Today is my turn on the Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tour for an engaging new paranormal witch mystery/thriller – DREAM STALKER by Nancy Gardner.
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 Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
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BookDescription
Lily Scott had vowed never to dream-walk-again….
Lily is a contemporary Salem witch who descends from a long line of witches born with the power to walk into other people’s dreams to fight crime. But her disastrous first dream-walk almost killed her, and she vowed never to repeat the painful experience.
Now her daughter is falsely accused of murder, and the only way to clear her would be for Lily to enter the dreaming mind of the real killer, risking confrontation with the deadly Dream Stalker.
DREAM STALKER: A Paranormal Mystery by Nancy Gardner is an engaging new paranormal witch mystery/thriller. The mystery is complete, but the ending does leave a few character-related open-ended questions that could lead to this being the first book in a series.
Lily Scott is a fifty-something widow living in Salem, Mass. with a complicated family life. She is also a witch. Lily comes from a long line of females in her family who are marked with a firefly birthmark and the ability to dream walk to uncover injustice, but it does come with the sometime consequence of facing and fighting the Dream Stalker. Her first dream walk as a young girl ended in near disaster and she has not dream walked since.
Lily’s daughter, Sarah is accused of murder, and she realizes that to save her family, she must find the courage to dream walk again.
I was impressed with how this new-to-me author was able to write engrossing, fully fleshed characters, while also pulling together paranormal elements, witch folklore and herbal teachings and an intricate mystery plot. It was all done seamlessly and with a believability that always kept me engaged and guessing. I never felt the author was cheating me with Lily’s ability being the only way to uncover facts and clues so that this mystery could be solved. I enjoyed all of Lily’s friends and was glad to see her family working on their rift.
I enjoyed this paranormal mystery/thriller, and I am hoping to be able to follow Lily and her friends and family on future mystery adventures.
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Excerpt
Chapter 1
Salem, Massachusetts—October 1, 2013
I stumbled through the early morning fog blanketing Salem’s Gallows Hill, hurrying to the oak tree that my maternal grandmother, Sadie MacAskill, loved. When I was a child, she’d taught me that witches like ourselves derive energy from working with green, growing plants and trees. I could still feel our arms stretched around the oak’s trunk, listening for the pulsing power within it.
“Feel Mother Earth’s wisdom rising,” she’d said.
I’d never needed wisdom more. The plan I’d cooked up with an old friend had gone terribly wrong. Kitty was supposed to bring my estranged daughter, Sarah, to dinner. Sarah’s favorite dinner, creamy chicken pesto and pasta, was baking in the oven when I got the call.
“Kitty hasn’t come home, and I’m not ready to see you without her. I may never be ready,” Sarah said, her voice cold and unforgiving. She hung up before I could reply.
When I called her back, she refused to answer. If my husband, Sam, had still been alive, he’d have known what to do. But he’d died two years ago.
It was long after midnight when I threw the cold casserole down the disposal and crawled into bed. When sleep proved impossible, I paced the empty rooms of our Chestnut Street home until dawn, then grabbed the nearly empty bottle of homemade dandelion brandy as an offering to Nana’s spirit and rode my Vespa to the park atop Gallows Hill.
Exhausted and headachy, I forgot to watch my step and tripped over a rock. I managed not to fall, but the bottle flew out of my hand. I watched it shatter, watched the last golden dregs seep into the grass. I felt like I was watching my relationship with my daughter ebb with it.
As I dropped shards of glass into the nearby trash can, the wind seemed to whisper that I didn’t deserve to find the wisdom I needed. I’d failed Nana, and I’d failed my daughter.
“Enough self-pity.” I pulled my leather jacket tighter and scurried past the crumbling pavilion and rusting flagpole to the ancient oak. Once again, I pressed my cheek to the rough bark, closed my eyes, and waited. The bark pulsed. A crow landed in the branches above me, cawing and shaking loose a shower of dead leaves. I opened my eyes, and for a moment, Nana’s face wavered before me. Then she was gone, leaving me with my questions unanswered.
My cell vibrated. Who would call me this early? Sarah? Kitty with an explanation? I checked the screen. Neither. Honey Campbell, my landlord and a good friend. She owned the building on Pickering Wharf where we both ran our businesses. Her barbershop took up the first floor. My herbal studio, Healing Thyme, sat above it.
“Hi, Honey. What’s up.”
“Thought you’d want to know your friend, Kitty, came looking for you,” Honey said in her soft Scottish brogue. “And bye-the-bye, she looked like shite. She stumbled off toward Moe’s. You might yet find her there.”
Two months earlier, Kitty had stopped me on the street. I’d taken her for a panhandler and almost turned her away. Then she said, “Lily, don’t you remember me? My parents took us to New York to see West Side Story. We had the best time.”
We’d shared a cup of coffee and Kitty shared her story. She’d been a high school biology teacher until she’d been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. The disease had taken everything from her: her teaching career, her home, her reason for living. She’d ended up lost on the streets.
Things had taken a turn for the better for Kitty when she found a permanent bed at St. Bridget’s Homeless Shelter and, because of the doctor who volunteered his services there, Kitty’s memory was making a remarkable improvement.
“Thanks, Honey. I’m on my way.” I dashed back to the Vespa, strapped on my helmet, and started the engine. Usually, the thrum of the engine beneath me and the slapping rhythm of my braid tapping against my back soothed me. Not this morning. I pressed the throttle and hurried to Pickering Wharf, determined to find out what had gone wrong last night.
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Author Bio
Nancy Gardner writes cozy mysteries with a paranormal twist. The first novel in her new series, Dream Stalker, tells the story of Lily Scott, a contemporary Salem witch who walks into people’s dreams to fight crime. One reviewer called it a gripping tale of witchcraft, family loyalties, and the cost of seeking justice. Her most recent short story, “Death’s Door,” was selected to be included in the 2021 anthology, Malice Domestic 16: Mystery Most Diabolical. She lives near Boston with her writer husband, David.
Today is my turn on the Book n All Promotions Blog Tour and I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for REVENGE ON THE ISLAND (DI Liam O’Reilly Mysteries Book #5) by Stewart Giles.
Below you will find a book description, my book review and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Description
REVENGE IS SWEET.
How do you solve a murder when you’re the number one suspect?
Fifteen years ago Patrick Finney was sentenced to life for the brutal murders of four women. It was one of the most high-profile cases in Irish history and one that defined Detective Inspector Liam O’Reilly’s career. O’Reilly was instrumental in bringing Finney down.
Now Finney has escaped from a high-security prison and he’s not content to stay on the run.
He wants revenge and he’s prepared to stop at nothing to get it.
Abandoned by the very people he’s employed by O’Reilly finds himself in a predicament that leaves him running out of options. There is only one man who can help him. But it’s a man he vowed he would never contact again, and the consequences of his association with this phantom could be far worse than O’Reilly could ever imagine.
When the hunter becomes the hunted the rules of the game have to change.
This is a chilling mystery that O’Reilly will never forget.
DS JASON SMITH SERIES Book 0.5 – Phobia Book 1 – Smith Book 2 – Boomerang Book 3 – Ladybird Book 4 – Occam’s Razor Book 5 – Harlequin Book 6 – Selene Book 7 – Horsemen Book 8 – Unworthy Book 9 – Venom Book 10 – Severed Book 11 – Demons Book 12 – Deadeye Book 13 – Motive Book 14 – Australia
Book 16 – Wishbone
DI O’REILLY MYSTERIES Book 1 – Blood on the Island
Book 2 – Lies on the Island
Book 3 – Fear on the Island
Book 4 – Malice on the Island
Book 5 – Revenge on the Island
DC HARRIET TAYLOR SERIES Book 1-The Beekeeper Book 2-The Perfect Murder Book 3-The Backpacker Trotterdown a box set of DC Harriet Taylor books 1-3
DS JASON SMITH &DC HARRIET TAYLOR SERIES Book 1 – The Enigma Book 2 – Dropzone Book 3 – The Raven Girl Trilogy: The DS Smith & Harriet Taylor box set
THE MIRANDA TRILOGY (psychological thrillers) Miranda Mistress Medusa
STANDALONE HORROR The Divide
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
REVENGE ON THE ISLAND: A Compelling Mystery with a Dark Twist (DI Liam O’Reilly Mysteries Book #5) by Stewart Giles is an exciting and edge-of-your-seat addition to this series that I was unable to put down! Even though this is the fifth book in the series, it is easily read as a standalone.
DI Liam “Smiley” O’Reilly thought he was getting away from the high stress crimes of Dublin when he moved to the smaller force on Guernsey Island. It has not quite worked out that way, and now he is about to face a depraved serial killer from his past.
When the hunter becomes the hunted and has run out of options, Smiley is left with contacting the one man from his past he has vowed to never contact again.
You are going to want to set aside the time to read this mystery/thriller in one sitting. I did. This story is a perfect balance of action, surprise twists and strong characters. I love Smiley, his daughter, Assumpta and his entire team; they are all interesting, fully developed characters that could walk right off the page. The mystery/thriller plot of this addition to the series is especially intense and chilling as it seemed impossible to prove Smiley was being framed and then the plot builds to an ending that is completely shocking!
I highly recommend this new Smiley book, the entire series and this author with his multiple entertaining and smart series.
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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 with book 16 recently published. The first 5 books in the Detective Liam O’Reilly series are now available.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for DEADLY TARGET (Rocky Mountain Courage Book #2) by Elizabeth Goddard on the 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 Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
Criminal psychologist Erin Larson’s dreams of a successful career come to a screeching halt when she nearly loses her own life in a boating accident on Puget Sound and then learns that her mother tried to commit suicide. She leaves her job as a criminal psychologist to care for her mother in Montana. At least she is able to produce her podcast, which focuses on solving missing persons cold cases.
Nathan Campbell’s father was investigating such a case when he was shot, and now Nathan needs to enlist Erin’s help to solve the case. She’s good at what she does. The only problem? She’s his ex.
As the two dig deeper, it becomes clear that they, too, are being targeted–and that the answers to their questions are buried deep within the past Erin struggles to explain and longs to forget.
The race is on for the truth in this gripping and complex tale of suspense, intrigue, and murder from USA Today bestselling author Elizabeth Goddard.
DEADLY TARGET (Rocky Mountain Courage Book #2) by Elizabeth Goddard is the second Christian romantic suspense in the Rocky Mountain Courage series. This book can be read as a standalone. The books are set in the same small town with only minimal crossover of characters from book one.
Criminal psychologist Erin Larson and her friend are almost killed when their kayaks are hit by a boat. As they are rescued by another boat, Erin receives the news that her mother has attempted suicide from the man she left behind, Nathan. She rushes back to Montana taking a leave of absence from her day job, but she feels she can continue her cold case podcasting as she stays to help her mother.
Nathan Campbell’s father returns to Montana at the same time and enlists his son’s help in solving a cold case that he believes ties into the current case he is working in Boston. As he begins to tell Nathan about the case, he is swearing him to secrecy as he is shot.
Nathan knows Erin is back and believes she can help him with his search for answers. As the two search for clues, they are targeted and nearly killed several times. Erin left Nathan due to a secret in her past which now needs to come to light to help them with their present case before it is too late.
The suspense plot in this book is interesting and has plenty of surprises. The main plot does take a while to start bringing the clues together, but there is plenty of action as several attempts are made on the H/h’s lives. I liked Nathan’s strength, loyalty and determination to find the truth. I did not warm up to Erin and when you find out why she pushes people away, it did not help. She just never rang true to me. Her being a psychologist and feeling broken for the reason given did not work for me. This book has more Christian prayer than the first book and at times, for me, it interrupted the flow of the scene.
For me, this was just an OK read. I would continue with the series though to read and discover Alex’s story.
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Excerpt
1
Puget Sound
For a few hours every Saturday morning, Erin Larson could forget that evil existed.
And usually, only on the water.
She dipped the double-bladed paddle into the sea, then again on the other side—left, right, left, right, left, right—alternating strokes in a fluid motion to propel her kayak across the blue depths. Her friend Carissa Edwards paddled close behind.
Left, right. Left, right. Left, right.
On the water she was close to nature and far from the chaos and noise of the city even though she and Carissa paddled along the shoreline and could see the cityscape in the distance. The quiet calmed her mind and heart. The rhythmic paddling mesmerized her. The exertion exhilarated her. Cleansed her of the stress and anxiety acquired after a week of forced labor.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. Her suffering certainly wasn’t physical in nature.
Water. Mountains. Sky. She took in the sights and once again . . . forgot.
Beautiful snowcapped Mount Baker—the Great White Watcher—loomed large in the distance to the east.
Left, right. Left, right. Left, right.
The slosh of paddles along with the small waves lapping against her boat soothed her and were the only sounds except for seagulls laughing above her—ha, ha, ha.
To the west, the impressive Olympic Mountains begged for attention. Erin couldn’t wait for Mom to join her out here, when she finally convinced her to move.
A salty ocean breeze wafted over her as peace and beauty surrounded her.
She couldn’t ask for more.
She shouldn’t ask for more.
But God . . . I need answers.
Carissa caught up with Erin and paddled next to her kayak. “Thanks for coming with me today. I needed this.”
“The exercise or the scenery?” Erin had just broken a sweat despite the early morning cool.
“How about a little of both. And the company makes all the difference, I’m not going to lie.”
“Yeah,” Erin answered with reluctance. She and Carissa had an understanding between them. On their kayaking excursions, peace and quiet were supposed to reign.
“By the way, I listened to your podcast last night,” Carissa said.
Maybe she’d forgotten their unspoken pact.
“Oh?”
Erin wanted to know Carissa’s thoughts, but at the same time, she didn’t want to hear the criticism. Nor would she trust any praise.
“Why keep it anonymous?”
“It could get complicated.”
Carissa’s laugh echoed across the water. “In my case, I’d probably want the dean of the college and my students to know. But then again, I wouldn’t be talking about crime or missing people. I’d be talking about history. So, what took you so long to tell me?”
Erin lifted a shoulder, opting for silence. Maybe it would be contagious.
Now she wished she hadn’t told Carissa, but letting her friend in on her secret was a step toward opening up. She kept too much hidden inside. Erin had never been good at letting others in. Although as a psychologist, she was all about learning what made people tick on the inside.
Erin breathed in the fresh air, listened to the mesmerizing ripple of the water, felt the warm sun against her cheeks, and chased away thoughts of crime and work.
“Cold cases. Do they ever get solved?” Carissa asked.
Left, right. Left, right. Left, right.
“Some do.” Few.
“Why do you do it?”
“I need a hobby, I guess.” Erin couldn’t begin to explain the complex events that drove her to talk about missing person cold cases in hopes that answers could still be found.
“I’ve been thinking.” Carissa’s kayak inched ahead.
Erin remained silent.
“We do this every Saturday,” Carissa continued.
Left, right. Left, right. Left, right.
“It’s been a lifesaver,” Erin said. “Thanks for inviting me along.”
After a week working for the State of Washington, the endless hours spent researching and writing reports for forensic evaluations, she needed the break. The job wasn’t what she had dreamed about when she’d become a criminal psychologist. Still, she hoped it was a means to an end. In the meantime, she’d started the cold case crime podcast.
“How about we switch it up? Go hiking. Mountain trails and lush forests all around us.”
“This is close. We don’t have to drive far. Plus, I really love the water.” And have an aversion to dense forests. Carissa didn’t need to know that, as a psychologist, Erin was a walking oxymoron.
“I thought you might enjoy a change.”
“No, I’m good with this.” Erin’s shoulders and biceps started burning. She was relieved they would soon turn around and head back.
“I hope you’ll think about it. I’d love for you to join me next weekend. I’m hiking in Mount Baker National Forest, and I’m inviting you to join the group.”
“What? You’re ditching me to go hiking?”
“Um . . . Is it just me, or is that boat heading directly for us?” Panic edged Carissa’s voice.
Erin glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Carissa’s wide-eyed stare. A thirty-foot cruiser sped toward them. She and Carissa had strayed a bit from the shoreline. Regardless, that boat shouldn’t be approaching them in this area or at that speed.
“Hurry.” Erin quickened her pace. “We can get out of its path.”
“We won’t make it.” Carissa stopped and raised her paddle, waving to get the boater’s attention. “Hey, watch where you’re going! Kayakers on the water!”
Arms straining, Erin paddled faster and propelled the kayak forward. Her friend hadn’t kept up. “Carissa, let’s go! Just angle out of the path.”
Carissa renewed her efforts and joined Erin. Together they paddled toward the shoreline that had seemed so much closer moments before.
Carissa screamed. Heart pounding, Erin glanced over her shoulder. The boat had changed course and was once again headed straight for them.
Fear stole her breath. “Jump! Get out of the boat and dive!”
It was all she could think to do.
“Now, now, now!” She sucked in a breath and leaned forward to flip the kayak until she was upside down in the water for a wet exit. Holding her breath, she found the grab loop and peeled off the skirt. Then she gripped the sides and pushed the kayak away from her body as she slid out. Instead of heading for the surface, she kicked and dove deeper. She was grateful she was wearing a manually inflatable life vest over her wetsuit or it would drag her back to the surface, which was normally a good thing.
But today that could get her killed.
She pushed deeper, deeper, deeper . . . away from the surface.
We’re going to make it.
Erin twisted around to glance upward. The water was murky and visibility was only about ten feet, but she could still see her friend struggling to get free of her kayak. Terror stabbed through her. Erin swam back to Carissa to help her, even as the boat raced toward the kayaks and was almost on them.
Her eyes wide, Carissa pushed forward, freeing herself.
The hull of the speeding boat sped right over the top of the kayaks, breaking Carissa’s in half—the stern of her broken kayak propelled toward Carissa. Her head jerked forward.
All the bubbles of air burst from her lungs, then her form floated—unmoving. Unconscious? Or was she lifeless?
Her pulse thundering in her ears, Erin swam toward Carissa, grabbed her, and inflated their life vests. They rose quickly to the surface. Erin broke the water and gasped for breath as she held Carissa. The water remained disturbed from the speeding boat’s wake and crashed over them.
Erin confirmed what she already feared. Carissa wasn’t breathing. Adrenaline surged through her. She had to keep moving. Holding on to Carissa, Erin started swimming them back to shore.
She spotted the errant boat making a big circle.
Coming back? Had someone lost control? She had to make it to shore to give Carissa CPR. And maybe even to save them both.
Stay calm. Panic wouldn’t help either of them. The water was cold, but not so cold that she needed to worry about hypothermia. At least not yet. The whir of a boat from her left drew her attention, kicking up her already rapid heartbeat. As she took in the slowly approaching trawler—a far different boat from the speeding cruiser—relief eased the tension in her shoulders. Three men and a couple of women waved.
A silver-haired man in a Seahawks cap shouted, “Do you need help?”
“Yes! Hurry!”
The boat edged slowly toward her, and she swam to meet it. The men reached down and pulled Carissa up into the boat.
Erin used the ladder on the side. “She needs CPR. She’s not breathing!”
When she hopped onto the deck, she saw that one of the men had started administering CPR.
A redheaded woman wrapped a blanket around Erin. “Oh, honey, are you okay?”
Hot tears burned down her cold, wet cheeks. “No . . . no, I’m not okay.” She dropped to her knees next to her friend.
Carissa coughed up water and rolled onto her side. When she’d finished expelling seawater, she sat up and looked around.
Erin hugged her and spoke against her short, wet hair. “I thought you were done for.”
Carissa held on to Erin tightly, then released her to cough more. Erin took in the group standing around them, their watchful eyes filled with concern.
“I’m Vince. And this is my wife, Jessie.” The man with the Seahawks cap gestured to the redhead, then made introductions. John, his son, and Terry, John’s friend, and Mavis, John’s girlfriend. A family affair.
“I’m Erin, and this is Carissa.”
Jessie placed a blanket around Carissa. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll get you something warm to drink.”
“Thank you.” Erin sat with Carissa on the cushioned bench and took in her friend. She looked shell-shocked, and why shouldn’t she? Was she going to be okay?
Carissa closed her eyes. Was she in pain or thinking back to what happened? Jessie had disappeared below deck to grab warm drinks. Mavis, Terry, and John were trying to recover the kayaks and bring them onto the trawler.
Vince remained standing, his arms crossed as if he were a sentinel sent to protect them. And at this moment, Erin needed that reassurance.
“If you hadn’t come when you did,” she said, “I don’t know what would have happened. I can’t thank you enough.” She searched the waters around them. “Is that boat . . . Is it gone?”
“What boat?” Mavis approached and glanced at Vince.
“You didn’t see that?” Erin got to her feet and pulled Carissa with her. She searched the waters. “A boat came right for us. Ran over our kayaks and almost killed us. They must have lost control. Maybe they were drunk or something.”
“I saw a boat heading west,” Vince said, “but I didn’t connect that to seeing you in the water swimming to shore. Kayaks and canoes are hard to spot sometimes. I’m sorry that happened. But I’ll contact the Seattle Police Harbor Patrol and let them know. In the meantime, is there somewhere we can take you?”
“Back to the marina at Port of Edmonds. We could talk to the police there and tell them what happened,” Erin said.
Vince eyed Carissa. “I’ll let SPHP know we’re on the way and to meet us there. Should we get you to the hospital?”
Erin shared a look with her friend. “She sustained a hit to the head. Maybe an ambulance could be waiting for us when we get to the harbor.”
Carissa nodded but said nothing. Erin ached inside. She’d almost lost Carissa. She was grateful that her friend had survived. They had both survived.
Erin replayed the events in her mind. Had the boat deliberately veered toward them or had she imagined it? These boaters who’d helped them had simply been out enjoying the day when they spotted Erin and Carissa in the water, their kayaks floating, Carissa’s in two pieces.
I can’t believe this happened.
The water had been her place of peace and tranquility.
But no more.
Erin pulled her ringing cell from the plastic bag tucked in a pocket on her suit. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was a Montana prefix. Her heart jackhammered as she answered, “Erin.”
“Dr. Larson . . . Erin.” The familiar male voice hesitated. “This is Detective Nathan Campbell.”
Dread crawled up her spine. Nathan would never call her without a good reason. “Nathan . . . what’s going on?”
“It’s . . . your mom. She’s okay. But she tried to commit suicide. I’m so sorry.”
A few heartbeats passed before she could answer. “Wha . . . What?”
Nathan apologized again and repeated the words.
The air rushed from Erin. She couldn’t breathe and stood. She headed for the rail and hung her head over the water, gasping for breath.
“Erin! Erin, are you there?” Nathan’s concerned voice shouted over the cell loud enough she could hear him despite the boat’s rumbling engine and rushing water.
Carissa joined her at the rail. “Erin, what’s happened?”
The darkness closed in on her all over again, but this was different from before. Why hadn’t she seen the warning signs? She had to fix this.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she lifted the cell to her ear again. “I need details.”
Nathan relayed that her mother was in the hospital and in stable condition.
Ending the call, she stared at the cell. Mom was in trouble. The fact that the awful news had come from the man she’d left behind compounded the pain in her chest. This, after she and Carissa had barely survived a boating accident.
Evil wouldn’t let her forget that it existed, even for a few hours.
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Author Bio
Elizabeth Goddard is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of more than fifty novels, including Present Danger and the Uncommon Justice series. Her books have sold over one million copies. She is a Carol Award winner and a Daphne du Maurier Award finalist. When she’s not writing, she loves spending time with her family, traveling to find inspiration for her next book, and serving with her husband in ministry.
Today I am excited to be on the HTP Books Fall 2021 Women’s Fiction Blog Tour. I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for SISTERS OF THEGREAT WAR by Suzanne Feldman.
Below you will find an author Q&A, a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Author Q&A
Q: Your books have won quite a few awards. Do you ever feel pressure when you write a new book to make it an award winning book?
A: I do love awards and who doesn’t? (I’m striving for a Pulitzer!) But awards are sort of a wonderful perk for what I already love doing, which is making something big from a little spark of an idea. I think it’s a stretch to think to yourself, ‘I’m going to write something for THIS award.’ because what if the book doesn’t win anything? I’m much happier just writing and editing until I think it’s ready to go out into the world–then we’ll see how it does.
Q: What inspired this book?
A: Sisters of the Great War was a four-year project that started one morning as I walked into my classroom at some pre-dawn hour. I’d been thinking about my next project after ‘Absalom’s Daughters’ and I knew I wanted to write a war story–but there were already so many books about WW2. So I thought, what about WW1? Could I write something epic yet intimate about that period? I wrote on a post-it: ‘WW1; epic yet intimate,’ and put it in my pocket. After school that day, I found the post-it and by some miracle, I still knew what I’d meant.
I started doing research and realized pretty quickly that the reason WW1 literature peaked with All Quiet on the Western Front was because it was a trench war, and over the space of four years, the trenches barely moved so there were very few ‘victories.’ The war itself was awful beyond description. Troops went out and were mowed down by new weapons, like the machine gun, tanks, and poisonous gas. It’s hard to write a glorious book about a barbaric war that had no real point, so I decided to explore the lives of the forgotten women–the nurses and ambulance drivers who were in the thick of the action, but not really mentioned in the movies and books about the period.
Q: Where is your favorite place to write?
A: I have a room where I write, my ‘office.’ I have all my favorite art, my most-loved books, and a bed for my dog. I love being able to close the door and just get into the groove of writing, but I have been known to write in coffee shops and libraries. When I was teaching, when I would get an idea, I would write on a post-it and put it in my pocket, so, yes, technically I have written at work as well.
Q: Do you have a writing routine?
A: My writing routine involves getting really wired on coffee in the morning and then taking a long walk with my dog, sometimes by the river and sometimes in the mountains. I get my ideas for the day in order, and the dog gets tired. Then I spend about four hours working on writing projects–sometimes novels, sometimes short stories, and drinking a lot more coffee. By then the dog has woken up, and we go out for another walk. I like to treat writing as a job. It’s not too exciting, but it works for me.
Q: Are you a plotter or pantser when it comes to writing?
A: I’m a pantser and proud of it! I love not really knowing what’s going to happen, and I love the discovery of plot points and personalities that might not show up in an outline. My favorite part is when a character does something on the page that I never thought of, and I get to go with that. What’s funny is that as a teacher (before I retired) I needed a plan for everything!
Q: What is a fun fact about you?
A: I was a high school art teacher for almost 30 years, and I am also a visual artist. I do a lot of abstract painting, which you can see on my Instagram account, Suzanne Feldman Author. I’ve taught every art class you can imagine, from darkroom photography to ceramics. I had a wonderful time teaching, and I loved nearly all of my students.
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Book Summary
Two sisters. The Great War looming. A chance to shape their future.
Sisters Ruth and Elise Duncan could never have anticipated volunteering for the war effort. But in 1914, the two women decide to make the harrowing journey from Baltimore to Ypres, Belgium in order to escape the suffocating restrictions placed on them by their father and carve a path for their own future.
Smart and practical Ruth is training as a nurse but dreams of becoming a doctor. In a time when women are restricted to assisting men in the field, she knows it will take great determination to prove herself, and sets out to find the one person who always believed in her: a handsome army doctor from England. For quiet Elise, joining the all female Ambulance Corps means a chance to explore her identity, and come to terms with the growing attraction she feels towards women. Especially the charming young ambulance driver who has captured her heart.
In the twilight of the Old World and the dawn of the new, both young women come of age in the face bombs, bullets and the deadly futility of trench warfare. Together they must challenge the rules society has placed on them in order to save lives: both the soldiers and the people they love.
SISTERS OF THE GREAT WAR by Suzanne Feldman is a Woman’s fiction/historical fiction story which follows two American sisters who volunteer to work at the front during WWI. Both want to escape the conventional roles society and their father demand they follow.
Ruth Duncan has grown up assisting her doctor father and dreams of attending a medical school to train as a doctor rather than the nursing school she is currently attending. Her father refuses to even consider assisting her and wants her to be a nurse then a wife and mother.
Elise Duncan has grown up being able to take anything mechanical apart and put it back together again. She is currently living at home and is the mechanic for her father’s car he needs for house calls. She has always felt different than other girls and her father believes she will continue to live at home and never marry.
Both sisters want their freedom and travel to England to join the war effort. Ruth volunteers as a nurse and Elise follows volunteering as an ambulance driver and are sent to the front at Ypres, Belgium. As both adjust to the appalling conditions, they also both seize the opportunities to realize their dreams. The sisters suffer heartache and loss, but also realize their resilience and strengths. Bonds of friendship are forged that cannot be broken by war.
I really enjoyed this story even as there are many scenes depicting the horrors and suffering of the troops and volunteers during WWI. The field hospital doctors and nurses had to deal with so much loss and the lack of current medical knowledge and antibiotics underscore how lucky we are with the medicine of today. The sister’s personal dreams and love interests are depicted with strength, vulnerability and empathy. This Women’s fiction/historical fiction story realistically depicts some of the horrors of WWI, feminist issues and an LGBT relationship all through the eyes of two American sisters.
I recommend this Women’s fiction/historical fiction story.
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Excerpt
1
Baltimore, Maryland
August 1914
Ruth Duncan fanned herself with the newspaper in the summer heat as Grandpa Gerald put up a British flag outside the house. If he’d had a uniform—of any kind—he would have worn it. People on the sidewalk paused and pointed, but Grandpa, still a proper English gent even after almost twenty years in the U.S., smoothed his white beard and straightened his waistcoat, ignoring the onlookers.
“That’s done,” he said.
Ruth’s own interest in the war was limited to what she read in the paper from across the dining table. Grandpa would snap the paper open before he ate breakfast. She could see the headlines and the back side of the last page, but not much more. Grandpa would grunt his appreciation of whatever was in-side, snort at what displeased him, and sometimes laugh. On the 12th of August, the headline in the Baltimore Sun read; France And Great Britain Declare War On Austria-Hungary, and Grandpa wasn’t laughing.
Cook brought in the morning mail and put it on the table next to Grandpa. She was a round, grey-haired woman who left a puff of flour behind her wherever she went.
“Letter from England, sir,” Cook said, leaving the envelope and a dusting of flour on the dark mahogany. She smiled at Ruth and left for the kitchen.
Grandpa tore the letter open.
Ruth waited while he read. It was from Richard and Diane Doweling, his friends in London who still wrote to him after all these years. They’d sent their son, John, to Harvard in Massachusetts for his medical degree. Ruth had never met John Doweling, but she was jealous of him, his opportunities, his apparent successes. The Dowelings sent letters whenever John won some award or other. No doubt this was more of the same. Ruth drummed her fingers on the table and eyed the dining room clock. In ten minutes, she would need to catch the trolley that would take her up to the Loyola College of Nursing, where she would be taught more of the things she had already learned from her father. The nuns at Loyola were dedicated nurses, and they knew what they were doing. Some were out-standing teachers, but others were simply mired in the medicine of the last century. Ruth was frustrated and bored, but Father paid her tuition, and what Father wanted, Father got.
Ruth tugged at her school uniform—a white apron over a long white dress, which would never see a spot of blood. “What do they say, Grandpa?”
He was frowning. “John is enlisting. They’ve rushed his graduation at Harvard so he can go home and join the Royal Army Medical Corps.”
“How can they rush graduation?” Ruth asked. “That seems silly. What if he misses a class in, say, diseases of the liver?”
Grandpa folded the letter and looked up. “I don’t think he’ll be treating diseases of the liver on the battlefield. Anyway, he’s coming to Baltimore before he ships out.”
“Here?” said Ruth in surprise. “But why?”
“For one thing,” said Grandpa, “I haven’t seen him since he was three years old. For another, you two have a common interest.”
“You mean medicine?” Ruth asked. “Oh, Grandpa. What could I possibly talk about with him? I’m not even a nurse yet, and he’s—he’s a doctor.” She spread her hands. “Should we discuss how to wrap a bandage?”
“As long as you discuss something.” He pushed the letter across the table to her and got up. “You’ll be showing him around town.”
“Me?” said Ruth. “Why me?”
“Because your sister—” Grandpa nodded at Elise, just clumping down the stairs in her nightgown and bathrobe “—has dirty fingernails.” He started up the stairs. “Good morning, my dear,” he said. “Do you know what time it is?” “Uh huh,” Elise mumbled as she slumped into her seat at the table.
As Grandpa continued up the stairs Ruth called after him. “But when is he coming?”
“His train arrives Saturday at noon,” Grandpa shouted back. “Find something nice to wear. You too, Elise.”
Elise rubbed her eyes. “What’s going on?”
Ruth pushed the letter at her and got up to go. “Read it,” she said. “You’ll see.”
Ruth made her way down Thirty-Third Street with her heavy bookbag slung over one shoulder, heading for the trolley stop, four blocks away, on Charles. Summer classes were almost over, and as usual, the August air in Baltimore was impenetrably hot and almost unbreathable. It irritated Ruth to think that she would arrive at Loyola sweaty under her arms, her hair frizzed around her nurse’s cap from the humidity. The nuns liked neatness, modest decorum. Not perspiring young women who wished they were somewhere else.
Elise, Ruth thought, as she waited for a break in the noisy traffic on Charles Street, could’ve driven her in the motor-car, but no, she’d slept late. Her younger sister could do pretty much anything, it seemed, except behave like a girl. Elise, who had been able to take apart Grandpa’s pocket watch and put it back together when she was six years old, was a use-ful mystery to both Father and Grandpa. She could fix the car—cheaper than the expensive mechanics. , For some rea-son, Elise wasn’t obliged to submit to the same expectations as Ruth—she could keep her nails short and dirty. Ruth wondered, as she had since she was a girl, if it was her younger sister’s looks. She was a mirror image of their mother, who had died in childbirth with Elise. Did that make her special in Father’s eyes?
An iceman drove a sweating horse past her. The horse raised its tail, grunted, and dropped a pile of manure, rank in the heat, right in front of her, as though to auger the rest of her day. The iceman twisted in the cart to tip his hat. “Sorry Sister!”
Ruth let her breath out through her teeth. Maybe the truth of the matter was that she was the ‘sorry sister.’ It was at this exact corner that her dreams of becoming a doctor, to follow in her father’s footsteps, had been shot down. When she was ten, and the governess said she’d done well on her writing and math, she was allowed to start going along on Father’s house calls and help in his office downstairs. Father had let her do simple things at first; mix plaster while he positioned a broken ankle, give medicine to children with the grippe, but she watched everything he did and listened carefully. By the time she was twelve, she could give him a diagnosis, and she remembered her first one vividly, identifying a man’s abdominal pain as appendicitis.
“You did a good job,” Father had said to her, as he’d reined old Bess around this very corner. “You’ll make an excellent nurse one day.”
Ruth remembered laughing because she’d thought he was joking. Her father’s praise was like gold. “A nurse?” she’d said. “One day I’ll be a doctor, just like you!”
“Yes, a nurse,” he’d said firmly, without a hint of a smile. It was the tone he used for patients who wouldn’t take their medicine.
“But I want to be a doctor.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. He hadn’t sounded sorry at all. “Girls don’t become doctors. They become nurses and wives. Tomorrow, if there’s time, we’ll visit a nursing college. When you’re eighteen, that’s where you’ll go.”
“But—”
He’d shaken his head sharply, cutting her off. “It isn’t done, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
A decade later, Ruth could still feel the shock in her heart. It had never occurred to her that she couldn’t be a doctor because she was a girl. And now, John Doweling was coming to town to cement her future as a doctor’s wife. That was what everyone had in mind. She knew it. Maybe John didn’t know yet, but he was the only one.
Ruth frowned and lifted her skirts with one hand, balancing the bookbag with the other, and stepped around the manure as the trolley came clanging up Charles.
Suzanne Feldman, a recipient of the Missouri Review Editors’ Prize and a finalist for the Bakeless Prize in fiction, holds an MA in fiction from Johns Hopkins University and a BFA in art from the Maryland Institute College of Art. Her short fiction has appeared in Narrative, The Missouri Review, Gargoyle, and other literary journals. She lives in Frederick, Maryland.
Today is my turn on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour and I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for MERCY CREEK (Jo Wyatt Mystery Book #2) by M.E. Browning.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio, the author’s social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
In an idyllic Colorado town, a young girl goes missing—and the trail leads into the heart and mind of a remorseless killer.
The late summer heat in Echo Valley, Colorado turns lush greenery into a tinder dry landscape. When a young girl mysteriously disappears, long buried grudges rekindle. Of the two Flores girls, Marisa was the one people pegged for trouble. Her younger sister, Lena, was the quiet daughter, dutiful and diligent—right until the moment she vanished.
Detective Jo Wyatt is convinced the eleven-year-old girl didn’t run away and that a more sinister reason lurks behind her disappearance. For Jo, the case is personal, reaching far back into her past. But as she mines Lena’s fractured family life, she unearths a cache of secrets and half-lies that paints a darker picture.
As the evidence mounts, so do the suspects, and when a witness steps forward with a shocking new revelation, Jo is forced to confront her doubts, and her worst fears. Now, it’s just a matter of time before the truth is revealed—or the killer makes another deadly move.
MERCY CREEK (Jo Wyatt Mystery Book #2) by M.E. Browning is an intense small town police procedural/mystery/thriller with a determined female detective lead and a strong cast of secondary characters that is fast becoming a must read for me. This is the second book in the Jo Wyatt series and it is easily read as a standalone, but I feel you should go back and read the first book just because it is as intriguing a crime/mystery and will give you a little more back story on the main characters.
Detective Jo Wyatt is in the dunk tank for charity at the carnival that has come to Echo Valley on a late summer morning when she and her partner are notified of a missing eleven-year-old girl, Lena Flores. Lena’s parents are divorced and she was staying at her mother’s home the night of the 4-H show. Her older sister was with her at the carnival as she took care of her steer in the 4-H show the night before and returns home with her later. But she does not show up for the morning show.
Jo is convinced Lena did not runaway, but something more sinister happened to her. As she and her partner investigate the parent’s, she attended high school with in the past, she discovers secrets and lies which leave her questioning decisions in her past. There are plenty of suspects and with each new piece of evidence in the investigation, Jo is soon facing a shocking revelation which could be her last.
I am always amazed and intrigued with the intricate plotting and step-by-step investigations in this author’s stories. The plots and characters are both believable and emotionally engaging. Jo is the type of strong, intelligent and determined law enforcement officer I love to follow. Her personal life is not smooth and that just makes her more relatable. All the secondary characters are fully developed, good and bad. The crime plot in this book is dark and horrific with a stunning climax. I was on the edge-of-my-seat to the very end.
I highly recommend this new Jo Wyatt book and I cannot wait for more!
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Excerpt
Chapter One
Everyone had a story from that night. Some saw a man, others saw a girl, still others saw nothing at all but didn’t want to squander the opportunity to be part of something larger than themselves. To varying degrees, they were all wrong. Only two people knew the full truth.
That Saturday, visitors to the county fair clustered in the dappled shade cast by carnival rides and rested on hay bales scattered like afterthoughts between games of chance and food booths, the soles of their shoes sticky with ice cream drips and spilled sodas.
Detective Jo Wyatt stepped into the shadow of the Hall of Mirrors to watch the crowd. She grabbed the collar of her uniform and pumped it a few times in a futile attempt to push cooler air between her ballistic vest and sweat-sodden T-shirt.
The Echo Valley Fair marked the end of summer, but even now, as the relentless Colorado sun dipped, heat rose in waves around bare ankles and stroller wheels as families retreated toward the parking lots. An older crowd began to creep in, prowling the midway. The beer garden overflowed.
Within minutes the sun dropped behind the valley walls and the fairground lights flickered to life, their wan orange glow a beacon to moths confused by the strobing brightness of rides and games. Calliope music and the midway’s technopop collided in a crazed mishmash of notes so loud they echoed in Jo’s chest. She raised the volume of her radio.
The day shift officers had clocked out having handled nothing more pressing than a man locked out of his car and an allegation of unfair judging flung by the second-place winner of the bake-off.
Jo gauged the teeming crowd of unfamiliar faces. Tonight would be different.
###
Carnival music was creepy, Lena decided. Each ride had its own weird tune and it all seemed to crash against her with equal force, following her no matter where she went.
The guys in the booths were louder than they had been earlier, more aggressive, calling out, trying to get her to part with her tickets. Some of the guys roamed, jumping out at people, flicking cards and making jokes she didn’t understand while smiling at her older sister.
Marisa tossed her hair. Smiled back. Sometimes they let her play for free.
“Let’s go back to the livestock pavilion,” Lena said.
“Quit being such a baby.” Marisa glanced over her shoulder at the guy running the shooting gallery booth and tossed her hair. Again.
Lena rolled her eyes and wondered how long it would be before her sister ditched her.
“Hold up a sec.” Marisa tugged at the hem of her skintight skirt and flopped down on a hay bale.
She’d been wearing pants when they’d left the house. The big purse she always carried probably hid an entire wardrobe Momma knew nothing about. Lena wondered if the missing key to grandma’s car was tucked in there too.
Marisa unzipped one of her boots and pulled up her thin sock.
Lena pointed. “What happened to the bottom of your boot?”
Her sister ran her finger along the arch. “I painted it red.”
“Why?”
“It makes them more valuable.”
“Since when does coloring the bottom of your shoes make them more valuable?”
Marisa’s eyes lit up in a way that happened whenever she spoke about clothes or how she was going to hit it big in Hollywood someday. “In Paris there’s this guy who designs shoes and all of them have red soles. He’s the only one allowed to do that. It’s his thing.”
“But he didn’t make those boots.”
“All the famous women wear his shoes.” She waved to someone in the crowd.
“You’re not famous and you bought them at Payless.”
“What do you know about fashion?”
“I know enough not to paint the bottom of my boots to make them look like someone else made them.”
Marisa shoved her foot into her boot and yanked the zipper closed. “You bought your boots from the co-op.” She handed Lena her cell phone.
“You should have bought yours there, too.” Lena dutifully pointed the lens at her sister.
“Take a couple this time.” Marisa leaned back on her hands and arched her back, her hair nearly brushing the hay bale, and the expression on her face pouty like the girls in the magazines she was always looking at.
Lena snapped several photos and held out the phone. “All those high heels are good for is punching holes in the ground.”
“Oh, Lena.” Marisa’s voice dropped as if she was sharing a secret. “If you ever looked up from your animals long enough, you’d see there’s so much more to the world.” Her thumbs rapidly tapped the tiny keyboard of her phone.
In the center of the midway, a carnival guy held a long-handled mallet and called out to people as they passed by. He was older—somewhere in his twenties—and wore a tank top. Green and blue tattoos covered his arms and his biceps bulged as he pointed the oversized hammer at the tower behind him. It looked like a giant thermometer with numbers running along one edge, and High Striker spelled out on the other.
“Come on, men. There’s no easier way to impress the ladies.” He grabbed the mallet and tapped the plate. “You just have to find the proper motivation if you want to get it up…” He pointed with his chin to the top of the game and paused dramatically. “There.” He craned his neck and leered at Marisa. Lena wondered if he was looking up her sister’s skirt. “What happens later is up to you.”
Never breaking eye contact, he took a mighty swing. The puck raced up the tower, setting off a rainbow of lights and whistles before it smashed into the bell at the top. He winked in their direction. “Score.”
Twenty minutes later, Marisa was gone.
Lena gave up looking for her sister and returned to the livestock pavilion. Marisa could keep her music and crowds and stupid friends.
Only a few people still wandered around the dimly lit livestock pavilion. The fireworks would start soon and most people headed for the excitement outside, a world away from the comforting sound of animals snuffling and pawing at their bedding.
Marisa was probably hanging out near the river with her friends, drinking beer. Maybe smoking a cigarette or even a joint. Doing things she didn’t think her baby sister knew about.
Lena walked through an aisle stacked with poultry and rabbit cages. The pens holding goats, swine, and sheep took up the middle. At the back of the pavilion stretched a long row of three-sided cattle stalls. The smells of straw, grain, and animals replaced the gross smell of deep-fried candy bars and churros that had clogged her throat on the midway.
Near the end of the row, Lena stopped.
“Hey there, Bluebell.” Technically, he was number twenty-four, like his ear tag said. Her father didn’t believe in naming livestock, but to her, he’d always be Bluebell—even after she sold him at the auction to be slaughtered. Just because that was his fate didn’t mean he shouldn’t have a name to be remembered by. She remembered them all.
She patted his hip and slid her hand along his spine so he wouldn’t shy as she moved into the stall. She double-checked the halter, pausing to scratch his forehead. A piece of straw swirled in his water bucket and she fished it out. The cold water cooled her hot skin.
“You did good today. Sorry I won’t be spending the night with you, but Papa got called out to Dawson’s ranch to stitch up some mare.”
He swished his tail and it struck the rail with a metallic ring.
“Don’t get yourself all riled. I’ll be back tomorrow before you know it.”
If she hadn’t been showing Bluebell this afternoon, she’d have gone with her father. Her sutures had really improved this summer and were almost as neat as his. No one would guess they’d been made by an eleven-year-old. If nothing else, she could have helped keep the horse calm.
Instead, she’d go home with Marisa and spend the night at Momma’s. She wondered if Marisa would show up before the 4-H leader called lights out in the pavilion or if Lena would have to walk to her mom’s house by herself in the dark.
She reached down and jiggled the feed pan to smooth out the grain that Bluebell had pushed to the edges.
“That’s some cow.”
The male voice startled them both and Bluebell stomped his rear hoof. Lena peered over the Hereford’s withers. At first all she saw were the tattoos. An ugly monster head with a gaping mouth and snake tongue seem to snap at her. It was the carny from the High Striker standing at the edge of the stall.
“It’s a steer,” she stuttered. “And my sister isn’t here.”
“Not your sister I wanted to talk to.” He swayed a bit as he moved into the stall, like when her mother drank too much wine and tried to hide it.
Lena ducked under Bluebell’s throat and came up on the other side. She looked around the pavilion, now empty of people.
“Suspect they’re all out waiting on the fireworks,” he said.
The first boom echoed through the space. Several sheep bleated their disapproval and Bluebell jerked against his halter.
“Shhhh, now.” Lena reached her hand down and scratched his chest. “All that racket’s just some stupid fireworks.”
“Nothing to worry about,” the man added. He had the same look in his eyes that Papa’s border collie got right before he cut off the escape route of a runaway cow.
A bigger boom thundered through the pavilion. Halter clips clanged against the rails as uneasy cattle shuffled in their stalls. Her own legs shook as she sidled toward Bluebell’s rear.
He matched her steps. “What’s a little thing like you doing in here all by yourself?”
“My father will be back any minute.” Her voice shook.
He smiled, baring his teeth. “I’ll be sure to introduce myself when he arrives.”
A series of explosions, sharp as gunfire, erupted outside. Somewhere a cow lowed. Several more joined in, their voices pitiful with fear.
“You’re upsetting my steer. You need to leave.”
“Oh, your cow’s just fine. I think it’s you that’s scared.”
He spoke with the same low voice that Lena used with injured animals. The one she used right before she did something she knew would hurt but had to be done.
“You’re a pretty little thing,” he crooned. “Nice and quiet.”
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She stood frozen. A warm trickle started down her leg, and the wet spot expanded on her jeans.
He edged closer. “I like them quiet.”
***
Author Bio
M.E. Browning writes the Colorado Book Award-winning Jo Wyatt Mysteries and the Agatha-nominated and award-winning Mer Cavallo Mysteries (as Micki Browning). Micki also writes short stories and nonfiction. Her work has appeared in dive magazines, anthologies, mystery magazines, and textbooks. An FBI National Academy graduate, Micki worked in municipal law enforcement for more than two decades and retired as a captain before turning to a life of crime… fiction.
Today is my turn on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour and I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for DEATH RANG THE BELL (Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries Book #3) by Carol Pouliot.
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 Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
21st-century journalist Olivia Watson thinks traveling back in time to 1934 to attend a Halloween party with her friend Detective Steven Blackwell will be a lot of fun. And it is…until she witnesses the head of the Shipley Five-and-Dime empire murdered, and fears the killer saw her face.
The smart move is to return to the safety of the present, but Olivia possesses a secret and is about to defy the unwritten rules of time-travel. She convinces Steven to let her stay in his time and help unravel the motives behind the murder, even if it means risking her own life to save another.
When Steven delves into the investigation, he discovers how a bitter relationship, a chance encounter, and a fateful decision converged to set the stage for murder. In a maze full of unreliable clues and misdirection, dark secrets refuse to stay buried and forgotten ghosts won’t fade away. Steven is reminded that old sins cast long shadows.
Can Steven catch the killer before time runs out for Olivia?
DEATH RANG THE BELL (Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries Book #3) by Carol Pouliot is another enjoyable historical crime mystery/police procedural/time-travel mash-up in the Blackwell and Watson series. Even though this is the third book in the series, it can be read as a standalone.
Olivia Watson, journalist and researcher lives in her parent’s home in a small town in New York State in the present. Detective Steven Blackwell lives in his family home, and it is currently the year 1934. The house they both live in is a time-travel portal that allows each to step back or forth into the other’s time.
Olivia is excited to be traveling back to 1934 again to attend a Halloween party with her friend Detective Steven Blackwell. What neither expects is that Olivia will witness a murder. She convinces Steven to let her stay and help search for motives, but they both fear their time-travelling secret may be exposed.
As Steven methodically investigates the Shipley murder, he finds there are many who have long buried secrets and are willing to steer the investigation with misdirection and lies.
Will Steven and Olivia be able to catch a killer before time runs out for Olivia?
This is another entertaining and well-paced addition to this series. I enjoy returning to the 1934 with Olivia and her love of the nostalgia of the time before our fast-paced electronic era. The mystery is full of red herrings and plot twists, but having the extra timeline flashbacks, besides the normal two time periods was a little confusing at first. Steven and Olivia’s relationship is sweet and increasing in intensity with unknown ramifications which I am looking forward to discovering. I enjoy historical mysteries with intricate plots not relying on modern day forensics, time-travel books and romances, so this series is a pleasure to read, and I look forward to many more books in the series.
I recommend this addition to this mash-up genre series!
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Excerpt
NOVEMBER 1916 − SYRACUSE, NEW YORK
Chapter 1
Hot coffee spilled over the rim and burned her hand. Lillian wanted to cry. At nine in the morning, she’d been on her feet since six and had seven long hours to go. She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to keep it up. She was constantly exhausted and the struggle to breathe was worsening; some days it was nearly unbearable. She knew the disease was going to overpower her, and that moment was coming soon.
Lillian slid around some tables and set a heaping plate of eggs and bacon, potatoes, and toast in front of Arnie McCormack, then topped off his cup from the pot in her other hand. McCormack lowered his newspaper and leered, pinching her behind as she stepped away. Rude bastard. She’d like to pour the scalding coffee over his head and dump his breakfast right in his lap.
The only thing that kept her going every day was the thought of her beautiful little boy. Well, not so little anymore. He was growing up fast, nine years old in January. She managed a smile and wiped away a tear before it became a flood. Best not to think too much about things. Especially money. Lillian knew if she didn’t get the money somehow, she’d never see her son grow into a man.
And what about her letter? It had been four weeks since she’d mailed it. Surely he should have written back by now. She hadn’t been unreasonable, hadn’t asked for much, only enough to pay for treatment at the Little Red Cottage in Saranac Lake.
Dr. Trudeau’s Little Red Cottage. It sounded like heaven. Lillian had heard wonderful things about people being cured there. Imagine, cured! The thought made her dizzy.
Lillian returned to the lunch counter, using the backs of chairs for support. When she arrived at the griddle, she was breathing hard.
Tomorrow, she thought, if I don’t get an answer tomorrow, I’ll send another letter.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1934
Chapter 2
The Three Witches of Macbeth were doing a swell job. Annie, Molly, and Lilly led the parade of pirates, sailors, and fairy princesses through Knightsbridge, picking up ghosts, goblins, and a mummy along the way. Crowds of families followed the costumed children down Victoria Avenue to the entrance of The Elks Club, where, from the top of the staircase, The Three Witches hissed, “Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn and caldron bubble.”
Molly cried out, “Beware, all ye who enter here.” Then she thumped a tall gnarled staff on the stone step, and Annie and Lilly grasped the thick iron rings with both hands and heaved. As the massive oak doors creaked open, the masquerading children flew up the stairs and into the community room, awash with the scents of apples and cinnamon.
Carved pumpkins flickered in the semi-darkened room, revealing white cobweb-filled corners and big black spiders and bats hanging so low that adults had to duck. Seeing colorful bags piled on black-draped tables, one little boy jumped up and down, clapping his hands in glee. A girl grabbed her friend’s hand, and they did a little dance, and three teenagers slapped each other on the back. A Halloween treat awaited each of them. Eager to explore, the kids fanned out.
“Ooh! I feel like I’m ten again,” said Olivia, shaking the black-and-orange tin noise maker. “Why didn’t we wear costumes?”
Steven gave her a look. “What if I had to rush out for an emergency?” he asked.
“You could’ve dressed like a cop.” She smirked.
“Hi, Steven.” Decked out in an eye patch and pirate gear, Jimmy Bourgogne appeared from behind Olivia, swept off his hat, and gave a courtly bow, bending low to the floor. “Miss Watson.”
“Jimmy, you look fantastic,” exclaimed Olivia. “I didn’t recognize you with that mustache and goatee.”
“Congratulations, Jimmy. You fellas did a swell job,” Steven said.
“Thanks, but the credit really goes to Leon here.”
A slender young man with light brown hair joined them. He sported a plaid shirt with a tin sheriff’s badge pinned over his heart, red kerchief around his neck, and holster holding a toy gun attached to a leather belt.
“Hi, Leon.” Steven extended his hand. “This is my friend Olivia Watson. Olivia, Leon Quigg is my mailman.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Watson.” Leon said, nodding as he doffed his cowboy hat.
“I’m glad to meet you, too. This is a wonderful party.”
Jean Bigelow sidled up to Olivia, yelling amidst the racket. “You made it!”
“Jean! Isn’t this swell?” Olivia chuckled to herself. Liz and Sophie would crack up hearing her talk like a real 1934 person.
After several months, acting like she belonged here had become second nature, but Olivia Watson didn’t belong here. She lived in 2014 and only visited 1934 from time to time.
This week Olivia was spending several days in Steven’s time. No passport, no suitcase, no plane ticket required. All it took was a simple step across the threshold of her bedroom door into Steven’s Depression-era house−simple but the key to her recently discovered ability to time travel.
“What are you reading tonight?” Olivia asked the librarian.
“Edgar Allan Poe. ‘The Cask of Amontillado.’”
“That’s the one where the guy gets walled up, isn’t it?”
Jean nodded. “I’ve been practicing creepy voices for days.”
“Well, you look the part. I love your cape, very 19th-century.” Olivia touched a fold of Jean’s costume. “Ooh, velvet. I wish I’d worn that.”
The organizers had packed the evening full of entertainment. Steven and Olivia watched a magician pull pennies out of children’s ears and a rabbit out of his top hat, and wondered how he made the mayor’s watch disappear. The kids bobbed for apples, the water sloshing out of the metal washtub soaking the floor. The younger children played Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey and Drop-the-Handkerchief, while the older ones played charades and told ghost stories.
At seven thirty, the kids crowded along the row of tables where members of the Elks handed out treats. Noses in their black-and-orange bags exploring the treasures within, they moved to the far end to select their favorite soda, handing the tall glass bottles of Hires Root Beer, Orange Crush, and Coca-Cola to Jimmy Bou and Leon Quigg, who were armed with metal bottle openers.
The evening culminated with story telling. The village librarian led the young children into a side room, spooky picture books in hand. The older ones gathered behind the curtain on the shadow-filled stage where Jean Bigelow waited in flickering candlelight. When they’d settled in a circle on the floor, Olivia among them, the librarian cleared her throat and began.
“The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge….”
***
Author Bio
Carol Pouliot holds a BA in French and Spanish and an MA in French. She has taught French, Spanish, German, and English. She owned and operated a translating agency for 20 years. Her work has been published in Victoria magazine.
Carol is the author of The Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries, which includes Doorway to Murder (book 1), Threshold of Deceit (book 2), and Death Rang the Bell (book 3).
Carol is passionate about the world and other cultures. She has visited 5 continents thus far and always has her passport and suitcase at the ready.
