pseudonyms, she has written more than 36 books in a variety of genres and is always plotting her next murder—er, book.
