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Showing posts with label #mystery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #mystery. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 9, 2025

Cover Reveal of Winter's Season by R.J. Koreto (#contests- Enter To Win an an Amazon Gift Card)

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WINTER'S SEASON

by R.J. Koreto

July 8, 2025 Cover Reveal

Synopsis:

Winter's Season by R.J. Koreto

In 1817 London, Before the Police, There Was Captain Winter.

London, 1817. A city teeming with life, yet lacking a professional police force. When a wealthy young woman is brutally murdered in an alley frequented by prostitutes, a shadowy government bureau in Whitehall dispatches its "special emissary"―Captain Winter. A veteran of the Napoleonic Wars and a gentleman forged by chance and conflict, Winter is uniquely equipped to navigate the treacherous currents of London society, from aristocratic drawing rooms to the city's grimmest taverns.

Without an army of officers or the aid of forensic science, Winter must rely on his wits and a network of unconventional allies. His childhood friend, a nobleman, opens doors in high society, while a wise Jewish physician uncovers secrets the dead cannot hide.

But Winter's most intriguing, and potentially dangerous, asset is Barbara Lightwood. Shrewd, beautiful, and operating as a discreet intermediary among the elite, Barbara shares a past with Winter from the war years. Their rekindled affair is fraught with wariness; she offers intimate information crucial to his investigation, but guards her own secrets fiercely. Like Winter, she is both cunning and capable of danger.

From grand houses to dimly lit streets, death stalks Captain Winter. He must tread carefully to unmask a killer, navigate a web of secrets and lies, and perhaps, in the process, save his own soul.

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Histria Books
Planned Publication Date: January 20, 2026
Number of Pages: 300
ISBN: 978-1592116898
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

 

Author Bio:

R.J. Koreto

R.J. Koreto is the author of the Historic Home mystery series, set in modern New York City; the Lady Frances Ffolkes mystery series, set in Edwardian England; and the Alice Roosevelt mystery series, set in turn-of-the-century New York. His short stories have been published in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine and Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, as well as various anthologies.

Most recently, he is the author of "Winter's Season," which takes place on the dark streets and glittering ballrooms of Regency-era London.

In his day job, he works as a business and financial journalist. Over the years, he’s been a magazine writer and editor, website manager, PR consultant, book author, and seaman in the U.S. Merchant Marine. Like his heroine, Lady Frances Ffolkes, he’s a graduate of Vassar College.

He and his wife have two grown daughters, and divide their time between Paris and Martha’s Vineyard.

Catch Up With R.J. Koreto:

www.RJKoreto.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub
Instagram - @rjkoreto
Threads - @rjkoreto
Facebook - @rjkoreto

 

 

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WINTER’S SEASON by R.J. Koreto (Gift Card)

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Friday, June 27, 2025

Review of Echoes on the Wind (Maggie O'Shea series) by Helaine Mario (#contests- Enter to win An Amazon Gift Card)

 

 

Echoes on the Wind by Helaine Mario Banner

I want to welcome Helaine Mario to Books R Us. Helaine is the author of the Maggie O'Shea Series. I had the opportunity to read book four in the series "Echoes On The Wind" A fantastic Novel. Check out my review below.

 

ECHOES ON THE WIND

by Helaine Mario

June 23 – August 1, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

THE MAGGIE O’SHEA SUSPENSE SERIES

 

TWO STRONG WOMEN, GENERATIONS APART, CONNECTED BY MUSIC…

Echoes on the Wind by Helaine Mario
In 1943 war-torn France, a young woman on the Night Train to Paris has a chance meeting with two very different men who will change her life, setting in motion a Dual Timeline story that will resonate like ripples on water for generations to come.

Many years later, classical pianist Maggie O’Shea is drawn to Brittany by a long-lost letter from her French grandmother and the stirring music of Chopin, whispering like echoes across the years. But as Maggie discovers the secrets of her past, her life spirals out of control, threatening her upcoming wedding and those she loves.

Set against the backdrop of World War II France, Maggie learns her grandmother’s story, chord by chord, through Chopin’s emotional Preludes. And, in one shocking moment, Maggie’s love story will take a heart-breaking turn that will change her life and echo into her future.

Past and present converge in this haunting tale of loss and sacrifice, friendship and family, courage and survival – and the transcendent power of hope, music and l

Book Details:

Genre: Romantic Suspense
Published by: Suncoast Publishing
Publication Date: June 18, 2024
Number of Pages: 364
ISBN: 9781735184975 (ISBN10: 1735184977)
Series: A Maggie O'Shea Romantic Suspense, Book 4
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads 

 My Thoughts:

Sometimes, I must force myself to finish a book, but "Echoes on the Wind" was quite different. The romantic thriller was full of adventure, secrets, love, hardship, suspense, and a memorable cast of characters that added to the storyline and kept me engaged. I finished the book in one day because it was fast-paced, intriguing, and unpredictable. "Echoes on the Wind" is the fourth installment in the Maggie O'Shea series but can be enjoyed as a standalone novel.
The author skillfully included a dual timeline, which added to the story's charm by exploring the life of Maggie's grandmother, Clair Rousseau, who lived during World War II. Clair faced many challenges, which she overcame through her love of music. Maggie discovers some of Clair's music and Chopin's emotional Preludes, using them to learn about her grandmother's history.
An exciting twist in the plot is that Maggie is stalked by a villain from the past, Dane, who is determined to kill her. While several subplots enhance the novel, I don't want to spoil them for potential readers. 

So go out and purchase a copy of Echoes on the Wind to immerse yourself in Maggie O'Shea's world. You won't be disappointed! And while you are there, pick up the other three books in the series, The Lost Concerto, Dark Rhapsody, and Shadow Music.



Read an excerpt:

OVERTURE

“Like so many things that matter, it began with an accident.”
David Ignatius, 12/28/98

NOVEMBER, 1943. THE NIGHT TRAIN TO PARIS

Light and dark.

The bleak November landscape rushed past the train’s window. Black tree branches against the dark night sky, then a sudden flash of light. Then blackness again.

The blackout had claimed the streetlamps and cottage windows. Clair Rousseau stared out the rain-streaked glass, waiting for the next glimpse of light. A lone lantern. Car headlights tilted down, a sliver of gold beyond a cracked curtain. Sheet lightning over distant hills, a glimmer of light on water. But all she saw was the blurred, pale oval of her reflection staring back at her. Dark hair scraped back, framing huge eyes beneath winged brows, sharp cheekbones, the too-wide mouth.

No hint of the emotions flowing through her, except for the deep purple shadows beneath her eyes.

The dim, four-person compartment was cold, and she pulled her coat more tightly around her body. The seat beside her was still empty, thank God. Across from her, two German officers. One asleep, snoring loudly, his hands slack between thick gray-green uniformed knees. The other awake, a Gauloises cigarette clamped between thin lips, a jagged line of white scars marring his left cheek. The narrow fox-like face stared at her through thick round glasses and wreathes of curling blue smoke. His jacket was heavy with insignia, oak leaves, medals. Military Intelligence, she thought with a sudden chill. A high rank, SD or Abwehr. What was he thinking?

The watchful, unblinking eyes made her afraid. Like a snake’s eyes, waiting to strike. She looked away, forcing herself not to reach for her satchel, touch her identity papers for reassurance.

The carriage’s glassed door slid back and forth with an unnerving rattle as the train rocked around a bend. From the hallway came the sharp scent of burning coal, wafting back from the old steam engine several cars ahead. A cloud of steam billowed past the window like sudden fog.

She could feel the vibration beneath her, hear the rumble of the train’s wheels speeding along the tracks. The lonely call of a train whistle, echoing in the night. A quick flare of light, illuminating the rain like silver threads streaming down the window.

Light and dark. Light and dark.

Movement at the edge of her vision. A tall figure appeared in the hallway, beyond the door. Her chest tightened. Would she ever feel safe again?

A sharp crack of thunder, a sudden bright flash lighting her face.

“Mademoiselle Clair?”

Startled, her head came up. The stranger had stopped, was staring into the compartment. Across from her, the watchful German stiffened and slid pale eyes toward the voice.

Be careful.

There was something familiar about the gaunt face, the faint, questioning smile just visible above a thick woolen scarf. She stood quickly, stepping between the German and the carriage door to block the officer’s view.

Oui,” she said softly, peering into the dim hallway. The man nodded and moved closer. Something about those gentle eyes, the arch of silver brows. Memory surged. Father Jean-Luc.

She flashed him a warning glance for silence and stepped into the train’s narrow corridor, closing the door firmly behind her. “Mon Père, is it really you?”

Oui, ma petite, c’est moi.” The priest pulled the scarf down to offer a glimpse of his white Roman collar, then lost his smile as he gazed over her shoulder and saw the Germans. “But we cannot talk here. Come with me.”

He slipped a hand beneath her elbow and guided her to the end of the dark passageway, where an open exit door led across shifting metal plates to the train’s next car. She felt the sudden bite of night wind on her face, cold and wet with mist. Here the clatter of the train wheels was loud enough to hide their conversation.

They sheltered just inside the doorway, in the shadows, away from the rain. Outside, the countryside of France rushed by, then disappeared in a billow of black smoke. In the dim corridor, the planes of the priest’s face were lit by a tiny, flickering overhead bulb.

Light and dark. Light and dark.

The priest looked down at her, shook his head. “Little Clair Rousseau,” he murmured. “Now such a beautiful young woman. It’s been – what? – four years since we met? You were just thirteen, I think. Playing the piano in your parents’ apartment. Bach, yes? It was so beautiful, so stirring. I hope you are still playing?”

She shook her head. “You need hope to create music, Père.” She looked back toward her carriage compartment. The hallway was empty. “But I remember that day. The war was coming. You asked us to help you remove the stained-glass windows from Sainte-Chapelle. To save them from the bombing.”

“You were fearless, Clair. I remember watching you, swaying at the top of that impossibly high ladder. The morning light was coming through the stained glass, spilling over you like shimmering jewels. I’ll never forget it. I told myself, Clair means light, she is perfectly named.”

He leaned down. “And I can still see your sister, Elle – too young to help us, bien sûr – dancing around the altar.”

Her expression softened. “Elle loved to dance. It was the last happy day I can remember.” She lifted her eyes to his, took a breath. “Paris was another lifetime, Père.”

“You cannot lose hope,” he told her. “The glass pieces are in a safe place. Beauty and goodness cannot be destroyed. You will see the stained-glass windows back in Sainte-Chapelle when the war is over. I know it.”

She shook her head. “I wish I had your faith.”

“God has his plans. There is a reason we’ve met by chance on the night train to Paris.” Concern flashed in his eyes. “But you’ve been in Brittany? Dangerous times for a young woman to be traveling alone, Clair.”

She looked out at the black trees rushing past the doorway, and felt the blackness deep in her heart. “I am alone now, Père.”

Mon Dieu. What happened?”

“My father knew that war was inevitable. Not long after we saved the glass my parents moved us from Paris to the coast near Saint-Malo to be safe. Such irony. They had no idea how dangerous Brittany would become. And then…”

She could not stop the sudden rush of tears that filled her eyes. “The Gestapo shot my father last year, in a retaliation roundup for an act of sabotage by the Resistance. He was with the Liberty Network, they had bombed a train track. He stepped forward, admitted it, hoping to save the others. But still they took thirty innocent people from our village, murdered them in the square.”

“Oh no, Clair.” The priest made a quick sign of the cross. “I am so sorry. And your mother, your sister?”

“I don’t know, Père. I was studying in Paris, I begged them to come stay with me. But Maman refused. When I returned last month to see them, the house was empty. They were just… gone. The neighbors said the Germans took them, in the night. The mayor was told they were being relocated to Poland.”

The priest paled. “Désolé. I will pray for their souls.”

Anger erupted, spilled out. “Prayers did not help my family! I have no time for prayer now. Or sorrow. Even avenging my father will have to wait. I need all my energy now to find my mother and my sister.”

He bent toward her. “I am afraid you are still too fearless for your own good. Tell me what you’re doing, little one.”

She turned once more to scan the dark hallway, then leaned closer. “I excelled in languages in my lycée studies these last years,” she whispered. “I am fluent in several languages, including German and English. I hope to find a new job, in the Hotel Majestic in Paris, where the German High Command is quartered. Then I will join the Resistance, find a way to get news of Maman and Elle. I must find them!”

He gazed down at her for a long moment, then put a hand on her shoulder.

“Perhaps I know of another way,” he murmured.

The sound of a door opening. Wavering shadows spilled into the train’s corridor. Then the red glow of a cigarette, a spiral of smoke. She froze as the German officer turned toward them.

“Find me at Èglise Saint-Gervais, in the Marais,” the priest whispered quickly. “I am with the Resistance there. You could work with me, we need someone like you to –”

A sudden terrifying screech of metal wheels. Clair felt herself thrown to the floor as the train braked, slammed to a shuddering stop. Stunned, Clair reached out, felt the still body of the priest beside her. “Mon Père…

Shouts in German in the darkness, the clatter of heavy boots. When she raised her head she saw flashing blue lights against the night sky.

Light and dark. Light and dark.

PART 1

“An echo of the past…”
Victor Hugo

CHAPTER 1

THE PRESENT
PERFORMING ARTS CENTER, MARTHA’S VINEYARD

Light and dark.

The stage was shadowed, lit only by a handful of overhead lights. One of the lights began to flicker, a bright flash illuminating Maggie O’Shea’s face for a brief moment, then casting her into darkness.

Maggie sat at the Bechstein grand piano, marveling at the power, the responsive touch, the unique tone of the beautiful instrument. Prokofiev deserves no less, she thought.

The score propped above the keyboard was marked by penciled notations, heavy lines, arrows and slashes. Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was the ultimate challenge for a pianist, but Maggie had chosen it because it was so emotional, so personal. So incredibly beautiful.

It has the most to say, she thought.

And, oh, she had so much she wanted to say. Always, since she’d been a young child whose bare feet did not yet reach the pedals, she had spoken through her music. Told the piano her secrets long before she told anyone else.

Her earliest memory was of being curled beneath the grand piano, listening to her mother play, surrounded – cradled – by music. Then later, sitting on the piano bench by her mother’s side. The smoothness of the keys beneath tiny fingers, the sound that seemed to magically flow from her shoulders to her fingertips. Seeing the colors, making the piano sing. Making the rest of the world disappear.

But this piece – face it, every piece lately – was giving her trouble. Something, some emotion, was just out of reach. Her mentor, the legendary pianist Gigi Donati, would say she was taking the easy way out by mastering technique but not the emotion. She could hear Gigi’s smoky, exasperated voice in the shadows. No, no, no! You are not growing, Maggie, your music is lifeless. Imagine you are kissing your lover goodbye for the last time. What do you feel? Now, again!

Maggie sighed. She had been playing the first movement for an hour, with nary a lover in sight. Without Espressivo, as Gigi would demand. She would say, You don’t know the music yet. Take the time. Grow with the music. Illuminate its secrets. Make it yours.

The light high above the stage flickered again, slipping her out of the light into darkness.

Light and dark, thought Maggie. The story of my music. The story of my life.

She closed her eyes, took a deep, shaky breath, and began to play the next phrase of music.

Look into the heart of the music, whispered Gigi from behind her. Find its light. Find its soul.

A few more chords, and suddenly Maggie’s fingers stiffened, locked, slipped off the keys. Shaking her head, she gathered the sheet music and dropped it to the bench.

I just can’t, Gigi. I know what’s wrong, why I can’t play. I just don’t know how to fix it.

But deep down, she did know. What she needed was to feel. But once again, part of her was frozen.

You will not give up, she told herself. You have so much joy waiting for you. Raising her left hand to stretch tensed tendons, the engagement ring on her finger flashed emerald in the theater lights.

The flash of emerald green in a shadowed cabin. The memory washed over her and once again she was back in the moment. She saw Michael’s face, as craggy and strong as the mountains he loved, his granite eyes locked on hers.

What are you doing, Michael?

It’s called offering you a ring, Maggie. The color of your eyes, the color of the mountains. It’s been hidden in my sock drawer for months.

I know it’s a ring. I mean… What are you doing?

Jumping off a cliff, it seems. Don’t make me get down on one knee, darlin’. I’ll never get back up.

Silver eyes blazing like a torch. Marry me, Maggie.

I… You… Oh, Love.

I’ll take that as a yes, ma’am.

She smiled. Colonel Michael Jefferson Beckett. A man who had fallen in love with her when he didn’t want to, a man she hadn’t wanted to love back.

And yet.

It just was. Like music. And right this minute he was back in those beloved mountains of his, at his cabin in Virginia’s Blue Ridge. Working on a secret project, he’d told her, with Dov, the Russian teenager in his care.

She pictured the battered, rugged face she knew so well. The quirk of his mouth, the spiky silver brows, eyes like river stones locked on her. His stillness, as if he was carved from the mountains he loved. The way he listened…

Michael, standing behind her, wrapping her naked body in a woven blanket.

Michael, beneath her in the shadowed bedroom, whispering her name against her lips while her hair fell like dark rain around his face.

She breathed out in a long sigh. It had been an emotional several months but now, finally, she was letting go of the past. Moving on. Ready to marry again. To spend the rest of her life with the Colonel, Dov and their rescue Golden, Shiloh. She had never expected this gift, this second chance at love.

She shook her head, barely recognizing the woman she’d become. For so long she’d thought of herself as a city-girl. But the small cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains was becoming her center. Her home. She heard music differently in the quiet of the mountains. Listened better.

Suddenly wanting to hear Michael’s voice, she dialed his cell. Message.

“Hey you, it’s me,” she whispered. “Call me tonight, I’ll wait up. I have so much to tell you.”

If only…

If only she didn’t have to tell Michael the secret she’d been keeping from him these past few weeks. That once again, a vicious murderer was threatening all she held dear. Dane, with his scarred, wolf-like face and mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes. The one nightmare she could not put behind her.

Because now Dane was back in her life.

+ + +

Over 4,500 miles to the East, the man who called himself Dane could not sleep. Still hours before dawn, shadows lay sharp across the tiles of the villa’s bedroom, angling from the terrace doors. Dane sat in a cushioned chair, crutches propped beside him, staring out the glass at the black Aegean far below – waiting for the sun’s light to spill over the horizon and fill the dark water with gold.

A sudden shift of the moon, and he caught his breath at his reflection in the window. All the mirrors in the villa had been shattered years ago, by his own hand. As shattered as his life. Now, caught off guard, he stared at the disfigured face of the stranger wavering in the glass.

Without warning his mind flung him back several years. He had been standing in the Kennedy Center’s Grand Foyer, his French knife secure under his tuxedo jacket, when he had caught a glimpse of himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Tall and god-like, he’d had muscles that rippled beneath the silk, a strong carved face, flowing hair the color of wheat, streaked by the Provençal sun. A diamond in his left ear, mirrored aviator glasses that hid tiger-colored eyes. His stride had been long, fast and as powerful as the Jaguar he drove.

And then he had crossed paths with Magdalena O’Shea.

First, the badly burned hand, thanks to an encounter with Magdalena’s Colonel at a Provençal abbey. He held up his right hand, now encased in a tight black glove. Then the botched plastic surgery in Italy after being forced into hiding. The scarred, distorted face, the loss of an eye. And then, months later… He looked down at his withered legs. The fall. The sickening feeling of spinning into the void. The excruciating pain that followed. The months of unbearable physical therapy.

All because of one woman. Magdalena O’Shea.

He glanced at his Rolex. Early evening in the states. Firas should have arrived in Martha’s Vineyard by now. He smiled. Until the time came, Firas would be his legs.

The image in the glass wavered, dissolved, and Dane turned away. “For death remembered should be like a mirror,” he whispered. “Who tells us life's but breath, to trust it error.”

***

Excerpt from Echoes on the Wind by Helaine Mario. Copyright 2020 by Helaine Mario. Reproduced with permission from Helaine Mario. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Helaine Mario

Best-selling author Helaine Mario grew up in NYC and is a graduate of Boston University. Now living in Arlington, VA, this mother of two, grandmother of five, and passionate advocate for women's and children's issues came to writing later in life. Her first novel, The Lost Concerto, won the Benjamin Franklin Award Silver Medal. Echoes on the Wind is her fifth novel and the fourth in her Maggie O'Shea Classical Music Suspense Series. Royalties from her books go to children's music and reading programs. Helaine recently lost her husband, Ron, after 57 years together. Her new book echoes with loss, grief, and, ultimately, the healing power of love.

Catch Up With Helaine Mario:

HelaineMario.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @helainemario
Instagram - @helainemario.author
Facebook - @helaine.mario

 

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 Disclaimer: I was given a free copy of the book by the author for an honest review and I was not compensated for my review.

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Monday, June 23, 2025

Spotlight of Burying Ben - Book 1 of the Dot Meyerhoff Mystery Series (#contest- Enter to Win A Bookshop Gift Card)

https://partnersincrimetours.com/burying-ben-by-ellen-kirschman/ Banner

BURYING BEN

by Ellen Kirschman

June 23-29, 2025 Book Blast

Synopsis:

The Dot Meyerhoff Mystery Series

 

Burying Ben by Ellen KirschmanAs her police department’s newest hire, police psychologist Dot Meyerhoff has much to prove. No one on the force sees any reason to have a shrink on staff. When a rookie cop commits suicide, everyone blames Dot—even Dot herself. How had she missed the signs that he was at the end of his rope?

With her reputation on the line, Dot searches for answers. What she discovers is the dark underbelly of a police force that has no patience for a woman who asks too many questions. Determined to get to the truth behind the young officer’s tragic death, Dot risks losing both her job and her life. . .

Burying Ben is on Sale, June 23-29! Click Here and Start Reading the Series Today!

Praise for Burying Ben:

"A deftly crafted novel of compelling complexity," this first book in the mystery series featuring cop therapist Dr. Dot Meyerhoff is "absorbing".
~ Midwest Book Review

"Riveting, compelling and authentic! Ellen Kirschman’s been-there done-that experience makes this a real standout."
~ Hank Phillippi Ryan, USA Today-bestselling author of The House Guest

"Psychological thriller writing at its finest."
~ D.P. Lyle, award-winning author of the Jake Longly series

"Highly satisfying . . . Perceptively treats complex racial, feminist, personal, and political issues while providing intimate knowledge of cops’ shop procedure."
~ Publishers Weekly

"Gutsy and emotionally anchored in real life."
~ Hallie Ephron, New York Times–bestselling author of Careful What You Wish For

"Ellen Kirschman is one to watch."
~ Bookreporter.com

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Psychological Suspense, Domestic Suspense, Amateur Sleuth, Woman Sleuth, Police Procedural
Published by: Open Road Media
Publication Date: April 23, 2024
Number of Pages: 280
ISBN: 9781504094160 (ISBN10: 1504094166)
Series: The Dot Meyerhoff Mystery Series, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Open Road

The Rest of The Dot Meyerhoff Mystery Series

The Right Wrong Thing
The Right Wrong Thing, #2

The Fifth Reflection
The Fifth Reflection, #3

The Answer to His Prayers
The Answer to His Prayers, #4

Call Me Carmela
Call Me Carmela, #5

Read an excerpt:

From Chapter 1

It is a day of firsts. My first day on the job and my first dead body. Chief Baxter wants me to see it. His whole face is concentrated with the effort to make his point, as though he were explaining blood spatter analysis or the biomechanics of tasers. He is wearing gold cufflinks shaped like barbells. Short and barrel chested, he looks like a well-dressed fireplug. I can imagine him as a street cop, pugnacious and badge heavy.

“Don’t sit around your office and wait for cops to come to you. That’s why I’m giving you a car and a scanner. Get out in the field.”

He speaks in short staccato bursts as though he is transmitting over the radio, dropping any unessential words. A slight spray of saliva leaves shiny droplets on his desktop. He walks around the desk and stands close to me. I smell his pine-scented aftershave and mouthwash.

“This is why I have credibility. I make it my business to suit up and get out on the street once a month. I stay in shape. And I always carry.” He opens his jacket and shows me his shoulder holster. He is wearing “a custom fitted dress shirt that shows off the inverted triangle made by his broad shoulders and narrow waist. “Street cops are the lifeblood of this organization. The street is where I started. I’ve never forgotten that and I don’t want anyone else to.”

He leans against the edge of his desk, his arms folded over his chest. “I have a rookie on scene at a suicide. Ben Gomez. He’s been having trouble. Talk to his field training officer. See what you can do to help him. I’ve met the kid. Not my best hire, but I think he’s salvageable.” He lifts his index finger. “I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Dot. I’ve had a lot of trouble in my organization since I took over as chief. Some days I feel like Typhoid Mary. I’ve got four officers on stress leave and three on admin leave under investigation. No telling when any of them will come back to work. I have a small organization—seventy-five officers. I can’t afford to lose this rookie, too. It’s bad for morale plus my overtime budget is off the charts.”

He extends his hand to me. “It’s one thing to study us and write books about us. It’s another thing to hit the streets with us. You come highly recommended by Mark Edison. That says a lot. Most men don’t have much good to say about their former wives.”

He laughs a little too loudly. I wonder if he has an ex and, if he does, what she was like.

“So, welcome aboard. I know this is a tall order, but Dr. Edison said you’re the one for the job. Don’t disappoint me or him. Now, get in your car and get out in the field.” He opens the door to his office and shows me out.

As the new department psychologist, I am in no position to protest or to tell him that I’m scared to death because I’ve never seen a dead body before. Not even my father’s. What if I embarrass myself, faint or, God forbid, get sick to my stomach? I wonder how he expects me to suit up. Maybe I should put wheels on my “couch and tow it behind my car?

The radio traffic on my scanner crackles briskly, drowning out my thumping heart. Listening to it is a guilty pleasure, like eavesdropping. This is the best of two possible worlds, close to the action but at a safe remove– the unobserved observer listening to the breathlessness of the chase, the escalating octaves that betray fear, the barked commands, the unnatural calm of the dispatcher, and the final “Code 4” signaling that the short reign of terror has given way to hours of report writing and investigation.

I drive under a cool green canopy of old oaks. Light filters through the leaves dappling the street. Fifty years ago this old northern California neighborhood was considered the ultimate in affordable, architect-designed family houses. Now the current selling prices are beyond my reach and the reach of any Kenilworth cop, firefighter or schoolteacher. Neighbors are congregating in small worried clusters on the sidewalk in front of a uniquely shabby one story home. They watch as I park my car. I take ten slow deep breaths and step to the sidewalk. Spindly trees flank the walk that leads to the front door. The grass on either side of the cracked concrete path is brown and freckled with splotches of hard, dry dirt. The front door is open. I grit my teeth and walk in.

***

Excerpt from Burying Ben by Ellen Kirschman. Copyright 2013 & 2024 by Ellen Kirschman. Reproduced with permission from Ellen Kirschman. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Ellen Kirschman

Ellen Kirschman, Ph.D. is a police psychologist. and clinician at the First Responders Support Network. She is a member of the International Association of Chiefs of Police, The American Psychological Association, Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and the Public Safety Writers Association. She is the recipient of the California Psychological Association’s award for distinguished contribution to psychology as well as the American Psychological Association’s award for outstanding contribution to the practice of police and public safety psychology. Ellen brings her expertise and decades-long experience to both fiction and non-fiction. She is the author of three non-fiction books and a five-book mystery series featuring police psychologist Dot Meyerhoff.

Catch Up With Ellen Kirschman:

EllenKirschman.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @EllenKirschman
Instagram - @ellen.kirschman.copdoc
Facebook - @ellen.kirschman

 

 

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Wednesday, June 11, 2025

Cover Release of Lavish (California Kings Book 2) by Tinia Montford

Lavish
Tinia Montford
(California Kings, #2)
Publication date: August 6th 2025
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Romance

Serena King has spent years burying her sins beneath designer heels and ruthless ambition. But no lie lasts forever. When a ghost from her past returns, armed with secrets that could destroy her, she’s forced into a game she can’t control.
The first move? A marriage forced upon her

To him—her brother’s ex-best friend. Her first mistake. The man who was her first… and then broke her heart.
Miles Whitmore.

He’s not the reckless charmer she remembers. He’s colder. Crueler. Hungrier.

Miles wants to salvage his scandal-ridden family’s legacy. He needs power. He needs redemption. But he’s got secrets that could destroy everything too.

Their marriage is a business deal, a show for the public. But behind closed doors?

It’s a war.

A war of lies. A war of seduction. A war of who will break first.

But the deeper they fall into their twisted game, the more hatred turns to heat. The more vengeance turns to obsession.

Because in a world where power is everything and love is the most dangerous game of all…

The biggest threat isn’t their enemies.

It’s each other.

Add to Goodreads / Pre-order


Author Bio:

Tinia (TUH-NIA) Montford is a Pisces who’s a sap for romance, especially when there’s (tons of) kissing. Loves eighties sitcoms and will consume anything with chocolate. She graduated from the University of San Francisco with a degree in English and Graphic Design. She is currently pursuing her MFA in Fiction.

You can find Tinia at www.tiniamontford.com or on social media: @tiniawritesbooks

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / TikTok / Amazon



Monday, June 9, 2025

Review of The Cat Stole Your Tome By Jeannie Wycherley

 

I want to welcome Jeannie Wycherley to Books R Us. Jeannie is the author of "The Cat Stole Your Tome," A paranormal cozy fantasy mystery. Thanks for Stopping by.

 

About The Book:

Without Zilla, there'd be no witches zooming around on their broomsticks and nobody would be allowed an exotic animal as a familiar. She grants permits for a living. Okay, it's not riveting stuff but it's important .

The day a cute but pushy pussycat arrives at her apartment complex, so does a grotty old journal full of blank pages. Until now Zilla has enjoyed a simple her clean, quiet apartment; a couple of potted plants that she struggles to keep alive. She's not an exceptional woman. She doesn't have many friends. She's never owned a pet … and she most certainly does not want a cat.

But now her life is upended. Responding to her touch, the ragged journal slowly offers up its contents, revealing an ancient grimoire full of secrets … including the historic murder of a young boy.

Determined to reunite the grimoire—and the cat—with their rightful owner, Zilla begins investigating but it isn’t long before she ruffles a few feathers and finds herself in grave danger. Can she awaken hidden traits from deep within herself. Resilience? Curiosity? Courage?

Because, in order to survive longer than her pot plants, she’s going to need all of those and more!
 

 

 My Thoughts:

"The Cat Stole Your Tome" is a fantasy paranormal mystery that features a great cast of characters, adding depth to the plot. Although the book starts off slowly, it gains momentum as you continue reading. The protagonist, Zilla, lives a boring life selling permits for broomsticks, but when an enchanted grimoire and a cat arrive on her doorstep, her life changes, and she sets out on a quest to solve a mystery.

The author, known for writing numerous works, introduces this as the first installment in a new series that is quirky, spooky, fun, and magical. I look forward to reading the next book in the series, The Spookiest of Spooks: Ghastly Grimoires Book 2.

I give it 4.5 out of 5 stars.

 

About The Author: 

 

Genre-hopping introvert and word witch living somewhere between
the forest and the sea in East Devon, UK.

Jeannie finds inspiration everywhere: myths, stories and songs, people watching, a word here, a look there, but mainly in the landscape. Devon has it all - rocky coast, pebble and sandy beaches, winding lanes and picture perfect cottages, cliffs and forest.

A good day for Jeannie means a blustery wind, racing waves and salty rain. She lives with her husband and two dogs, make a lot of soup, plays too many computer games and loves watching movies.

For information about new releases or for exclusive freebies please sign up for the newsletter at:

https://www.jeanniewycherley.co.uk/

Follow Jeannie on Twitter @thecushionlady

Visit the Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/jeanniewycherley/

 

 


Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book at no charge from Book Reviews 4 U as a member of their BR4U CREW. A review was not mandatory for receiving the book. The free product did not influence my opinion.

Thursday, May 15, 2025

Guest Post (What Makes Sally Witherspoon Tick?) by Eric S. Meyers Author of The Sally Witherspoon Mysteries (#contest- Enter to win a copy of Both Books in the series)

 MURDER ON THE MISSISSIPPI

by Erik S. Meyers

April 28 – May 16, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

           THE SALLY WITHERSPOON MYSTERY SERIES  

Murder on the Mississippi; The Sally Witherspoon Mystery Series by Erik S. Meyers
Amazon | Goodreads

Six months after the events in Death in the Ozarks, Sally Witherspoon is trying to put that terrible time behind her. She books a river cruise down the Mississippi to get away and relax.

Unfortunately relaxation is not to be as as she's called on to get to the bottom of a mysterious death that occurs on board.

A combination of Cheers bartender and Miss Marple, Sally Witherspoon is as determined as ever to solve it.

Praise for Murder On The Mississippi:

"An enjoyable, but deadly cruise down the Mississippi that will keep you in suspense from start to finish! A relaxing trip down the river that turns into a nightmare for main character Sally Witherspoon is a delightful mystery for readers... Lots of twists make for an entertaining read. And like Sally, once it’s over, I’m ready for the next adventure. Looking forward to more in the Sally Witherspoon series!"
~ Ivanka Fear, author of the Blue Water Mysteries and Jake and Mallory Thrillers

Book Details:

Genre: Traditional Mystery, Cozy Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Series Links: THE SALLY WITHERSPOON MYSTERY SERIES on Amazon & Level Best Books

GUEST POST:

What Makes Sally Witherspoon Tick?

I have always thought about writing a mystery novel as I've loved reading mysteries since pretty much forever. Growing up, my mother had most of the Agatha Christie novels and I especially liked the ones with Miss Marple. I now have many of the books myself as well as the TV series with Miss Marple and could engross myself in the stories over and over. They are just so entertaining!

At the beginning of the pandemic back in 2020, I had a lot of time on my hands (as did so many of us), so I decided to begin writing the first book. I thought a lot about what kind of detective I would want to create and where I would place this person in the world. The most important thing for me on creating my detective was that I knew it should be a female detective who is in her mid- to late 50s. There are many great amateur detectives out there these days, but (IMHO) too many are thirty-something, inheriting a bakery or something from a relative. I wanted my detective to stand out. Sally Witherspoon was born in Savannah, Georgia, one of my favorite places on the planet, and moved to Atlanta for college. She met and married her husband there and had a long career in finance.

At some point in her early 40s, she decided she needed a change so she divorced her husband and left her job in finance. She decided to move to the Arkansas Ozarks, where she had been once with her now ex-husband and where a good friend of hers was from. To top it all off, she decided to do something completely different, so she bought an old bakery outside the town of Berry Springs and turned it into a biker bar.

Life is fairly quiet until she finds a dead body behind the bar one Saturday night. Thus starts her amateur detective side hustle, which she discovers she loves.

The setting of the Arkansas Ozarks was inspired by a trip there back in September 2015. I just loved the atmosphere, the small-town feel, the people and altogether the remote location fit well to a small-town mystery.

Find out more about Sally in book 1: Death in the Ozarks and book 2: Murder on the Mississippi. Both were published by Level Best Books, with an audio version of book 1 published by Blackstone Publishing.

I hope you enjoy reading the books!

If you are interested in more on me and my writing, check out my author website.

 

Also, Don't Miss...

DEATH IN THE OZARKS

A cross between Agatha Christie's Miss Marple and a Cheers bartender, Sally Witherspoon, a 50-something accountant turned biker-bar owner, loves solving puzzles. Up to now, she has focused on helping neighbors and friends find lost jewelry, lost pets, and lost loves.

But when she finds her best friend and business partner, Bill Arnold, dead in a dumpster behind her bar on a Saturday night, she needs all her wits and grit to find out who did it.

And she won't stop until she does.


Author Bio:

Erik S. Meyers

Currently in Austria, Erik S. Meyers is an American abroad for years and years who has lived or worked in six countries on three continents, the longest in Germany. He is an award-winning author and communications professional with over twenty-five years of expertise in a variety of corporate roles. Reading and writing are his passions, when he is not hiking one of the amazing trails in Austria or elsewhere.

Catch Up With Erik S. Meyers:

www.ErikMey.com
Medium - @erikmey
Goodreads - @erikmey
Instagram - @erikmeyauthor
Facebook - @ErikSMeyersAuthor

 

 

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