Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Something Fishy by Lois Schmitt

Something Fishy

by Lois Schmitt

June 1-30, 2021 Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours for SOMETHING FISHY (A Kristy Farrell Mystery Book #2) by Lois Schmitt.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!

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Book Description

When attorney Samuel (Sam) Wong goes missing, wildlife magazine reporter Kristy Farrell thinks the disappearance may tie into her latest story concerning twenty acres of prime property that the local aquarium hopes to purchase. Sam works for multi-million dollar land developer Lucien Moray who wants to buy the property for an upscale condominium project. The waterfront community is divided on this issue like the Hatfields and McCoys with environmentalists siding with the aquarium and local business owners lining up behind Moray.

Soon a body is found in a nearby inlet, the aquarium is plagued with accidents, a second murder occurs, and Kristy has a near death encounter with a nine foot bull shark. Kristy investigates the aquarium murders and discovers weak alibis and strong motives.

But ferreting out the murderer isn’t Kristy’s only challenge. Her visiting widowed septuagenarian mother announces her engagement. Kristy suspects her mom’s soon to be husband is not all he appears to be. As Kristy tries find out the truth before her mother ties the knot, she also races the clock to find the aquarium killer before this killer strikes again.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/51074427-something-fishy?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=HadrXMwNXO&rank=2

Something Fishy

by Lois Schmitt

Genre: Cozy Mystery
Published by: Encircle Publications
Publication Date: July 15th 2019
Number of Pages: 244
ISBN: 1948338793 (ISBN13: 9781948338790)
Series: A Kristy Farrell Mystery #2 || Each is a Stand-Alone Novel

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My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

SOMETHING FISHY (A Kristy Farrell Mystery Book #2) by Lois Schmitt is an amateur sleuth cozy mystery featuring a female wildlife magazine feature writer who never stops asking questions. Even though this is the second book in this series, it is easily read as a standalone.

Kristy Farrell is on assignment working on two articles for the magazine, both centered around the Long Island Clam Cove Aquarium. The first article revolves around the local fight over the use of twenty acres of prime Long Island beach front and the second is a feature on deadly sea animals. Environmentalists want the land to enlarge the scope of the aquarium’s facilities and a rich land developer and local business owners want the land for upscale beachfront condos.

When a body is found floating in the local marina, Kristy and her veterinarian daughter, Abby work to discover the secrets of all the players involved in the race to raise the necessary money to buy the twenty acres. When a second murder occurs, Kristy needs to uncover the motive and killer before anyone else turns up dead and she needs to make her magazine’s deadline.

This is an enjoyable cozy read with entertaining characters, a plot full of red herrings and interesting marine life information interwoven throughout. Besides the primary mystery, you also have personal family intrigue occurring at the same time with Kristy’s mother. Ms. Schmitt was able to bring many story threads together in a satisfying conclusion that had me continually guessing.

I can recommend this amateur sleuth cozy mystery and I hope there are more to come.

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Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

“Something bad happened to Sam. I know it.”

Katie Chandler’s sea green eyes filled with tears. A sea lion trainer at the Clam Shell Cove Aquarium, Katie had been my daughter’s college roommate.

“Maybe Sam worked late and forgot to call,” I said.

Katie shook her head, her chestnut hair flying in the bay breeze. “No. He hasn’t answered my texts or phone calls. I stopped by his house twice too. No one’s home.”

Silence. I tried thinking of something helpful, or at least hopeful, to say.

“I called the police, Mrs. Farrell. The officer said being stood up for a dinner date isn’t enough for a missing persons case—that maybe it was Sam’s way of breaking up.”

I shifted my gaze to the whitecaps on the bay while Katie’s statement sank into my brain.  Perhaps the officer was right. I knew from my daughter Abby that the relationship between Katie Chandler and Samuel Wong had hit a rough patch.

The conflict: Katie, who served as executor of her late grandmother’s charitable trust, was donating six million dollars of this money to the aquarium’s expansion project, which included the acquisition of twenty acres of adjacent land. Sam worked as executive assistant to multi-millionaire developer Lucien Moray who wanted to buy the bay front property for luxury condominiums. What started off as friendly bantering between Katie and Sam had escalated into explosive arguments that had become increasingly personal.

But Katie and Sam weren’t the only ones embroiled in this controversy. The community at large had become like the Hatfields and McCoys. Environmentalists wanted the property to go to the aquarium where it would be used for breeding grounds for endangered species, an aquatic   animal rehabilitation center, and a research camp for marine scientists. Local business owners sided with Moray, hoping high end condo owners would bolster the area’s economy. I was writing an article on this for Animal Advocate Magazine. That’s why I was at the aquarium today.

Katie continued, “No matter what happened between us, Sam would never stand me up. He’s my fiancé not someone I picked up a few hours ago at a bar. Besides, Sam came around to my point of view. He had it with Lucien Moray. He hadn’t told anyone but me yet, but he was quitting his job at the end of the year.”

“I’ve an interview later this morning with Moray,” I said. “I’ll check around and see what I can find out. Someone in Moray’s office may know Sam’s whereabouts.”

“What if no one does?”

“Let’s take it one step at a time.” I glanced at my watch, then pushed myself off the rock where I’d been sitting, a task that would have been easier if I were ten years younger and twenty pounds lighter. “Speaking of interviews, my appointment with your aquarium director is in five minutes, so I better head inside. I’ll call you tonight.”

Katie sighed. “Thanks. I should get back to my sea lions too. We’ve a show at eleven.” She rose and stretched her small wiry body. “After the show, I’ll stop at Sam’s house again.”

Katie, shoulders slumped, wandered off in the direction of the outdoor sea lion amphitheater. I stood for a moment, inhaling the salt air while watching a seagull dive into the bay and zoom back to the sky with a fish in its mouth. As the autumn wind sent a sudden chill down my spine, I wrapped my arms around my body, thinking back to when Katie and my Abby attended college. Abby often acted impulsively, out of emotion, but Katie had always been levelheaded, never someone to jump to conclusions. What if Sam is really in trouble? The thought nagged at me as I trekked up the sandy beach and stepped into the building that housed the indoor exhibits.

I made my way down a long corridor, surrounded by floor to ceiling glass tanks housing ocean life from around the world. I paused at the shark tank and marveled at the grace and beauty of these fearsome predators gliding silently through the water, causing hardly a ripple. I would be back here soon. In addition to my article on the land expansion, I was writing a story on ocean predators.

I veered down the administration wing. When I came to a door marked  DIRECTOR, I glanced again at my watch. Ten-thirty. Right on time. I knocked.

“Enter,” a booming voice responded. I pulled open the door and stepped inside. 

Standing in front of me was a man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties. Noting his polished wingtips, sharply creased trousers, navy blazer, crisp white shirt, and perfectly knotted tie, I wished I’d dusted the sand off my shoes.

We stood face to face. Actually, it was more like face to chest. I was only five feet tall and this man towered over me by at least a foot and a half.

“Commander Conrad West,” he said, extending his arm. His handshake was firm and strong. “You must be Kristy Farrell, the reporter from Animal Advocate Magazine.”

Conrad West stood ramrod straight, probably a throw-back from his military training. A former naval commander—the youngest African American to be appointed a commander in the navy’s history—he had started his career as a medical corpsman. He had been director of the Clam Shell Cove Aquarium since his retirement from the navy last year.

He walked behind his desk and positioned himself in a large swivel chair.

“You may sit,” he said, pointing to a straight back chair facing him.

I slid into the chair, suppressing the urge to playfully salute.

He went straight to the point. “I understand you’re writing about the land acquisition. Have you seen our expansion plans?”

“Yes, and they are impressive. But how will the aquarium come up with the money to buy this land?” I asked, fumbling through my bag for my pad and pen. “You’re competing with the bottomless pockets of Lucien Moray.”

Commander West leaned forward, his hands clasped in front, as if praying that what he was about to say would come true. “The current property owner, Stuart Holland, is a business man who’s not about to forgo a profit. But he’s also an active conservationist and a lifelong resident of this area who would like to see the land used in an environmentally friendly manner. He’s kept it vacant until recent financial loses forced him to put it up for sale.” 

The Commander leaned back. “There’ll be no bidding war. He set a price—ten million dollars. The land is worth more, but Stuart wants it to go to us, so he set a price he feels we can reach. If we can raise the money by next summer, the land is ours.”

“Ten million is a high goal.”

He nodded. “More than half of the funding will come from a trust set up by Alicia Wilcox Chandler. We also have one million in reserve that we accumulated during the past few years. Of course, we’re still three million short, but our new development officer is planning an aggressive fundraising campaign with—”

A loud knock on the door interrupted the conversation.

Commander West scowled. “Enter.”

A plump woman with a bad case of acne barged into the room. She wore jeans and a light blue shirt with an aquarium patch on the upper left pocket identifying her as Madge.

“Commander,” she said, slightly out of breath. “We have a problem. The sea lion show is in ten minutes, and Katie just ran out.”

“What do you mean she ran out?”

The woman shrugged. “She took a call on her cell phone, then flew out of the amphitheater.

“Didn’t she say anything?” The scowl hadn’t left his face.

The woman paused, furrowing her eyebrows as if deep in thought. “Oh, yeah. But I don’t know if it had to do with why she left.”

“What did she say?” He appeared to be talking through gritted teeth.

“She said two fishermen found a body floating in the inlet.”

***

Author Bio

A mystery fan since she read her first Nancy Drew, Lois Schmitt combined a love of mysteries with a love of animals in her series featuring wildlife reporter Kristy Farrell. She is a member of several wildlife and humane organizations as well as Mystery Writers of America. Lois worked for many years as a freelance writer and is the author of Smart Spending, a consumer education book for young people. She previously worked as media spokesperson for a local consumer affairs agency and currently teaches at Nassau Community College on Long Island. Lois lives in Massapequa with her family which includes a 120 pound Bernese Mountain Dog. This dog bears a striking resemblance to Archie, a dog of many breeds who looks like a small bear, featured in her Kristy Farrell Mystery Series. Lois was 2nd runner up for the Killer Nashville Claymore Award for Something Fishy.

Author Social Media Links

LoisSchmitt.com
Goodreads
Twitter: @schmittmystery
Facebook: @LoisSchmittAuthor
Instagram: @loisschmittmysteries  

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RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/f24bf84b743/?

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Dead Tree Tales by Rush Leaming

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours for DEAD TREE TALES by Rush Leaming.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!

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Book Description

Set in Charleston, SC, and the surrounding islands, police are called to investigate the poisoning of a much-loved 1000-year-old tree, only to find evidence of a more brutal crime. From there, the story explodes into a fast-paced, multi-character thriller unlike any you’ve ever read.

Not for the faint of heart…“Dead Tree Tales by Rush Leaming is about a lot more than a dead tree. It’s a mystery. It’s a crime story. It’s a thriller. It’s a powerful comment on today’s society and politics… fast-paced, full of action and intrigue… It’s a real page-turner and just a fantastic read.” – Lorraine Cobcroft, Reader’s Favorite

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57666953-dead-tree-tales?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=wm2bHLUxaw&rank=1

Dead Tree Tales

by Rush Leaming

Genre: Crime Thriller
Published by: Bridgewood
Publication Date: June 8th 2021
Number of Pages: 488
ISBN: 0999745654 (ISBN13: 9780999745656)

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My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

DEAD TREE TALES by Rush Leaming is a fantastic new mystery/crime thriller that is impossible to put down. Mr. Leaming ties together several crimes which include the arboricide of a 1000-year-old legendary tree with the murder of an unknown young female all with acute observations of today’s political and societal unrest and corruption.

Detectives Charlie Harper and Elena Vasquez of the Charlestown PD are called out to Johns Island to investigate the poisoning of Addison’s Oak nicknamed “The Tree” which has survived for 1000 years. As they survey the area, they also notice blood on the grass and the severed tip of a finger.

As the investigation progresses, it becomes more complex, twisted and leads to a startling climax.

I cannot say enough about how much I enjoyed this book. The author’s observations through the eyes of his two main characters brings Charlestown and the coastal islands to life. Each of the two main detectives are having personal family problems which the author handles with honesty and empathy. The secondary characters are also fully fleshed and add to the depth and realism of the story. All the characters could walk right off the page. The politics and racial tensions are woven throughout and based on current events.

I feel this is one of the most perfectly crafted mix of characterization and plotted mystery/crime thrillers that I have read. I loved it!

I highly recommend this story.

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Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

It was known simply as The Tree; that is what the locals on Johns Island, South Carolina, called it. A Southern live oak born a thousand years ago (some even said fifteen hundred), its gargantuan limbs swirled and stretched as much as two hundred feet in all directions. The lower arms, heavy with age, sometimes sank into the earth only to reemerge. Other branches flailed recklessly in the sky, like some sort of once-screaming kraken turned to wood by an ancient curse. 

Generation after generation had protected it. Rising from the center of a former indigo plantation, and now officially known as Addison’s Oak, The Tree had long been a source of pride, even fear, in the surrounding community, as well as James Island, Wadmalaw Island, and the nearby city of Charleston. 

But now, The Tree was dying. It was not from natural causes either, not from time, nor gravity, nor the weather.

Someone had killed it.

“Is that a thing?” Detective Charlie Harper asked as he turned his head to look at his partner, Detective Elena Vasquez. 

“I think so.” Elena squinted her eyes toward the top of the canopy, the leafy summit shadowed and backlit by the noon sun.

“Arborcide? That’s a thing?” Charlie asked again. 

An Asian-American man in his mid-twenties wearing wraparound sunglasses stood next to the two detectives. “Yep. You remember that incident a few years ago in Auburn? Toomer’s Corner. Crazy Alabama fan poisoned the tree there.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “But I mean legally. Is it legally a crime to do this?”

“Cops were involved there,” the man said. “The guy went to jail. Has to be something. Why don’t you call them? See what they did.” He pulled a pack of spearmint gum from the front pocket of his jeans and stuffed five pieces in his mouth, noticing Charlie watching him. “Quitting smoking. Nicotine gum makes me dizzy.”

Charlie nodded. “Been there.” Six feet tall, with a closely trimmed beard under bright-blue eyes, he walked around the perimeter of the field. 

Salt air swirled around him—they were only a couple of miles from the beach—and Charlie realized it was the first time he had been away from the city and out on the islands in months, maybe even over a year.

Elena Vasquez, an athletic five-ten with shoulder-length black hair bobby-pinned over her ears, stood in front of the young man and opened a new page in the Notes app on her iPhone. “So, you’re the one who called about this?”

“Yes. It took some digging to figure out who to contact. I didn’t know there weren’t any police stations out here.”

“That’s correct.” She typed the date 5/19/2015 at the top of the page. “Closest station is the Island Sheriff’s Patrol on James Island, but they don’t handle things like this. That’s why you got us from the city. And who are you again?”

“Daniel Lee.”

She looked up from her iPhone. “Daniel is a nice name. It’s my son’s name, though we call him Danny. Where are you from, Mr. Lee?”

“I’m originally from Maryland—Chesapeake Bay area—but now I live in Charleston. West Ashley. I’m a Ph.D. candidate at the college.”

“College of Charleston?” Elena asked and continued typing.

“Yes. Environmental science. Teach a couple of undergrad classes as well. And I’m president of the local Sierra Club chapter. Our service project for this year has been public park maintenance and cleanup. I came here a week ago and saw that broken limb—”

“This one?” Charlie pointed at a fat twisted branch about the length of a Greyhound bus lying near the base of the tree.

“Yes.”

“Well . . .” Charlie said. “How do you know it wasn’t lightning or something?”

Daniel went over to Charlie and squatted next to the fallen limb. “There are no burn marks. Lightning would leave those.”

“Maybe it’s just old age. Isn’t this thing like a thousand years old or something?”

“Possibly more. It is rotting,” Daniel said. “But not from old age. See this discoloration? The rust-colored saturation of the stump where it broke?”

Charlie leaned in a little closer. “Yes.”

“That’s from poison, from a lot of poison. And you can see spots like this forming and spreading all around the trunk and on other branches.”

Elena stood beneath The Tree, placing her hand on a dark-orange splotch on the trunk. The gray bark surrounding the stain felt tough and firm, but inside the color spot, it was soft and crumbling. “I see it.”

“It’s like cancer,” Daniel said. “The Tree is not dead yet, but it will be soon. I had the soil tested as well as samples from the broken limb. They came back positive for massive levels of DS190.”

“And that is?” Charlie said.

“A variant of tebuthiuron. A very powerful herbicide. Similar to what was used at Toomer’s Corner. Somebody has been injecting the tree as well as dumping it into the ground. Probably for a few months to reach these levels.”

“Injecting the tree?” Elena said.

Daniel pulled them over to the base of the trunk where a ring of jagged holes stretched just above the ground. “Yes. See these gashes? Somebody has been boring into the trunk, then filling it with DS190.”

Charlie took out a pair of latex gloves and put them on before touching the holes in the trunk. “You’re sure this is intentional?”

“Has to be. This stuff doesn’t just appear on its own. It’s man-made. Someone has been doing this.”

“But why?” Charlie asked.

Daniel held out a hand, palm up. “Thus, the reason the two of you are here.”

Charlie shook his head. “I don’t know about this. We usually work homicide.”

Daniel gestured towards the gashes in the trunk. “You have a murder victim. Or soon will. Right in front of you.”

“But it’s a tree!” Charlie said.

Elena looked up from her phone. “Okay, Mr. Harper. Easy.”

Daniel motioned for them to follow as he walked to the backside of the trunk. “There’s something else.” He came to a stop in a patch of grass ringed with dandelion sprouts and pointed to dark-red streaks spread across the blades. “That’s blood, isn’t it?”

Charlie bent down and touched his gloved hand to one of the blades. “Maybe.” He took out a plastic bag and a Leatherman multitool from his jacket. He pulled apart the hinged scissors, then clipped away about a dozen pieces of grass and dropped them into the bag.

“And another thing,” Daniel said and led Elena to a spot about ten feet away. He pointed to a white card lying in the grass. “I didn’t touch any of this, by the way. I didn’t want to disturb the crime scene . . . I watch a lot of cop shows. I know how that goes.”

“Doesn’t everyone.” Elena squatted down, taking a plastic bag from her jacket. She used tweezers to pick up the card, muddy and frayed at the edges and turned it over to reveal a yellow cat emoji, just the head, whiskers, and a faint smile, printed on the opposite side. There were no words, just the image. 

A strong breeze moved through the leaves of the great tree, a sound like rain showers mixed with groaning as the heavy limbs bent in the wind. 

Charlie Harper removed his glove and rubbed the edge of his dark-brown beard. Looking at the massive branches, which did seem like the arms of giants, he began to understand why The Tree was such a big deal. “Have to say, it is beautiful here. Can’t believe I’ve been in Charleston four years and never been here. I should bring Amy. She’d love it.”

Daniel looked at Elena for an explanation. 

“His daughter,” she said, then turned to Charlie. “You should. My dad brought me here a few times when I was a kid.”

“Well, you better hurry,” Daniel said.

“There’s nothing to stop it?” Elena asked.

“Probably not. I contacted a team of forestry researchers I know from Virginia Tech. They are going to send a team down to look at it, see if anything can be done. I sent a request to the Parks Department to pay for it. If they don’t, Sierra Club will hold a fundraiser.”

Charlie sighed. “Okay. While we decide what to do about this, I’ll call and have some signs and barriers put up to keep the tourists away.”

Elena turned to Daniel. “Thank you for meeting us here. Could you come to our station in the city today or tomorrow to give a formal statement?”

“Sure.”

“Bring copies of the lab work. We gonna find anything when we do a background check on you?”

Daniel shook his head. “No. Just some parking tickets . . . a lot of tickets actually. Parking at the college is a bitch.”

“That it is,” Elena said. “Here is my card if you think of anything else.”

“Thanks,” Daniel said. He stopped a moment as if to say something, then continued toward a white Chevy Volt parked near the road.

Elena looked at Charlie and raised her eyebrows. “So, Mr. Harper, what do you think?”

“Ehh . . . I mean I understand it’s old and rare and special and all that, but it’s a fucking tree. I don’t know anything about trees, do you?”

“No, but . . .” 

“But what?”

“I don’t know,” Elena said and looked around the field. “My Spidey-sense tells me there’s more to it than just some weird vandalism.” She took a step forward and winced.

“Back acting up?” Charlie asked.

“A bit,” she said.

“Lunchtime anyway. Let’s take a break. I’m starving. June and I got into it again this morning. Skipped breakfast.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Elena swept a strand of black hair behind her ear. She pointed with her chin down a two-lane road to a crooked sign with a faded image of a pagoda: The Formosa Grill. “Chinese?” 

“Sure,” Charlie said. 

The two of them began to walk toward their gray Ford Explorer when Charlie saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and knelt in the grass. He used his Leatherman tool to again pry away several blades.

“What is it?” Elena asked.

Charlie’s head bolted upright, his blue eyes narrowing. “Mr. Lee!” he shouted. He pulled another latex glove from his pocket.

In the parking lot, Daniel climbed out of his car and made his way back to the field. “Yes?”

“Mr. Lee, when was the last time you were here before meeting us today?”

“Yesterday morning,” Daniel said.

Elena knelt next to Charlie, looked into the grass, and let a low whistle escape her lips. She used her phone to take a photo.

Charlie used tweezers to pick up a severed finger. Sliced just below the knuckle, the stump crusted in blood, the flesh covered with red ants, it ended with a sharp green fingernail. He looked at Daniel. “Did you happen to notice this?”

Daniel swallowed hard, turning his face to the side. “No. I did not.” 

Charlie put the finger in a plastic bag. 

Elena looked at him, her wide brown eyes giving him a knowing shimmer. “You interested in this case now, Mr. Harper?”

Charlie didn’t flinch. He stared at The Tree.

***

Author Bio

RUSH LEAMING has done many things including spending 15+ years in film/video production working on such projects as The Lord of the Rings films. His first novel, Don’t Go, Ramanya, a political thriller set in Thailand, was self-published in the fall of 2016 and reached number one on Amazon. His equally successful second novel, entitled The Whole of the Moon, a coming-of-age tale set in the Congo at the end of the Cold War, was published in 2018. His short stories have appeared in Notations, 67 Press, Lightwave, Green Apple, 5k Fiction, and The Electric Eclectic. He has lived in New York City, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Zaire, Thailand, Spain, Greece, England, and Kenya. He currently lives in South Carolina.

Author Social Media

LeamingRush.wixsite.com/nightfall
Goodreads
BookBub – @RushLeaming
Instagram – @rushleaming
Twitter – @LeamingRush
Facebook

Purchase Links

 Amazon  

Goodreads

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Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: City of Deadly Dreams by Elyse Douglas

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Virtual Author Book Tours for CITY OF DEADLY DREAMS by Elyse Douglas.

Below you will find a book description, 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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Book Description

Dane Cooper, an NYC Hell’s Kitchen private detective, is hired by a Tennessee man to find his handsome, 20-year-old son named Elvis, who has been missing for several months. Though hesitant at first, Dane takes the case because he needs the money.  Dane soon learns that the case centers around a beautiful, mysterious blonde, named Darcy. Against his better judgment, he falls for her, believing she might lead him to Elvis.  Her dangerous secrets trouble him, and he realizes he can’t trust her.

Dane’s investigation turns deadly when he learns that Elvis has left a trail of pregnant young girls, unhappy husbands, and vengeful women.  Dane becomes a target as he struggles to find Elvis and save him from the killers who are closing in. Can Dane save Elvis and himself, or will Darcy’s secrets get them all killed?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57906760-city-of-deadly-dreams?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=7gVw9N2owy&rank=1

City of Deadly Dreams

by Elyse Douglas

Publisher:  Broadback (May 1, 2021)
Category: Hard-Boiled Mystery, Private Investigator Mystery
Tour dates: May 31-June 30, 2021
ISBN: B08Y86X4B3
Available in ebook,  250 pages

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

CITY OF DEADLY DREAMS by Elyse Douglas is a noir style private investigator mystery. The story has the atmosphere of an old style gritty P.I. mystery, but it is set in present day New York City.

Private Investigator Dane Cooper is hired to find Elvis. Elvis is a twenty-year old spitting image of THE Elvis and he has not been in contact with his father and mother in Tennessee for several months. Dane is hesitant to take the case, but he is offered too much money to turn the case down.

As the investigation progresses, Dane begins to believe Elvis has been a victim of foul play. He meets Elvis’ ex-high school music teacher, Darcy who is rumored to have been having an affair with her student. Darcy is a beautiful blonde and Dane falls for her even as he believes she is not telling him the whole truth about Elvis’ where abouts.

As Dane follows the trail to find Elvis, he runs into a vengeful, jealous ex-husband, a madame of a male escort service and a connected Vegas assistant casino manager with a missing underage daughter. Will Dane find and save not only Elvis, but himself before they end up dead?

This is a fast-paced mystery plot with several well placed red-herrings and plot twists. The ending is a big twist that I was not expecting.  Dane is the tough, single POV investigator and all the characters are classic noir character archetypes set in the present and that makes for a unique and fun read.

I recommend this noir style P.I. mystery set in the present.

***

Excerpt

“I can’t go back,” she muttered.

“Back to where, Darcy?”

“I can’t be alone in that apartment.  Not now.  I won’t make it through another night.”

“Do you have a friend or relative you can stay with?  Maybe a therapist you can call?”

She twisted away, grimacing.  “God, no.  I can’t be with them—with anyone who knows me.  I can’t talk to them anymore.  Don’t you understand?  I can’t.”

I softened my voice.  “Darcy… Is there anyone at work you can…?”

“… No…Well, Carol.  Carol Hemmings.  Sweet Carol.  Silly Carol.  We went to high school together.  She’s a good friend, and she’s the one who got me the bookkeeping job, but…”

“But what?”

“Carol’s married to a guy who took Rod’s side.  Carol is a good friend, but she still thinks Rod and I can make it, if we’d just go to a marriage counselor or something.”  Darcy lifted a weak hand and let it drop.  “She’s a hopeless romantic…” 

She began twisting her hands.  Her face fell into agony.  “I’ve just been such a fool.”

I leaned in toward her.  “Darcy, all you did was fall in love.  That’s all.  That’s nothing to beat yourself up about.”

“Don’t you see?  I’ve ruined everything.  Everything I stood for and believed in.”

I searched for the right response.  “Just give it time… a little time to get your balance back.”

She shook that away, gathered herself up, then gave me a strange and hopeful look.  “I know this is going to sound crazy, but… can I come to New York with you?”

That jarred me.  I had never even considered the possibility.  I scanned her, up and down.  She appeared sickened by the gravity of the moment.  Seeing her moist eyes and brittle state, I was left with few options.  And, no, I’m not a saint.  Having her with me couldn’t hurt: she was my best hope for contacting Elvis.  Her question had changed the quality of the conversation.  We sat in a guarded silence.  She turned to face the open window, staring out into the gray face of winter.

“Look, Darcy, you can come with me—if that’s what you really want—but maybe making contact with an old friend or close relative—going to see them and forgetting about everything for a while—might be better for you.”

She shrank, and I could see the dark remoteness return.  She was silently screaming for help, and I wasn’t qualified to administer the kind of help she needed.  What could I do?  Leave her?  Say no?  Then what? 

I decided not to abandon her.  I decided to listen and let her unload her mountain of guilt and anger.  I hoped that after a good night’s sleep, she’d change her mind.  And I was sure that by morning, she would change her mind.

“Darcy, you can come to New York with me if you want.  You can stay the night at the hotel with me, if you want.  I have two double beds, or, you can take a separate room.  That’s fine too.  I’ll call the airline and get you on my flight leaving for New York in the morning.”

She looked at me, her eyes pleading.  “I know I sound a little crazy.  I know you’ve just met me and I hear my own crazy words, but I can’t help it.  I can’t go back to that lonely apartment and I can’t be alone.  I hate being alone.  I’m not a person who can be alone.”

***

About the Author

Elyse Douglas is the pen name for the married writing team Elyse Parmentier and Douglas Pennington. Elyse grew up near the sea, roaming the beaches, reading and writing stories and poetry, receiving a master’s degree in English Literature.  She has enjoyed careers as an English teacher, an actress and a speech-language pathologist.

Douglas has worked as a graphic designer, a corporate manager and an equities trader.  He attended the Cincinnati College Conservatory of Music and played the piano professionally for many years.

Author Social Media Links

Website: www.elysedouglas.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/douglaselyse
Facebook: www.facebook.com/elyse.authorsdouglas

Purchase Link

Amazon

Book Review: The Body in the Garden by Katharine Schellman

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

THE BODY IN THE GARDEN (Lily Adler Mystery Book #1) by Katharine Schellman is the debut book in a new amateur sleuth historical mystery series set in Regency England. The intelligent and determined heroine of the series, the vivid secondary characters and the intricate plot had me hooked from the start.

Lily Adler is a young widow returning to London and society after her first stage of mourning. The first ball she attends is given by her oldest friend Lady Walter. As she is getting away from the crush in her host’s garden, she overhears but cannot see a man attempting blackmail. A shot is fired.

Long-time friend of her late husband and current Navy Captain, Jack Hartley returns with Lily to find the dead body. They soon learn Miss Oswald, a debutante from the West Indies knew the dead man and they join forces to uncover a killer. The three conceal their investigation within the whirl of London’s social season. Lily and her friends must uncover the secrets and identity of the killer before she becomes the next target.

I enjoyed meeting amateur sleuth, Lily Adler and her accomplices. Ms. Schellman brings to life intelligent Regency era characters, who remain true to the norms of their time period and also use it to their advantage. The addition of the West Indies characters and plot connection added diversity and interest to the story. The plot is clever and full of red herrings and misdirection which make it difficult to put down and the ending was a surprise which always makes it more enjoyable for me.

I highly recommend this new amateur sleuth, historical mystery and author. I am looking forward to reading the next book in the series.

***

About the Author

Katharine Schellman studied theatre and history at the College of William & Mary, after which she went on to dance professionally, work in political consulting, and collect addresses up and down the east coast of the United States. Her nonfiction and essays have been published on The Huffington Post, Mother Magazine, A Practical Wedding, and more.

Katharine’s debut historical mystery, The Body in the Garden, was published in April 2020 and led to her being named one of BookPage’s 16 Women to Watch in 2020. Katharine currently lives and writes in the mountains of Virginia with her husband, preschooler, and the many houseplants she keeps accidentally murdering.

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Local Woman Missing by Mary Kubica

Hi, everyone!

Today I am once again posting on the Harlequin Trade Publishing Mystery/Thriller Summer 2021 Blog Tour. I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for LOCAL WOMAN MISSING by Mary Kubica.

Below you will find 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!

***

About the Book

People don’t just disappear without a trace…

Shelby Tebow is the first to go missing. Not long after, Meredith Dickey and her six-year-old daughter, Delilah, vanish just blocks away from where Shelby was last seen, striking fear into their once-peaceful community. Are these incidents connected? After an elusive search that yields more questions than answers, the case eventually goes cold.

Now, eleven years later, Delilah shockingly returns. Everyone wants to know what happened to her, but no one is prepared for what they’ll find…
In this smart and chilling thriller, master of suspense and New York Times bestselling author Mary Kubica takes domestic secrets to a whole new level, showing that some people will stop at nothing to keep the truth buried.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/54737068-local-woman-missing?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=NwGoTuK5c0&rank=1

Local Woman Missing

Mary Kubica

On Sale Date: May 18, 2021

9780778389446, 0778389448

Fiction / Thrillers / Psychological

352 pages

***

My Book Review

RATING: 3 out of 5 Stars

LOCAL WOMAN MISSING by Mary Kubica is a standalone domestic thriller/mystery that for me read more as a mystery than domestic thriller. The story is told by various characters in two interwoven timelines which are eleven years apart.

Eleven years ago a new mother, Shelby Tebow disappears while on a night time jog. Soon after a mother, Meredith Dickey and her six-year-old daughter, Delilah also disappear without a trace.

Now, eleven years later, Delilah returns with everyone trying to find out what happened to her. What is discovered will have repercussions in families throughout the neighborhood.

This story ends up for me being a satisfying mystery story, but I never felt it was what I would call a domestic thriller. The beginning, while intriguing also became more confusing as characters were added and I had to keep checking which timeline I was in until about a third of the way into the book. I liked the mystery and would have liked a few red herrings or clues throughout instead of the sudden resolution out of the blue. Delilah’s story I assume was added for the thriller quality, but it just never was believable to me.

I am in the minority with my opinion and others have loved this book. Ms. Kubica has several other books, but this one was just an OK read for me.

***

Excerpt

MEREDITH

11 YEARS BEFORE

March

The text comes from a number I don’t know. It’s a 630 area code. Local. I’m in the bathroom with Leo as he soaks in the tub. He has his bath toys lined up on the edge of it and they’re taking turns swan diving into the now-lukewarm water. It used to be hot, too hot for Leo to get into. But he’s been in there for thirty minutes now playing with his octopus, his whale, his fish. He’s having a ball.

Meanwhile I’ve lost track of time. I have a client in the early stages of labor. We’re texting. Her husband wants to take her to the hospital. She thinks it’s too soon. Her contractions are six and a half minutes apart. She’s absolutely correct. It’s too soon. The hospital would just send her home, which is frustrating, not to mention a huge inconvenience for women in labor. And anyway, why labor at the hospital when you can labor in the comfort of your own home? First-time fathers always get skittish. It does their wives no good. By the time I get to them, more times than not, the woman in labor is the more calm of the two. I have to focus my attention on pacifying a nervous husband. It’s not what they’re paying me for. 

I tell Leo one more minute until I shampoo his hair, and then fire off a quick text, suggesting my client have a snack to keep her energy up, herself nourished. I recommend a nap, if her body will let her. The night ahead will be long for all of us. Childbirth, especially when it comes to first-time moms, is a marathon, not a sprint. 

Josh is home. He’s in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner while Delilah plays. Delilah’s due up next in the tub. By the time I leave, the bedtime ritual will be done or nearly done. I feel good about that, hating the times I leave Josh alone with so much to do. 

I draw up my text and then hit Send. The reply is immediate, that all too familiar ping that comes to me at all hours of the day or night. 

I glance down at the phone in my hand, expecting it’s my client with some conditioned reply. Thx. 

Instead: I know what you did. I hope you die. 

Beside the text is a picture of a grayish skull with large, black eye sockets and teeth. The symbol of death. 

My muscles tense. My heart quickens. I feel thrown off. The small bathroom feels suddenly, overwhelmingly, oppressive. It’s steamy, moist, hot. I drop down to the toilet and have a seat on the lid. My pulse is loud, audible in my own ears. I stare at the words before me, wondering if I’ve misread. Certainly I’ve misread. Leo is asking, “Is it a minute, Mommy?” I hear his little voice, muff led by the ringing in my ears. But I’m so thrown by the cutthroat text that I can’t speak. 

I glance at the phone again. I haven’t misread. 

The text is not from my client in labor. It’s not from any client of mine whose name and number is stored in my phone. As far as I can tell, it’s not from anyone I know.

A wrong number, then, I think. Someone sent this to me by accident. It has to be. My first thought is to delete it, to pretend this never happened. To make it disappear. Out of sight, out of mind. 

But then I think of whoever sent it just sending it again or sending something worse. I can’t imagine anything worse. 

I decide to reply. I’m careful to keep it to the point, to not sound too judgy or fault-finding because maybe the intended recipient really did do something awful—stole money from a children’s cancer charity—and the text isn’t as egregious as it looks at first glance. 

I text: You have the wrong number. 

The response is quick. 

I hope you rot in hell, Meredith. 

The phone slips from my hand. I yelp. The phone lands on the navy blue bath mat, which absorbs the sound of its fall. 

Meredith. 

Whoever is sending these texts knows my name. The texts are meant for me. 

A second later Josh knocks on the bathroom door. I spring from the toilet seat, and stretch down for the phone. The phone has fallen facedown. I turn it over. The text is still there on the screen, staring back at me. 

Josh doesn’t wait to be let in. He opens the door and steps right inside. I slide the phone into the back pocket of my jeans before Josh has a chance to see. 

“Hey,” he says, “how about you save some water for the fish.” 

Leo complains to Josh that he is cold. “Well, let’s get you out of the bath,” Josh says, stretching down to help him out of the water. 

“I need to wash him still,” I admit. Before me, Leo’s teeth chatter. There are goose bumps on his arm that I hadn’t noticed before. He is cold, and I feel suddenly guilty, though it’s mired in confusion and fear. I hadn’t been paying any attention to Leo. There is bathwater spilled all over the floor, but his hair is still bone-dry. 

“You haven’t washed him?” Josh asks, and I know what he’s thinking: that in the time it took him to clear the kitchen table, wash pots and pans and wipe down the sinks, I did nothing. He isn’t angry or accusatory about it. Josh isn’t the type to get angry. 

“I have a client in labor,” I say by means of explanation. “She keeps texting,” I say, telling Josh that I was just about to wash Leo. I drop to my knees beside the tub. I reach for the shampoo. In the back pocket of my jeans, the phone again pings. This time, I ignore it. I don’t want Josh to know what’s happening, not until I get a handle on it for myself. 

Josh asks, “Aren’t you going to get that?” I say that it can wait. I focus on Leo, on scrubbing the shampoo onto his hair, but I’m anxious. I move too fast so that the shampoo suds get in his eye. I see it happening, but all I can think to do is wipe it from his forehead with my own soapy hands. It doesn’t help. It makes it worse. 

Leo complains. Leo isn’t much of a complainer. He’s an easygoing kid. “Ow,” is all that he says, his tiny wet hands going to his eyes, though shampoo in the eye burns like hell. 

“Does that sting, baby?” I ask, feeling contrite. But I’m bursting with nervous energy. There’s only one thought racing through my mind. I hope you rot in hell, Meredith. 

Who would have sent that, and why? Whoever it is knows me. They know my name. They’re mad at me for something I’ve done. Mad enough to wish me dead. I don’t know anyone like that. I can’t think of anything I’ve done to upset someone enough that they’d want me dead.

I grab the wet washcloth draped over the edge of the tub. I try handing it to Leo, so that he can press it to his own eyes. But my hands shake as I do. I wind up dropping the washcloth into the bath. The tepid water rises up and splashes him in the eyes. This time he cries. 

“Oh, buddy,” I say, “I’m so sorry, it slipped.” 

But as I try again to grab it from the water and hand it to him, I drop the washcloth for a second time. I leave it where it is, letting Leo fish it out of the water and wipe his eyes for himself. Meanwhile Josh stands two feet behind, watching. 

My phone pings again. Josh says, “Someone is really dying to talk to you.” 

Dying. It’s all that I hear. 

My back is to Josh, thank God. He can’t see the look on my face when he says it. 

“What’s that?” I ask. 

“Your client,” Josh says. I turn to him. He motions to my phone jutting out of my back pocket. “She really needs you. You should take it, Mer,” he says softly, accommodatingly, and only then do I think about my client in labor and feel guilty. What if it is her? What if her contractions are coming more quickly now and she does need me? 

Josh says, “I can finish up with Leo while you get ready to go,” and I acquiesce, because I need to get out of here. I need to know if the texts coming to my phone are from my client or if they’re coming from someone else. 

I rise up from the floor. I scoot past Josh in the door, brushing against him. His hand closes around my upper arm as I do, and he draws me in for a hug. “Everything okay?” he asks, and I say yes, fine, sounding too chipper even to my own ears. Everything is not okay. 

“I’m just thinking about my client,” I say. “She’s had a stillbirth before, at thirty-two weeks. She never thought she’d get this far. Can you imagine that? Losing a baby at thirty-two weeks?”

Josh says no. His eyes move to Leo and he looks saddened by it. I feel guilty for the lie. It’s not this client but another who lost a baby at thirty-two weeks. When she told me about it, I was completely torn up. It took everything in me not to cry as she described for me the moment the doctor told her her baby didn’t have a heartbeat. Labor was later induced, and she had to push her dead baby out with only her mother by her side. Her husband was deployed at the time. After, she was snowed under by guilt. Was it her fault the baby died? A thousand times I held her hand and told her no. I’m not sure she ever believed me. 

My lie has the desired effect. Josh stands down, and asks if I need help with anything before I leave. I say no, that I’m just going to change my clothes and go. 

I step out of the bathroom. In the bedroom, I close the door. I grab my scrub bottoms and a long-sleeved T-shirt from my drawer. I lay them on the bed, but before I get dressed, I pull my phone out of my pocket. I take a deep breath and hold it in, summoning the courage to look. I wonder what waits there. More nasty threats? My heart hammers inside me. My knees shake. 

I take a look. There are two messages waiting for me. 

The first: Water broke. Contractions 5 min apart. 

And then: Heading to hospital.—M. 

I release my pent-up breath. The texts are from my client’s husband, sent from her phone. My legs nearly give in relief, and I drop down to the edge of the bed, forcing myself to breathe. I inhale long and deep. I hold it in until my lungs become uncomfortable. When I breathe out, I try and force away the tension. 

But I can’t sit long because my client is advancing quickly. I need to go.

Excerpted from Local Woman Missing @ 2021 by Mary Kyrychenko, used with permission by Park Row Books.

***

About the Author

Mary Kubica is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of six novels, including THE GOOD GIRL, PRETTY BABY, DON’T YOU CRY, EVERY LAST LIE, WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT, and THE OTHER MRS. A former high school history teacher, Mary holds a Bachelor of Arts degree from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, in History and American Literature. She lives outside of Chicago with her husband and two children. Her last novel THE OTHER MRS. was an instant New York Times bestseller; is coming soon to Netflix; was a LibraryReads pick for February 2020; praised by the New York Times; and highly recommended by Entertainment Weekly, People, The Week, Marie Claire, Bustle, HelloGiggles, Goodreads, PopSugar, BookRiot, HuffingtonPost, First for Women, Woman’s World, and more. Mary’s novels have been translated into over thirty languages and have sold over two million copies worldwide. She’s been described as “a helluva storyteller,” (Kirkus Reviews) and “a writer of vice-like control,” (Chicago Tribune), and her novels have been praised as “hypnotic” (People) and “thrilling and illuminating” (Los Angeles Times).  LOCAL WOMAN MISSING is her seventh novel. 

Social Media Links

Website: https://marykubica.com/ 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MaryKubicaAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MaryKubica 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/marykubica 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7392948.Mary_Kubica 

Purchase Links

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Local-Woman-Missing-Mary-Kubica/dp/0778389448/ 

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/local-woman-missing-mary-kubica/1137387568  

Bookshop: https://bookshop.org/books/local-woman-missing/9780778389446 

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780778389446 

Libro.fm: https://libro.fm/audiobooks/9781488211690-local-woman-missing 

Books-A-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Local-Woman-Missing/Mary-Kubica/9780778389446?id=8051055467945# 

Target: https://www.target.com/p/local-woman-missing-by-mary-kubica-hardcover/-/A-81225904 

Walmart: https://www.walmart.com/ip/Local-Woman-Missing-Original-ed-Hardcover-9780778389446/700252600 

Indigo: https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/local-woman-missing-a-novel/9780778389446-item.html 

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/local-woman-missing 

AppleBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/local-woman-missing/id1524947457 Google Play: https://www.google.com/books/edition/Local_Woman_Missing/sKazzQEACAAJ?hl=en

Book Review: No Easy Answer by Valerie Keogh

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

NO EASY ANSWER (The Dublin Murder Mysteries Book #6) by Valerie Keogh is a perfectly plotted, twisted and unique crime thriller/Irish Garda procedural. I finally had time to read this latest in the Detective Garda Sergeant West books and I was pulled into the investigation and mystery immediately. Even though this is the sixth book in the series, it is easily read as a standalone, but I will be making time to go back and read the previous books.

Detective Garda Sergeant Mike West and his team are hoping for a break after the complicated cases they have had recently. At first glance, the two new cases to cross his desk are seemingly simple and unrelated, but after the first interviews with relatives and the autopsies, West and his team are left with facts from interviews that do not match the science and results of the autopsies.

And then the dismembered body parts are discovered.

West and his team have clues that defy science, no motives, and contradictory statements from those involved. Will West and his team be able to solve the seemingly unsolvable?

I was captivated by the plot in this crime thriller and the intricate step-by-step investigation. This book has a plot which seems unconnected and easily solved, but it just keeps getting turned back on itself and getting more and more tangled. From comments made throughout this book, I feel this team has been involved in previous twisted plots and I will definitely be going back to read them. Mike West and team all work well together and his fiancée, being a crime writer makes the discussions in his home helpful and interesting. Ms. Keogh has written a group of recurring characters that are all fully fleshed and I would love to meet them in a pub and have a Guinness with them.

I highly recommend this crime thriller/Irish Garda procedural!

***

Author Bio

Valerie started to write several years ago. She self-published eight crime novels and one psychological thriller before signing a two book contract with Bookouture in March 2018. The first of these, Secrets Between Us, is available now and the second is due in Feb 2019. She is a registered nurse with a degree in English and a Masters in American Literature. Recently she has given up nursing to concentrate on her writing career.