I am very happy to be included in the Release Blitz for M FOR MURDER by Keri Beevis. (This book was previously published as Dead Letter Day in 2013.)
This standalone thriller’s plot will grab you from page 1 and pull you into a fast paced twisted story that intertwines a serial killer’s story from eight years ago with a present day series of killings. They thought the killer died in a fire, but there was no body.
Has he returned to continued his Alphabet Killings ?
***
My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
M for Murder by Keri Beevis is an engrossing and fast
paced standalone thriller. (This book was previously published as Dead Letter
Day in 2013.)
Eight years ago, the ninth victim of The Alphabet Killer
escaped. With her escape came the identification of the serial killer as
Professor Rodney Boone an English Professor from the college. During the
escape, the professor was stabbed twice and the basement kill room was set on
fire. No body was discovered and the killings stopped.
Present day. The killings have resumed right where they left
off in the alphabet. Rookie cop, Rebecca Angell is excited to be assisting the two
FBI agents assigned to the case. She soon finds that not every investigator plays
by the rules.
The investigators are convinced they are dealing with a
copycat killer, but Boone’s body was never found. Is Professor Boone back or is
someone else finishing The Alphabet Killers letters?
I have to say that this plot pulled me in and did not let
up. There are several red herrings and plot twists that constantly had me
questioning who the killer may be. I did not guess the killer or the twisted ending
correctly and that makes me very happy. I was disappointed in Rebecca. She was
always hot-headed and confrontational. The male characters were difficult and
chauvinistic, but I would have really liked Rebecca to have handled her
frustration and temper better.
The thriller plot is great and because of that and the
surprise twist ending I recommend this book for an engrossing read.
***
Author Bio and Social Media Links
Keri Beevis wrote her first novel at age twenty, but it was a
further twenty years before she was published after winning a contract in the
Rethink Press New Novels Competition 2012.
Born in the village of Old Catton, less than a mile from where Anna Sewell was
living when she wrote Black Beauty, Keri had a passion for reading and writing
from a young age, though her tastes veered more to the macabre.
Today she still lives in Norwich, along with her two naughty kitties, Ellie and
Lola, and a plentiful supply of red wine (her writing fuel), where she writes a
comedic lifestyle column for a local magazine. She loves Hitchcock movies,
exploring creepy places, and gets extremely competitive in local pub quizzes.
She is also a self-confessed klutz.
Keri joined the Bloodhound team in 2019 and her first release with them, the
psychological thriller, Dying To Tell, which is set in her beautiful home
county of Norfolk, has been her biggest success to date, with over 1200 four
and five star ratings on Goodreads.
Her new novel, Deep Dark Secrets (which was previously published as The
Darkness Beneath) was released in January 2020.
Today is my turn on the Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tour for The Vampire Next Door (The True Story of the Vampire Rapist) by J.T. Hunter.
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.
***
Book Synopsis:
While he stalked the streets hunting his unsuspecting victims, the residents of a quiet Florida town slept soundly, oblivious to the dark creature in their midst, unaware of the vampire next door.
John Crutchley seemed to be living the American Dream. Good-looking and blessed with a genius level IQ, he had a prestigious, white-collar job at a prominent government defense contractor, where he held top secret security clearance and handled projects for NASA and the Pentagon. To all outward appearances, he was a hard-working, successful family man with a lavish new house, a devoted wife, and a healthy young son.
But he concealed a hidden side of his personality, a dark secret tied to a hunger for blood and the overriding need to kill. As one of the most prolific serial killers in American history, Crutchley committed at least twelve murders, and possibly nearly three dozen. His IQ eclipsed that of Ted Bundy, and his body count may have as well.
Genre: True Crime Published by: RJ Parker Publishing Publication Date: October 11th 2014 Number of Pages: 365 ISBN: 1500909491 (ISBN13: 9781500909499) Purchase Links:Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads
***
My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
The Vampire Next Door: True Story of the Vampire Rapist
and Serial Killer by J.T. Hunter is a true crime story of a serial killer
who was terrifying in his ability to hide his depravity.
John “JB” Crutchley is a good looking man with a genius IQ
and working as an engineer. To his neighbors in Florida, he was a hard-working,
quiet husband, father and neighbor. He was sometimes socially awkward and could
hold a grudge, but these were just looked at as quirks. At one time he even
held a top secret security clearance when he worked on projects for the
Pentagon and NASA.
There was a dark side to JB’s personality that he kept
behind closed doors. He enjoyed bondage, choking and hungered for blood. Women
went missing in areas that JB lived. He was accused of at least twelve murders,
but authorities believe there were many more.
I found this to be a well written true crime novel. Mr.
Hunter writes an account that pulls you right into John Crutchley’s life. His
research flows into a writing style that gives you all the information without
being stark and feeling as though you are just reading an information dump. Mr.
Hunter also does a wonderful job introducing the reader to Crutchley’s victims
and the one woman who got away. At times, this killer reminded me of Ted Bundy
and that made it even more chilling.
This book focuses as much on the victims and law enforcement
officers, as it does the killer and the narrative flows perfectly to tie the
whole story together throughout the book. The ending is not what I was
expecting or hoping for, but this is not fiction and you cannot change the facts.
I highly recommend this true crime book and author. I am
looking forward to checking out more of Mr. Hunter’s work.
***
Book Excerpt
Chapter 2
You were a vampire . . .
Nineteen-year-old Christina Almah was still a virgin, and a bit naïve when it came to matters of sex, but like most teenaged girls on the verge of womanhood, she enjoyed receiving attention from good-looking, romantically inclined men. Yet, even she was surprised when, after a handsome, slightly older man took an interest in her, she found herself traveling all the way across the country to see him again.
Christina first met twenty-two-year-old Carl Von Bane several months earlier while he was visiting a friend near her hometown of Westminster, California. She immediately noticed him when he walked into the Drug Emporium where she had been working for the past year as a clerk, and they had quickly hit it off. His rugged, bad-boy looks and confident disposition combined to render her fully smitten. But the budding romance had barely begun before “Von” returned home to Florida. Their brief time together had passed much too quickly for the love-struck Miss Almah.
Since Von’s departure, they had continued their blossoming relationship by telephone racking up steep long distance bills. All the while, Christina had meticulously saved her meager Drug Emporium pay so that she could afford to purchase a plane ticket to visit him. When Von had called her a few weeks ago, Christina hinted at wanting to see him again by casually mentioning that she had some vacation time that needed to be used. When he suggested that she catch a flight to Florida to visit him, she had immediately agreed. After all, this was not some fly by night infatuation. She thought that she might be in love.
Christina had been counting the days until this trip—a weeklong vacation certain to be a memorable one if for no other reason than the fact that it would be the first time she had ever traveled alone. She booked a direct flight on Eastern Airlines from Los Angeles to Orlando International Airport, and Von had picked her up there nearly a week ago. Since then, she had been staying with Von in his mother’s mobile home at Lot 12 of the Enchanted Lakes Mobile Home Park on Malabar Road, near the eastern edge of the City of Palm Bay in southern Brevard County.
Named for the lush palm trees that lined the bay at the mouth of Turkey Creek, the nearly 100-square-mile Palm Bay had experienced a period of rapid growth in recent years fueled by an influx of retirees, northern transplants, and space industry workers. As part of the “Space Coast,” Palm Bay benefited from its proximity to Cape Canaveral, home to the National Aeronautics and Space Administration’s space shuttle program. To the west of Palm Bay, just past Interstate 95, a vast expanse of swamps and marsh grass stretched beyond the horizon, home to an endless assortment of flora and fauna. Under the blinding gaze of the eternal Florida sun, cold-blooded creatures swam silent and unseen as they had for ages past, ancient predators stalking their unsuspecting prey.
Immediately to the east of Palm Bay sits the Town of Malabar, a small, quiet community only thirteen square miles in size. Its eastern edge meets the Intracoastal Waterway in a subtropical paradise of palm trees, sailboats, and spectacular sunsets. The area’s abundant seafood, perennial sunshine, and constant sea breeze reminded Christina of her favorite parts of California. That familiarity was reassuring. It felt comfortable. She felt safe.
A petite girl standing about five feet, four inches tall and weighing a little less than 110 pounds, Christina was not a beauty queen, but she was not unattractive either. Indeed, her green eyes and brown hair combined in an inviting way that most men found sensual and appealing, and she had enjoyed her fair share of suitors. Although she had shared a few intimate moments with boys in high school, she had never found one with whom she felt comfortable enough to sacrifice her virtue. Still sexually inexperienced, she had the classic Libra traits of compassion, innate gentleness, and a genuine caring for others, traits that were sometimes misconstrued by men. Still, it never dawned on her that Von’s testosterone-driven brain would expect something more than a kiss hello, or that he would interpret her willingness to fly across the country to visit him as a green light for sleeping together. Von had tried to take that next step during her first night in Florida, and when she told him that she was not ready, he had reluctantly played the part of the understanding boyfriend, but he could not wholly hide his irritation and mounting frustration.
Von worked at Gator Chrysler in nearby Melbourne, and he had to leave Christina alone for much of the day. That had been the routine for most of the week, and the excitement of staying with someone in another state had long-since faded away. On this particular morning, she passed some time by listening to a worn down cassette tape of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” album, popping it into the cherry red Sony Walkman that Von had given her. She played several songs, rewound the tape, and played them again, but after a while she tired of listening to the provocative singer purr about being “touched for the very first time.” She tried watching television after that, but quickly lost interest in the mindless game shows and melodramatic soap operas that dominated the channels. Growing bored, she decided to walk to Melbourne a few miles away to visit several friends that she had met through Von. She would be flying back to California the next morning and wanted to say her good-byes and make the most of her final day of vacation. Wearing blue jeans, sandals, and a black t-shirt with a Harley-Davidson insignia splashed across the front, she left the trailer shorty after 1:00 p.m. It was the twenty-first day of November, 1985.
As she walked out of the entrance of the mobile home park, a light rain began to fall. She could see dark clouds gathering in the distance and a westerly wind promised that they would soon be present. Somewhere beyond the visible horizon, thunder rumbled ominous and angry, its source hidden behind an approaching wall of grey and black clouds.
Christina turned left and started walking faster as the rain increased, heading east on Malabar Road toward U.S. 1 and the Intracoastal. She planned to stop at the Jiffy Mart at the corner of Malabar Road and U.S. 1 to buy a pack of cigarettes before walking north into Melbourne. She had not gone far when a small, light-colored car pulled up beside her.
Behind the wheel of the two-door automobile sat a clean-shaven man wearing a stylish, navy-blue sports coat, a black-and-white striped tie, and a nice pair of dress slacks, not the cheap K-Mart kind, but the higher quality cloth and cut of a more fashionable men’s store. The man looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He had loafer style shoes, but he was not wearing them while he drove. Christine thought it slightly odd that the well-dressed man’s bare foot operated the gas and brake pedals, but she gave it no more than a fleeting thought. She had certainly seen much stranger things during her time in Florida. The man’s eyes were concealed behind darkly tinted sunglasses and his face was framed by a mane of medium-length, dirty blonde hair. He had a thin build, and though slightly pale in complexion, his handsome facial features held an undeniable allure. She could not help feeling an attraction to him.
Flashing a broad, inviting smile, he leaned over, rolled down the passenger door window, and greeted her in a friendly, reassuring voice.
“It’s a bit wet today for a walk, isn’t it?” he asked with a wry, disarming smile. “Can I give you a lift?”
Although Christina was initially wary of his invitation, he looked harmless enough and it was the middle of the day in broad daylight in a public place, so she did not wait long before responding.
“Well,” she said, deliberately drawing out her reply as she decided how much to trust the seemingly friendly stranger. “I’m on my way to Melbourne to meet some friends. Are you going anywhere near there?”
“Sure, I have to go that way to get to my office. I just need to stop by my house real quick to pick up a notebook for work, but it’ll only take a minute or two. Go ahead and hop in.”
She hesitated for just a moment, studied her Good Samaritan one last time, and then grabbed the passenger side door handle of the car. As she opened the door, she heard Sting’s new song, “Russians,” playing on the car’s radio.
The country had long since fallen into the depths of the Cold War, and the perpetual threat of nuclear holocaust loomed in the back of most people’s minds like some amorphous boogieman lurking in the shadows. As Christine pulled the door closed, Sting’s voice flowed out of the car’s speakers, echoing what seemed to be the universal mood in America and Western Europe, the growing fear of a nuclear attack by the Russian-controlled Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. The song sought to appeal to the good in what President Reagan dubbed the “Evil Empire,” expressing a desperate hope that the Russian leaders loved their children enough to avoid the horror of a nuclear holocaust.
Suffering from the same state of uneasiness expressed in the song, Christina found herself captivated by the sense of calm that seemed to radiate from the man behind the wheel. They drove for a little while making small talk. While they chatted, she caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes behind his sunglasses. Their azure shade of blue added to the aura of assuredness he projected, and it seemed to Christina that the man’s eyes had the power to peer into her very soul, not in any unsettling way, but in an understanding, comforting manner that disarmed her naturally cautious disposition. He seemed genuinely interested in learning about her, and she was impressed with how articulately he expressed himself. He was charming, witty, and exuded self-confidence, and Christine felt relieved that he seemed to be normal. Some of Von’s friends that she had met were more than a little on the odd side.
After about five minutes, the man turned his car onto a bumpy, dirt road, and then continued on for a few minutes more before exiting onto a gravel driveway obscured by a tall row of hedges. Planted across the inner edge of the yard, the hedges had grown high enough to block a clear view of whatever was behind them. As the car continued down the driveway, a well-kept lawn, dotted sporadically with pine and oak trees, came into view. At the far end of the lawn stood a redbrick, Colonial style house with four white columns framing a large front door painted the same shade of white as the columns. The gravel driveway ended at a double-length carport on the left side of the house. The man pulled into the carport and parked. Two motorcycles stood at the opposite end of the parking area.
“I’ll be right back,” the man told her as he took the key out of the ignition and slipped on his shoes.
He stepped out of the car and walked to the side door of the house, where he paused and glanced back at her.
“Hey, you want to come inside for a drink?”
She smiled politely.
“Oh, no thanks, my friends are expecting me and I don’t want them to worry.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, before unlocking the door and disappearing into the building.
After a few minutes, the man emerged and announced with an embarrassed laugh that the notebook was not in the house after all.
“It must be in the back of the car,” he said, an amused smile spreading across his face as if he had just remembered an irresistibly funny joke.
He walked to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, flashing her the same smug alligator smile. He crawled into the back seat and began looking around, grinning all the while.
Suddenly, the back of Christina’s seat shot forward, slamming her violently against the dashboard. Stunned by the force of the impact and shocked by the unexpected attack, she was barely able to register the sound of something rustling behind her.
Then something brushed against her forehead. Before she could react, her neck jerked back painfully, and she began to choke. Frantically, she reached for her purse, attempting to grab something – anything – to try to defend herself. Her fingers brushed against the top of a can of OFF insect repellant. Desperate, she thought that if she could spray her attacker in his eyes, she might be able to blind him long enough to get away.
But as her fingers closed around the spray can, the man’s voice, angry and powerful, startled her into submission.
Stop it or I’ll kill you!”
As her initial impulse of self-defense gave way to a paralyzing feeling of despair, her hand retreated out of her purse and her arm fell numbly to her side.
Then the rope tightened and everything went black.
***
Author Bio:
J.T. Hunter is an attorney with over fourteen years of experience practicing law, including criminal law and appeals. He has significant training in criminal investigation techniques. He is also a college professor in Florida where his teaching interests focus on the intersection of criminal psychology, law and literature.
Today, I am excited to be on The Mentor Book Tour. This Feature Post and Book Review is for an intense new thriller – THE MENTOR by Andrew Lee Goldberg.
Below you will find a book blurb, my book review, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
***
Book Blurb
Kyle
Broder has achieved his lifelong dream and is an editor at a major publishing
house.
When
Kyle is contacted by his favorite college professor, William Lansing, Kyle
couldn’t be happier. Kyle has his mentor over for dinner to catch up and
introduce him to his girlfriend, Jamie, and the three have a great time. When
William mentions that he’s been writing a novel, Kyle is overjoyed. He would
love to read the opus his mentor has toiled over.
Until
the novel turns out to be not only horribly written, but the most depraved
story Kyle has read.
After
Kyle politely rejects the novel, William becomes obsessed, causing trouble
between Kyle and Jamie, threatening Kyle’s career, and even his life. As Kyle
delves into more of this psychopath’s work, it begins to resemble a cold case
from his college town, when a girl went missing. William’s work is looking
increasingly like a true crime confession.
Lee Matthew Goldberg’s The Mentor is a twisty, nail-biting thriller that explores how the love of words can lead to a deadly obsession with the fate of all those connected and hanging in the balance.
***
My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
THE MENTOR by Lee Matthew Goldberg is an intense
psychological thriller. Literary references, a cynical look into the book
publishing industry and a college literary professor who dreams of immortal
fame. A twisted and dark page-turner. (This thriller is not for the squeamish.)
Kyle Broder is a young New York house editor who has a new
deal with a debut author that has put him in the limelight. The publicity is
noticed by college professor, William Lansing who was Kyle’s mentor in college
and assisted him in straightening out his life. William gets in touch and lets
Kyle know he is writing a novel. Kyle is more than happy to read his mentor’s
opus.
Kyle cannot believe not only the poor writing, but the story
is depraved. He finds himself trying to let his mentor down gently with his
rejection, but William obsessively injects himself into Kyle’s life and
threatens his career.
Kyle learns that there is no way to separate himself from
William’s story and he must finish reading the manuscript to discover the fate
of all the people tangled up in this psychopath’s story.
I feel this will be one of those books everyone will have
very differing responses to. It was a riveting, hard-to-put-down thriller that
has an escalating cat-and-mouse game going on between Kyle and William. It is
also quite graphic in descriptions of cannibalistic behavior and thoughts. That
said, it has a twisted, psychological plot that pulled me in and had me continuing
to read until the end just as Kyle did inside the story. I also enjoyed the
dark twist after the climax at the end of the book.
I recommend this for dark psychological thriller lovers.
***
Author Bio
Lee Matthew Goldberg is the author of the novels THE DESIRE CARD, THE MENTOR, and SLOW DOWN. He has been published in multiple languages and nominated for the 2018 Prix du Polar. The second book in the Desire Card series, PREY NO MORE, is forthcoming in 2020, along with his first Sci-Fi novel ORANGE CITY.
His new endeavor will be as the editor-in-chief and co-founder of Fringe Press and Fringe Digital, dedicated to publishing fiction that’s outside-of-the-box. His pilots and screenplays have been finalists in Script Pipeline, Book Pipeline, Stage 32, We Screenplay, the New York Screenplay, Screencraft, and the Hollywood Screenplay contests.
After graduating with an MFA from the New School, his writing has also appeared in the anthology DIRTY BOULEVARD, The Millions, Cagibi, The Montreal Review, The Adirondack Review, The New Plains Review, Underwood Press and others. He is the co-curator of The Guerrilla Lit Reading Series and lives in New York City. Follow him at leematthewgoldberg.com.
Today is my turn on the Virtual Author Book Tour for THE WATER’S FINE by Janice Coy. This is an intriguing read that is a women’s fiction story with a suspense sub-plot.
Below you will find a book description, an author Q&A, my book review, the author’s bio and social media links and a giveaway. Good luck and enjoy!
***
Book Description
Catalina Rodrigues believes she’s living her best life,
traveling to exotic locations around the world as a scuba dive master, spending
every moment possible in her beloved ocean.
Bertie Clark is excited for a week-long scuba trip with her
husband exploring the underwater wonders of an ocean teeming with life – the
Sea of Cortez.
But a tragedy on their dive boat sends both women into uncharted
territory, questioning what they’ve always thought to be true, and fostering an
unlikely friendship. Will either trust the invitation to “come on in, the
water’s fine” again?
Water’s Fine: Suspense Novel by Janice Coy
Publisher: Independently Published (April 22, 2019) Category: Suspense, Family Fiction, Women’s Fiction Tour dates: January/February, 2020 ISBN: 9781795669047 Available in Print and ebook, 312 pages
***
Author Q&A with Avonna Loves Genres
What is your favorite scene in “The
Water’s Fine?” why?
I have many favorite scenes in “The Water’s Fine,” and
I hope readers will agree. One is when Catalina and the rest of the boat crew
welcome the newest guests on board the Calypso for a week-long scuba dive trip.
Catalina believes it will be just another group of strangers to shepherd on
dives for a week, and then back to the port where the people will depart never
to be seen again. All she cares about is being assigned the more experienced
divers this time around. She doesn’t know that before the week is out her life
will be changed forever.
How long did it take you to complete “The
Water’s Fine”?
Including research, the novel took me about two years
to complete. When I’m done with the first draft, I like to set my novel aside
for a while so I can come back to it with fresh eyes. By the time I’m ready to
publish, I’ve written about seven to eight drafts, and gotten feedback from
several first readers. Even then, I must take a deep breath and let it go. Someone
said once that a novel is like a painting, even when the art is done, the
artist or writer can always find something to fix.
Where did you get the inspiration for your
cover?
One of my favorite things to do as a scuba diver is to
look back up to the water’s surface. If the water’s clear, it’s amazing to see
how deep the sun’s rays can penetrate through the layers. Twilight is
especially beautiful when the water is like liquid gold above, and already
getting shadowy below. The cover of “The Water’s Fine” is from the perspective
of a scuba diver looking back up at the surface. The bubbles are the expended
air the diver has used; the bubbles closer to the surface are open.
What draws you to this genre?
I read a lot of Fairy Tales and Nancy Drew when I was
growing up. I loved the suspense of wondering what was going to happen next.
Would Nancy solve the crime? Would the princess live up to her bargain to sleep
with the toad on her pillow? Alfred Hitchcock once said a mystery is for the
intellect while suspense is about emotion. Typically, in a mystery, the crime
happens immediately, and a detective sets about solving it. In suspense, the
protagonist only gradually becomes aware of the danger, much like a frog in a
slowly heating pot. I have a lot of fun
putting my characters in unexpected situations and discovering what they will
do next.
What writers have you drawn inspiration from?
Are there other inspirations you draw from?
As an avid reader, I enjoy reading books by authors
who are great storytellers and writers like Sue Monk Kidd, Amor Towles, Anthony
Doerr and Larry McMurtry. They all inspire me to become a better writer as do
Liane Moriarty, Kate Morton and Kristin Hannah. I also am inspired by
adventures I’ve had, the stories people tell me, and the choices people make.
While writing “The Water’s Fine,” I relied on my own week-long stay on a scuba
dive boat on the Sea of Cortez.
What book/s are you reading at present?
I just finished “A Gentleman in Moscow”; I’m starting
“The Lilac Girls” and am waiting on “What Alice Forgot.”
Are you currently working on another book?
Yes! I’m in the very rough draft stages of my sixth novel. I don’t outline, so I use the rough draft as a general outline. I didn’t know if I would have a sixth story to tell, but one day a hazy vision of the story evolved in my head. Tony Morrison said, “I always know the ending; that’s where I start.” I have a beginning and an ending. It’s how my characters will get from A to Z that’s challenging!
***
My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
THE WATER’S FINE: A NOVEL by Janice Coy is an intriguing women’s
fiction story with a suspense sub-plot. This is a standalone book which takes
you on a journey into the love and perils of scuba diving, friendship, family
and suspense.
Catalina took off immediately after graduating college to work
as a scuba dive master. She was going to travel the world for one year, but she
is now on her sixth. She is currently on The Calypso and getting ready for a
new group of vacationers for a week-long trip. She is very pleased because her
group of six are all experienced divers.
Alberta “Bertie” and her husband Matt are looking forward to
this new experience of diving in cold water. Previously they have only gone on
warm water dives. Bertie is very outgoing and friendly, but she also comes off
as being a know-it-all because she always researches and prepares for
everything.
Catalina and Bertie hit it off. Neither has many friends and
they find they enjoy each other’s company. When a tragedy strikes that ends the
trip, the two are determined to keep in touch even long distance. Catalina
returns to San Diego to get her Masters degree and Bertie and Matt return to their
jobs in Michigan.
Bertie and Matt decide to move to San Diego. Catalina is
very happy they are on their way because strange and dangerous things have been
happening to her. Is it a just stress and/or coincidence, or is someone really trying
to hurt Catalina?
I enjoyed this fiction novel even though it does not neatly
fit into any one genre. Catalina and Bertie are both strong women going through
different life decisions in this story, but they also click as friends. Ms. Coy
gives a complete description of scuba diving including all the beauty and
danger involved that paints a picture and is not an information dump. The family
members of both women are fully fleshed and realistic. The tragedy in the first
part of the story ties into the suspense in the last third of the book. It is
easily figured out and I was not completely sure if I liked the addition of
this sub-plot, but I kept turning the pages.
Ms. Coy has written an entertaining novel and it is worth
the read.
***
Author Bio and Social Media Links
Award winning Janice Coy is the
author of five suspense novels. Her work is also published in four anthologies.
She was a finalist at the San Diego Book
Awards Association annual contest. She’s received the IndieReader Seal of Approval. A former journalist, Ms. Coy
has received several awards for her reporting including a national award for best feature story in a
community newspaper.
Ms. Coy is an advanced certified scuba diver; she’s run five
half-marathons and summited Mt. Kilimanjaro. She lives in Southern California
with her husband.
“I just finished The Water’s Fine by Janice Coy which means I am must bid farewell to the characters I have become attached to and I must close the cover on a plot that kept a firm grasp on my attention and continued to surprise. The act of reading this book can cause laundry to pile up, dust to gather and dirty dishes to dry crusty because one cannot stop reading from chapter to chapter – – from scuba action, to mystery, heartache, friendship, suspense and self discovery. The author is artfully descriptive in all areas of scene and character development which draws you in and holds you! In fact, I would like to invite you to do a little scuba diving and not get wet? Slip on those fins, adjust your mask, get your regulator set and start reading The Water’s Fine.”- Kjans, Amazon
“Oh wow, what a well written book! Being someone who thinks that scuba diving is too scary to try I was drawn in by the author’s imagery. It captured all the anxiety of “breathing underwater”, the suspense of what dangerous creatures you could encounter as well as the absolute beauty and serenity you could feel while exploring the deep blue sea. I fell in love with her characters and was sucked into the mystery and suspense and enjoyed joining them on their journeys of self discovery, life and loss. I really enjoyed this book.”-Amazon Customer
Praise Smallest of Waves by Janice Coy
“Thanks to Coy’s descriptive, immersive world, the waves of Agave Beach leave a distinct impact in The Smallest of Waves. – Indie Reader
“A seaside mystery with an appealing heroine…Coy uses her beachside setting well, contrasting Agave Beach’s innocent sand castles and clueless tourists with the mysterious ocean – so foreign with its dark depths, sharks, kelp forests, and sea caves.” Kirkus Reviews
2017 Finalist San Diego Book Awards Association
***
Giveaway
This giveaway is for the winner’s choice of one print or ebook copy of the book. Print is open to Canada and the U.S. only and ebook is available worldwide. There will be 3 winners. This giveaway ends February 27, 2020, midnight pacific time.
I am very excited to be included on the Harlequin Romance/Women’s Fiction Blog Tour 2020! This Feature Post and Book Review is for Emily Belden’s new standalone Women’s Fiction release HUSBAND MATERIAL.
Below you will find an author Q&A with Emily Belden, an excerpt from the book, my book review, a book summary and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
***
Author Q&A with Emily Belden
Q: When you begin writing a love story, do you know how you want it to end? Or do you decide as you develop the plot?
A: I generally have an idea of how I want things to wrap up, but what I always struggle with is that final sentence. How do you know you’re REALLY there? I often ready my theoretical last sentence out loud, followed by saying “The End”, and if it feels like it has a certain “ring” to it, then I can shut the laptop. If not, then I know it’s not my stopping point. Wrapping up that final thought with a bow on it is super important. It’s what I want when I read a book, at least.
Q: How was it to write about grief, pain and love for the same character?
A: It was new. That’s really the best word to explain it. HOT MESS has so many autobiographical elements to it (i.e., restaurant industry know-how, dating an addict, etc.) but HUSBAND MATERIAL was all unchartered territory for me. I realized right away that in order to write about the grief of losing a spouse/partner, I had to curate a focus group of real-life women like Charlotte and really learn from them to bring the level of authenticity and nuance needed to successfully write the book.
Q: What type of love stories do you like? Or were there ones you looked to as you began writing Husband Material?
A: I like really unexpected love stories. In today’s literary landscape, there’s certainly a formula that is pretty common. So it’s the books that break or stray from that formula that really do it for me. I like stories where it’s not innately clear who the protagonist is going to end up with. Even with HOT MESS there’s a moment where (I hope) the reader is like “OMG WHAT IS HAPPENING” insofar as Allie’s love story goes. Same with Charlotte in HUSBAND MATERIAL.
Q: Do you prefer to write by planning ahead (ie outlining, etc) or just go with the flow as inspiration hits?
A: I prefer to go with the flow. My general writing pattern is banging out 1-2 chapters at a time and then ending my work with a bulleted list of what I think needs to happen next. That way, when I open up my laptop and start to write the next 1-2 chapters, I’m not totally lost or forgetful of where I left off. It helps me figure out what would make sense in the flow of the pages.
Q: When did you know you wanted to become an author? What are you currently reading and what’s on your TBR list?
A: It’s been my only god-given talent since I was a little kid. It started with really creative letters to Santa or the Tooth Fairy. I won a contest to be a kid reporter for the Chicago Tribune when I was 12 years old and after that, my fate was sealed. I knew I wanted to write at the highest level I could! I am currently reading a book called Lulu’s Cafe by an author who is also repped by my agents, Browne & Miller. I really love it and can picture it as an adorable Hallmark Movie.
Q: What inspired you to write this book?
A: I heard a news story on the TV when I was doing dishes at my (former) home in San Diego. It was about a developer who wanted to buy the land a mausoleum was on so they could tear it down and build luxury condos overlooking the ocean. I thought, how crazy if your loved one’s ashes just got mailed back to you one day and the resting place you thought was final, wasn’t. It wasn’t easy, but turned that general premise into a light-side-of-heavy rom-com.
Q: What theme or message do you hope readers will take away from your book?
A: Over all, that second chances at love take all different forms. You never know the circumstances someone has found themselves in, so be kind. For Charlotte, I intentionally wrote the first few chapters as if she was divorced–talking about her “first marriage”. Then you find out “Oh, sh*t, she’s a widow,” and all the sudden your emotional connection with her changes. I also find it interesting writing about death. We don’t talk about it in society, especially not in contemporary women’s fiction. A tragic, unexpected death is the crux of this book. Let’s dig in!
Q: What drew you into this particular genre?
A: I saw there was room to carve out a spot for someone like me who writes unexpected, voicey, edgy, authentic women’s fiction and so I went full steam ahead with the help of a great agent to make it happen.
Q: If you could sit down with any character in your book, what would you ask them and why?
A: I would sit down with Charlotte. I’ve met the “real life” versions of her when doing my focus groups for research, it would be my honor to meet her. I’d ask her if she wanted to team up and develop a dating app framed around people’s dogs.
Q: What advice would you give to aspiring or just starting authors out there?
A: Be patient. Be patient with the process – success as an author is fluid and can mean many different things. Nothing happens overnight. It’s a process. And be patient with yourself. If you aren’t vibing your writing, don’t put pressure on yourself to tap keys just because you said you were going to do 1,000 words tonight. There are times two weeks go by and I haven’t opened my Word doc once. But then when I am vibing it, I can cruise for 10K words and absolutely rock it. There’s an ebb and flow, for sure.
Q: What does the future hold in store for you? Any new books/projects on the horizon?
A: I am working on a third novel at my own pace right now. I’m very excited about it and just exploring where the plot takes me. I would love to work on a film/TV/podcast adaption of any of my existing works as a next step, too. I also got married nine months ago and am enjoying life with my soulmate, Matt.
***
Excerpt
Well, that’s a first.
And I’m not talking about the fact that I brought a date to a wedding I’m pretty sure didn’t warrant me a plus-one. I’m talking about grabbing a wedding card that just so happened to say “Congrats, Mr. & Mr.” on my way to celebrate the nuptials of the most iconic heterosexual couple since George and Amal. This—and a king-sized KitKat bar from the checkout lane—is what I get for rushing through the greeting card aisle in Target while my Uber driver waited in the loading zone with his f lashers on.
It’s Monica and Danny’s big day. She’s my coworker, whose gorgeous face is constantly lining the glossy pages of Luxe LA magazine. Not only because she’s one of the leading ladies at Forbes’s new favorite company, The Influencer Firm, but because this socialite-turned-CEO is now married to Daniel Jones—head coach of the LA Galaxy, Los Angeles’s professional soccer team. If you’re thinking he must look like a derivative of an American David Beckham, you’re basically there. Let’s just hope their sense of humor is as good as their looks when they see the card I accidentally picked out.
Before I place it on the gift table, I stuff the envelope with a crisp hundred-dollar bill fresh from the ATM. Side note: I think wedding registries are bullshit. Everybody wants an ice cream maker until you have one and never use it, which is why I spring for cold, hard cash instead. I grab a black Sharpie marker from the guest book table, pop the cap off, and attempt to squeeze in a nondescript s after the second “Mr.,” hoping my makeshift, hand-drawn serif font letter doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb. I blow on the fresh ink, then hold the pseudo Pinterest-fail an arm’s length away. That’ll do, I think to myself.
I lift a glass of red wine from a caterer’s tray as if we choreographed the move and check the time on my Apple Watch, which arguably isn’t the most fashionable accessory when dressing for a chic summer wedding. But aside from the fact that it doesn’t quite match my strapless pale yellow cocktail dress, it serves a much greater purpose for me. It keeps my data front and center, right where I want it, not on my phone buried somewhere deep in my purse. Bonus: the band, smack-dab on the middle of my wrist, also covers a tattoo I’ve been meaning to have lasered off.
Other than telling me the time, 7:30 p.m., it also serves up my most recent Tinder notifications. I’ve gotten four new matches since this morning, which isn’t bad for a) a Saturday, since most people do their Tindering while zoning out at work or bored in bed at night; and b) a pushing-thirty New York native whose most recent relationship was the love-hate one with a stubborn last ten pounds. That’s me, by the way. Charlotte Rosen.
Though present and accounted for now, the battle of Tide pen vs. toothpaste stain went on for longer than I intended back at my apartment, causing me to arrive about half an hour late to the cocktail hour. Which means I for sure missed Monica and Dan’s ceremony in its entirety. I, of all people, know that’s rude. I’m someone who is hypersensitive to people’s arrival tendencies (well, to all measurable tendencies, to be honest; more on that later). But I’m sort of glad I missed the I Dos, as there is still something about witnessing the exchange of vows that makes me a little squeamish. I got married five years ago and, well, I’m not married anymore—let’s put it that way.
The good news is that with time, I can feel it’s definitely getting easier to come to things like this. To believe that the couple really will stay together through it all. To believe that there is such a thing as “the one”—even if it may actually be “the other” that I’m looking for this next go-round.
Late as I may be to the wedding party, there are some perks to my delayed arrival. Namely, the line at the bar has died down enough for me to trade up this mediocre red wine for a decent gin and tonic. Another perk? Several fresh platters of bacon-wrapped dates have just descended like UFOs onto the main floor of the venue, which happens to be a barn from the 1800s. Except this is Los Angeles, and there are no barns from the 1800s. So instead, every creaky floorboard, every corroded piece of siding, and every decrepit roof shingle has been sourced from deep in the countryside of southwest Iowa to create the sense that guests are surrounded by rolling fields, fragrant orchard blossoms, and fruiting trees. The reality being that just outside the wooden walls of the coveted, three-year-long-wait-list Oak Mill Barn stands honking, gridlocked traffic on the 405 and an accompanying smog alert.
As I continue to wait for my impromptu wedding date, Chad, to come back from the bathroom, I robotically swipe left on the first three guys who pop up on Bumble, another dating app I’m on, then finally decide to message a guy who looks like a bright-eyed Jason Bateman (you know, pre-Ozark) and is a stockbroker, according to his profile. We end up matching and he asks me for drinks. I vaguely accept. Welcome to dating in LA.
I’ve conducted some research that has shown that after the age of thirty, it becomes exponentially harder to find your future husband. What number constitutes exponentially? I’m not sure yet, but I’m working on narrowing in on that because generalities don’t really cut it for me. Thinking through things logically like this centers me, calms me, and resets me—no matter what life throws my way. All that’s to say, I’m officially in my last good year of dating (and my last year of not having to include a night serum in my skin care regimen), and I’m determined not to wind up with my dog, my roommate, and a few low-maintenance houseplants as my sole life partners.
“Sorry that took so long,” says Chad, returning from the men’s room twenty minutes after leaving. “Did you know the bathroom at this place is an actual outhouse? Thank god it was leg day at the gym—I had to squat over the pot. My quads are burning nice now.”
Confession. I didn’t just bring a date to the wedding, I brought a blind date.
No worries, though. Monica knows how serious I am about the path to Mr. Right and supports the fact that I go on my fair share of dates to get me there quicker. Plus, he isn’t a total stranger; she knows him—or, she met him, rather. He attended her work event last week at the LA County Museum of Art and is supposedly this cute, single real estate something or other. Of course he tried to hit on her and, unlike most beautiful people in Los Angeles, Monica actually copped to being in a committed relationship with Danny. (Who doesn’t like to brag they’re marrying Mr. Galaxy himself?) So she did the next best thing and gave him her single coworker’s Instagram handle and told him to slide into my DMs. It’s a bold move on her part, but I appreciate her quick thinking and commitment to my cause, Operation: Reclassify My Marital Status.
Since Chad first messaged me a week ago, I’ve done my homework on him. And I’m not talking about just your basic cyber stalking. I’m talking about procuring and sifting through real, bona fide data. It’s essentially a version of what I’m paid to do for a living—track down all the “influencers,” people with a lot of fans and followers on the internet, and match them to events we plan for our clients so they can post on social media and boost our clients’ profiles.
Some may think my side-project software, the one that computes how much of a match I am with someone, is a bit…much, but I don’t see it that way at all. I’m on the hunt for a man who is a true match for me—one who won’t just up and leave in the blink of an eye. I left things up to fate once and look how that turned out. I’ll be damned if I do it that way again.
While I studied up on Chad, I conducted a hefty “image search,” yielding about a hundred photos of him that have been uploaded across a variety of social platforms over the years. In real life, I’m pleased to say he checks out. Chad is over six feet tall, tanned, and toned, with coiffed Zac Efron hair that’s on the verge of being described as “a bit extra.” From the shoulders up, he’s an emoji. A walking, talking emoji. But as I step back and admire him in his expertly tailored suit, he looks like a contestant on The Bachelor. In retrospect, Chad is just the right amount of good-looking to complement my physical appearance, which can be described as a made-for-TV version of an otherwise good-looking actress.
“Something to drink, sir?” one of the caterers asks Chad.
“Yes. A spicy margarita. Unless… Wait. Do you make the margarita mix yourselves? Or is it, like, that sugary store-bought crap?”
Eek. I had forgotten my discovery that Chad is a bit of a…wellness guru. I guess so is everyone in LA, but I can’t help but be taken aback when I hear that there are people who actually care about the scientific makeup of margarita mix.
“Fuck it. Too many calories either way,” Chad announces before giving the waitress a chance to answer his question. “I’ll just take a whiskey.”
“Splash of Coke?”
“God, no. So many empty calories.”
With his drink order in, Chad rolls his neck around and pops bones I never knew existed. Then, one by one, the joints in his fingers. The sound makes me a bit queasy but I’m trying to focus on the positive, like his beautiful hazel eyes and the fact that cherry tomatoes and mini mozzarella balls with an injection of balsamic vinegar are the latest and greatest munchie to hit the floor.
Chad turns to me with a smile, his palm connecting with the small of my back. “Should we find our seats? What table are we at?”
Good question, I think to myself. I’m at table six. Chad is…on a fold-up chair we will have to ask a caterer to squeeze between me and Monica’s great-aunt Sally? I kind of forgot to mention to him that I didn’t really get an official okay to bring him tonight.
“Table six,” I say pleasantly with a smile.
“Six is my lucky number. Well, that, and nine, if you know what I mean,” Chad says with a wink accompanied by an actual thumbs-up.
The waitress comes back with his whiskey neat, and he proposes we clink our glasses in a toast to meeting up as we make our way to the table. Still not over the lingering effects of his immature, pervy sixty-nine joke, I reluctantly concede to do the cheers with the perpetual high-schooler.
“So, what did you think of Monica’s event?” I say to break the ice as we take our seats at the luckily empty round table.
“Well, I don’t really know what she does for a living, but she is fine as hell. I mean, that’s why I hit on her last week at the LACMA. Sure, I saw the ring on her finger, but couldn’t resist saying hi to a goddess like her. My god, that woman is something else.”
I nod in agreement. Partly because, yes, Monica Hoang needs her own beauty column in Marie Claire, stat. And partly because I’m too shocked by his crass demeanor to really do or say anything else. Did I say Chad reminded me of a contestant on The Bachelor? I think I meant he reminds me of a guy who gets sent home on night one of The Bachelor.
“She said you’re a real estate…attorney, was it?” I awkwardly segue. “What’s your favorite neighborhood in Los Angeles?”
It sounds like I’m interviewing him for a job, which in a way, I am. But had I known the conversation was going to be like forcefully wringing out a damp rag, just hoping to squeeze out something semidecent, I would have never invited him to join me at the wedding. In fact, I likely wouldn’t have gone through with a date, of any kind, at all. Conversation skills rank high on my list of preferred qualities in a mate. Looks like he’s the exception to the rule that attorneys are good linguists, because my app sure as shit didn’t predict this fail.
So how does my software work, then? Well, it’s all about compatibility. My algorithm is programmed to know what I like and what I’m looking for in the long term. So to see if a guy is a match, I comb through his online profiles, enter the facts I find out about him, and generate a report that indicates how likely he is to be my future husband or how likely we would be to get a divorce, for example. One of the most helpful stats is how likely we are to go on a second date. I’ve determined that anyone scoring above 70 percent means that chances are good we’d go out again. And, well, a second date is the first step to marriage. You get the point. Anyone below a 70, I ignore and move on. Chad pulled a 74, which is a solid C if you’re using a high school grading system. Not stellar, but certainly passable with room for improvement.
As it’s turning out, there’s a lot of room for improvement.
HUSBAND MATERIAL by Emily Belden is a contemporary women’s fiction
story with elements of rom-con and romance genres included. This is a
standalone book that deals with a young widow and how she deals with her life
and those around her.
Five years after the death of her husband, Charlotte Rosen
opens a box that contains the urn and ashes of her late husband who she thought
was in a mausoleum in Pala, California. Suddenly, all her work at avoiding those
who knew of her marriage and rebuilding her life based on mathematical
algorithms is in jeopardy.
The return of Decker’s ashes and a secret to be revealed
about his past are going to force Charlotte out of her controlled bubble of
simple acquaintances, algorithms over emotions and her unresolved grief.
Charlotte took me on an unexpected journey. There were times
Charlotte really annoyed me and yet the author had a way of revealing through another
character or discovery, why she was the way she was. The whole situation of reading
about being a widow at such a young age could feel uncomfortable and did at
times, but I feel Ms. Belden handled Charlotte’s journey with empathy, humor, forgiveness
and love. The secondary cast of characters in this story all start out on the
periphery of Charlotte’s emotional life, but Ms. Belden does a beautiful job of
one-by-one showing Charlotte why and how they should be let in even when her
algorithms disagree.
I enjoyed Charlotte’s journey and Ms. Belden’s writing style,
but I also know this is going to be one of those books that everyone reads
through a differing emotional lens.
***
Husband Material : A Novel
Emily Belden
On Sale Date: December 30, 2019
9781525805981, 1525805983
Trade Paperback
$15.99 USD, $19.99 CAD
Fiction / Romance / Romantic Comedy
304 pages
Summary
Told in Emily Belden’s signature edgy voice, a novel about a young widow’s discovery of her late husband’s secret and her journey toward hope and second-chance love.
Twenty-nine-year-old Charlotte Rosen has a secret: she’s a widow. Ever since the fateful day that leveled her world, Charlotte has worked hard to move forward. Great job at a hot social media analytics company? Check. Roommate with no knowledge of her past? Check. Adorable dog? Check. All the while, she’s faithfully data-crunched her way through life, calculating the probability of risk—so she can avoid it.
Yet Charlotte’s algorithms could never have predicted that her late husband’s ashes would land squarely on her doorstep five years later. Stunned but determined, Charlotte sets out to find meaning in this sudden twist of fate, even if that includes facing her perfectly coiffed, and perfectly difficult, ex-mother-in-law—and her husband’s best friend, who seems to become a fixture at her side whether she likes it or not.
But soon a shocking secret surfaces, forcing Charlotte to answer questions she never knew to ask and to consider the possibility of forgiveness. And when a chance at new love arises, she’ll have to decide once and for all whether to follow the numbers or trust her heart.
***
Advance Praise for Husband Material
“Tackling thorny questions of widowhood and dating after trauma, Belden’s second novel is witty, full of heart, and blindingly au courant. Packed with pop-culture references, it will appeal to fans of Sophie Kinsella, Rosie Walsh, and Plum Sykes. Belden writes twists and turns to keep readers hooked.” —Booklist
“Charming.” —Publishers Weekly
“Sensitive, thoughtful, and touching.” —Library Journal
“In this touching, witty, and timely book, Emily Belden deftly explores the complexities of human relationships in our increasingly tech-obsessed world. By turns heartbreaking and laugh-out-loud funny, Husband Material beautifully demonstrates that you can’t reduce love to a bunch of 1s and 0s.”—Kristin Rockaway, author of How To Hack a Heartbreak
***
Author Bio
EMILY BELDEN is a journalist, social media marketer, and storyteller. She is the author of the novel Hot Mess and Eightysixed: A Memoir about Unforgettable Men, Mistakes, and Meals. She lives in Chicago. Visit her website at www.emilybelden.com or follow her on Twitter and Instagram, @emilybelden.
I am very excited to be sharing on the Harlequin Mystery/Thriller Blog Tour 2020! This Feature Post and Book Review is for J.T. Ellison’s new standalone thriller GOOD GIRLS LIE. I could not put this thriller down!
Below you will find an author Q&A with J.T. Ellison, an excerpt from the book, my book review, a book summary and the author’s bio and social media links.
***
Author Q&A with J.T. Ellison
• Do you plan your books in advance or let them develop as you write?
Both. Sometimes the story just unfolds, and sometimes I have to relentlessly work on themes and turning points and characters’ points of view. Every book is different, every book has its own unique challenges. I’m always thinking about what’s next, and sometimes even what’s after that. But when it comes to actually sitting down to write, I like to let the story unfold a bit, let it stretch its wings, before I try to lash it to the mast and conform it to my vision.
• What does the act of writing mean to you?
It’s a sacred contract with me and a mythical “someone” who might read the words at some point in the future and find them entertaining or moving. It’s sheer magic on my end, creating, and sheer magic on the readers’ end, when they get to experience what was in my head as I was writing. It’s the most incredible mystical experience out there.
• Have you ever had a character take over a story, and if so, who was it and why?
All the time. Oh my gosh, all the time. Honestly, if the character doesn’t run away with things, I know there’s a problem. Ivy, n LIE TO ME, is a particular favorite. She’s just so nasty…
• Which one of Good Girls Lie’s characters was the hardest to write and why?
Ash, for sure. She was so elusive and aloof with me. The Britishisms, the secrets, the lies, she was always just out of reach. Of course, that was because I’d written her in third person. When I switched her to first, she wouldn’t shut up.
• Which character in any of your books (Good Girls Lie or otherwise) is dearest to you and why?
Oh that’s an impossible question. Taylor. Sam. Sutton. Vivian. Ash. Aubrey. Ivy. Juliet. Lauren. Becca. Gavin. Baldwin. Xander. They are all me, on some level, whether it’s a fear or a triumph, a flaw or a heroic action. A moment of love or a moment of animosity. It’s like asking me to choose among my children, which one is my favorite. (I don’t have kids, by the way, but I couldn’t pick my favorite of my kittens, either.)
• What did you want to be as a child? Was it an author?
I desperately wanted to be Colorado’s first female firefighter. When that job was taken, I cast about. Doctor. Lawyer. Fighter Pilot. Spy. International business maven. Olympic swimmer. Poet. In the end, being a writer was my only choice. That way, I get to experience all the lives I could have led.
• What does a day in the life of J.T. Ellison look like?
It’s rather blissful. It starts rather lazily, with the cats cuddled into my arms and the newspaper on my iPad, then progresses to kicking the lazy beasts out, pouring a cup of tea and handling email. I am not a morning person, so I tend to do business in the morning and writing in the afternoon, when I’m sharper. I’ve always wanted to be the writer who gets up at 5 am to write whilst the birds chirp and the house sleeps, watching the sun rise and running five miles before the rest of the world is awake, but alas, it was not meant to be. You need to go to a concert that starts at ten p.m., I’m your girl.
• What do you use to inspire you when you get Writer’s Block?
It depends. If it’s a genuine block, a I’ve lost faith in myself and my work block, I will step away from the manuscript entirely, read, walk, golf, yoga, go out for margaritas with my husband, anything to remove me from the situation. But 90 percent of the time, it’s just a story issue, so I work it out with some of my creative partners. Lots of texting and phone calls and what ifs, until it shakes itself free.
• What book would you take with you to a desert island?
Hmmm… my knee jerk is the Harry Potter series – I know, I know, that’s seven books, but I’m sure there’s an omnibus edition somewhere. The fight for good and evil never ceases to amaze and comfort me. Knowing love conquers evil is a big deal in this world. And Hermione kicks ass. If I’m forced into a single title, Plato’s Republic. I’ve been obsessed with the allegory of the cave my entire adult life.
• Favorite quote?
“Do. Or Do not. There is no try.” – Master Yoda
• Do you have stories on the back burner that are just waiting to be written?
So. Many. Stories. I will never get to them all. At last count, there are 49 in my “Story Idea” folder, with several more floating around in my head.
• What has been the hardest thing about publishing? What has been the most fun?
The hardest is staying in the game, juggling the necessary mix of creativity and business, finding new paths to reach readers and leveling up the writing so it’s possible to grow my career. It was much easier to write, to focus, before our constant connections to the internet consumed us. The most fun is that email from a reader, when something I’ve written strikes a chord with them and they write to tell me they love a story, or a character, or an ending. It doesn’t get better than that.
• What advice would you give budding authors about publishing?
Stay as much in a vacuum as you can while writing. You don’t need a platform, you need an excellent, groundbreaking book. And read everything. Everything you can get your hands on. You learn writing through osmosis as much as writing the books themselves. Find your writing habit and hold it sacred. If you respect your work, your people will, too.
• What was the last thing you read?
I just finished Holly Black’s THE QUEEN OF NOTHING, the finale of her Folk of the Air trilogy, and just finished listening to BAG OF BONES by Stephen King. Both were exceptional.
• Tell us about what you’re working on now.
I’m writing a novel about a destination wedding that goes very, very wrong. It has loose ties to Rebecca, and it titled HER DARK LIES.
***
Excerpt
Chapter1
THE HANGING
The girl’s body dangles from the tall iron gates guarding the school’s entrance. A closer examination shows the ends of a red silk tie peeking out like a cardinal on a winter branch, forcing her neck into a brutal angle. She wears her graduation robe and multicolored stole as if knowing she’ll never see the achievement. It rained overnight and the thin robe clings to her body, dew sparkling on the edges. The last tendrils of dawn’s fog laze about her legs, which are five feet from the ground.
There is no breeze, no birds singing or squirrels industriously gathering for the long winter ahead, no cars passing along the street, only the cool, misty morning air and the gentle metallic creaking of the gates under the weight of the dead girl. She is suspended in midair, her back to the street, her face hidden behind a curtain of dirty, wet hair, dark from the rains.
Because of the damage to her face, it will take them some time to officially identify her. In the beginning, it isn’t even clear she attends the school, despite wearing The Goode School robes.
But she does.
The fingerprints will prove it. Of course, there are a few people who know exactly who is hanging from the school’s gates. Know who, and know why. But they will never tell. As word spreads of the apparent suicide, The Goode School’s all-female student body begin to gather, paying silent, terrified homage to their fallen compatriot. The gates are closed and locked—as they always are overnight—buttressed on either side by an ivy-covered, ten-foot-high, redbrick wall, but it tapers off into a knee-wall near the back entrance to the school parking lot, and so is escapable by foot. The girls of Goode silently filter out from the dorms, around the end of Old West Hall and Old East Hall to Front Street—the main street of Marchburg, the small Virginia town housing the elite prep school—and take up their positions in front of the gate in a wedge of crying, scared, worried young women who glance over shoulders looking for the one who is missing from their ranks. To reassure themselves this isn’t their friend, their sister, their roommate.
Another girl joins them, but no one notices she comes from the opposite direction, from town. She was not behind the redbrick wall.
Whispers rise from the small crowd, nothing loud enough to be overheard but forming a single question.
Who is it? Who?
A solitary siren pierces the morning air, the sound bleeding upward from the bottom of the hill, a rising crescendo. Someone has called the sheriff.
Goode perches like a gargoyle above the city’s small downtown, huddles behind its ivy-covered brick wall. The campus is flanked by two blocks of restaurants, bars, and necessary shops. The school’s buildings are tied together with trolleys—enclosed glass-and-wood bridges that make it easy for the girls to move from building to building in climate-controlled comfort. It is quiet, dignified, isolated. As are the girls who attend the school; serious, studious. Good. Goode girls are always good. They go on to great things.
The headmistress, or dean, as she prefers to call herself, Ford Julianne Westhaven, great-granddaughter several times removed from the founder of The Goode School, arrives in a flurry, her driver, Rumi, braking the family Bentley with a screech one hundred feet away from the gates. The crowd in the street blocks the car and, for a moment, the sight of the dangling girl. No one stops to think about why the dean might be off campus this early in the morning. Not yet, anyway.
Dean Westhaven rushes out of the back of the dove-gray car and runs to the crowd, her face white, lips pressed firmly together, eyes roving. It is a look all the girls at Goode recognize and shrink from.
The dean’s irritability is legendary, outweighed only by her kindness. It is said she alone approves every application to the school, that she chooses the Goode girls by hand for their intelligence, their character. Her say is final. Absolute. But for all her goodness, her compassion, her kindness, Dean Westhaven has a temper.
She begins to gather the girls into groups, small knots of natural blondes and brunettes and redheads, no fantastical dye allowed. Some shiver in oversize school sweatshirts and running shorts, some are still in their pajamas. The dean is looking for the chick missing from her flock. She casts occasional glances over her shoulder at the grim scene behind her. She, too, is unsure of the identity of the body, or so it seems. Perhaps she simply doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth.
The siren grows to an earsplitting shriek and dies midrange, a soprano newly castrated. The deputies from the sheriff’s office have arrived, the sheriff hot on their heels. Within moments, they cordon off the gates, move the students back, away, away. One approaches the body, cataloging; another begins taking discreet photographs, a macabre paparazzi.
They speak to Dean Westhaven, who quietly, breathlessly, admits she hasn’t approached the body and has no idea who it might be.
She is lying, though. She knows. Of course, she knows. It was inevitable.
The sheriff, six sturdy feet of muscle and sinew, approaches the gate and takes a few shots with his iPhone. He reaches for the foot of the dead girl and slowly, slowly turns her around.
The eerie morning silence is broken by the words, soft and gasping, murmurs moving sinuously through the crowd of girls, their feet shuffling in the morning chill, the fog’s tendrils disappearing from around the posts.
They say her name, an unbroken chain of accusation and misery.
Ash.
Ash.
Ash.
Chapter2
THE LIES
There are truths, and there are lies, and then there is everything that really happened, which is where you and I will meet. My truth is your lie, and my lie is your truth, and there is a vast expanse between them.
Take, for example, Ash Carlisle.
Six feet tall, glowing skin, a sheaf of blond hair in a ponytail. She wears black jeans with rips in the knees and a loose greenand-white plaid button-down with white Adidas Stan Smiths; casual, efficient travel clothes. A waiter delivers a fresh cup of tea to her nest in the British Airways first-class lounge, and when she smiles her thanks, he nearly drops his tray—so pure and happy is that smile. The smile of an innocent.
Or not so innocent? You’ll have to decide that for yourself. Soon.
She’s perfected that smile, by the way. Practiced it. Stood in the dingy bathroom of the flat on Broad Street and watched herself in the mirror, lips pulling back from her teeth over and over and over again until it becomes natural, until her eyes sparkle and deep dimples appear in her cheeks. It is a full-toothed smile, her teeth straight and blindingly white, and when combined with the china-blue eyes and naturally streaked blond hair, it is devastating.
Isn’t this what a sociopath does? Work on their camouflage? What better disguise is there than an open, thankful, gracious smile? It’s an exceptionally dangerous tool, in the right hands.
And how does a young sociopath end up flying first class, you might ask? You’ll be assuming her family comes from money, naturally, but let me assure you, this isn’t the case. Not at all. Not really. Not anymore.
No, the dean of the school sent the ticket.
Why?
Because Ash Carlisle leads a charmed life, and somehow managed to hoodwink the dean into not only paying her way but paying for her studies this first term, as well. A full scholarship, based on her exemplary intellect, prodigy piano playing, and sudden, extraordinary need. Such a shame she lost her parents so unexpectedly.
Yes, Ash is smart. Smart and beautiful and talented, and capable of murder. Don’t think for a moment she’s not. Don’t let her fool you.
Sipping the tea, she types and thinks, stops to chew on a nail, then reads it again. The essay she is obsessing over gained her access to the prestigious, elite school she is shipping off to. The challenges ahead—transferring to a new school, especially one as impossible to get into as The Goode School—frighten her, excite her, make her more determined than ever to get away from Oxford, from her past.
A new life. A new beginning. A new chapter for Ash.
But can you ever escape your past?
Ash sets down the tea, and I can tell she is worrying again about fitting in. Marchburg, Virginia—population five hundred on a normal summer day, which expands to seven hundred once the students arrive for term—is a long way from Oxford, England. She worries about fitting in with the daughters of the DC elite—daughters of senators and congressmen and ambassadors and reporters and the just plain filthy rich. She can rely on her looks—she knows how pretty she is, isn’t vain about it, exactly, but knows she’s more than acceptable on the looks scale—and on her intelligence, her exceptional smarts. Some would say cunning, but I think this is a disservice to her. She’s both booksmart and street-smart, the rarest of combinations. Despite her concerns, if she sticks to the story, she will fit in with no issues.
The only strike against her, of course, is me, but no one knows about me.
No one can ever know about me.
***
My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
GOOD GIRLS LIE by J.T. Ellison is a standalone suspense/thriller
that kept me turning the pages quickly until the very last page. I would think
I knew what was going on and then, BAM, I was so wrong and another tiny reveal
would send me off on another tangent.
The Goode School is a premier private boarding school for
females only in the tiny town of Marchburg, Virginia. It is for the best,
brightest, elite daughters of the rich and prestigious. All the girls are
prepared for brilliant futures and all the girls must follow the school’s code
of honor and never lie.
There is a new girl this year from Oxford in the sophomore
class, Ash Carr. Recently orphaned, Ash is still being admitted by the dean,
Dr. Ford Julianne Westhaven on scholarship as she waits for her settlement. Ash learns many of the girls know how to
pretend to follow the rules and secret societies add to the potential of
tripping Ash up and her personal secret being discovered.
When a student is found dead, rumors spread and it becomes
increasingly difficult to tell who is telling the truth and who is telling a
lie. How far will girls from the Goode School go to hide their secrets?
This is a tightly plotted and fast-paced thriller that kept
me guessing. I do not normally read YA books, but this has so many threads of
murder, sex, hazing and secrets that I was just pulled into the story and kept
forgetting how truly young the characters were. The characters are fully fleshed
out and memorable as the story progresses and you learn their secrets. I loved
the epilogue which was another great twist to the story.
I highly recommend this thriller and will be looking for
more books by this author!
***
Good Girls Lie
Author: J.T. Ellison
ISBN: 9780778330776
Publication Date: 12/30/19
Publisher: MIRA Books
***
Book Summary
Book Summary:Perched atop a hill in the tiny town of Marchburg, Virginia, The Goode School is a prestigious prep school known as a Silent Ivy. The boarding school of choice for daughters of the rich and influential, it accepts only the best and the brightest. Its elite status, long-held traditions and honor code are ideal for preparing exceptional young women for brilliant futures at Ivy League universities and beyond. But a stranger has come to Goode, and this ivy has turned poisonous.
In a world where appearances are everything, as long as students pretend to follow the rules, no one questions the cruelties of the secret societies or the dubious behavior of the privileged young women who expect to get away with murder. But when a popular student is found dead, the truth cannot be ignored. Rumors suggest she was struggling with a secret that drove her to suicide.
But look closely…because there are truths and there are lies, and then there is everything that really happened.
J.T. Ellison’s pulse-pounding new novel examines the tenuous bonds of friendship, the power of lies and the desperate lengths people will go to to protect their secrets.
***
Author Bio and Social Media Links
J.T. Ellison is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than 20 novels, and the EMMY-award winning co-host of A WORD ON WORDS, Nashville’s premier literary show. With millions of books in print, her work has won critical acclaim, prestigious awards, and has been published in 26 countries. Ellison lives in Nashville with her husband and twin kittens.
