Today is my turn to share my Feature Post and Book Review on the Damppebbles Blog Tour for DARK TRUTHS (A Will Traynor Forensic Mystery Book #1) by A.J. Cross.
Below you will find a book blurb, my book review, an about the author section and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Blurb
A fresh case lays bare old bones for DI Watt’s team
When a young woman’s body is discovered on a popular jogging trail in Birmingham, Detective Inspector Bernard Watts and his team are plunged into a disturbing murder investigation. Not only has the woman been violently stabbed – her head is missing.
When a close examination of the crime scene results in a shocking discovery linking the present murder to a past crime, criminologist Will Traynor is brought in to assist the police. Aware of Traynor’s troubled past, Watts is sceptical that Will can contribute anything useful to the investigation.
DARK TRUTHS (A Will Traynor Forensic Mystery Book #1) by A.J. Cross is the first book in a new series with criminologist Will Traynor. This book is a police procedural/mystery/thriller mash-up that takes the reader through a step-by-step investigation of a horrific murder.
DI Bernard Watts is assigned the case of a female body found on a jogging trail stabbed several times in the chest without a head. As he walks the scene with the new rookie, PC Chloe Judd they discover a skull without a body which does not belong to the body on the trail. The body is recent, but the skull is at least a decade old.
With the possibility of a serial killer, Watt’s boss informs him that criminologist Will Traynor will be joining his team, but Watt knows of Traynor’s troubled past and is not happy with this decision.
Will Watt be able to keep his inexperienced and brash rookie in line and learn to trust Traynor’s theories to bring a successful conclusion to this present murder which seems to be tied to several missing persons from the past?
I really enjoyed all the characters introduced in this book: the experienced detective, the abrasive rookie, the intelligent and kind pathologist and the criminologist with a tragic past. They all worked together well in the story to bring the clues and plot twists to a satisfying conclusion in the past and present mysteries. My problem was that DI Bernard Watts was more of a lead character than Will Traynor, who the book and new series is supposed to feature. This fact does not detract from the story itself; it just does not lead where I thought it would. I am looking forward to a return of all these characters in the future.
Overall, a strong investigative story to begin the series, but I will be looking for more of a lead role from Will Traynor in future books.
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About the Author
A.J. Cross is a forensic psychologist with over twenty years’ experience in the field. She lives in Birmingham with her jazz-musician husband and is the author of five Kate Hanson mysteries.
Today I am excited to be sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the HQN Blog Tour for THE VINEYARD AT PAINTED MOON by Susan Mallery.
Below you will find an author Q&A, an about the book section, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!
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Author Q&A
Where did inspiration for the book come from?
The Vineyard at Painted Moon was really inspired by the gorgeous wine country of Washington State. My readers have told me that they love when my books have wish-you-were-there settings, like the tulip farms in Secrets of the Tulip Sisters and the monastery-turned-mansion of The Summer of Sunshine and Margot. So I knew I wanted to set my next hardcover somewhere that would give readers a beautiful, scenic escape—and this was well before I knew the book would come out during a pandemic, when we’re all trapped at home a lot more than usual.
So I started daydreaming about beautiful settings, and I landed on Washington wine country. Breathtaking. Seriously, look it up.
Every evening before dinner, Mr. Mallery and I have a glass of wine together and tell one another about our day. This daily ritual makes us feel close and connected even when life gets hectic, and it has led us to learn more about how wine is made. I thought it could be really interesting to write about a female winemaker, because this is still very much a male-dominated field. I asked myself, “What is the worst thing that could happen to a winemaker?”
“What if,” I thought, “she lost the land she loved?”
And not because of fire or natural disaster, but because of an emotional earthquake—Mackenzie Dienes is the winemaker at a family winery. But it’s her husband’s family. . . and their marriage is in trouble. She could stay if she’s willing to be nothing more than an employee for the rest of her life. But if she wants something more, something of her own, she’ll have to be brave.
The Vineyard at Painted Moon is the story of Mackenzie’s search for happiness and self-fulfillment after divorce. With some pretty spectacular scenery thrown in. Oh, and wine. Lots and lots of wine.
What are your favorite scenes? Why?
This is a tricky question for me to answer without spoilers, because my favorite scenes are the emotional turning points of the story. I don’t really want to reveal them here, as I think readers will want to experience them on their own. I will answer, but it’s going to be vague and somewhat frustrating. Teasers, rather than spoilers.
I love the scene where Mackenzie and Rhys realize that their marriage is over. (That doesn’t count as a spoiler, since it’s revealed on the back cover of the book.) The way they come to the realization and move through the scene is completely unexpected and unlike any breakup scene I’ve ever written—or read, for that matter. It’s heartbreaking and poignant and beautiful and even a little funny. If you have a heart, it’ll make you cry. I think readers are going to fall in love with Rhys even as Mackenzie is accepting that she’s not in love with him anymore.
One of my other favorite scenes is one that I’m not sure will stand out as much in readers’ minds. It’s a scene in which Mackenzie finds out just how highly she is esteemed by her colleagues in the wine world. She never knew. She never thought of working anywhere but the family winery—she was just so grateful to have a family through her husband, since she had none of her own. In this scene, nothing really changes but her perception—of herself, and of how people perceive her—but perception is reality. Suddenly, Mackenzie realizes that she has options. She can dare to dream.
And that changes everything.
What was the hardest scene to write and why?
At the risk of repeating myself, that scene in which Mackenzie and Rhys finally acknowledge that their marriage is over was certainly one of the hardest to write. The emotional intricacies of the situation were incredibly nuanced. I had to get it exactly right. Rhys is not a point-of-view character, so the whole scene is told from Mackenzie’s perspective, but I wanted the reader to understand and empathize with Rhys, as well. It’s a deeply emotional scene, and I’m very curious to see how readers will respond to it.
Do you have advice for me wanting to write in the same genre?
Never give up. There are a lot of very talented writers who will never be published simply because they gave up trying. You never know if the next book will be the one. You have to want it enough to keep going.
Where did the idea for the title come from? It’s so original.
Thank you! I almost never come up with the titles for my own books. My file names are just the first name of the main character, so the working title on this book was Mackenzie. When it’s time to title the book, the whole team makes suggestions—my editor, agent, assistant, the marketing department. It’s trickier now than it’s ever been because I’ve written a lot of books, and we don’t want the titles to be too similar. And yet they have to appeal to the same audience.
All that said, I was the one to suggest The Vineyard at Painted Moon. I thought it would be appropriate to feature the beautiful setting in the title, since it plays such an important role in the book. I’m glad you like it!
Who is your favorite character and why?
I love Stephanie and Four, Rhys’s sisters and Mackenzie’s best friends. They’re the kind of friend that every woman should have—and that every woman should be. Close female friendships are a hallmark of my books. In The Vineyard at Painted Moon, the friendships were especially complex because they were also sisters-in-law. . . soon to be exes. But at the end of the day, this truly is Mackenzie’s story, so she would be the favorite.
What is your favorite book genre to read?
For the most part, I read what I write—women’s fiction and romance. I’m not into thrillers or anything that involves violence and murder. I’m much more interested in emotional drama, in the inherent conflict between people who want different things.
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About the Book
MacKenzie Dienes’s life isn’t perfect, but it’s as close as she could ever hope to get. Her marriage to Rhys, her best friend’s brother, is more friendship than true love. But passion is highly overrated, right? And she loves her job as the winemaker at Bel Apres, her in-laws’ vineyard. So what if it’s a family business and, even after decades of marriage and incredible professional success, she’s still barred from the family business meetings? It’s all enough…until one last night spent together leads to an incredibly honest—and painful—conversation. Rhys suggests that they divorce. They haven’t had a marriage in a long time and, while he wants her to keep her job at Bel Apres, he doesn’t think they should be married any longer. Shocked, MacKenzie reels at the prospect of losing the only family she’s ever really known…even though she knows deep in her heart that Rhys is right.
But when MacKenzie discovers she’s pregnant, walking away to begin a new life isn’t so easy. She never could have anticipated the changes it would bring to the relationships she cherishes most: her relationship with Barbara, her mother-in-law and partner at Bel Apres, Stephanie, her sister-in-law and best friend, and Bel Apres, the company she’s worked so hard to put on the map.
MacKenzie has always dreamed of creating a vineyard of her own, a chance to leave a legacy for her unborn child. So when the opportunity arises, she jumps at it and builds the Vineyard at Painted Moon. But following her dreams will come at a high price—one that MacKenzie isn’t so sure she’s willing to pay…
THE VINEYARD AT PAINTED MOON by Susan Mallery is a women’s fiction novel that pulled me in from page one. This is the perfect emotionally intense and ultimately satisfying read to curl up with on your couch wrapped in a comfy blanket with a glass of your favorite wine by your side on these snowy cold days. I read it entirely in one sitting.
Mackenzie Dienes is a successful elite winemaker at her husband’s family vineyard in Walla Walla since graduating from college where she was his sister’s roommate. Having lost her grandfather to cancer after graduating from high school, she has been happily enveloped by her husband’s family and vineyard for sixteen years, but now he wants a divorce.
Mackenzie’s life is thrown into turmoil. She realizes the life she has lived has all belonged to her husband and his family and as much as she longed to be considered a member of the family, she was in many ways just an employee to certain members of the family.
Mackenzie can stay and continue working at the winery or she can risk everything to claim a new future she has only ever dreamed of.
I loved this book from start to finish! Not only did I go through the range of emotions a women’s fiction novel usually takes me through, but I got a HEA, too. Mackenzie is an endearing protagonist. It was so satisfying to see her go from just living to emotionally thriving not only in her personal life, but in her professional one as well. Ms. Mallery made me feel as though I was at the vineyard and walking right along with Mackenzie with her vivid descriptions throughout the story. The secondary characters come to life on the page; some supportive and some surprising, good and bad. I hated to see them go, but was happy with the epilogue.
I highly recommend this novel!
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Excerpt
Chapter One
“Not that what you’re wearing isn’t great, but the party starts in an hour.”
Mackenzie Dienes looked up from the grapevine she’d been studying, her mind still on the tight clusters of small, hard grapes that would, come late September, be ripe and sweet and ready for harvest. Between now and then, she would monitor their progress, willing them to greatness and protecting them from danger, be it mold, weather or hungry deer.
She blinked at the man standing in front of her, tall and familiar, with an easy smile and broad, capable shoulders.
“Party?” she asked, letting her thoughts of the vineyards go and remembering that, yes, indeed, it was the evening of the annual Solstice Party, hosted by the Barcellona family. As she was a Barcellona, by marriage if not by name, she would be expected to attend.
Wanted to attend, she reminded herself. It was always a good time, and Stephanie, her sister-in-law, worked hard to make it a perfect night.
“The party,” she repeated, her voice slightly more panicked this time, then glanced down at herself. “Crap. What time is it?”
Rhys, her husband, shook his head. “You really don’t listen when I talk, do you? We have an hour. You’ll be fine.”
She pulled off her gloves and shoved them into the left front pocket of her coveralls, then stepped behind Rhys and gave him a little push toward the flatbed truck he’d driven out to the west vineyards.
“You say that because all you have to do is shower and get dressed. I have to do the girl thing.”
“Which takes you maybe ten minutes.” He put his arm around her as they hurried toward the truck. “Happy with the grapes?”
“I think so,” she said, glancing toward the healthy vines growing on either side of them. “We might have to do some thinning in a couple of weeks, but so far, so good.”
As they slid onto the bench seat of the old truck, he glanced at her. She smiled, knowing there was a fifty-fifty chance he would call her out on her thinning statement. He was, after all, the vineyard manager. Technically all the decisions about the vineyard were made by him with her input, but not her instruction. As winemaker, she managed the grapes from the moment they were picked until the wine was bottled.
But at Bel Après, areas of responsibility often overlapped. Theirs was a large, boisterous family in which everyone had opinions. Not that Mackenzie listened to a lot of other ideas when it came to her wines, although as Rhys often pointed out, she was very free offering hers when it came to his work.
He drove along the dirt path that circled the vineyard, stopping by her truck. She slid into the cab, then followed him back to the family compound. The main road leading into Walla Walla was thick with tourists who wanted to enjoy the longest day of the year. She merged into the slow-moving traffic, doing her best to keep from glancing at the clock on the truck’s dashboard as she inched along.
Vineyards stretched out on either side of the road, flat on the left and rising toward the hills on the right. Bright green leaves topped sturdy trunks that had been carefully trained to grow exactly as she wanted them to. The rows were long and neat, and the spaces between them were filled with native grasses that held in moisture and protected the roots from the heat.
Looking at her healthy crop kept her mind off the fact that she and Rhys were going to be desperately late.
Twenty minutes later, she followed him off the highway onto a less crowded secondary road—a back way home. Five minutes after that, they parked the trucks by the processing buildings behind the big tasting room. Rhys had already claimed one of the golf carts the family used to get around. She slid in next to him and they took off toward the center of the property.
Bel Après Winery and the surrounding land had been in the Barcellona family for nearly sixty years. Rhys and his siblings were third-generation. The original main house had been updated several times. When Rhys and Mackenzie had married, Barbara, Rhys’s mother, had suggested they build themselves a house close to hers, rather than commute from town. Eager to stay in the good graces of her new mother-in-law, Mackenzie had agreed.
A large two-story home had been built. Barbara and Mackenzie had decorated every room, the act of choosing everything from light fixtures to doorknobs cementing their affection for each other.
A few years later, Stephanie, the second of Barbara’s four children, had gotten a divorce and moved back home with her two kids, requiring another house to be constructed. When the youngest of the three girls had married, the last house had been added. Only Lori, the middle daughter, still lived in the original home.
All four houses faced a huge central courtyard. Mexican pavers were shaded by vine-covered pergolas. The extended family used the space for big dinners and as a kids’ play area. If one of the women baked cookies, a cookie flag was hung out the front door, inviting anyone to stop by. At Christmas, a large tree was brought in from Wishing Tree, and for the annual Summer Solstice Party, dozens of long tables were brought in to seat the two hundred or so guests.
Rhys swung the golf cart behind the large main house, circling counterclockwise. Normally he would cut across the courtyard, but with all the party preparations, he had to go the long way. He pulled up at the rear entrance to their house and they dashed inside.
Mackenzie paused to unlace her boots and left them in the mudroom. Rhys did the same. They raced up the stairs together, separating at the landing to head to their individual en suite bedrooms.
Once in her bathroom, she started the shower. Thankfully, she’d already picked out the dress she would wear. She raced through a shower. After she dried off, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dug out the scented body lotion Rhys had given her a couple of years ago. Why anyone would want to smell like coconut and vanilla was beyond her, but he liked it.
She walked into the large closet and opened her underwear drawer. To the right were all the sensible bikini panties she usually wore—to the left were the fancier ones for special occasions. She chose a black pair and slipped them on, then went to the second drawer and looked for the matching push-up bra. When it and the pads were in place and doing the best they could with her modest curves, she pulled on a robe and returned to the bathroom.
After plugging in her hot rollers, it took her only a few minutes to apply eyeliner and mascara. She was flushed from the day working outside, so she didn’t bother with any other makeup.
Her hair took a lot longer. First she had to dry the dark red shoulder-length waves, then she had to curl them. While the rollers were in place, she searched for a pair of black high-heel sandals that wouldn’t leave her crippled by the end of the night.
Those found, she opened her small jewelry box and pulled out her wedding set, sliding both the engagement ring and the wedding band into place on her left hand. Diamond stud earrings followed. She’d barely stepped into her sleeveless black dress when Rhys walked into the closet, fully dressed in black slacks and a dark gray shirt.
She sighed when she saw him. “See. You have it so much easier than me.”
“Yes, but in the end, you’re more beautiful. That should be worth something.”
“I’d rather have the extra time.”
She turned, presenting him with her back. He pulled up the zipper, then bent to collect her shoes. They retreated to her bathroom and together began removing the curlers.
“We’re late,” Mackenzie said, catching sight of his watch. “Your mom is going to be all snippy.”
“She’ll be too busy welcoming her guests.” The last of the curlers was flung onto the counter. Mackenzie fluffed her hair, then pointed to the bedroom.
“Retreat,” she said, reaching for the can of hair spray.
Rhys ducked to safety. She sprayed the curls into submission before running into the bedroom to escape the death cloud. Rhys was on the bench at the foot of the large bed. She sat next to him and quickly put on her shoes.
“Done,” she said, pausing to reacquaint herself with the seldom-used skill of walking in heels.
She grabbed her husband’s wrist. “Seven fifteen. Barbara’s going to kill us.”
“She’s not. I’m her only son and you’re just plain her favorite.”
“We weren’t ready exactly at seven. I can already hear the death-march music in my head. I want to be buried on Red Mountain.”
Rhys chuckled as he led the way downstairs. “In the vineyard? I’m not sure your decaying body is going to be considered organic.”
“Are you saying I’m toxic?” she asked with a laugh as they walked toward the front door.
“I’m saying you’re wonderful and I’d like us to have a good night.”
There was something in his tone, she thought, meeting his gaze. She’d known this man her entire adult life. They’d met over Christmas her freshman year of college. Her roommate, his sister Stephanie, had dragged Mackenzie home to meet the family. Grateful not to have to spend the holiday by herself, Mackenzie had gone willingly and had quickly found herself falling not only for her best friend’s hunky older brother but for the entire Barcellona family and the vineyards they owned. Barbara had been like a surrogate mother, and the vineyards, well, they had been just as magical as Rhys’s sexy kisses.
Now she studied her husband’s expression, seeing the hint of sadness lurking behind his easy smile. She saw it because she hid the same emotion deep inside herself. The days of stealing away for sexy kisses were long gone. There were no lingering looks, no intimacy. They had a routine and a life, but she was less sure about them still having a marriage.
“I’d like that, too,” she murmured, knowing he wasn’t asking them not to fight. They never did. Harsh words required a level of involvement they simply didn’t have anymore.
“Then let’s make that happen,” he said lightly, taking her hand in his and opening the front door.
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About the Author
#1 NYT bestselling author Susan Mallery writes heartwarming, humorous novels about the relationships that define our lives―family, friendship, romance. She’s known for putting nuanced characters in emotional situations that surprise readers to laughter. Beloved by millions, her books have been translated into 28 languages. Susan lives in Washington with her husband, two cats, and a small poodle with delusions of grandeur. Visit her at SusanMallery.com.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tour for the first cozy mystery in this fun amateur sleuth series featuring a female bartender as the protagonist – DEATH IN TRANQUILITY (The Bartender’s Guide to Murder Book #1) by Sharon Linnea.
Below you will find a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Good luck on the giveaway and enjoy!
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Book Synopsis
No one talks to the cops. Everyone talks to the bartender. And Avalon Nash is one hell of a bartender.
Avalon is on the run from her life in Los Angeles. Having a drink while waiting to change trains in the former Olympic town of Tranquility, New York, she discovers the freshly murdered bartender at MacTavish’s. A bartender herself, she’s offered the position with the warning he wasn’t the first MacTavish’s bartender to meet a violent end.
Avalon’s superpower is collecting people’s stories, and she’s soon embroiled in the lives of artists, politicians, ghost hunters and descendants of Old Hollywood.
Can Avalon outrun the ghosts of her past, catch the ghosts of Tranquility’s past and outsmart a murderer?
The first book in the Bartender’s Guide to Murder series offers chills, laughs, and 30 of the best drink recipes ever imbibed.
Genre: Mystery Published by: Arundel Publishing Publication Date: September 29th 2020 Number of Pages: 323 ISBN: 9781933608 (ISBN13: 9781933608150) Series: Bartender’s Guide to Murder, 1
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My Book Review
RATING: 4.5 out of 5 Stars
DEATH IN TRANQUILITY (The Bartender’s Guide to Murder Book #1) by Sharon Linnea is the first cozy mystery in this fun amateur sleuth series featuring a female bartender as the protagonist. Besides the introduction to a new small town full of interesting characters the reader also gets thirty drink recipes related to the story.
Avalon Nash is running from her life in Los Angeles and is presently waiting to change trains in the small former Olympic town of Tranquility, NY. As she waits, she is having a drink in a quaint bar called MacTavish’s. As the orders back up, Avalon tells the waitress she will look for the missing bartender only to find his dead body on a balcony off the back of the bar.
Avalon is a great bartender and collector of stories. She is offered the now open bartending position on a trial basis, delays her departure and soon finds herself embroiled in the lives and secrets of the residents of Tranquility. Avalon learns that this was the second bartender at MacTavish’s to be murdered. Can she help the local state police officer find a killer before she becomes the next bartender to die?
Avalon is a wonderful protagonist. Her talent as a bartender and her insight into people makes her an impressive amateur sleuth. Her love of old movies and the tie in with Old Hollywood in Tranquility added depth to the plot and added many more twists and red herrings. While a portion of Avalon’s personal story was revealed in this book, there is still so much more to learn about her and her secrets. All the secondary characters were interesting and quirky once you get them all sorted out and I am looking forward to seeing them again in future books. There is also a touch of paranormal which is yet to be fully explored.
Overall, an entertaining and well written start to a new series with a wonderful protagonist that I am looking forward to revisiting.
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Excerpt
Chapter 1
Death in the Afternoon
“Whenever you see the bartender, I’d like another drink,” I said, lifting my empty martini glass and tipping it to Marta, the waitress with teal hair.
“Everyone wants another drink,” she said, “but Joseph’s missing. I can’t find him. Anywhere.”
“How long has he been gone?” I asked.
“About ten minutes. It’s not like him. Joseph would never just go off without telling me.”
That’s when I should have done it. I should have put down forty bucks to cover my drink and my meal and left that magical, moody, dark-wood paneled Scottish bar and sauntered back across the street to the train station to continue on my way.
If I had, everything would be different.
Instead I nodded, grateful for a reason to stand up. A glance at my watch told me over half an hour remained until my connecting train chugged in across the street. I could do Marta a solid by finding the bartender and telling him drink orders were stacking up.
Travelling from Los Angeles to New York City by rail, I had taken the northern route, which required me to change trains in the storied village of Tranquility, New York. Once detrained, the posted schedule had informed me should I decide to bolt and head north for Montreal, I could leave within the hour. The train heading south for New York City, however, would not be along until 4 p.m.
Sometimes in life you think it’s about where you’re going, but it turns out to be about where you change trains.
It was an April afternoon; the colors on the trees and bushes were still painting from the watery palate of spring. Here and there, forsythia unfurled in insistent bursts of golden glory.
I needed a drink.
Tranquility has been famous for a long time. Best known for hosting the Winter Olympics back in 19-whatever, it was an eclectic blend of small village, arts community, ski mecca, gigantic hotels and Olympic facilities. Certainly there was somewhere a person could get lunch.
Perched on a hill across the street from the station sat a shiny, modern hotel of the upscale chain variety. Just down the road, father south, was a large, meandering, one-of-a-kind establishment called MacTavish’s Seaside Cottage. It looked nothing like a cottage, and, as we were inland, there were no seas. I doubted the existence of a MacTavish.
I headed over at once.
The place evoked a lost inn in Brigadoon. A square main building of a single story sent wings jutting off at various angles into the rolling hills beyond. Floor-to-ceiling windows made the lobby bright and airy. A full suit of armor stood guard over the check-in counter, while a sculpture of two downhill skiers whooshed under a skylight in the middle of the room.
Behind the statue was the Breezy, a sleek restaurant overlooking Lake Serenity (Lake Tranquility was in the next town over, go figure). The restaurant’s outdoor deck was packed with tourists on this balmy day, eating and holding tight to their napkins, lest they be lost to the murky depths.
Off to the right—huddled in the vast common area’s only dark corner—was a small door with a carved, hand-painted wooden sign which featured a large seagoing vessel plowing through tumultuous waves. That Ship Has Sailed, it read. A tavern name if I ever heard one.
Beyond the heavy door, down a short dark-wood hallway, in a tall room lined with chestnut paneling, I paused to let my eyes adjust to the change in light, atmosphere, and, possibly, century.
The bar was at a right angle as you entered, running the length of the wall. It was hand-carved and matched the back bar, which held 200 bottles, easily.
A bartender’s dream, or her undoing.
Two of the booths against the far wall were occupied, as were two of the center tables.
I sat at the bar.
Only one other person claimed a seat there during this low time between meal services. He was a tall gentleman with a square face, weathered skin, and dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. I felt his cold stare as I perused the menu trying to keep to myself. I finally gave up and stared back.
“Flying Crow,” he said. “Mohawk Clan.”
“Avalon,” I said. “Train changer.”
I went back to my menu, surprised to find oysters were a featured dish.
“Avalon?” he finally said. “That’s—”
“An odd name,” I answered. “I know. Flying Crow? You’re in a Scottish pub.”
“Ask him what Oswego means.” This was from the bartender, a lanky man with salt-and-pepper hair. “Oh, but place your order first.”
“Are the oysters good?” I asked.
“Oddly, yes. One of the best things on the menu. Us being seaside, and all.”
“All right, then. Oysters it is. And a really dry vodka martini, olives.”
“Pimento, jalapeño, or bleu cheese?”
“Ooh, bleu cheese, please.” I turned to Flying Crow. “So what does Oswego mean?”
“It means, ‘Nothing Here, Give It to the Crazy White Folks.’ Owego, on the other hand means, ‘Nothing Here Either.’”
“How about Otego? And Otsego and Otisco?”
His eyebrow raised. He was impressed by my knowledge of obscure town names in New York State. “They all mean, ‘We’re Just Messing with You Now.’”
“Hey,” I said, raising my newly delivered martini. “Thanks for coming clean.”
He raised his own glass of firewater in return.
“Coming clean?” asked the bartender, and he chuckled, then dropped his voice. “If he’s coming clean, his name is Lesley.”
“And you are?” I asked. He wasn’t wearing a name tag.
“Joseph.”
“Skål,” I said, raising my glass. “Glad I found That Ship Has Sailed.”
“That’s too much of a mouthful,” he said, flipping over the menu. “Everyone calls it the Battened Hatch.”
“But the Battened Hatch isn’t shorter. Still four syllables.”
“Fewer words,” said Joseph with a smile that included crinkles by his eyes. “Fewer capital letters over which to trip.”
As he spoke, the leaded door banged open and two men in chinos and shirtsleeves arrived, talking loudly to each other. The door swung again, just behind them, admitting a stream of ten more folks—both women and men, all clad in business casual. Some were more casual than others. One man with silvering hair actually wore a suit and tie; another, a white artist’s shirt, his blonde hair shoulder-length. The women’s garments, too, ran the gamut from tailored to flowing. One, of medium height, even wore a white blouse, navy blue skirt and jacket, finished with hose and pumps. And a priest’s collar.
“Conventioneers?” I asked Joseph. Even as I asked, I knew it didn’t make sense. No specific corporate culture was in evidence.
He laughed. “Nah. Conference people eat at the Blowy. Er, Breezy. Tranquility’s Chamber of Commerce meeting just let out.” His grey eyes danced. “They can never agree on anything, but their entertainment quotient is fairly high. And they drive each other to drink.”
Flying Crow Lesley shook his head.
Most of the new arrivals found tables in the center of the room. Seven of them scooted smaller tables together, others continued their conversations or arguments in pairs.
“Marta!” Joseph called, leaning through a door in the back wall beside the bar.
The curvy girl with the teal hair, nose and eyebrow rings and mega eye shadow clumped through. Her eyes widened when she saw the influx of patrons.
Joseph slid the grilled oysters with fennel butter in front of me. “Want anything else before the rush?” He indicated the well-stocked back bar.
“I’d better hold off. Just in case there’s a disaster and I end up having to drive the train.”
He nodded knowingly. “Good luck with that.”
I took out my phone, then re-pocketed it. I wanted a few more uncomplicated hours before re-entering the real world. Turning to my right, I found that Flying Crow had vanished. In his stead, several barstools down, sat a Scotsman in full regalia: kilt, Bonnie Prince Charlie jacket and a fly plaid. It was predominantly red with blue stripes.
Wow. Mohawk clan members, Scotsmen, and women priests in pantyhose. This was quite a town.
Joseph was looking at an order screen, and five drinks in different glasses were already lined up ready for Marta to deliver.
My phone buzzed. I checked caller i.d. Fought with myself. Answered.
Was grabbed by tentacles of the past.
When I looked up, filled with emotions I didn’t care to have, I decided I did need another drink; forget driving the train.
The line of waiting drink glasses was gone, as were Marta and Joseph.
I checked the time. I’d been in Underland for fifteen minutes, twenty at the most. It was just past three. I had maybe forty-five minutes before I should move on.
That was when Marta swung through the kitchen door, her head down to stave off the multiple calls from the center tables. She stood in front of me, punching information into the point of sale station, employing the NECTM—No Eye Contact Tactical Maneuver.
That’s when she told me Joseph was missing.
“Could he be in the restroom?”
“I asked Arthur when he came out, but he said there was nobody else.”
I nodded at Marta and started by going out through the front hall, to see if perhaps he’d met someone in the lobby. As I did a lap, I overheard a man at check-in ask, “Is it true the inn is haunted?”
“Do you want it to be?” asked the clerk, nonplussed.
But no sign of the bartender.
I swung back through into the woodsy-smelling darkness of the Battened Hatch, shook my head at the troubled waitress, then walked to the circular window in the door. The industrial kitchen was white and well-lit, and as large as it was, I could see straight through the shared kitchen to the Breezy. No sign of Joseph. I turned my attention back to the bar.
Beyond the bar, there was a hallway to the restrooms, and another wooden door that led outside. I looked back at Marta and nodded to the door.
“It doesn’t go anywhere,” she said. “It’s only a little smoker’s deck.”
I wondered if Joseph smoked, tobacco or otherwise. Certainly the arrival of most of a Chamber of Commerce would suggest it to me. I pushed on the wooden door. It seemed locked. I gave it one more try, and, though it didn’t open, it did budge a little bit.
This time I went at it with my full shoulder. There was a thud, and it wedged open enough that I could slip through.
It could hardly be called a deck. You couldn’t put a table—or even a lounge chair—out there.
Especially with the body taking up so much of the space.
It was Joseph. I knelt quickly and felt for a pulse at his neck, but it was clear he was inanimate. He was sitting up, although my pushing the door open had made him lean at an angle. I couldn’t tell if the look on his face was one of pain or surprise. There was some vomit beside him on the deck, and a rivulet down his chin. I felt embarrassed to be seeing him this way.
Crap. He was always nice to me. Well, during the half an hour I’d known him, he had been nice to me.
What was it with me discovering corpses? It was certainly a habit of which I had to break myself.
Meanwhile, what to do? Should I call in the priest? But she was within a group, and it would certainly start a panic. Call 911?
Yes, that would be good. That way they could decide to call the hospital or the police or both.
My phone was back in my purse.
And, you know what? I didn’t want the call to come from me. I was just passing through.
I pulled the door back open and walked to Marta behind the bar. “Call 911,” I said softly. “I found Joseph.”
***
Author Bio
Sharon Linnéa wrote the bestselling Eden Series (Chasing Eden, Beyond Eden, Treasure of Eden and Plagues of Eden) with B.K. Sherer, as well as the standalone These Violent Delights, a movie murder series. She enjoyed working with Axel Avian on Colt Shore: Domino 29, a middle-grade spy thriller. She is also the author of Princess Ka’iulani: Hope of a Nation, Heart of a People about the last crown princess of Hawaii which won the prestigious Carter Woodson Award, and Raoul Wallenberg: the Man Who Stopped Death. She was a staff writer for five national magazines, a book editor at three publishers, and a celebrity ghost. She lives outside New York City with her family. In Orange County, she teaches The Book Inside You workshops with Thomas Mattingly.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tour for UP THE CREEK (Culver Creek Book #1) by Alissa Grosso.
Below you will find a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section, the author’s social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Good luck and enjoy!
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Book Synopsis
An unsolved murder. Disturbing dreams. A missing child.
Caitlin Walker hasn’t had a dream in nine years. But now nightmares torture her son Adam and awaken in Caitlin buried memories and a dark secret. Her husband Lance has a secret of his own, one that his son’s nightmares threaten to reveal.
In Culver Creek newly hired detective Sage Dorian works to unravel the small town’s notorious cold case, the grisly murder of a young girl.
How are Caitlin and Lance connected to the horrific crime? And how far will they go to make sure their secrets stay hidden? Find out in this riveting thriller.
Genre: Mystery Thriller Published by: Glitter Pigeon Press Publication Date: January 12, 2021 Number of Pages: 356 ISBN: 9781949852080 Series: Culver Creek Series, Book 1
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My Book Review
RATING: 3 out of 5 Stars
UP THE CREEK (Culver Creek Book #1) by Alissa Grosso is the start of a new crime fiction/mystery series. This introduction to the series intertwines past mysteries and crimes to the present lives of the three characters focused on in this story.
Detective Sage Dorian is recently hired by the Culver Creek PD and he has a specific reason for seeking employment in Culver City. He wants to work on the small town’s notorious cold case.
Caitlin and Lance Walker are a couple with secrets. Caitlin and now her young son, Adam have prophetic dreams of violent crimes. Lance has a nighttime secret of his own.
How is this couple connected to a horrific cold case?
The author does a good job of not dropping any threads of this intricate mystery in the past and present, but there are times I was confused because there are so many. I also felt there was a lot of set up with the Walker’s and their secrets which distracts from Sage, who I assume will be the main character in future books and makes the start of the book slow. I did not like that the Walker’s were married for so long with major secrets they did not share. That lack of communication from both did not feel realistic or believable. If you can overlook this, and get through the back story, the mystery does have a satisfying conclusion.
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Excerpt
Caitlin emerged from a black, dreamless sleep to screams. Adam’s tortured cries sounded almost otherworldly. They turned her blood to ice and made her heart race. She sat straight up, then bolted from bed, blinking sleep from her eyes as she raced toward the door, banging her shin on the dresser as she went. She yanked on the doorknob and almost toppled over when it didn’t yield as she expected. Goddammit. Lance had locked the door again.
She spared a glance toward the bed, but her husband wasn’t there. Instead he was standing, looking out the window. For a moment she thought she was mistaken. Were the screams coming from outside?
“Lance?” she asked.
He turned to her, but his eyes looked past her at some point on the wall.
“What’s going on?” he mumbled, barely awake.
“Adam’s having a nightmare,” she said.
“Again?” he asked. “Maybe we should just let him sleep it off.”
The screams had subsided now, but she could still hear her son’s whimpers from down the hall. Sleep it off? Could Lance really be that clueless? She unlocked the door and flung it open. It bounced almost silently off the rubber doorstopper, which didn’t really give her the dramatic exit she was hoping for.
She still couldn’t quite wrap her head around her husband just standing there looking out the window while Adam cried for them. Usually Lance was the one who woke up first. Maybe he had already gone to comfort Adam and came back to their bedroom by the time she awoke. He seemed so out of it, though. Well, that’s what a lack of sleep could do to a person.
Adam sat on his bed in a nest of tangled sheets. His face was damp with tears and sweat, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. The hippo nightlight cast large, ominous shadows when she stepped into his room. He looked up with a start, then relaxed when he saw it was her.
She sat down beside him and pulled his small body to her, wrapping her arms around him and rocking him gently back and forth. The tears subsided, but he still felt tense.
“Mommy, I’m scared of the bad boy,” he said. “The bad boy’s going to hurt me.”
“Nobody’s going to hurt you,” she assured him. “You’re safe. It was just a dream. Look, you’re safe in your bedroom.”
At this, Adam pulled away from her a little to study the dimly lit bedroom. Maybe they should get a different nightlight. She had never realized how spooky that hippo light made everything look.
“There were trees,” Adam said, “and a river. She was playing in the river.”
Caitlin stiffened. Adam noticed it and looked up at her. She smiled at him.
“It was just a dream,” she said, as much to reassure herself as him. “It wasn’t real.”
There were lots of rivers out there, and wasn’t Adam just watching a cartoon show with cute animals that had to get across a river? That was probably where that detail came from. Plus, she reminded herself, it hadn’t been a river. It had been a creek. She wasn’t sure Adam knew the difference between a river and a creek, though. But a little girl playing in a river? No, wait, was that what he had said? He said only “she.” For all Caitlin knew, this she could have been a girl river otter. Maybe he had been having a cute dream about river creatures.
And a “bad boy,” she reminded herself. She remembered his bloodcurdling screams. There was nothing cute about the dream he had. Still, she clung to the “bad boy” detail. Was he talking about a child? If so, then the river was just a coincidence. She wanted to ask him more about the bad boy, but this was the worst thing she could do. He was already starting to calm down, starting to forget the details of his nightmare. She couldn’t go dredging things back up again.
“Mommy, can I sleep in your room?” Adam asked.
#
Lance was fully awake and in bed when Caitlin returned with Adam in her arms.
“Hey there, champ,” Lance said. “Have a bad dream?”
“Daddy, he hurt her,” Adam said. “He hurt her head. She was bleeding.”
Her son’s tiny body stiffened again in Caitlin’s arms, and she gave Lance an exasperated look as she set Adam down in the middle of the bed.
“We’d already gotten past that,” she said in a whispered hiss.
“Obviously,” Lance said with a roll of his eyes, “which is why he’s sleeping in our bed. Again.”
She slid into the bed beside Adam and adjusted the covers, ignoring her husband. She petted Adam’s head and made soft, soothing noises.
“Remember, that wasn’t real, just make believe, like a movie.” She didn’t want him to get himself worked up again talking about the dream, but it wasn’t just that. She didn’t want to hear any more details from the nightmare because the bit about the bad boy hurting the girl’s head and the blood felt a touch too familiar.
She stroked his face, and his eyelids slowly drooped closed. He looked so calm and peaceful when he slept.
“I thought we said we weren’t going to do this anymore,” Lance said. Even whispering, his voice was too loud. She held her finger to her lips. He continued more quietly, “I’m just saying, I think it would be better for him if he sleeps in his own bed.”
“It’s already after three,” she said. “It’s only for a few hours.”
“That’s not the point,” Lance said. “He’s nearly five years old. We can’t keep babying him.”
It was like the school argument all over again, and Caitlin didn’t want to get into it. Not now. She was still tired and groggy and needed more sleep.
“I want to get him a new nightlight,” she said to change the subject. “The one he has makes these creepy shadows.”
“A new nightlight,” Lance repeated in a skeptical voice. “Sure, that will solve everything.”
“The important thing,” she said, “is that we have to remind him that his dreams are not real. That they’re make believe. We have to be united on this.”
Lance made a dismissive noise and lay back down on his pillow, turning his body away from her and Adam. He muttered something, but his voice was muffled by the pillow.
“Lance, this is important,” she said. “We have to make it clear that his dreams are not real. He has to know they aren’t true.”
He sighed. “What kind of moron do you think I am? Do you really think I’m going to start telling him his dreams about boogeymen are real?” He squirmed around and pulled the covers up in an attempt to get comfortable. She thought he was done, but he stopped shifting around long enough to add, “It’s not exactly like you’re the foremost expert in dreams.”
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About the Author
Alissa Grosso is the author of several books for adults and teens. Originally from New Jersey, she now resides in Bucks County, Pennsylvania.
Today I am excited to be sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Blackthorn Book Tour for SINNER’S CROSS: A Novel of the Second World War by Miles Watson.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an about the author section and the author’s social media links.
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Book Description
In 1944, Sinner’s Cross was just a point on a map: a muddy track through shell-torn German woods. Worthless…except to the brass on both sides of the war, who are willing to sacrifice their best men to have it. Men like Halleck, a tough-as-nails Texan who traded driving cattle for driving soldiers; Breese, a phenomenal actor who can play any part but hero; and Zenger, the Nazi paratrooper who discovers Hitler’s Germany is a lousy place to grow a conscience. Their lives and deaths will intersect at the place called Sinner’s Cross.
Trigger warnings: Realistically reflects war conditions: graphic violence; death; physical and emotional suffering
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
SINNER’S CROSS by Miles Watson is a historical fiction book set in 1944 during the Hurtgen Forest campaign in WWII. There was no tactical advantage to this campaign and yet it was the longest campaign fought and the least successful. This is an amazing, dark, gritty, realistic look at war through the eyes of the three main characters.
This book is a depiction of the horrors of battle in graphic detail following three main characters; the battle-hardened Sgt. Halleck, a Texas cowboy and Lt. Breese, fresh from college, who wanted an acting career, but ended up in a meat-grinder field of combat and then there is the Nazi Major Zengy, Parachute Battalion. Their lives and deaths all end up intersecting at Sinner’s Cross.
This story’s main characters are diverse and yet the war brings them all down to basic survival and a kill or be killed mentality at Sinner’s Cross. But the author has also written into his characters thoughts of duty versus doubt and the overall conflict over the senseless loss of life over useless ground.
I feel as though the author has given me a glimpse into a small part of the past lives of my uncles and father that they never talked about except to other veterans. I have watched the movies “The Battle of the Bulge” and “Saving Private Ryan”, but somehow reading this book was even more intimate and chilling. I did have to put this book down a couple of times due to the intense feelings it provoked, but I also could not stop reading it because I had to know the outcome of each character.
I highly recommend this book for its exceptionally realistic depiction of war on the average man and the thought provoking motives of decisions made throughout.
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About the Author
Miles Watson was first published at the age of 17 and has never looked back. He is now an eleven-time award winning author of three novels, a short story collection and several novellas, and has vowed to write in every genre before he’s finished. When not at the typewriter, he has worked as everything from a law enforcement officer to a Hollywood make-up effects artist, and divides his time between the West and the East Coast.
As well as Awards for Sinner’s Cross, listed above, Miles Watson has also won multiple awards and citations for his other books:
OH, FUDGE (Hot Cakes Book #5, Prequel Boys of the Bayou Book #6) by Erin Nicholas is a steamy rom-com novella bridge book between two of her contemporary romance series. This is a bridge book and foreshadows the coming romance in “Four Weddings and a Swamp Boat Tour” (Boys of the Bayou Book #6), but this novella rom-com does not end with a HEA. This book can be read as a standalone novella, but I believe it will be more enjoyable if you have read other books in the series.
Paige Asher loves her family, but she wants to live her life on her own terms. In a small town this is extremely difficult. She has her own yoga business, is financially stable, a vegetarian and owner of many cats. Everyone around her is married or in love and they do not understand how she can be happy single and only allowing one-night stands.
Then she has a scorching one-night stand with a hot and sexy Cajun who is a friend of a friend. Paige cannot quit thinking about him and she is surprised that she continues to text him when he returns home.
Mitch Landry loved his trip to Iowa and the sassy and sexy blond he just cannot quit thinking about even though she believes in no-strings-attached sex just like him. He is even more surprised that he is still texting her six months later.
Is this the feeling that all the other Landry’s talk about? Is he falling in love?
I enjoyed this fun crossover novella bridge book. You get more in-depth backstory on why Paige feels the way she does and it makes her more relatable. I love Mitch, like all the other Landry boys, and this novella hints that there is something deeper involved in his belief of his place in the family. While you know you will eventually get your HEA, these two will not go about it in the traditional way. As in all the books in both series, the sex scenes are extremely explicit and steamin’ hot, but I do not feel they are gratuitous.
This is a hot and fun novella and I am looking forward to the rest of Paige and Mitch’s story.
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About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Erin Nicholas has been writing romances almost as long as she’s been reading them. To date, she’s written over thirty sexy, contemporary novels that have been described as “toe-curling,” “enchanting,” “steamy,” and “fun.” She adores reluctant heroes, imperfect heroines, and happily ever afters.
Erin lives in the Midwest, where she enjoys spending time with her husband (who only wants to read the sex scenes in her books), her kids (who will never read the sex scenes in her books), and her family and friends (who claim to be “shocked” by the sex scenes in her books).
