THE NURSE’S SECRET by Amanda Skenandore is a historical fiction novel with romantic elements featuring a young female protagonist set in 1880’s New York City’s Bellevue Hospital. This is a standalone novel with great characters, a bit of sweet romance and a suspense murder mystery plot intertwined throughout.
New York City’s Bellevue Hospital is the first hospital in the U.S. to initiate a nursing school based on the principles of Florence Nightingale. The young ladies must be of high moral character, educated and from upper class homes. There is a strict code of decorum, discipline and work ethic that must be followed to remain in the program. Una Kelly is none of these things. Una is a con artist, pickpocket and thief who is found at the scene of a murder, arrested, and then escapes. She cons her way into the nursing program with the help of a friend to hide from the police.
With the help of her roommate, Una finds she is capable of pulling off this deception and even finds she is good with the patients. A young doctor in training is interested in the unique nurse probationer, but Una is afraid to admit she is not who she seems. But when a woman from her past shows up and threatens Una’s ruse, she is killed in the same method as the man Una is accused of killing.
Una knows someone is killing in Bellevue and it is like the murder she is accused of. She sets a trap, but she may end up the victim of this serial killer.
I loved this book and all the characters. Una is street smart and thick skinned due to her upbringing, but she also knows how to use her natural intelligence to get along in her ruse and she begins to really care about her patients. Una’s gradual change in caring for her roommate, Dru and the step-by-step acceptance of her friendship really emphasized her emotional changes. The sweet romantic elements worked to also show a side of Una where she is slightly vulnerable. I felt all the secondary characters were fully fleshed and believable for the historical period. The descriptions of 1880 New York display the research involved in this story along with all the historical medical treatments and techniques for both doctors and nurses. The suspense plot of this story is paced well throughout and has a believable ending.
I highly recommend this engaging historical fiction!
***
About the Author
I’m lucky. I come from a family of diehard scientists—the kind who tell jokes about irrational numbers and use the Vulcan salute instead of waving goodbye. But there was always room in our house for the arts too. My sisters—one a conservation biologist, the other an astrophysicist—paint and play the flute. My father, a physicist, is also a movie buff. My mother, a mathematician, dabbles in everything from theater to stained glass. Me, I’m an infection prevention nurse. But first and foremost I’m a writer. Even when my pen is still, my mind is aflight with stories.
I’m lucky. I come from a family of readers. Books filled our shelves and trips to the library were routine. Even though I struggled with dyslexia and was slow to learn, my parents insisted I not give up. Now, I don’t read fast but I read often and wide—fantasy, scifi, paranormal romance, YA, literary, and of course, historical fiction.
I’m lucky. I married a man of great character and enduring flexibility. When I told him at thirty I wanted to quit my job and try to be a author, he said go for it. When I’d gone five years without selling a book or finding an agent, he said try a little longer.
I’m lucky. I finally found an agent, the wonderful Michael Carr, and sold my book, along with three others yet to be published, to Kensington Publishing.
My husband and I live in Las Vegas, NV with our pet turtle, Lenore.
An intimate and light-hearted memoir by viral sensation and three-timeEmmy-nominated musical comedian Randy Rainbow that takes readers through his life—the highs, the lows, the lipstick, the pink glasses, and the show tunes.
Randy Rainbow, the man who conquered the Internet with a stylish pair of pink glasses, an inexhaustible knowledge of Broadway musicals, and the most gimlet-eyed view of American politics this side of Mark Twain finally tells all in Playing with Myself, a memoir sure to cause more than a few readers to begin singing one of his greatest hits like “A Spoonful of Clorox” or “Cover Your Freakin’ Face.”
As Randy has said, “There’s so much fake news out there about me. I can’t wait to set the record straight and finally give people a peek behind the green screen.” And set the record straight he does. Playing with Myself is a first-hand account of the journey that led Randy Rainbow from his childhood as the over-imaginative, often misunderstood little boy who carried a purse in the second grade to his first job on Broadway as the host at Hooters and on to the creation of his trademark comedy character. In chapters titled “Pajama Bottoms” (a look back at the days when he wore pajama bottoms on his head to pretend he was Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz), “Yes, It’s My Real Name, Shut Up!” (no explanation necessary…) and “Pink Glasses” (a rose-colored homage to his favorite accessory), Playing with Myself is a memoir that answers the question “Can an introverted musical theatre nerd with a MacBook and a dream save the world, one show tune at a time?”
PLAYING WITH MYSELF by Randy Rainbow is an entertaining and heartfelt audiobook memoir with the author himself narrating, because who else could do it justice? If you want to laugh and deal with the occasional tissue worthy tears, then this is the memoir for you.
Like many people, I discovered Randy Rainbow, yes that is his real name, on my social media feed during the previous administration and pandemic and was immediately addicted. He made me laugh and sing along to his videos through the scary and unbelievable. This audiobook is his life story to date narrated by himself. He tells stories of his grandmother always believing in him, his difficulties with his father and his unconventional path in the entertainment industry.
There are many ups and downs that are both humorous and heartbreaking and I felt it was all told from his soul. There is also plenty of name dropping and stories of Randy himself being a crazy fan as he meets his all-time favorite Broadway and entertainment stars. I enjoyed listening to him tell his story to date.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE BINDING ROOM by Nadine Matheson on this HTP Summer 2022 Mystery & Thriller Bog Tour.
Below you will find a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
***
Book Summary
Detective Anjelica Henley confronts a series of ritualistic murders in this heart-pounding thriller about race, power and the corrupt institutions that threaten usfor fans of S.A. Crosby and Tami Hoag
When Detective Anjelica Henley is called to investigate the murder of popular preacher in his own church, she discovers a second victim, tortured and tied to a bed in an upstairs room. He is alive, but barely, and his body show signs of a dark religious ritual.
With a revolving list of suspects and the media spotlight firmly on her, Henley is left with more questions than answers as she attempts to untangle both crimes. But when another body appears, the case takes on a new urgency. Unless she can apprehend the killer, the next victim may just be Henley herself.
Drawing on her experiences as a criminal attorney, Nadine Matheson’s new novel deftly explores issues of race, class and justice through an action-packed story that will hold you captive until the last terrifying page.
THE BINDING ROOM (An Inspector Anjelica Henley Thriller Book #2) by Nadine Matheson is an intense and gritty British police procedural thriller. This is the second instalment in this series and can be read as a thriller standalone, but there are major character relationships that are better understood if you read The Jigsaw Man, Book #1 first.
Detective Anjelica Henley and her team are back and still dealing with the trauma of their last case as they are pulled into another difficult investigation. Henley is called to a scene of a brutal stabbing of a popular preacher in his own church and as they search the church discover another apparently tortured body barely alive, tied to a bed in a hidden room.
Henley and her team work both cases even as politics, secrets and lies make the team feel like they are getting nowhere fast. More bodies are discovered with the same terrible injuries and the female victim shows signs of having given birth. Both investigations have crossover suspects, but the clues lead to different motives. Henley must move quickly to stop more tortured murder victims.
I am happy to announce there was no sophomore slump with this addition to the series. Henley is still having problems emotionally from their last case and the loss of her mother. Her marriage is still in flux, and I still do not know how that will turn out in future books. Her entire team has become more fully fleshed and I care for them all with all their quirks and differences. This book does have several very dark and graphically disturbing scenes, but it is about sadistic torture murders and Ms. Matheson’s first book was the same, so I was expecting it. The investigative plot was well paced with several twists throughout that keeps you reading with a major twist right before the end.
I highly recommend this thriller and I am looking forward to many more in this series!
***
Excerpt
“We all lost,” said DS Paul Stanford as he held out a Quality Street tin in front of Henley.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Henley asked as she took off her coat and flung it onto a spare desk. “Are there any toffee pennies in there?”
“You might want to keep your coat on. The heating’s on the blink again. Either that or they’ve forgotten all about us and haven’t paid the bill. There’s a hundred and forty pounds in the pot and no toffee pennies.”
“Why is there a hundred and forty quid in there?”
Stanford rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “Remember our bet?” he said. “On him. Our illustrious fully fledged Detective Constable Ramouter.”
“What have I done?” Ramouter asked from his position in the kitchen where he’d been eyeing the bottom of a mug with disgust.
“This is ridiculous,” Henley said. Her ears picked up the whirr coming from the electric fan heaters and the ice-fueled wind whistling outside and rattling the glass.
“You lasted, Ramouter; that’s what you did,” said Stanford. “We had a bet on how long you would last in the SCU.”
“And you didn’t think that I would last six months?” asked Ramouter as he picked up another mug.
“Mate, I didn’t think you would last six days. I’ll have a coffee if you’re making.”
“You shouldn’t be so mean to him,” said Henley as she took off her scarf and pushed it against the rotting frame of the window to block the icy draft that was sweeping across her desk.
“How am I being mean? I’m paying him a bloody compliment. After everything that happened, no one would have blamed him if he’d bolted for the door.”
“Well, he didn’t. He’s stuck with it. So, what are you going to do with the money?”
“I could give Ramouter the money. He could spend it on a train ticket to Bradford or something.”
“Now who’s getting soft?” Henley said. The phone on her desk started to ring.
“Or I could book a table at the curry house down the road. It will be teambuilding.”
“Or a normal Friday night out with you falling asleep in your chili chicken.”
“Rude,” Stanford replied as Henley picked up the phone and Ramouter appeared by his side with a mug of steaming coffee for him.
“Right. I see,” said Henley, reaching for the pad of blue Post-it notes on her desk and a ballpoint pen with a chewed cap. “I didn’t realize that we were still on duty. Can you send me the CAD details? No, I can’t get it myself because the system has crashed again. Thank you. Who found the body? Right.”
Henley pulled off the Post-it note and stuck it to the side of Ramouter’s mug. He peeled it off and looked at it quizzically. “Depending on traffic, we should be there in fifteen minutes.”
“You’re not going to have time to finish that,” said Henley, putting the phone down and grabbing her scarf.
“There’s a body in a church?” Ramouter said as he read the note. “Seriously?”
“That’s what it says.”
“Why are we dealing with this?”
“We’re dealing with it because the borough commander decided that the Serial Crime Unit should be helping out Homicide and Serious Crime with their caseload,” Henley replied wearily.
“Anyone would think that we were just sitting here watching Netflix all day,” Ramouter moaned. “Is it even a murder?”
“We won’t know until we get there, will we?”
“Can I say it?” asked Stanford, a grin spreading across his face.
“No, you can’t,” Henley replied. She picked up her bag and headed toward the door, with Ramouter in tow. She knew Stanford well enough to know exactly what he was going to say.
“I bet you a tenner that it was the Reverend Green with a candlestick in the library,” Stanford shouted out as Henley slammed the door shut behind her.
“I’m not telling you again. Step away from the tape.”
“What’s going on?”
“If I knew I was going to spend the afternoon standing out in the freezing cold I would have stayed in bed this morning.”
“I bet that they’ve found a body or something.”
“Look, those CSI lot have turned up.”
“I only popped out for a coffee and now the old bill are saying that I can’t go back into my own office.”
“F this. I’m going home.”
“I’m telling you that they’ve found a body.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I don’t understand these kids. Too busy stabbing each other up. No value for life.”
“You can dress it up as much as you like. It’s Deptford innit.”
The murmurings of the curious and disgruntled crowd met Henley and Ramouter as they walked toward the scene of the crime.
“This is a church?” Ramouter asked as he looked up at the cream-colored facade of the brickwork. “I was expecting something a bit more… I don’t know, church-like. Maybe a steeple. This looks like a bank.”
“It used to be a NatWest when I was seventeen. The space was once cheap to rent. Not so sure now,” Henley replied.
“I did a quick Google search—”
“Of course you did.”
“And there’s another seven churches on the Broadway.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Henley. “Betting shops, churches and chicken shops on literally every London high street.”
Henley and Ramouter held up their warrant cards to the officer behind the police tape. Henley scoped the gathering crowd. Nothing about them raised any alarms, but she knew from experience that some murderers were voyeuristic by nature.
“Look likes Dr. Choi is here,” Ramouter said, pointing out the car of Henley’s friend and the Serial Crime Unit’s favorite pathologist, parked between a police motorbike and small white transit van that had ‘Forensic Services Crime Scene Investigation’ marked in black font on the side.
Henley stopped and looked around the small car park. There were no security cameras. She felt a sense of calm as she walked closer to the crime scene. It was a welcome emotion and a respite from the anxiety that was usually coursing through her veins, which she could keep at bay if she bothered to take her prescription to the chemist. She spotted the police officer that she was looking for leaning against the side of a police car, flipping through the pages of his notebook with a pen in his mouth.
“PC Tanaka? DI Henley from the SCU.”
PC Tanaka looked up and then stood to attention a little bit too quickly as Henley walked toward him.
“Ma’am,” said PC Tanaka.
“This is my colleague, DC Ramouter.”
“Shit,” said PC Tanaka when he dropped his notebook. “Sorry.” He brushed off slush from the cover. “It’s bloody freezing.”
“You were first on scene?” Henley asked.
Tanaka nodded. Henley could tell that he wanted to get it right. Giving a senior officer information about a murder scene was a lot different to dealing with burglaries, domestics and breaking up a fight between a couple of crackheads at the bottom of the high street.
“We, that’s the sarge, Sergeant Rivers, and I were driving back to the station. We’re based around the corner at Deptford station. We had just finished our shifts and was coming back from the McDonald’s up the road…”
PC Tanaka paused and took a breath.
Henley felt sorry for him as nerves or possibly shock overtook him. She saw a look of sympathy on Ramouter’s face as they both waited for PC Tanaka to continue.
“Sorry, guv, I mean ma’am,” said PC Tanaka straightening himself again and lowering the volume on his crackling police radio. “As I said, we were heading back to the station and one of the guys who works in the design agency practically threw himself onto the bonnet of the car. He was screaming about a body. We found the cleaner in hysterics in the staffroom of the agency. She refused to leave and take us to the church. I left her with the sarge and I went into the church and yeah, I won’t forget what I saw.”
Today I am excited to share my Feature Post and Book Review for THE EDGE OF SUMMER by Viola Shipman on the HTP Books 2022 Summer Reads Blog Tour.
Below you will find a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links. I am always excited to be reading a new Viola Shipman book and this was no exception. Enjoy!
***
Book Summary
Bestselling author Viola Shipman delights with this captivating summertime escape set along the sparkling shores of Lake Michigan, where a woman searches for clues to her secretive mother’s past
Devastated by the sudden death of her mother—a quiet, loving and intensely private Southern seamstress called Miss Mabel, who overflowed with pearls of Ozarks wisdom but never spoke of her own family—Sutton Douglas makes the impulsive decision to pack up and head north to the Michigan resort town where she believes she’ll find answers to the lifelong questions she’s had about not only her mother’s past but also her own place in the world.
Recalling Miss Mabel’s sewing notions that were her childhood toys, Sutton buys a collection of buttons at an estate sale from Bonnie Lyons, the imposing matriarch of the lakeside community. Propelled by a handful of trinkets left behind by her mother and glimpses into the history of the magical lakeshore town, Sutton becomes tantalized by the possibility that Bonnie is the grandmother she never knew. But is she? As Sutton cautiously befriends Bonnie and is taken into her confidence, she begins to uncover the secrets about her family that Miss Mabel so carefully hid, and about the role that Sutton herself unwittingly played in it all.
THE EDGE OF SUMMER by Viola Shipman is an emotional Women’s fiction/cozy romance which tells the tale of a daughter’s search for family which she was told did not exist until she discovers the truth when her secretive mother dies.
Sutton Douglas grew up poor in the Missouri Ozarks with only her mother who everyone called Miss Mabel. Miss Mabel was a seamstress for minimum wage at the overall factory, but an artist with her Singer sewing machine and buttons at night. Sutton would sit for hours dividing and playing with her button collection. Sutton’s mother was incredibly private, and she raised Sutton to be self-sufficient and work hard for what she wanted.
Sutton grows-up to become a designer for a Chicago department store chain, but when Covid hits, she loses not only her mother, but her job. She decides to take the few clues her mother left her and move for the summer to the tourist lakeside community of Douglas, Michigan she believes her mother is from originally. Sutton begins to cautiously befriend the people of the small community. With the help of Tug, who is personally interested in her, she begins to uncover secrets that may not lead to the answers she wants but may lead to what she needs.
When I pick up a Viola Shipman book, I always make sure tissues are close by, not just for sad, but also happy tears. Sutton’s story gave me both. There are many generational secrets in this story which affect Sutton and her journey, first with her mother and then in Douglas. The start of her relationship with Tug was sweet and it was nice to have her happy with that aspect of her life, to counterbalance with all the bad going on in her relationship with Bonnie. My one complaint with the story was that while Sutton came to Douglas to search for her mother’s past, beside talking to a few people, I never felt like she was seriously searching. All the discoveries seemed to happen accidently. Besides that, I was emotionally pulled into the mystery of Sutton’s story. Once again, Michigan itself is beautifully described and plays a major part in the story.
I recommend this latest in a long line of beautifully written Women’s fiction from Viola Shipman!
***
Excerpt
BUTTONHOLE
A small cut in the fabric that is bound with small stitching. The hole has to be just big enough to allow a button to pass through it and remain in place.
My mom told everyone my dad died, along with my entire family—grandparents, aunts, uncles, and all—one Christmas Day long ago.
“Fire,” she’d say. “Woodstove. Took ’em all. Down to the last cousin.”
“How’d you make it out with your little girl?” everyone would always ask, eyes wide, mouths open. “That’s a holiday miracle!”
My mom would start to cry, a tear that grew to a flood, and, well, that would end that.
No one questioned someone who survived such a thing, especially a widowed mother like Miss Mabel, which is what everyone called her out of deference in the Ozarks. Folks down here had lived hard lives, and they buried their kin just like they did their heartache, underneath the rocky earth and red clay. It took too much effort to dig that deep.
That’s why no one ever bothered to check out the story of a simple, hardworking, down-to-earth, churchgoing lady who kept to herself down here in the hollers—despite the fact me and my mom both just appeared out of thin air—in a time before social media existed.
But I did.
Want to know why?
My mom never cried.
She was the least emotional soul I’d ever known.
“How did you make it out with me?” I asked her countless times as I grew older, when it was just the two of us sitting in her sewing room in our tiny cabin tucked amongst the bluffs outside Nevermore, Missouri.
She would never answer immediately, no matter how many times I asked. Instead, she’d turn over one of her button jars or tins, and run her fingers through the buttons as if they were tarot cards that would provide a clue.
I mean, there were no photos, no memories, no footsteps that even led from our fiery escape to the middle of Nevermore. No family wondered where we were? No one cared? My mother made it out with nothing but me? Not a penny to her name? Just some buttons?
We were rich in buttons.
Oh, I had button necklaces in every color growing up— red, green, blue, yellow, white, pink—and I matched them to every outfit I had. We didn’t have money for trendy jewelry or clothes—tennis bracelets, Gloria Vanderbilt jeans—so my mom made nearly everything I wore.
Kids made fun of me at school for that.
“Sutton, the button girl!” they’d taunt me. “Hand-me-downs!”
Wasn’t funny. Ozarks kids weren’t clever. Just annoyingly direct, like the skeeters that constantly buzzed my head.
I loved my necklaces, though. They were like Wonder Woman’s bracelets. For some reason, I always felt protected.
I’d finger and count every button on my necklace waiting for my mom to answer the question I’d asked long ago. She’d just keep searching those buttons, turning them round and round, feeling them, whispering to them, as if they were alive and breathing. The quiet would nearly undo me. A girl should have music and friends’ laughter be the soundtrack of her life, not the clink of buttons and rush of the creek. Most times, I’d spin my button necklace a few times, counting upward of sixty before my mom would answer.
“Alive!” she’d finally say, voice firm, without looking up. “That’s how we made it out…alive. And you should feel darn lucky about that, young lady.”
Then, as if by magic, my mom would always somehow manage to find a matching button to replace a missing one on a hand-me-down blouse of hers, or pluck the “purtiest” ones from the countless buttons in her jar—iridescent abalone or crochet over wound silk f loss—to make the entire blouse seem new again.
Still, she would never smile. In fact, it was as if she had been born old. I had no idea how old she might be: Thirty-five? Fifty? Seventy?
But when she’d find a beautiful button, she would hold it up to study, her gold eyes sparkling in the light from the little lamp over Ol’ Betsy, her Singer sewing machine.
If I watched her long enough, her face would relax just enough to let the deep creases sigh, and the edges of her mouth would curl ever so slightly, as if she had just found the secret to life in her button jar.
“Look at this beautiful button, Sutton,” she’d say. “So many buttons in this jar: fabric, shell, glass, metal, ceramic. All forgotten. All with a story. All from someone and somewhere. People don’t give a whit about buttons anymore, but I do. They hold value, these things that just get tossed aside. Buttons are still the one thing that not only hold a garment together but also make it truly unique.”
Finally, finally, she’d look at me. Right in the eye.
“Lots of beauty and secrets in buttons if you just look long and hard enough.”
The way she said that would make my body explode in goose pimples.
Every night of my childhood, I’d go to bed and stare at my necklace in the moonlight, or I’d play with the buttons in my mom’s jar searching for an answer my mother never provided.
Even today when I design a beautiful dress with pretty, old-fashioned buttons, I think of my mom and how the littlest of things can hold us together.
Or tear us apart.
***
Author Bio
VIOLA SHIPMAN is the pen name for internationally bestselling author Wade Rouse. Wade is the author of fourteen books, which have been translated into 21 languages and sold over a million copies around the world. Wade chose his grandmother’s name, Viola Shipman as a pen name to honor the woman whose heirlooms and family stories inspire his fiction. The last Viola Shipman novel, The Secret of Snow (October 2021), was named a Best Book of Fall by Country Living Magazine and a Best Holiday Book by Good Housekeeping.
Wade hosts the popular Facebook Live literary happy hour, “Wine & Words with Wade,” every Thursday at 6:30 p.m. EST on the Viola Shipman author page where he talks writing, inspiration and welcomes bestselling authors and and publishing insiders.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for AMONG THE INNOCENT by Mary Alford on this Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, and excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
***
Book Description
When Leah Miller’s entire Amish family was murdered ten years ago, the person believed responsible took his own life. Since then, Leah left the Amish and joined the police force. Now, after another Amish woman is found murdered with the same MO, it becomes clear that the wrong man may have been blamed for her family’s deaths.
As Leah and the new police chief, Dalton Cooper, work long hours struggling to fit the pieces together in order to catch the killer, they can’t help but grow closer. When secrets from both of their pasts begin to surface, an unexpected connection between them is revealed. But this is only the beginning. Could it be that the former police chief framed an innocent man to keep the biggest secret of all buried? And what will it mean for Leah–and Dalton–when the full truth comes to light?
Genre: Amish Mystery Published by: Fleming H. Revell Company Publication Date: June 7th 2022 Number of Pages: 297 ISBN: 0800740262 (ISBN13: 9780800740269)
***
My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
AMONG THE INNOCENT by Mary Alford is an action-packed Amish crime mystery/suspense featuring two law enforcement officers brought together by a serial killer who has returned to the quiet community of St. Ignatius, Montana to finish what he started ten years previously. This is a standalone mystery/suspense with a setting and characters I wish were going to be in a series.
Ten years ago, Leah Miller was a young teen who was the lone survivor of a horrific crime, where her entire Amish family was killed in front of her. Leah barely survived, she left the Amish and was taken in by the local sheriff and his wife. Now as a member of the sheriff’s department herself, she is called to the murder scene of young Amish girl with the same MO as her family’s killer who they all believed was dead.
Dalton Cooper is the new Sheriff, and he has his own reasons for accepting the job in this small town which tie to the death of the accused murderer of Leah’s family. As they work the case, they realize that the true killer has returned, and the previous sheriff seemed to be hiding information. They also begin to have feelings for each other, but they feel the present case needs to take precedent.
Another Amish girl is murdered, the killer is toying with Leah and the tenth anniversary of the Miller family’s death is near. Will Dalton and Leah be able to discover the truth before the dark past wins?
I found this mystery suspense to be a page-turner that I could not put down. Leah and Dalton were both broken and not moving forward with their lives, and it took their coming together to solve this case and discover the facts from the past that would allow them to heal. They were both fully fleshed, realistic characters that I empathized with immediately. The serial killer was intelligent and frightening. Ms. Alford did a great job of placing plot twists and red herrings in just the right places to make the plot fast paced and surprising. The setting of this story was very interesting, too. A mixture of small-town Montana, Amish community and Indian reservation all interconnected. This could also be considered a Christian mystery because the characters do pray for God’s assistance at times, discuss their lack of faith due to their pasts and the romantic elements are no more than a few kisses.
I highly recommend this Amish mystery/suspense!
***
Excerpt
Prologue
He drove by the house again. The second time today. All because of her.
The sight of his car rolling down the dirt road in front of her isolated farm filled Beth Zook with thoughts not proper for an Amish girl. A cloud of dust followed the car, instantly covering the freshly washed sheet she’d hung out to dry minutes earlier. Despite the sweltering July heat, he’d put down the window. Was it because he wanted her to see him as he eased by?
He waved when he saw her looking, and she reacted like a moth drawn to a flame. Beth had never met anyone so unpredictable before. One minute he teased, the next his eyes smoldered with such intensity that it frightened her.
Looking at his handsome face sent the butterflies in her stomach scattering. A flash of a smile revealed white teeth, perfect like everything else about him.
Beth waved back, then glanced over her shoulder. What would Mamm and her sister say if they noticed? She covered her mouth to suppress the giggle. She’d been giggling a lot lately.
Too soon . . .
Her head warned it was too soon for these emotions, yet
her heart threatened to explode from her chest each time they were together.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she recalled his kisses from the night before. She’d been so afraid her parents would wake and hear her slipping out of her bedroom window. A sense of fear and adventure had followed her each step of the way as she’d crossed the yard in the pitch-black dark of night to the old Miller barn where he’d waited for her.
At first, she’d been afraid to go there after what had happened all those years ago. Four members of the Miller family had been found dead inside that barn. Leah Miller, the oldest daughter, was the only survivor. Whispers around the community about the unspeakable evil that had transpired that night could still be heard.
When Beth told her suitor about the murders, his eyes gleamed with excitement. While he seemed to enjoy envisioning what had happened back then, the barn gave Beth the creeps. But she kept that to herself because he made her feel special. Beautiful. Important. For the first time in her life, she longed for things not found among the Plain people of St. Ignatius. A life of pretty things. Like he promised.
Last night when they’d met, he’d asked her to run away with him. Her heart had overflowed with eagerness until reality tamped down her happiness, and Beth realized she wasn’t ready to leave her home. Her family. While she remained torn between staying Amish forever and leaving with him, he’d told her he would drive by her house every day until she said yes. Part of her was thrilled—intrigued at the consuming way he watched her. The other part was scared. Beth did not understand his almost feral wildness.
She took the dust-covered sheet down and reached for the next one, pinning it to the clothesline with unsteady hands. When Mamm wasn’t watching, she’d sneak inside and rewash the soiled one. That way there wouldn’t be questions to answer. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the car slowing.
Brake lights flashed. She picked up the next sheet and hung it. When he honked, she whirled toward the sound while praying the family wouldn’t come to investigate. He slid out and leaned against the rotting fence post near the Miller property. Many times, Beth wished she could be as daring. He did not live by the same rules as the Amish. In his world, anything was possible. She still couldn’t imagine why he wanted her. A man so handsome could have his choice of any girl, Englisch or Plain. Why her?
When he realized he had her attention, he motioned her over. Beth felt obliged to shake her head, though she’d thought about him throughout the day. Was eager to see him again. She anticipated his kisses with every beat of her heart.
She touched her hands to her burning cheeks. Such thoughts were not gut, but she couldn’t help how she felt. With him, Beth felt truly alive. The hardest part was she had no one with whom to share how she felt. Her friend Eva listened, but Beth sensed she might be jealous.
She’d almost told her older sister Colette about him last Saturday night before the biweekly church service, but she’d lost her nerve. Married and ten years older, Colette had three kinner of her own.
Besides, her sister was always so serious. She would not understand this reckless feeling.
Until her sixteenth birthday, Beth hadn’t either. She’d loved everything about the Amish way of life. Then, she’d started her rumspringa and had gotten a taste of the freedom of the Englischer world. She liked it. Before him, she’d planned to join the church and eventually marry Caleb Wagler, but not before enjoying every minute of her running around. Now, Beth was not sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life in St. Ignatius, living on a farm like her sister with a house full of kinner pulling on her apron. He offered her excitement. Adventure. Love. How could she not accept those gifts?
She hung the last of the sheets and picked her way across the patches of grass in the bare yard to where he stood. The glint in his eyes as he watched her wasn’t anything like the way Caleb looked at her.
Beth stopped a few feet away. With the fence separating them, she snuck a peek over her shoulder. “You should not be here.” She tried to sound stern but failed miserably.
Without warning, he jumped the fence. Beth giggled as he grabbed her hands and tugged her closer. “Yes, I should. You belong to me, Beth Zook.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his proclamation, and she couldn’t help imagining what their life together would be like.
Foolishness, Beth. You waste the day with all your imprudent thoughts, she could almost hear Colette saying.
“Mamm will notice I’m gone soon. You must leave now.” She tried to tug her wrists free, but he tightened his grip to the point of pain, and a flash of anger glittered in those deep dark eyes. “You are hurting me,” she murmured, tears forming. This was a side of him she hadn’t seen before. A cruel side she didn’t much like.
He let her go. Smiled. Everything became right again with the curve of his lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Beth.” The gentleness in his tone soothed her worries away. “You’re just so pretty.”
“You are such a flatterer.” She playfully swatted at his arm but secretly loved the way he spoke.
He leaned close and planted a kiss on her lips right there in broad daylight. Her legs turned to gelatin. A sigh escaped as warmth coursed through her limbs. After another stolen kiss, he released her.
“It’s true. Don’t be coy. You know you’re pretty.” His gaze skirted past her to the house. “And you deserve more than this life. Come away with me now.”
More than anything she wanted to, but when she thought about her mamm’s pained reaction to her middle daughter forsaking their faith, she couldn’t do it. “I told you, I cannot run away with you. And I have to go back to my chores.” She turned. Then, emboldened by his claims, she swung around, framed his face with her hands, and kissed him earnestly.
He chuckled at her brazenness. He snatched her hand once more. Though she secretly relished his desire to be with her so badly, she pretended differently. “Please, you must let me go. Mamm will see.”
“I don’t care.” A second passed before he finally relented. “Only if you promise to meet me tonight at our place.”
The eagerness in his eyes sent a shiver through her body. It made her hesitate. This was the man she adored. Surely, there was nothing to fear.
“I have something special planned for you,” he added with a cajoling smile when she wavered. “Something you’ll like.”
“If I can,” she whispered and pulled her hand free. They both knew she’d be there. As she ran across the scorching earth, Beth peered over her shoulder. He still stood next to the fence, grinning when he noticed her looking. She stumbled over the uneven ground. Heard him laughing.
As she stepped up on the porch, the front door opened and Mamm stood in the doorway, hands on hips. Her wrinkled brow furrowed at her daughter’s labored breathing.
“Komm, help your sister prepare supper.” Her mother studied Beth with narrowed eyes. Took in her flushed face. Her nervous hands. Had Mamm ever felt this way about Daed?
“Who is that out on the road?”
Beth struggled to keep her face blank. “Someone passing by, I suppose.” With one final glance his way and a secret smile, she hurried to go inside.
Her mother cast another disapproving stare at the car as Beth entered the house.
“I have something special planned for you.”
It was hard to keep the excitement to herself. She couldn’t wait to see the mysterious surprise he had in store.
***
Author Bio
Mary Alford is a USA Today bestselling author who loves giving her readers the unexpected, combining unforgettable characters with unpredictable plots that result in stories the reader can’t put down. Her titles have been finalists for several awards, including the Daphne Du Maurier, the Beverly, the Maggie, and the Selah. She and her husband live in the heart of Texas in the middle of 70 acres with two cats and one dog.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post for EVTIA AND ME by Erika Rummel on this Virtual Author Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, an exclusive excerpt, an about the author section, the author’s social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
***
Book Description
Evita Peron’s jewels are missing. Only three people know that they are in a vault in the Swiss Alps; Evita’s corrupt and brutal brother Juan, her bodyguard Pierre, and a teenaged girl Mona, her newest protegee. What happens if two of them team up?
Like Eva herself, Mona comes from a broken family and has to make her own way. Perhaps that’s why the two women feel close. Evita is at the pinnacle of success but already in the grip of a fatal illness. We see her life through the eyes of Mona and Pierre, two people she trusts — and who betray her in the end. Or can theft and murder be justified?
A story of love, adventure, and murder.
***
Excerpt
[Juancito, Evita’s thuggish brother, shows Mona the underbelly of Buenos Aires.]
We were passing through the narrow streets of the Boca. Juancito slowed down and stopped at the back of a two-story house painted mustard yellow. The lower part of the wall was solid like a bunker. The second floor had a row of tall windows. Two of them had balconies with old-fashioned ornamental railings, the one in the middle was a Juliet balcony. The house had a look of decay and abandonment about it. The iron railings were rusty, and the wooden shutters on some of the windows had come off and were stacked against the balcony railings. We walked around to the front of the building. The entrance was lit up by a garish sign with a palm tree and a hula dancer and the word “Bar” flicking on and off. Inside, the place was dimly lit and quiet. It smelled of old carpet. A band was playing Latino music and a small dance floor, but no one was dancing. The little tables surrounding the empty oval were occupied by single girls or girls in pairs sipping drinks and playing cards, waiting – for customers, I assume…
[Mona is right. It’s a brothel, and Juanito takes her and one of the “girls” upstairs. They don’t get far.]
We heard a truck pulling into the yard. Doors slammed, a rough voice barked a command.
“A police raid!” the girl said.
“Get her out,” Juancito said pointing to me. “I’ll talk to them.”
The whore took me by the hand like a little girl, leading me down the hallway. There was a window at the end of it, overlooking the parking lot. It was the window with the Juliet balcony I’d seen earlier. Juancito’s car was below. The girl pushed up the sash of the window, wangled a leg over the sill, and dropped down to the ledge outside. She did it so smoothly that I suspected it was a practiced routine.
“Come on,” she said in a hard, impatient voice, and I climbed up and let myself down on the other side, standing next to her. She took stock of the situation. We were only a little distance from the nearest window, which had a regular, wide balcony. She climbed up on the railing, steadied herself against the wall, and jumped across to the larger balcony with the agility of a trapeze artist. She stood still for a moment, then took one of the shutters that had come off the French doors and were leaning against the wall. She shoved it across to the Juliette balcony where I was standing, making a narrow bridge between the railings.
She whispered another “Come on”, and I tried not to think, not to be afraid of falling, as I climbed up on the plank spanning the two balconies. I didn’t look down, I shimmied across on my hands and knees. I could feel my nylons snagging on the slats and ripping. The girl reached for me and pulled, making me land hard on the other side and scraping my knee. We could hear another commando shout and the voices of people coming out of the bar, but we couldn’t see anything. It was all happening around the corner, on the front side of the building.
The whore forced open the balcony door. We passed through a shadowy room, stepped into the corridor, and sneaked down the stairs to a backdoor opening up into an alley. I breathed relief until I saw that the alley dead-ended on one side, barred by a chain-link fence. We could have climbed it, but it was lit up by a streetlight. Too risky, the whore said. They’ll spot us. We couldn’t sneak out on the side that wasn’t gated because that’s where the cops were. We’d run directly into their arms. So we sat on the ground with our backs pressed against the wall, knees drawn up tight to stay in the shadow of the eaves as much as possible. The alley was strewn with broken crates, rags, bottles, and the rotting remains of food. Directly under the streetlamp, in the cone of light on the ground was a seething mass of flying and crawling insects, the largest beetles I had ever seen. We heard more shouting and commotion around the corner. A cop appeared at the mouth of the alley and shone a flashlight our way. The jig was up. He pointed his gun at us.
“What have we got here?” he said, closing in and looming over us.
After that, everything happened too fast for my understanding. I saw the flash of a knife, I heard him scream. A slit opened up along his thigh. He staggered back and dropped to his knees, cursing, as we scrambled up, ran to the other end of the alley and clambered over the fence. We dropped down on the other side and ran out to the parking lot. Juancito’s car was close by.
“Get down,” the girl said, and we slid under the car on our bellies and stayed there, lying very still.
The guy she slashed had probably gone for reinforcement. We heard the cops coming out of the bar, rough voices, boots hitting the pavement. From our vantage point we couldn’t see the men. Someone approached the car. He stopped right beside it, and I recognized Juancito’s polished shoes.
A few moments later, a pair of scuffed boots appeared beside Juancito’s shoes.
“I don’t carry much cash,” Juancito said to the man in boots. “I’ll get something to you tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t take bribes,” the man said.
“Of course you don’t take bribes, che, I know that,” Juanito said pleasantly. I didn’t know he could sound that way, as if he was really nice and considerate. “But one of your men has been stabbed. He deserves compensation. I’ll get the money to you.”
A charged silence hung in the air. Nothing further was said, but there was no need for words. They understood each other.
The heels of Solara’s boots clicked together in a salute.
***
About Erika Rummel
Award winning author, Erika Rummel is the author of more than a dozen non-fiction books and seven novels. Her seventh novel, ‘Evita and Me’ is being published on May 24, 2022.
She won the Random House Creative Writing Award (2011) for a chapter from ‘The Effects of Isolation on the Brain’ and The Colorado Independent Publishers’ Association’ Award for Best Historical Novel, in 2018. She is the recipient of a Getty Fellowship and the Killam Award.
Erika grew up in Vienna, emigrated to Canada and obtained a PhD from the University of Toronto. She taught at Wilfrid Laurier and U of Toronto. She divides her time between Toronto and Los Angeles and has lived in Argentina, Romania, and Bulgaria.
This giveaway is for 2 print copies and is open to Canada and the U.S. only. This giveaway ends on July 23, 2022 midnight, pacific time. Entries accepted via Rafflecopter only.
