Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for MURDER UNDER THE MISTLETOE (Maybridge Murder Mysteries Book #2) by Liz Fielding on this Books ‘n’ All Promotions Book Tour.
Below you will find a book blurb, my book review, the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Blurb
Abby Finch heads to the old church hall armed with mistletoe and holly ready to help decorate in time for the festive season. But she arrives in time to witness a horrifying sight. Edward Marsh reaches to test the antique star at the top of the tree. There’s a fizz and the lights go out.
Abby hears the sickening thud of a body hitting the ground. When the lights turn back on Edward is dead.
It soon becomes clear it was no accident.
The real victim should have been Gregory Tatton, a dapper silver fox, popular with the ladies of the seniors’ lunch club. And a known blackmailer . . .
Abby is desperate to know the truth, but putting herself in danger isn’t on her Christmas list. Who’s been naughty? Who’s been nice? Who’s hiding the fact they’re a murderer?
MEET THE DETECTIVE
Brilliant gardener and the busy mum of three, Abby Finch’s dreams of winning gold at Chelsea Flower Show were put on hold by an unplanned pregnancy and marriage. But she wouldn’t have it any other way. These days she’s kept on her toes looking after her beloved family, running her own business and dealing with her imminent divorce. In an effort to keep things cordial, she’s allowed her ex to bully her into restoring the garden of his family home. Thankfully she’s surrounded herself with a great group of friends to lean on.
THE SETTING
Pretty Maybridge is a charming village set in the sheep-dotted Cotswolds hills, with a long history stretching back to Tudor times. It’s the type of place where everyone knows each other, but there’s a wonderful bookshop on the corner of the bridge, a popular riverside café and a bustling market at Christmastime. And with Bristol nearby and a big supermarket round the corner.
MURDER UNDER THE MISTLETOE (Maybridge Murder Mysteries Book #2) by Liz Fielding is an entertaining trip back to the small English town of Maybridge for another murder mystery set at Christmas and once again featuring Abby Finch and all her friends. This second book in the series can be read as a standalone, but it is as wonderful as the first and I suggest reading both to get the introductions, interactions, and backgrounds of the main characters right from the start.
Abby Finch is asked to drop off some mistletoe and holly to decorate the church hall for the season. Abby is in time to reconnect with an old high school teacher before he climbs a ladder to place the star on the top of the tree, and with a pop, the lights go out. When the breaker is switched back on, Abby’s old teacher is dead on the floor.
Immediately after giving a statement to the police, Abby is confronted by another senior, Gregory Tatton. She feels threatened by him even though all the senior ladies seem to love him. Abby begins asking questions with the help of some close friends and discovers Tatton was blackmailing some members of the senior’s club as well as prospecting for a third wealthy wife. The electrocution was meant for him, but he does not get away. One of the ladies who cleans for him finds him dead in his home.
Abby is once again questioned by the police when they discover Tatton was killed with ricin from the seeds of the castor oil plants which she has in her garden . She is determined to find the real killer before she is implicated. The killer may have other plans though to eliminate Abby and any of her discoveries.
Even though this is only the second book in the series, I already feel at home in Maybridge and I love all the main characters. Abby is a wonderful protagonist and I love that she is so realistic as a businesswoman, single mother, and possibly on the verge of a new relationship with an old friend. The characters are fully drawn and believable and the descriptions of plants and gardens are vivid. The mystery itself has plenty of red herrings and plot twists that kept me guessing because even when I felt I knew the solution, I was wrong.
I highly recommend this cozy holiday murder mystery, the entire series, and this author.
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Author Bio
Award winning author Liz Fielding was born with itchy feet. She was working in Zambia before her twenty-first birthday and, gathering her own special hero and a couple of children on the way, has lived in Botswana, Kenya and the Middle East, all of which have provided rich inspiration for her writing.
She has written more than seventy books, several of which have won awards, and sold over 15 million copies. In 2019 she was honored with the Romantic Novelists’ Association Outstanding Career Award. She lives in West Sussex.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for GIRL AMONG CROWS by Brendon Vayo on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my mini 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
Beware the Brotherhood of the Raven
When two boys vanish from her hometown, Daphne Gauge notices uncanny parallels to her brother’s disappearance 30 years earlier. Symbols of an ancient Norse god. Rumors of a promise to reward the town’s faithful with wealth and power, for a price. She warns her husband that another sacrifice is imminent, but just like last time, no one believes her.
This leaves her with a desperate choice: investigate with limited resources, or give in to the FBI’s request for an interview. For years, they’ve wanted a member of the Gauge family to go on record about the tragedy back in 1988. If she agrees to a deposition now, Daphne must confess her family’s dark secrets. But she also might have one last chance to unmask the killer from back then . . . and now.
Genre: Horror, Suspense Published by: CamCat Books Publication Date: November 2023 Number of Pages: 416 ISBN: 9780744306552 (ISBN10: 0744306558)
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My Mini Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
GIRL AMONG CROWS by Brendon Vayo is an interestingly unique and atmospheric horror story with elements of suspense and mystery with Norse mythology influence.
This is a difficult book to review because I am afraid of giving away any important plot points. You have to give this book a chance to get going because at first a lot of information is given that did not make sense to me, but it is relevant later, and it will come together and move more quickly as the story progresses. The mystery unravels in two timelines, Daphne’s past and present, with the disappearance of young boys in both timelines and the Brotherhood of Crows playing an important part in both. Daphne is so complex because she wants to solve the disappearances, but at the same time she would be betraying those closest to her. One word that I did look up that helped in my understanding early on in the story was “blot” which is Old Norse for an exchange in which they did a blood sacrifice to the gods in order to get something in return.
I am very glad I gave this book a try because it did turn out to be an engrossing read. If you are into dark horror with suspense and mystery this is definitely the book for you.
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Excerpt
My husband Karl shakes hands with other doctors, a carousel of orthopedic surgeons in cummerbunds. I read his lips over the brass band: How’s the champagne, Ed? Since he grayed, Karl wears a light beard that, for the convention, he trimmed to nothing.
The ballroom they rented has long windows that run along Boston’s waterfront. Sapphire table settings burn in their reflections.
The food looks delicious. Rainbows of heirloom carrots. Vermont white cheddar in the macaroni. Some compliment the main course, baked cod drizzled with olive oil. My eyes are on the chocolate cherries. Unless Karl is right, and they’re soaked in brandy.
At some dramatic point in the evening, balloons will drop from nets. A banner sags, prematurely revealing its last line.
CELEBRATING THIRTY YEARS!
Thirty years. How nice, though I try not to think that far back.
I miss something, another joke.
Everyone’s covering merlot-soaked teeth, and I wonder if they’re laughing at me. Is it my dress? I didn’t know if I should wear white like the other wives.
I redirect the conversation from my choice of a navy-blue one-shoulder, which I now see leaves me exposed, and ask so many questions about the latest in joint repair that I get lightheaded.
The chandelier spins. Double zeroes hit the roulette table. A break watching the ocean, then I’m back, resuming my duties as a spouse, suppressing a yawn for an older man my husband desperately wants to impress. A board member who could recommend Karl as the next director of clinical apps.
I’m thinking about moving up, our careers. I’m not thinking dark thoughts like people are laughing or staring at me. Not even when someone taps me on the shoulder.
“Are you Daphne?” asks a young man. A member of the wait staff. No one should know me here; I’m an ornament. Yet something’s familiar about the young man’s blue eyes. Heat trickles down my neck as I try to name the sensation in my stomach.
“And you are?” I say.
“Gerard,” he says. The glasses on his platter sway with caffeinated amber. “Gerard Gedney. You remember?”
I gag on my ginger ale.
“My gosh, I do,” I say. “Gerard. Wow.”
Thirty years ago, when this convention was still in its planning stages, Gerard Gedney was the little boy who had to stay in his room for almost his entire childhood. Beginning of every school year, each class made Get Well Soon cards and mailed them to his house.
We moved before I knew what happened to Gerard, but with everything else, I never thought of him until now. All the growing up he must’ve done, despite the odds, and now at least he got out, got away.
“I beat the leukemia,” he says.
“I’m so glad for you, Gerard.”
If that’s the appropriate response. The awkwardness that defined my childhood creeps over me. Of all the people to bump into, it has to be David Gedney’s brother. David, the Boy Never Found.
My eyes jump from Gerard to the other wait staff. They wear pleated dress pants. Gerard’s in a T-shirt, bowtie, and black jeans.
“I don’t really work here, Daphne,” says Gerard, sliding the platter onto a table. “I’ve been looking for you for a while.”
The centerpiece topples. Glass shatters. An old woman holds her throat.
“Gerard,” I say, my knees weak, “I understand you’re upset about David. Can we please not do this here?”
Gerard wouldn’t be the first to unload on what awful people we were. But to hear family gossip aired tonight, in front of my husband and his colleagues? I can’t even imagine what Karl would think.
“I’m not here about my brother,” says Gerard. “I’m here about yours.” His words twist.
“Paul,” I say.
“What about him?” “I’m so sorry,” says a waiter, bumping me. Another kneels to pick up green chunks of the vase. When I find Gerard again, he’s at the service exit, waiting for me to follow.
Before I do, I take one last look at the distinguished men and a few women. The shoulder claps. The dancing. Karl wants to be in that clique—I mean, I want that too. For him, I want it.
But I realize something else. They’re having a good time in a way I never could, even if I were able to let go of the memory of my brother, Paul.
The catering service has two vans in the alleyway. It’s a tunnel that feeds into the Boston skyline, the Prudential Center its shining peak.
Gerard beckons me to duck behind a stinky dumpster. Rain drizzles on cardboard boxes.
I never knew Gerard as a man. Maybe he has a knife or wants to strangle me, and all this news about my brother was bait to lure me out here. I’m vulnerable in high heels. But Gerard doesn’t pull a weapon.
He pulls out a postcard, its edges dusty with a white powder I can’t identify. The image is of three black crows inscribed on a glowing full moon.
“I found it in Dad’s things,” says Gerard. “Please take it. Look, David is gone. We’ve got to live with the messes our parents made. Mine sacrificed a lot for my treatment, but had they moved to Boston, I probably would’ve beat the cancer in months instead of years.”
“And this is about Paul?” I say.
“When the chemo was at its worst,” says Gerard, “I dreamed about a boy, my older self, telling me I would survive.”
I take my eyes off Gerard long enough to read the back of the postcard:
$ from Crusher. Keep yourself pure, Brother. For the sake of our children, the Door must remain open.
Crusher. Brother. Door. No salutation or signature, no return address. Other than Crusher, no names of any kind. The words run together with Gerard’s take on how treatment changed his perspective.
Something presses my stomach again. Dread. Soon as I saw this young man, I knew he was an omen of something. And when is an omen good?
“Your dad had this,” I say. “Did he say why? Or who sent it?”
An angry look crosses Gerard’s face. “My dad’s dead,” he says. “So’s Brother Dominic. Liver cancer stage 4B on Christmas Day. What’d they do to deserve that, huh?”
“They both died on Christmas? Gerard, I’m so sorry.” First David, now his dad and Dominic? He stiffens when I reach for him, and, of course, I’m the last person he wants to comfort him. “I know how hard it is. I lost my mom, as you know, and my dad ten years ago.”
The day Dad died, I thought I’d never get off the floor. I cried so hard I threw up, right in the kitchen. Karl was there, my future husband, visiting on the weekend from his residency. I didn’t even think we were serious, but there he was, talking me through it, the words lost now, but not the comfort of his voice.
I looked in his eyes, daring to hope that with this man I wouldn’t pass on to my children what Mom passed down to me.
“Mom’s half-there most days,” says Gerard. “But one thing.”
The rear entrance bangs open, spewing orange light. Two men dump oily garbage, chatting in Spanish.
“Check the postmark, Daphne,” says Gerard at the end of the alleyway. He was right beside me. Now it’s a black bird sidestepping on the dumpster, its talons clacking, wanting me to feed it. I flinch and catch Gerard shrugging under the icy rain before he disappears.
The postmark is from Los Angeles, sent October last year. Six months ago, George Gedney received this postcard. Two months later, he’s dead, and so is another son.
What does that mean? How does it fit in with Paul?
Though he’s gone, I keep calling for Gerard, my voice strangled. Someone has me by the elbow, my husband. Even in lifts, Karl’s three inches shorter than me.
“Daphne, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Colquitt. I need Sheriff Colquitt or . . .” Voices argue in my head, and I nod at the hail swirling past yellow streetlamps. “Thirty years ago, Bixbee was a young man. He might still be alive.”
“Daphne, did that man hurt you? Hey.”
Karl demands that someone call the police, but I shake him.
“It’s fine, Karl,” I say, dialing Berkshire County Sheriff ’s Office. “Gerard’s a boy I knew from my hometown.”
Karl’s calling someone too. “Some coincidence,” he says.
Though it wasn’t. Here I am trying not to think about the past, and it comes back to slap me in the face as though I summoned it. Paul. The little brother I vowed to protect.
The phone finally picks up. “Berkshire Sheriff’s Office.”
“Hello,” I say, “could I leave a message for Harold Bixbee to call me back as soon as possible? He is or was a deputy in your department.”
“Uh, ma’am, I don’t have anyone in our personnel records who matches that name. But if it’s an emergency, I’d be glad—” I hang up. Damn. I should’ve known at nine p.m., all I’d get is a desk sergeant. I’d spend half the night catching him up to speed.
“Daphne.” My husband lowers his phone, looking at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “I asked Ed to pull the hotel’s security feed. You’re the only one on tape.”
“What? No.”
“It shows that you walked out that door alone,” says Karl, gesturing, “and I come out a few minutes later.”
The Door must remain open.
Dread hardens, then the postcard’s corner jabs my thumb. I’m about to show Karl my proof when I realize that now there are only two crows in the moon.
“How’d he do that?” I keep flipping it, expecting the third one to return, before I sense my husband waiting. Distantly, I hear wings flap, but it could be the rain. “Gerard wanted me to have his dad’s postcard.”
“So this boy Gerard comes all the way from Springfield to hand you a postcard,” Karl says. “And he can magically avoid cameras?”
“I’m not from Springfield,” I say, shaking off a chill. Magically avoid cameras. And Gerard can turn pictures of crows into real ones too. How?
“You seem very agitated,” says Karl. “Want me to call Dr. Russell? Unless . . .” Karl’s listening, just not to me. “Ed says the camera angles aren’t the best here. There’s a few blind spots.”
“I said I’m not from Springfield, Karl. Any more than you’re from Boston.”
My husband nods, still wary. “Boston is more recognizable than Quincy. But how does your hometown account for why Gerard isn’t on the security footage?”
I lick my lips, my hand hovering over Karl’s phone.
When we first met, I wanted to keep things upbeat. Me? I’m a daddy’s girl, though (chuckling) certainly not to a fault. In the interest of a second date, I might’ve understated some things.
“Here,” I say, “it’s more like I’m from the Hilltowns. It’s a remote area.” My lips tremble, trying to force out the name of my hometown. “I was born and raised in New Minton, Karl.”
Somewhere between Cabbage Patch Kids and stickers hidden in a cereal box, the ones Paul demanded every time we opened a new Crøønchy Stars, is recognition. I can tell by the strange flicker on Karl’s face.
“The New Minton Boys,” he says. “All those missing kids, the ones never found.” Karl is stunned. “Daphne, you’re from there? Did you know those boys? God, you would’ve been a kid yourself.”
“I was eleven,” I say. And I was a kid, a selfish kid. I came from a large family. Brandy was seventeen, Courtney fifteen, Ellie nine, and Paul seven.
The day before my brother disappeared, I wasn’t thinking that this night was the last time we’d all be together. I wasn’t thinking about the pain Mom and Dad would go through, especially after the town gossip began.
No. I thought my biggest problems in the world were mean schoolboys. So I ruined dinner.
“Daphne?” Now Karl looks mad. “That’s a big secret not to tell your husband.”
If only he knew.
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Author Bio
Brendon Vayo was born in Okinawa, Japan, and now lives in Austin, TX. He has a wonderful wife and three children. The kids keep him awake at night, so he hopes his books do the same to you.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for DANGER ON THE ISLAND (DI Liam O’Reilly Mysteries Book #11) 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. This series never disappoints. Enjoy!
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Book Blurb
The Island of Guernsey isn’t exactly a favourite destination for adrenaline junkies. But it does have one thing that attracts a new breed of adventure freaks.
Cliff jumping is taking off on the island, and June appears to be the best time of year for those that way inclined to choose to partake in the sport.
When a young woman is killed after a jump, her death is judged a tragic accident, but when her body is retrieved, and the remains of another corpse is found on the rocks below, the Island Police are brought in.
It’s the last thing Detective Liam O’Reilly feels like. Still feeling the effects of a case that almost broke him, he really doesn’t need this.
But when he drags himself back to where he once was, and starts to understand what he’s dealing with he wakes up enough to realise he’s dealing with something much more dangerous than the cliffs that people are jumping off.
There is someone on the Island who likes to take things to the extreme, and O’Reilly is damned if they’re going to do it on his island.
DANGER ON THE ISLAND (DI Liam O’Reilly Mysteries Book #11) by Stewart Giles is an exciting, intricately plotted serial killer mystery featuring the feisty Irish DI Liam O’Reilly and his police team on the island of Guernsey. This book can be read as a crime mystery standalone, but the main characters continue to evolve with each book, and I feel they are best read in order. Every book in this series is amazing and will not disappoint.
Guernsey is usually a laid-back place to live and vacation, but this summer a new phenomenon for thrill-seekers is occurring on the island – tombstoning – which is the activity of jumping into the sea from high cliffs or other high points. When a group goes out early for a jump, the first girl off the cliff hits the jagged rocks instead of the sea and when the Coast Guard go to retrieve the body, they find a second female body impaled on the rocks.
O’Reilly is back to work after a terrible motorbike accident because he refuses to sit at home. As more bodies are found at the farthest points of the island with no identification, O’Reilly and his team are at a loss. No clues but footprints until a young boy films one of the murders, but the perpetrators are wearing masks. O’Reilly knows he and his team are being led and he is determined to turn that around and find what is really going on with this sudden bout of murders on the island.
I absolutely love every time I get to take a book trip to Guernsey and revisit all these characters. O’Reilly and all the recurring characters after these eleven books are fully drawn and I feel as though I am visiting old friends while also trying to figure out a well plotted and always surprising crime mystery. I was on the edge of my seat, as usual, reading this book and could not put it down. I know when I get an Island book that I had better have several hours to sit and get immersed because I never stop until the last page.
I highly recommend this gripping and exciting serial killer crime mystery book! I never miss one of these DI Liam O’Reilly Mysteries books.
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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. I also have another series featuring an Irish detective who relocated to Guernsey, the Detective Liam O’Reilly series. There are also 3 stand alone novels.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for PRETEND WITH ME (Beacon Hill Book #1) by Emily Mayer on this AME blog tour.
Below you will find a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Synopsis
One phone call was all it took to upend my entire life in completely unexpected ways.
Whoever said that you can’t go home again was a lair. After the senior year from hell, I had spent a decade trying to avoid Beacon Hill and its residents. My luck came to a sudden end after daddy had an incident with a rotted floor. In and out, I promised myself. I was just there to help my parents for a week or two tops.
Things in Beacon Hill hadn’t changed much since I’d been home last. Mama still worked at the hub of gossip known as Trixie’s, Mrs. Thomas still made the best chicken salad in all of Georgia, and my sister was still the devil in a pushup bra. And of course, the St. James family was still local royalty. Our very own version of the Kennedys.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that, not only is my sister back in town after a failed modeling career, she’s also engaged to Macon St. James. The golden boy of Beacon Hill, and the star of every single one of my teenage fantasies.
The biggest surprise of all was Holden St. James. I thought he would be one of the villains in this story, but I was learning that I had been wrong about a lot of things. And Holden just might be worth coming home for….
PRETEND WITH ME (Beacon Hill Book #1) by Emily Mayer is an enchanting contemporary romance with two people who should not have worked, but discovered they did. This is the first book I have read by this author, and it hooked me immediately and I fell right into the story.
Sutton grew up in the shadow of her older beauty pageant sister, Sissy. Sutton preferred jeans, tennis shoes, fanfics, and computers. As they grew older, they grew further apart with Sissy always having to be the center of attention and always get what she wanted. When Sutton found out her sister slept with her best friend’s boyfriend, Macon St. James and the boy Sutton secretly had a crush on, she confronted her and told her parents. Sissy got her revenge and Sutton ran from Beacon Hill after she graduated from high school.
Ten years later, Sutton is working as a coder for a gaming company in Savannah, when she gets called back home to help her father after a workplace injury. When she returns, she learns Sissy is back from L.A. and marrying Macon. She is expected to be in maid of honor and is paired with Holden St. James, Macon’s strait-laced older brother. What she discovers is that Macon and Holden are very different from her high school memories, and she begins to realize she may have dreamed about the wrong brother.
I absolutely love Sutton and Holden and loved to hate Sissy. This romance pulled me right into the story with its snarky and witty dialogue between all the characters. I laughed out loud so many times especially when Sutton and Max were together and when Sutton’s guinea pigs were discussed. (I had the same surprise guinea pig babies happen to me!) All the secondary characters are fully developed and realistic. The chemistry builds steadily through the romance plot and there is only one sex scene almost at the end of the book, which is explicit and smokin’ hot, but not gratuitous. Since this will be a series, I am very excited that I will be able to visit Beacon Hill and hopefully all these characters again in the future.
I highly recommend this delightful and entertaining contemporary romance!
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Excerpt
Once he was all settled, I got into the front seat and took a fortifying drink of my coffee.
“Okay, big guy, let’s set some ground rules for this drive.” I met his narrowed gaze in the mirror and smiled widely. “I don’t want to hear one single word about where my hands are on the wheel, the speed limit, the space between cars, or motion sickness. Got it?”
“Sutton Louise Buchanan, I was there for the day you took your first breath and I can — ”
“Good enough.” I turned the engine on and put the truck in reverse. “Why are you working on a Saturday anyway?”
“I want to make sure my crew stays on schedule while I’m laid up.” Daddy leaned forward and reached between the seats to grab his coffee. “It’s a real big job so I don’t want to fall behind right out of the gate if it can be helped.”
I nodded. “Makes sense. Where are we headed?” I came to a stop at the sign just at the end of our street.
“To the old Bradford place.”
My eyebrows rose in surprise as I turned the truck in the right direction, memory taking over. The old farmhouse had originally been built in the mid-1800s and had been renovated sporadically until the owners abandoned it in the 1980s. It was a beautiful old house — or it had been — with big porches and a sunroom that had been added on at some point. Something about that house had always called to me. I’d daydreamed about being the one to finally breathe life back into it, restore it to its former glory. Of course, all that was before Sissy had made staying here seem impossible.
There were always lots of rumors circulating about why the Bradfords had abruptly moved away after living and farming on the land for centuries, but no one really knew the reason. Beacon Hill loved its gossip. A local favorite was that one of the Mr. Bradfords had killed his entire family, and their ghosts haunted the house. Every Halloween, high schoolers would break in and try to spend the night inside. I had never been invited.
“Someone finally bought that old place?”
“Sure did, and it’s a total gut job. There were structural issues.” Daddy sounded practically gleeful at the prospect. I pictured dollar signs floating around his head like little cartoon hearts.
“I’m really happy to see that house get the love it deserves, but whoever bought it either has too much money or is an idiot.”
Daddy was silent, his fingers playing a rhythm on his Thermos.
“Well, I’d say it’s probably the former.” Daddy paused. “I don’t think anyone can call Holden St. James an idiot.”
“What?” I screeched, whipping my head around to look at him and jerking the steering wheel in the process, causing us to briefly veer off the road and onto the shoulder.
“Eyes on the road, Sutton!” Daddy yelled, bracing himself. “Jesus remember me, how many times can a man almost die in one week?”
Car in the proper lane, I took a deep breath.
“Did you just say Holden St. James bought the old Bradford place?”
“If I answer that question, are you going to be able to maintain control of the vehicle?”
I rolled my eyes, but kept them facing forward — both for safety and so Daddy wouldn’t see it.
“You’re getting dramatic in your old age. I was just surprised. It doesn’t seem like someplace Holden St. James would be interested in living. I pictured him in a sterile, ultra-modern penthouse where every single piece of furniture makes a statement and is uncomfortable.”
“Think highly of the boy, do you?” Daddy drawled, his voice thick with sarcasm.
I shrugged, reaching for my coffee. Daddy cleared his throat pointedly, and I immediately returned my hand to the wheel.
“I’d be a better driver if I was fully caffeinated,” I mumbled. “Oh! I bet he’s going to flip it. That makes sense. The property value on that place will probably be insane once you’re done with the renovation, especially with all the land it sits on.”
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Author Bio
Emily Mayer is a part-time lawyer, full time storyteller, and an aspiring writer. She lives in Central Ohio with the two loves of her life; her husband and her dog. If she isn’t working, you can usually find her somewhere with a book in her hand.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post for WYOMING PROUD (Wyoming Men Book #12) by Diana Palmer on this HTP Books Romance 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
Businesswoman Erianne Mitchell falls hard for entrepreneur Ty Mosby and they quickly get engaged. But their whirlwind romance ends quickly when he gets faulty information that she betrayed him in business. They part ways, leaving both heart-broken, confused, and Erianne secretly pregnant, not to mention blacklisted for every company in town.
Erianne has to start over and she goes to Wyoming to care for her growing child. Even though furious that Ty didn’t believe in her, she can’t help missing the man she loves. She builds a life with her child and by cleaning houses.
By accident, as she’s rushing to the doctor with her baby, she and Ty see each other. He knows she never deceived him, but can ever get Erianne to trust him again?
Ty Mosby was bored out of his mind. He could have been home with his sister, Annie, watching that dragon drama on cable. Even that would be better than this stupid office party with two women drooling over him. One was recently divorced. The other was married. Women!
He turned around and almost fell over Erianne Mitchell. Well, her name was Erianne. Nobody called her that. She was just Erin to Ty and his sister, Annie. He glowered at her.
“It’s not my fault that you’re gorgeous,” she teased. “Mary over there has forgotten her ex-husband in her fever to get you into a dark room. And Henrietta—” she nodded toward a gan- gly woman with wild dark hair who was sighing into her drink as she studied him over it “—hasn’t given her husband a thought all night. Just as well,” she added under her breath, “because he’s running around with the Tarver woman.”
“What are you, the town crier?” he chided.
“It’s a nasty job, but somebody has to do it,” she replied with sparkling gray eyes. She laughed and half turned away, her dark hair in an elegant chignon at the back of her neck. “And there’s
Grace. Didn’t you date her last year?”
“Oh, God,” he groaned.
“There, there, she hasn’t noticed you. She’s too busy trying to get Danny Barnes to notice her. He just inherited his grandfather’s ranch over in Comanche Wells.”
“I’ve had my fill of social climbers,” he muttered. He was giving her the once-over with black eyes. “On the other hand, there’s you.”
“Oh, don’t be absurd, I’m not your type,” she murmured, her mind on something else altogether. It was a lie. She’d loved him forever, but Ty couldn’t see her for dust. And why should he? She was plain compared to the women who chased him. He was absolutely gorgeous. He had jet-black hair and black eyes, and light olive skin that made him look even more gorgeous in that spotless white shirt he was wearing with his dinner jacket and slacks. No wonder women drooled over him. Erin had drooled over him for years and hid it so carefully that not even his sister realized it.
“Why not?” he asked, really curious.
“I don’t run around with men.”
He blinked. “You run around with women?”
“I don’t run around period.”
“You’re what, now, twenty-five? You’d better run around with somebody or you’re going to get left behind.”
“You’re thirty-one and you’re already left behind. Besides, I work for you,” she added. “I don’t get involved with people that I work for.”
“We could make an exception,” he pointed out.
She glared at him. “Tyson Regan Mosby,” she said, exasperated. “If you keep this up, I’m calling Annie.”
“God forbid!” he groaned.
“She loves you. She’ll protect you from predatory females.”
“I’ll give you a great job recommendation if you’ll find my sister a husband,” he coaxed.
“Annie doesn’t want to get married yet,” she said. “Any more than you do. And I don’t need a job recommendation unless you have in mind firing me tonight.”
He made a face. “I don’t have enough people as it is. Other San Antonio businesses keep luring our best people away. Even the ones I fire.” He didn’t like firing people, but he sometimes had to. Even though his company was headquartered in San Antonio, people from Jacobsville worked for it. Mosby Construction Company had grown under Ty’s management. He’d taken a little construction company owned by his father and built it into a major contender. He had a degree in architecture. He loved to build things.
He had inherited wealth, he and Annie, and he didn’t really need to work. But he loved his job. And San Antonio was the best place for his company headquarters, although he and Annie still lived in Jacobsville. Ty and Annie were direct descendants of the town’s founder, Big John Jacobs, who’d talked his father-in-law into putting a a railroad through Jacobsville and built it into a cattle shipping center in south Texas back in the nineteenth century.
“Well, isn’t that just like you,” she said, exasperated. “I brought you a brand new human resources manager just last week!”
“He drinks vodka,” he said irritably. “I don’t trust men who drink vodka.”
“How do you know what he drinks?” she asked.
“I asked him.”
“Oh.”
“What are you looking for?” he probed.
“Clarence.”
“Excuse me?”
“Clarence Hodges,” she muttered, peering over a nearby woman’s shoulder. “He’s like my personal devil. I can’t turn around at a party without running into him.”
He didn’t like that, but he hid it. “What does he want?”
She looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “He wants me!”
“Why?”
She really rolled her eyes. “Annie needs to get you a book or something about human relationships.”
He grinned. “I think I can figure those out without self-help diagrams.”
“Can you, now?” she murmured absently, still looking for Clarence.
He’d known her for years. She was as familiar to him as her best friend, his only sibling, Annie. She’d spent weekends with them all through high school and through community college, where Erin got an associate’s degree in business education. She was great at cost estimates, which was her position in the company. She had a brilliant mind for math. She could do most anything on a computer, even rework spreadsheet programs that he used in his construction company. She was his right arm at work, perfectly capable of standing in for him at meetings because she knew the business inside out. Of course, why wouldn’t she, when she’d worked there part-time through high school and full-time during and after college. He trusted her. Well, on a professional basis. He wasn’t keen on thinking about anything more personal. Erin was standoffish. Once, just once, he’d teased her about going dancing with him and she’d mumbled something noncommital and shot out of the room.
He’d never admit it, of course, but it had bruised his ego. Erin wasn’t beautiful. She had pleasant features. Nice mouth, pretty complexion, gorgeous figure, sparkling eyes. But she dressed like an old woman most of the time, and she never seemed to date anyone. He’d wondered why. He’d even asked Annie, but all he got was a blank look and a smile.
He studied Erin while she looked around for the man she dreaded seeing. It wasn’t so much how she looked that made her attractive, he decided finally; it was her personality. She was warm and friendly to most people, outrageously funny around friends, and she loved animals. That last thing was important to him, because he bred and trained purebred German shepherds.
His dogs were like part of the family. They lived inside with him and Annie in their huge inherited mansion in Jacobsville, Texas. The puppies, when he bred them, had their own room and a caretaker who watched over them and kept their living quarters spic and span and odorless. He rarely had more than one litter a year and by a different female each year, from an outside stud male. No interbreeding at all, because it invited birth defects. He loved the pups when they came and had to be persuaded to give them up for adoption. Even so, he actually ran background checks on potential adopters, right down to requiring photographs of their yards and the pup’s living quarters. He was protective.
A recent adopter had taken a leather strap to his puppy when it made a mess on the carpet, and a neighbor had seen and heard what was going on. She’d promptly phoned Annie, who told Ty. He’d gone to the owner’s house that very day, accompanied by police chief Cash Grier and the local vet, Dr. Bentley Rydel, along with a search warrant that would give them access to the dog in question.
To say that the man was shocked was an understatement. He hemmed and hawed and tried to weasel them out of looking at the dog. Cash Grier glared at him. That was all it took.
Most everybody was scared of the town’s police chief, who was nice enough at public gatherings, but hell on lawbreakers of any kind. Cash loved animals as much as the vet and Ty.
The owner was forced to give them access to the puppy, which had been locked in a closet with bloody marks on its back.
Ty had slugged the man before his companions could react. He picked the pup up, gently, and after Cash took photos to document the abuse, walked out the door with Bently Rydel, to end up at his office where the poor little morsel was treated and sent home after an antibiotic shot and stitches. Cash had promptly arrested the owner. The pup’s owner went on trial, was convicted and sentenced to jail. Nobody in Jacobsville liked a dog beater. The jury had only deliberated for ten minutes, despite the harried public defender’s best efforts. All the District Attorney, Blake Kemp, had to do was put up a poster-sized photo of the abused puppy for the jury and the audience to see. It had drawn gasps and the pup’s owner had looked around at glares that felt like burns on his skin.
“What’s the matter with you?” Erin asked, glancing at his taut face.
“Puppy beaters,” he muttered.
Her expression softened. “The man got what he deserved. How is Beauregard, by the way?” she added.
He smiled. “He still whimpers in his sleep. I keep him with me at night. Rhodes isn’t enthusiastic about it, but I think he senses that the puppy needs to be spoiled for a few weeks.
Actually,” he added on a chuckle, “it’s Rhodes’s bed that they sleep in, curled up together. For an old dog, Rhodes is amazingly sweet.”
“You’ve had him a long time,” she remarked.
He nodded. “Thirteen years. I worry about him. Big dogs don’t have the life span that smaller ones do.”
“Rhodes is practically immortal,” she replied with a smile. “He’s pampered.”
“I guess so. Dad gave him to me as a Christmas present the year I graduated high school.”
“I remember your parents. They were so sweet,” she added. “Your mother and mine were best friends.”
“Hell of a shame, what happened,” he said stiffly.
She nodded. “It’s a rare thing, to have a tour bus go off the road and crash down a ravine. But those mountain roads in South America can be treacherous. Your parents were so much in love,” she added quietly. “It’s hard to imagine one going on without the other.”
“That’s what Annie and I thought,” he replied. “But it’s damned tough, losing them both at once.”
“I remember. At least you were both grown at the time,” she added softly.
He drew in a breath. “Didn’t help much,” he muttered.
“For what it’s worth, I know how it is. It was hard for Dad and me to go on, after we lost Mom.”
“Your mother had a hard life,” he said.
She sighed. “Yes. Dad’s hard to live with. He’s not mean or anything, he just makes stupid decisions and runs his mouth when he shouldn’t. Jack Dempsey won’t even speak to him.”
“That must hurt. They’re best friends.”
“They were,” she said sadly. “Dad was repeating some gossip that he’d heard about Jack’s wife running around on him. It got exaggerated, by Dad,” she muttered, “and Jack’s wife divorced him. It wasn’t even true. My father has a gift for saying things without thinking first.”
“A lot of people are like that.”
She grimaced. “I wish they’d had more kids than just me,” she confessed, looking up at him. “It would be easier to manage Dad if I had brothers and sisters to share the misery.”
He chuckled. “You do pretty good.”
She shrugged. “I could do better. I’d have to take away his phone though.”
His eyebrows arched.
“This guy called dad and said he could save ten dollars a month if he switched our long distance to their company. Dad said great, let’s do it. So I tried to phone one of our colleagues at home in Dallas last weekend and got told that we didn’t have long distance anymore. It was a scam. Dad had no idea what he’d done. I tried not to yell,” she added on a laugh. “Honestly, he’s like a little kid sometimes. Ten dollars a month.” She shook her head.
“My mother was like that,” he reminded her. “She got a call telling her the sheriff was coming over to arrest her for a bill she hadn’t paid. The man asked for pre-paid gift cards to save her from jail. She was halfway out the door on her way to town when I stopped her to ask what was wrong. Sadly for him, the scammer was still on her phone talking her through the process.”
She grinned. “I’ll bet his ears are still burning, wherever he is.”
“I imagine so. I was really mad.”
“Do you still have that jar your mother made for you? The one you had to put money in for every bad word you used?”
He laughed. “Yes. It doesn’t get fed, but I’ve still got it.” His eyes were sad with the memory. “She wanted to be a missionary, but Dad came along. She’d lived on a budget for so long that she almost ran away when she saw how much he was worth.” That was true. Her father had inherited a lot of money from his late mother, but he squandered it all on get rich quick schemes. He was still doing that, albeit on a very small shoestring. Erin wore herself out trying to save him from himself.
“A unique woman,” Ty continued. “She really didn’t care about money at all.” He studied her quietly. “Sort of like you.”
She sighed. “I like being able to buy food and gas and pay bills. That’s what money’s good for. There are lots of things it won’t buy.”
He nodded.
“Besides that, I work for this terrific manager who gives me raises,” she added with twinkling gray eyes.
“I don’t have to think too hard to do that,” he said. “I know how hard you work.”
“I’m just grateful to have a job. The economy is pretty bad right now.”
“It is,” he agreed. “Even this company has to be careful. You’re working on that bid now, the one we hope will get us the job just outside San Antonio in Bexar County; a whole retirement complex. It’s worth millions.”
“You’ll get it,” she said with supreme confidence. “You really do know how to undercut the other bidders. And I know how to price out almost everything,” she said, not bragging, just making a statement. She was a good cost estimator.
“We can undercut most of the major bidders,” he corrected. “But I’ve heard that one of them is Jason Whitehall. He and his son Josh have one of the best construction companies around south Texas.”
“His son’s a dish,” she mused.
“And how would you know?” he asked.
“I ran into him at that conference you sent me to, in Dallas, month before last. He looks just like his dad. All three of them were there, Jason and Amanda and Josh.” She sighed. “They’re just beginning to get over losing Jason’s mother, Marguerite. She was a lovely lady. So kind.”
“You know a lot about them,” he said.
“Well, one of our clients was trying to retool his public image and Amanda still owns that PR firm, so she was there getting information from him. She’s very nice. We keep in touch on Facebook.”
“Don’t keep in touch too closely,” he cautioned with snapping black eyes. “They’re competitors.”
“As if I’d ever sell you out,” she said, exasperated, as she stared up at him. “Get real! Annie would have me for breakfast, smothered in jelly!”
He relaxed. “Okay. Just testing the waters.”
She ground her teeth together. “Oh, no.”
He followed her irritated glance and saw a short, rotund man with thinning hair and a big smile headed toward them.
“I told you so,” she moaned. “I’ll go hide in the rest room… Ty!”
His arm was around her waist and he smiled down at her shocked expression. “Don’t give the game away. Smile.”
She did, trying hard to disguise the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat as she felt the strength and heat of his powerful body, smelled the spicy, clean scent of him. She’d danced with him at parties, rarely, and it had been just as problematic, to keep her headlong feelings for him from showing.
He felt a shiver go through her and his brows drew together just for an instant. Surely she wasn’t afraid of him?
Then he felt her heart race where her small, firm breasts were pressed close against him, and odd feelings stirred. Her breath was coming too fast. She was trying to disguise it, but he knew more about women than he ever let on in public.
She stiffened and started to pull back, but his arm tightened.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked in a slow, deep tone.
“Noth…nothing,” she faltered.
“Lies,” he mused. “Here.” He handed her his drink. “Liquid courage. Take a sip and we’ll ward off your would-be suitor.”
She took the glass, sniffed it, and made a face. “It’s whiskey. I hate whiskey!”
“Take a sip. It works better than it smells. Trust me.”
She took a deep breath, held it, and forced about a teaspoon of the vile-smelling liquid into her mouth. She choked it down, catching her breath.
“You could fuel trucks with this,” she muttered as she handed it back.
“This is the very finest aged Scotch whiskey,” he defended. “And now I’ll know not to share my most precious substance with those same people you don’t cast pearls before!”
She glared at him. “I am not a swine!”
“No, you aren’t,” he agreed. He cocked his head and his black eyes twinkled. “But I’ll bet you taste almost as good as a barbequed one,” he added in a slow, soft tone as his eyes fell to her pretty, soft mouth.
She actually gasped and her heart ran wild.
“My, my, is that the whiskey or me?” he asked, his eyes dropping to the fluttering of her heart, very visible under the thin bodice of her pale blue cocktail dress.
“Don’t you stare at me like that,” she said indignantly.
“Like what?” he asked, amused.
“Oh, hi, Erin,” Clarence Hodges said as he joined them. He looked crestfallen when he noticed Ty’s arm around her. “I was hoping you might like to talk to me about having your company do a remodeling job on my new house…?”
She forced a smile. “I’m truly sorry, Clarence, but that isn’t the sort of project we do,” she said in a gentle but professional tone. “We do big projects. Shopping centers. Apartments. Housing complexes. That sort of thing.”
“It’s a big house,” he persisted.
“Erin’s right, we don’t do small projects,” Ty told him, and the irritation he was feeling was visible in the tautness of his unsmiling face. “Even if we did, we’re already overbooked. Sorry,” he added. But he didn’t look sorry. He looked oddly threatening.
Clarence swallowed. Hard. His face flushed. “I see. Well…” He smiled hopefully at Erin. “Maybe you might like to come over and have coffee with me one morning?”
Ty’s chin lifted. His black eyes narrowed. He glared at the smaller man.
Erin just smiled.
“Oh, there’s Billy Olstead,” he said, looking past Erin’s shoulder. “I need to talk to him about my mother’s new car. I’ll see you later,” he added to Erin and smiled again, nervously, as he made a beeline toward the newcomer.
“Thanks,” Erin said with a heavy release of breath. “He’s not a bad man, but he can be annoying.”
“Annie says he’s started calling you two or three times a week.”
“He does,” she agreed sadly. “I can’t make him understand that I just don’t feel that way about him. I’ve never done a single thing that he could construe as encouraging.”
“It wouldn’t help,” he replied. “Men like that don’t take hints. They think they’re irresistible and it only needs persistence to wear you down.”
“He’d need more persistence than he’s got,” she said flatly.
He pursed his lips. “You could go out with me.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
He shrugged. “You could go out with me. Jacobsville is small. It would get all around town in no time that we were dating. Clarence would hear it from everybody.” He chuckled. “Even Clarence wouldn’t be able to convince himself that he’d be any competition for me.”
“Well, yes, but…”
“But, what?” he asked quietly, and he looked down into her eyes until she flushed. Her heart was trying to get out of her chest now.
She couldn’t even find words. It was like having every dream of her life come true unexpectedly, and all at once. She was breathless, giddy. But it was insane to even think of doing it, of going out with him. The gossip would be terrible. It wouldn’t matter that the company where they worked was in San Antonio; too many employees lived in Jacobsville, where Ty and Erin lived. It would be all over town in no time. When he didn’t go out with her a second time, it would be even worse. People would start wondering what was wrong with her.
“I don’t think,” she began.
“Good. Don’t. Thinking is responsible for most of the misery on the planet. We can go dancing. There’s a Latin club up in San Antonio.”
He knew she could do Latin dances. He’d taught her how, for a high school date. How many years ago that seemed now!
“Well…”
Amazing. She was reluctant. He’d never had any woman try to refuse a date with him. It was intriguing, especially considering how fast her heart was going right now. She was attracted to him. Was it new? Or had she always been attracted, but kept it hidden? He wanted to find out.
“Live dangerously. A little gossip never hurt anybody,” he teased.
It did, but he wouldn’t know, not with his spotless reputation. Well, hers was spotless, too. So spotless that she didn’t want to risk staining it, however lightly.
“People will talk. A lot.”
He just smiled. “Your friends won’t care. What your enemies think won’t matter.”
“Yes, but I hate gossip.”
He cocked his head and smiled at her with those black eyes making sensual promises. “There’s a sushi place just down the block from the Latin club,” he said. “They have ebi.”
Ebi was her favorite sushi dish. It was so expensive that she couldn’t work it into her budget. Her father did contribute a little to the family kitty, but never enough. They lived frugally because he was a spendthrift. Ty didn’t know and it would kill her pride to confess it.
She loved sushi, especially ebi. She couldn’t afford it.
“You’re weakening. Think about it. Chilled shrimp with rice. Wasabe and soy sauce and pickled ginger to go on it…”
“Stop! You’re torturing me!”
He chuckled. “I love it, too. Come on. Say yes.”
She drew in a long breath. “Okay,” she blurted out, against her own best interests.
He grinned. “Okay.”
When she got home that night, she could have kicked herself for agreeing.
Her father was watching television. A movie on DVD. They couldn’t afford cable or satellite. The only reason she had a high-end cell phone was that the company provided it for her, along with a company car. These would have been luxuries, even on her good salary.
“I’m home,” she said.
“Hi.” He grinned at her while the commercial was on. “Had fun?”
“It was a business party,” she reminded him.
“Easy enough to have fun and do business. Speaking of business, I saw this commercial on TV about how to invest in the stock market by doing day-trading…”
“No.”
“Now, Erin…”
“No,” she repeated. “We’re still paying off that course you took learning how to sell real estate,” she added pointedly.
He grimaced. “I didn’t know I was a bad salesman until I tried it.”
“Well, trying things is what got us into this financial mess, Dad,” she said, sitting down across from him. “I’m making a good salary. If we live on a budget, we can make it, just. But there’s no extra money. None at all. I can’t work two jobs.”
He studied her with the face of a child. “But it’s only two hundred dollars, this course, I mean.”
“I don’t have two hundred dollars. Not even in savings. That went to the online gambling website you found,” she added, trying not to sound as accusing as she felt.
He grimaced. “I guess I’m not as good a gambler as I thought, either. But, listen, this course,” he began again.
“I can get an apartment of my own and move out,” she said flatly.
He gasped. “Erin, no!”
“I can’t live with the way you spend money, Dad. Either you stop trying to spend it on things we don’t need, or I’m bailing out.” She felt a hundred years old. “I can’t keep bailing you out. We already owe more than I make in a year. I’m just one person.”
“I do help out,” he said stiffly.
“You do odd jobs and you spend what you make as soon as you get it,” she replied.
He flushed. He couldn’t deny that.
“I’ll try to restrain myself. I will.” He smiled. “But the man said that this course is foolproof.”
She ground her teeth together as she got up. “I’m going to bed.”
“If you’d just listen,” he said sadly.
She turned. “I’ve listened since Mom died,” she said. “And every single thing you’ve spent money on has cost us money without returning any. I’m so tired of debt, can’t you understand that? I’m being crushed by the weight of it, worried to death about it, and you just can’t seem to see what it’s doing to me.”
He blinked. He shifted uneasily in his chair. “I’ll do better next time. You’ll see.”
“Next time it had better be your own money that you’re betting,” she replied and toughened her stance. “Or I’m moving out.”
“You’re being unreasonable, Erin,” he retorted. “You don’t love me.”
“I do love you. And you’re the one being unreasonable. Good night.”
She went into her bedroom and closed the door, sick at heart. It was like trying to explain to a child. Her father had always lived in the clouds, but her mother had been able to manage him with supreme ease. Erin couldn’t.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life paying off his bills and then I’ll die,” she thought miserably. “I’ll never get away.”
Which was the one reason she could never let Ty Mosby see how she felt about him. Everybody knew her father kept them poor, but not how catastrophically. Ty would never be sure of her. Was she dating him because she cared for him or because he could pay off their debts.
It was an unrealistic thought, but she was almost panicked at the thought of dating Ty. She’d have to find some way to back out of it, a way that wouldn’t hurt his pride. All her life, her father had been a stone around her neck. Since her mother’s death, it had been much worse.
It would have helped if she had someone to talk to about it, but her only real friend was Annie, and she’d never be able to tell Annie the truth. It would just get back to Ty. Her pride wouldn’t take that.
She wanted that date with all her heart. It was just too risky. She was crazy about him. It might show. There were so many reasons that she didn’t dare let him see what she felt. Her father was the biggest one.
But there was another. Ty wasn’t a marrying man. He kept his liaisons very private, but he’d had relationships in the past. In a small town like this, they wouldn’t be able to hide one.
Erin had a spotless reputation. She wasn’t having it damaged to keep steady company with a man who only wanted one thing from a woman, and it wasn’t love.
So, better not to complicate her life any more than it was already complicated. Which left the problem of her father to solve, if it could be solved. She would never be free of him and his get-rich schemes that never paid off. She’d be in debt until she died.
She put on her gown and crawled gratefully under the covers. She’d think about it tomorrow, she told herself. Tonight, she was going to savor her memory of Ty’s arm around her, his deep voice sensuous as he teased her about going on a date.
It could never happen. But dreaming about it hurt nobody. Especially not Erin.
The prolific author of more than one hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A New York Times bestselling author and voted one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for TWICE ON CHRISTMAS by McGarvey Black on this Book ‘n’ All Promotions.
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
After choir practice for midnight mass, college sophomore Rose Grandon takes a short-cut through Harbor Park. Grabbed from behind, she is violently assaulted, beaten and left for dead. The last thing she hears is a tenor voice singing Silent Night.
Several hours later, the police find Rose lying in a ditch. Badly beaten — but alive. As she recovers in hospital, Rose is told she’s pregnant. She has a terrible choice to make. She decides to keep the baby. Nine months later, she gives birth to a beautiful baby girl. She names her Mary.
Rose lives quietly in her small Connecticut hometown raising her daughter — the one good thing to come out of her horrible ordeal. She begins to get her old self back, but her evil attacker has never been caught. He strikes twice a year. Once on Christmas Eve, once on Christmas Day. Until he’s behind bars, Rose and her baby can never be safe.
But now he’s found out he has a daughter. And that changes everything . . .
TWICE ON CHRISTMAS by McGarvey Black is a serial killer crime thriller/domestic suspense that features a young woman who survives a horrific attack on Christmas Eve and must deal with the trauma and ramifications every year following for over a decade. This is a standalone suspense/thriller by an author who is new to me.
Rose Grandon is a college sophomore at UConn and home for Christmas break. After choir practice for midnight mass, Rose wants to get home quicker by cutting through Harbor Park and is attacked from behind. Assaulted and left for dead, the last thing she hears is a beautiful tenor voice singing “Silent Night” as she loses consciousness by a creek in a ravine.
Her attacker is never found as she deals with several months of rehab and a pregnancy from her attack. Rose works hard to get her life back and make a home for baby, Mary, but every year her attacker remains on the loose and brutally attacking one woman every Christmas Eve and killing on every Christmas Day.
What Rose does not realize is that her attacker discovers he has a daughter, and that changes all his plans.
This is a thriller that immediately grabs you with a terrible crime and then follows the protagonist, Rose, through the next years of her life and everything she must deal with. As the reader follows Rose’s life, there are several male characters introduced into her life that could be the serial killer. I felt it was evident very early even with all the misdirection. Rose also is dealing with her daughter’s behavioral issues which highlighted how much parents do not want to acknowledge about their own children. As in any domestic suspense there are times you want to yell at the main character for not realizing some key bit of inconsistency and this story had many. The law enforcement officers, both local and federal, are not very efficient either. No background checks?
Overall, I feel this is an average suspense/thriller that is entertaining, but with a few too many holes in the plot and a protagonist that does not question things she should.
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Author Bio
McGarvey studied voice at Manhattan School of Music and was later a theatre major in college. She pursued an acting career but later moved into a magazine and digital media career. During that time, she sold advertising and managed sales teams for companies like Conde Nast, WebMD and worked for brands including GQ, Travel + Leisure, and Allure.
In between, she took a year off and backpacked alone around the world. Later, after having two children, she left media and became an executive recruiter for internet companies. In 2017, she began writing full time and has since published six novels.
