Guest Post and Spotlight of Boomsters An Unexpected Adventure by David Marks (thriller,#contests- Enter to win an Amazon Gift Card)

 

 

 Boomsters: An Unexpected Adventure

 by David Marks

Genre: Mystery, Detective Mystery, Amateur Sleuth, Cozy Mystery, Action Adventure, Thriller

Rating: PG-13

 

Synopsis:

In the heart of Chicago, where shadows conceal secrets and organized crime reigns, one retiree embarks on an extraordinary journey.

David Blazen didn’t know what to expect from retirement. Witnessing a murder that police are calling a suicide definitely was not how he planned to spend his “golden years.”

With a strong need to know what happened to the victim and why, David attends the funeral, where he discovers an unusual cast of characters in attendance: the FBI, the frontrunner candidate for Mayor of Chicago, disciples of Chicago’s two dirtiest crime lords, and dozens of police officers.

David begins to investigate why all these people cared about the victim and why no one was calling it a murder. In his search for truth and justice, he gets caught in a web of contentious situations, each filled with a mixture of humor and suspense.

The further his investigation goes, the more he realizes he shouldn’t be asking who killed the victim or why it was being covered up. As David ultimately is confronted with becoming a criminal himself, the real question he has to ask is how much bad can he justify in the name of good?

As one reviewer said, “This book has the many twists and turns that a great mystery will throw at the reader. It is a fun read, witty, and suspenseful with many surprises turning up throughout the story. If you think you have this story figured out, you don’t!”

Guest Post:

Have you ever asked a police officer how to commit a murder?

I have.

I was writing a key scene for Boomsters: An Unexpected Adventure, and without giving too much away, I'll just tell you that a character is murdered. I talked to a friend about the scene and explained how the character dies, and my friend looked at me, confused.

"David, that doesn't make sense," my friend said. "There's no way the character would die the way you explained it."

I thought my friend was just giving me a hard time, but as I started to tell more people about the scene, I realized I might have a problem. Some people agreed with how I set the scene, but just as many people agreed with my friend. 

How was I going to solve this predicament? I didn't really want to ask Google if this scenario would kill someone.

One day I was doing some writing at a public cafe, and I noticed a police officer walk in. If anyone could help answer my question, I figured an officer of the law could. But what if he got the wrong idea? I wrote this book to help keep my creative mind fresh, not end up in the backseat of a squad car. I thought about it for a minute or so and decided to go for it. 

I walked up to the officer and began by thanking him for his hard work. Then I got right to it.

"Officer," I said, "I have a rather unusual question for you."

"OK?" he said questioningly.

"You see, sir, I'm writing a mystery, and in it, there's a murder. I fortunately have never committed a crime or considered murdering anyone, but I have an active imagination. Anyway, I wrote out the whole scene and thought it worked out, but then I showed it to a buddy and he said it didn't make sense."

By this point the officer seemed captivated by my saga. 

"I see," he responded. "Well, tell me what happens."

I went ahead and painted the whole scene for him. I explained how I thought the murder would happen and then shared how my friend thought it would go down. The officer listened intently. When I finished, he remained quiet. I prayed he wasn't considering whether my tale was a confession. Fortunately, he was apparently just deep in thought about the dilemma. 

After a few seconds, he told me he agreed with my buddy. 

I thanked him for his time and opinion, and I reiterated that this was only for a book and that I'd never consider following through and making this work of fiction a reality. He appreciated that and shook my hand.

"So, who's the killer," the officer asked as we began to go our separate ways. 

"You'll have to read the book to find out," I said with a smile. 

I packed up my things and headed home. On the way, I called my friend and said a cop agreed with him and that I'd fix the details the next morning.

When I woke up, before getting to the revisions, I scoured the local news, hoping no one committed a crime like the one I created. Once I confirmed I was in the clear, I went back to the scene and rewrote it to match the logistics the officer shared. Satisfied, I sat back and thought about the officer's last words. 

"Who's the killer?"

I'd lost count of how many times I'd been asked that question from people who knew about the story. I'd usually give a light-hearted remark like what I shared with the officer, but from the moment I realized this was going to be a book, I knew I wanted it to be more than a whodunnit. 

I wanted readers to get more than just that type of mystery. 

I wanted readers to meet a cast of characters straight out of a Coen Brothers movie, each with their own distinctive backstory, and figure out how they fit together. 

I wanted readers to be entertained with humor while being confronted with ethical and moral dilemmas.

I wanted readers to have to answer the question of how much bad could be justified in the name of good. 

Thank you to the hundreds of readers who've told me I accomplished that goal. 

Thank you for reading this far and considering reading Boomsters.

And thank you to the officer who helped me out. I never caught your name, but if you're reading this, reach out to me at contact@boomsters.com. I'd love to send you a signed copy of the book.

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

BOOMSTERS

“We are gathered here today before God and in the company of loved ones to celebrate life,” Rabbi Rabinowitz said. “The life of—” He paused. “The life of—” Another pause. Finally, he pulled a notecard from his pocket. “We are here to celebrate the life of Melvin Weinberg.”

I adjusted my tie as I leaned toward Mary. “More like celebrating his death,” I said. She rolled her eyes as she listened to the rabbi.

“Melvin, or Mel, as most of you probably knew him, was a husband and a father, a man whose life was cut short at the age of fifty-six. The world will not be the same without him.”

“Yeah, it will be safer now,” I whispered to Mary, who responded with an elbow to my left kidney. “What? Clearly this rabbi never met Mel.”

Candidly, I had never met Mel either, but I was confident I knew more about him than any of the two hundred or so people at the funeral. My guess was most were here not because Mel would be missed but because so many people wanted to confirm he was dead.

When you’re in your seventies like I am, you become familiar with funerals and the certain routine that comes with them, but it was easy to see nothing was routine about this one. Sure, the rabbi forgot the dead man’s name, but now he was extolling Mel’s virtues. Mel had no virtues. He was a murderer, a rapist, and a gambler. You can’t live life as a jerk and die a mensch. Clearly the rabbi was officiating as a favor to someone.

But that wasn’t all that was off. Those in attendance were also peculiar. First, a half-dozen FBI agents patrolled the room. Sarah Cutler—the woman expected to be Chicago’s next mayor—was sitting in the front row for all to see. Scattered throughout were members and employees from the West Coast Club, a fitness center I’ve worked out at for more than twenty years and a place I know Mel was no member of.

Then there was the crowd in the back row. On one side sat associates of Tony Santori, the head of the notorious Italian crime family. Santori expanded his family’s corrupt and dishonorable reign from New Jersey to the Midwest six years ago, and although he wasn’t in attendance, his presence was certainly felt. On the other side were members of the Deli Boys, a pack of Jews who’d owned Chicago’s streets for decades, at least until Santori arrived. Solomon Feldman was their leader, though he, too, was not present. A line of uniformed Chicago police officers blanketed the room’s back wall, there primarily to keep the peace between the two families.

Keep the peace? At a funeral? Like I said, the whole scene was bizarre. Then again, I guess it was fitting for the unique set of circumstances surrounding Mel Weinberg’s death. Why they were there was a legitimate question, as was this: As a retired businessman who spent fifty years selling trinkets like light-up Christmas necklaces and pens that sang “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” what the hell was I doing there?

To answer that question, I needed to take a step back.

—–

David Blazen is my name, born soon after World War II ended at eight pounds and who cares how many ounces. Growing up, I loved to watch Saturday morning television, where Superman stood for justice and Captain America defended our country from evil. All the shows I gravitated toward appealed to me because they focused on doing the right thing, no matter if the hero was a rifleman or a collie. I liked when bad people were caught and justice prevailed. When I couldn’t find the right story on our black-and-white TV, I’d find it in my piles of GI Joe comic books. Before I fantasized about girls, I dreamed about being GI Joe.

The best education I got came from my World War II-veteran dad, a navy man who was the smartest person I knew, even though he never made it past fifth grade. From him I learned how to be human. His motto was simple: “It’s nice to be important, but it’s more important to be nice.”

I went to Wright Junior College in Chicago, but saying I went there is a loose term. I only showed up when I wanted, which wasn’t often. I wanted to learn to be a salesman, so when I wasn’t in class, I was practicing my craft. At that time, I sold personalized pens. I decided I learned all the school could teach me three months into my freshman year when I sold Wright Junior College ten thousand pens emblazoned with the school’s name on them.

After my brief stint in college, I started my own business. I sold creative impulse merchandise of all kinds—things people decide they can’t live without, like an extendable back scratcher or holiday-themed ice trays. Those who knew me then would call me creative and fast-paced, and I would agree. I had a zest for being zestful. My creativity was not stymied by what others did or what books said, only by the limits of my imagination. Every day, I challenged my brain to think outside the norm.

I got married to an incredible woman, and we raised four incredible children. I lost her to cancer far too young, before she could see any of our ten adorable grandchildren.

I retired after five decades at the helm of my company and issued my declaration of independence—I call it that because I truly felt independent for the first time in my life. No parents or teachers telling me what to do. No customers to worry about. No colleagues to manage. When I got that gold watch at my farewell party, it wasn’t just a sign of gratitude; it meant I was on my own.

The irony was I didn’t have anything to do; who cared what time it was?

When people asked about my retirement plans, I joked I’d figure something out, but really I didn’t have a clue. One advantage was I wouldn’t be completely alone. My girlfriend, Mary, retired from her forty-year business career the day after I left mine, and we entered this new world enthusiastic to travel, relax, and enjoy our lives with one another, like those hokey life insurance commercials with aging couples hugging on a boat, grateful to have time together.

It took us four days to realize we didn’t like boats and there was only so much hugging to do.

We went from leadership positions where others counted on us for direction to spending virtually every waking minute together. It used to take only one of us to squeeze the tomatoes at the produce counter, but now it’s a two-person event complete with discussion and, in most cases, a concession on my part. I was no dummy, though; bigger decisions would be needed at the avocados. What used to be short trips now became extended outings. Lunch was another discussion, followed by a compromise. Everything we did was a discussion, then a compromise.

The one thing we agreed on was we needed a new plan.

***

Excerpt from BOOMSTERS by David Marks. Copyright 2024 by David Marks. Reproduced with permission from David Marks. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

David Marks

David Marks launched DM Merchandising, a wholesale marketplace for business owners, in 1988. He spent 30 years relying on his creativity in the hopes of developing the world’s greatest impulse products. He retired in 2018, thrilled for a new chapter in life, only to discover his creativity had hit a brick wall. One day he was an innovative workaholic with a team of more than 200 employees, the next day he found himself with no forum to exercise his mind.

Desperate to do something creative, he imagined a fictitious character facing the same traumatic reality of retirement. Inspired by watching crime stoppers on TV, David began pondering the question of how much bad could be justified in the name of good. With no clerical staff and limited typing skills, he put his thumb to work and began tapping out a story on his iPhone. A book was never the goal. The exercise was simply meant to help keep his mind sharp. But in the process, Boomsters was born.

Catch Up With Our Author, David Marks:
Boomsters.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @contact961

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Wheatmark

 

Giveaway

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for David Marks. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

CLICK HERE TO ENTER CONTEST

Book Blitz of Step One Indigo Ballet Series(#Contests- Enter to win an Amazon Gift Card.)

Step One
Grier Cooper
(Indigo Ballet Series)
Publication date: November 15th 2024
Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult

When Indigo lands a role in Ballet Russia’s touring production of The Nutcracker, it’s a dream come true…. Or is it? Her arch nemesis is also part of the production. So is dashing Russian viral video superstar Dimitri Volkov, who’s playing some kind of game she doesn’t quite understand.

As Indigo dances alongside the rising stars of Ballet Russia she struggles to rise above constant criticism from Ballet Russia’s Director, Yuri Kanofsky. But first she’ll have to dig deep and silence the doubts running through her mind if she wants to rise to their level and drive her ballet career forward.

When unexpected events turn Indigo’s world upside down overnight she’s forced to decide how much she’s willing to sacrifice to get there.

And one innocent mistake just might cost her everything.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

“You.” The single word from Yuri yanks me out of my reverie. “Indigo, is it?” I nod numbly. “Come here, please.” Yuri points at the center of the floor then folds his arms and waits. I take my position there standing still.

“We begin like this,” he says, posing as I remember from the video of Irina. He shows me the first counts of eight for my solo and I mark the steps as I watch. I’ve memorized them after the second time he walks them through; thankfully I’ve always been quick to pick up choreography.

“You have it?” he demands gruffly. I nod. “Show me.” he steps back and leans on the barre at the front of the room, watching me intently, like a cat tracking a careless bird.

I spread my feet wide and bend forward at the waist, imagining the pose as I remember Irina did it. Aside from Yuri’s counting, the room is silent and still; I feel the others watching. But I can’t think about that. I must only think about the counts and where my body is going, one second ahead so I am there when I am supposed to be–

“No!” he claps loudly. “Let me see position again.” I recreate the pose I was in before he interrupted. “No.” he shakes his head vigorously. “It is like this.”

He strikes the pose. “You see?”

I don’t understand the difference but I don’t dare say anything. I nod.

“More energy in fingertips,” he suggests. I try again, this time I imagine sparks shooting out of my fingertips. This seems to work, since he lets me continue. I rise en pointe, bringing one leg into passé retiré, the toes touching the side of my standing leg near the knee.

“Stop.” More clapping. He marches over to me again. “Make me passé,” he says. I rise back into the position, more forcefully this time, but still he shakes his head. “It is impossible,” he states. “This is not passé. It must be in front of knee, like this,” he says, demonstrating.

Miss Roberta would frown on this placement, I think. Another example of how different ballet technique is from one company to the next, from one country to the next.

Still, I comply. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to learn slight variations, to have more translations in my pocket. You never know when they might come in handy in the future. Another passé, then close in fifth position, and pirouette from fifth–

“No again.” He clenches his hands into fists this time and stomps over to Skinny Snow White. I catch the first word, “Olgachkova” and then get lost inthe flurry of words that follow, none of which I understand. When he falls silent,

Skinny Snow White nods in assent and replies, “Da.”

Skinny Snow White removes the plastic warmup pants she was wearing and makes her way over to me. Yuri flaps a hand at me impatiently, indicating I should step aside. “Olga will show,” he says, turning to her with an enormous smile of beatitude.

I edge out of her way, trying not to feel crushed. I know that having Olga dance in my place is meant to be a teaching tool, something to help me ultimately, but it still stings.

That feeling intensifies as she moves gracefully through the choreography, flowing smoothly through the passés and turns as effortlessly as a fish swirls through water. I try to focus on what she’s doing so I can learn. I’d like to figure out exactly what it is that Yuri’s looking for, that I haven’t got. Yet. But it’s almost impossible to ignore that this woman is one of the most exquisite dancers

I’ve ever watched.

I’ve told myself oodles of time I must never ever, under any circumstances, make comparisons–because comparison is always a losing game. But how not to when the glaring differences are practically smacking me in the face?

Yuri claps again. “Enough. Khorosho, blagodaryu vas, Olga. We will break. Return in twenty minutes.”

I stand paralyzed, mute with a flurry of thoughts pirouetting in my mind.

After watching Olga dance I don’t know how I will ever measure up. I want to, but it seems like an impossible task. Where to even begin? Who can help? Can anyone? What do I need to do to reach that same level of precision and perfection?

All I can think is that even if I were to sneak from my bed and dance all night long, wearing out pair after pair of pointe shoes every night up until our performances, like the Twelve Dancing Princesses fairytale, I’m not sure even that would be enough.

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Author Bio:

Grier left home at fourteen to study at the School of American Ballet in New York. She has performed on three out of seven continents with companies such as San Francisco Ballet, Miami City Ballet, and Pacific Northwest Ballet, totaling more than thirty years of experience as a dancer, teacher and performer.

Her work has been praised as "poignant and honest" with "emotional hooks that penetrate deeply." She writes and blogs about dance and has interviewed and photographed a diverse collection dancers and performers including Clive Owen, Nicole Kidman, Glen Allen Sims and Jessica Sutta. She is the author of Build a Ballerina Body and The Daily Book of Photography. Grier's work has also appeared in Conscious Dancer, Discovery Girls, Skipping Stones, and Dance Advantage, among others.

Website / Goodreads / X

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Book Blitz of The Forest and The Sea by Tracy Zumwalt(#contests- Win An Amazon Gift Card)

The Forest and the Sea: A Cinderella Retelling
Tracy Zumwalt
Publication date: November 12th 2024
Genres: Fairy Tales, Retelling, Romance, Young Adult

 

Reynette is desperate to escape the servitude of her step family at Laudermann Manor and the lustful desires of the loathsome, Sir Bjorn.

Lord Ehrhart seeks to please his father and their subjects by securing a future wife and future Duchess of Badenberg.

Will a chance meeting in the woods lead them to find their hope and future within each other’s arms?

The people of Badenberg are preparing to celebrate the anticipated, Midsummer Festival.

In the worn hallways of Laudermann Manor, a young servant girl longs for freedom and love. Bound by duty to her cruel step family, she yearns to attend the festival and meet a kind, brave suitor who will seek her floral wreath and therefore, declare his intent to pursue her.

Her hope takes a turn when her wreath is sought by a mysterious, yet somehow familiar man.

Meanwhile, Lord Ehrhart, son of the Duke, is under growing pressure to find a bride. Trusting his future to the Duke’s advisor, Ehrhart agrees to a series of balls to seek the next Duchess of Badenberg.

But, behind the festivities and beautiful floral decor, a dangerous scheme unfolds— the Duke’s brother and his ruthless son, Sir Bjorn, conspire to seize the Duke’s position, putting love, power and loyalty to the ultimate test.

Help arrives through an unexpected ally as Reynette and Ehrhart seek to unravel the web of deceit and hidden motives.

Extravagant balls are thrown, secrets are revealed, and murderous plots are uncovered in thisreimagining of the Cinderella story.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

His father and Badenberg needed him to find a suitable wife. Ludwig’s solution was to host the two balls and hope Ehrhart found a wife among the wealthy and titled of Badenberg. But, though Ehrhart had agreed to such a plan, he couldn’t help but feel he’d find a wife on his own terms. Would that be Beatrice? He stared down at his hands loosely wrapped around the reins. Beatrice was certainly a plausible solution to his problem, but could she be a woman he’d love for the rest of his life? She appeared interested in him and his attention, but did he truly know her intentions? He had meant what he’d told his sisters, he was interested in more than just a pretty face.

Suddenly, a loud thud echoed through the trees, followed by another and another. Then he heard a piercing crack to his left. Ehrhart peered up just in time to watch a tree fall along the path. The jarring movement and sound caused Storm to rear.

With his hold on the reins so loose, the sudden jolt sent Ehrhart out of his saddle and towards the ground.

He closed his eyes and braced for the impact, which came quickly. The wind was knocked out of him. He gasped and breathed deeply to restore the air to his lungs, but his vision was slow to clear. Squeezing his eyes tightly, he tried moving his limbs and muscles. His legs and arms moved without pain, but his back felt stiff from the fall. He opened his eyes, staring at the trees above him. Streaks of sunlight pierced the canopy.

To his left, he heard light footsteps drawing near. Someone was attempting to sneak up on him. He was vulnerable while lying on his back. An urge to protect himself flooded his senses. He grunted as he lifted his head and reached for the dagger concealed within his boot.

After drawing the knife from its sheath, he pulled the weapon into a defensive position near his face. The hilt was held securely in his palm while the blade rested upon his skin, extending up and past his wrist. He was still on the ground, but the knife gave him hope in defending himself.

He waited for the steps to get closer.

When they did, he swung his arm from his face and rolled to his left side, allowing him to look into the eyes of his would-be attacker.

Author Bio:

Tracy Zumwalt abandoned her dream of writing a novel over fifteen years ago.

But, through her daughter’s newfound love of fairytale romance, Tracy has revisited her once discarded bucket list item and entered into the world of fairytale retelling. She is all about the happily ever afters and finding inspiration in the world around her, whether that’s through exploring new places or simply savoring moments at home.

When Tracy is not crafting new stories, she is either on the move, staying active, or in the kitchen, cooking up plant-based meals to share with family and friends.

She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two children. Together, they’ve created a life committed to love, adventure and finding the joy in both the simple and complex moments of life.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram

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Book Blitz of Bloody Is The Night by Robin Jeffrey(#Contests-Win An Amazon Gift Card)

Bloody is the Night
Robin Jeffrey
(The Night, #2)
Publication date: November 12th 2024
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Unbeknownst to humans, the werewolves of the world live in tight knit gangs, or “dens”, for protection from outsiders – and each other. Every major metropolis has one; to belong to a den is to have a family for eternity. Shaye Cassidy, an unhoused human woman scraping by on the streets of Los Angeles, hasn’t had anything close to a family in over ten years. Shaye left her home under a cloud to chase the dream of a new start, a dream that quickly turned into a nightmare; a nightmare that grows even more twisted when Shaye witnesses a werewolf killing a fellow unhoused man.

Andy Vasquez is a top member of Sangre Sagrada, second only to the den leader herself. When she tasks him with tracking down a werewolf gone rogue, someone who is killing humans for sport and risking the exposure of their world, Andy dedicates all his resources to the task. He couldn’t have predicted that the key to uncovering the identity of the rogue wolf would be a human woman, any more than he could have predicted that he would fall in love with her.

Now, Andy must protect Shaye not just from the rogue wolf, but also from those within his den who wish she would disappear. Shaye has her own secrets, however, and in the city of angels, everyone has a devilish side.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

—

EXCERPT:

I faced forward and froze.

Sitting on the stool across the table was the slim man from the library. He looked me over with an unimpressed glaze to his eyes, leaning against the table, his breathing somewhat labored.

“Shaye Cassidy?” he said casually, as if we had arranged to meet here on a blind date.

I pushed away from the table, my eyes widening. “Shit–!”

Two massive hands clamped onto my shoulders. I tried to twist around, to twist out of their grip, but I might as well have been trying to squirm out of handcuffs. “Stay awhile,” said the silver-haired man behind me, pressing me down into the stool, squeezing hard, but not hard enough to be painful.

Heart in my throat, pounding against my skin like it was trying to escape, I watched as the dark-haired man slid himself on top of the plush green seat across from me, reaching forward and picking up a few pieces of hard-shelled candy out of the bowl as he settled himself. “How did you even get into a place like this?” he asked, an amused quirk to the corner of his mouth that set me on edge.

Even in the midst of the chaotic bar, his voice was deep, cool, and clear, like water from a mountain river. I watched as he threw the candy into his mouth piece by piece, and he returned my stare, his brows lifting over his dark eyes.

My tongue darted out to wet my suddenly dry lips. I cleared my throat. “Are you going to hurt me?”

His lips twitched up into a lightning strike smile that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. “No.” Tongue probing the inside of his cheek, he leaned forward across the table, so he didn’t have to shout. “Are you going to answer my question?”

His calmness grated on my raw nerves. I rolled my eyes and gestured towards the back of the club, past the dance floor. “Fire door alarm around the back is busted. Has been for almost a year.” As I shifted my weight on my seat, the man’s grip on my shoulders remained steady and firm. I grimaced at the pressure. “I noticed it when they hired me for a day to wash some dishes.”

The man looked in the direction I indicated and gave a harrumph, his shoulders rising and falling. He returned his attention to me, nodding. “Clever.”

Frowning, I gripped the edge of the table tightly. “I’m homeless, not blind.” I looked around. No one seemed to notice that I was under duress. If I started screaming, what would happen? What would anyone do? I decided not to risk it, sighing and staring at the man across from me instead. “I’m not stupid either. You’re Andy Vazquez, right?”

His calm facade cracked, if only slightly. This time he actually looked impressed, his eyes widening slightly, faint surprise clear in the opening of his mouth. “Ah, yeah.”

“What do you want?” I demanded.

“I thought you said you weren’t stupid.” He smiled, his eyes narrowing. “What would someone like me want with someone like you?”

“I don’t know,” I answered with unusual honesty, throwing one hand into the air. “I don’t even know who you are; not really. Just that you’re looking for me. You and the LAPD.” Looking him over more closely, a thought occurred to me. “Is that it? Are you a cop? Like a detective or something?”

As soon as the question was out of my mouth, I knew the answer was no. Getting a closer look at him, he couldn’t have been dressed less like a police officer. A part of my brain I had not used in a long time recognized the deceptively plain white dress shirt he was wearing as Louis Vuitton, meaning it cost somewhere close to a thousand dollars. The pants they were tucked into? Armani, over a thousand. The jacket? Even at this distance, I could tell: a single-breasted affair in virgin wool and silk – two thousand at least.

But it wasn’t just the clothes. It was the way he wore them.

Like they were strictly temporary.

Author Bio:

Robin Jeffrey can almost always be found cranking out punchy flash fiction, lyrical essays, or world-rich novels. Her writing has been published in magazines across the country and around the world. She currently calls the Pacific Northwest of the United States home, where she lives happily with her husband and their out of control comic book collection. She currently resides in the rainy Pacific Northwest. More of her work can be found on her website, RobinJeffreyAuthor.com.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / X

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Guest Post by P.K. Eden Author of the Mirror- The Primogen Sentinels Book One(#guestpost)

 

What if you found out the artifacts from the fairy tales you loved as a child were real and one of them just predicted your death?

Title: The Mirror

Author: P.K. Eden

Publication Date: October 14, 2024

Pages: 390

Genre: Urban Fantasy

What if you found out the artifacts from the fairy tales you loved as a child were real and one of them just predicted your death? That’s the dilemma Scientist Ben Michaels faces when Siene Dower, descendant of the Brothers Grimm, tells him that Snow White’s Magic Mirror sent her to stop him from getting into the cab that crashed and burst into flame right before his eyes at the intersection at Penn Station, New York City. Does practical Dr. Michaels dismiss everything he knows about reality and science and follow the curious and beautiful woman who just saved his life?

The Mirror is available at Amazon.

 

Guest Post:

Ten things you might not know about THE MIRROR 

1. It is with inspiration from one of the Tales of the Brothers Grimm specifically Little Snow White - a tale of mother-daughter conflicts (and don't we all have them at one time or another) that The Mirror was born. 

2. The names of the societies both pro and con were gleamed from actual folklore. Our Rogue group - Taltos - was pulled from Hungarian folk tales in which the taltos are commonly mentioned in the folktales. Our heroic Primogen Sentinels - are the leaders of his or her clan, or in our case one from each continent and are the protectors of the artifacts from the fairy tales. 

3. The story takes place over three continents - North America, Europe, and Africa. 

4. The Sentinels do not have superpowers. They have abilities which they sharpened in order to protect the artifacts from the tales and lore of each continent they oversee.

 5. To be a Sentinel one must give up most normal contact with their family and friends in order for the fairy tale artifacts to be hidden from the human world to be kept safe and not exploited by those who wish to use their unique powers for personal gain. Image if you owned the spinning wheel that could turn straw into gold. 

6. THE MIRROR includes folklore and fairy tales from other writers as well. In fact, Thumbelina, or Lina as she prefers to be called, by Hans Cristian Anderson plays an important role in the plot. Future stories will also include Native American folklore. 

7. The Primogens Watchers are a subgroup who constantly monitor world events to help determine if an artifact has been exposed or if Taltos is on the move. 

8. The Taltos Seekers are another subgroup who can find anything or anyone when needed. This group is headed by the South American Primogen who has a whole network of cousins leading the way.

 9. The Primogen Erasers are tasked with cleaning up after a conflict with Taltos or if a person or persons somehow discover the presence of the Sentinels. Remember the "flashy thing" from Men in Black? Erasers have something similar.

 10. THE MIRROR sets the basis for the next book to come out. That book will address climate change issues and will use the wisdom and respect for nature of the North American Native American Primogen - Jon Two Bear.

 

 

Book Excerpt

“Sit.” Siene motioned to the black sofa next to the door. She walked to the back bookshelf and pulled forward an old book with her forefinger. She skimmed the pages as she walked back to him. About halfway through the book she retrieved a fragile-looking, folded paper with timeworn brown edges.  

She sat next to him. “Show me your palm.” 

Ben held out his hand. “Why? Are you going to read it?”

“Do I look like a fortune teller?”

“You did predict the cab accident,” Ben replied. 

She rolled her eyes and gently unfolded the paper. Carefully, she dropped three brown, shriveled ovals into his palm.

Ben’s brow furrowed. “What are these?”

“Beans.”

“I can see that.” He looked up. “Is this when I ask you why they were hidden in the book?”

“No, you’re supposed to guess.”

Ben lifted an eyebrow. “Do you really want to play games, Siene?”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Actually, yes. You’re the hot-shot genius. I’m curious to see if that big brain of yours can think outside the . . .” She felt a wicked smile form on her lips “. . . outside the spit glands.”

He shot her an annoyed look and used his forefinger to move the beans around on his palm. They were shrunken but all the same size and shape. Kidney beans, he guessed. Very old kidney beans. He glanced at Siene. “Beans hidden in a book. Did you get them from a prom date instead of flowers and this is your way of telling me that you’re still thinking of the prom king?”  

She saw amusement replace the annoyance on his face. Okay, maybe inside all the gray matter the man had a sense of humor. She’d try sparring with him later. Right now, she had to make a seemingly very obtuse point. “Did your mother ever read you fairy tales when you were a child?”  

“Yes,” Ben replied, still holding the beans in his outstretched hand.

“Which ones?”

“The usual. Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, the Shoemaker and the Elves.”

“What about Jack and the Beanstalk?” 

Ben glanced down at the beans in his hand and then back at Siene. “Of course, and I suppose you’re going to tell me these are magic beans.”

Skepticism lit his eyes and Siene knew he wasn’t quite there yet. “I know I’m asking a lot, but for a minute, just send all the Einstein stuff to the back of your gray matter and go with it.” His expression told her he thought she was nuts and she suspected ninety-nine percent of the world’s population would probably agree with him. “I guess laymen might say they are magic.”

“Laymen.” Ben paused before shooting her a probing stare. “People off their meds like you, you mean.”

She held up her finger. “You agreed to go with it.”

“No, I did not.”

“Let’s pretend you did. These beans are the last ones left.  It drives my brother, Reed, crazy that I keep them in a book.  He thinks it’s the first place a Taltoian would look.” She held the book up so he could see the title.

“Taltioan?”

“I’ll get there in a minute.” She lifted her chin. “Look at the book.”

White paper showed through the frayed corners of the cover and the embossed lettering worn low by the passing years made the words hard to read. He leaned closer and squinted. Tales by the Brothers Grimm. His head snapped up. “Is this an original edition?” He turned the book over and then back. “It looks very old.”

Siene nodded. “They are my great-great--maybe another great, maybe not, it really doesn’t matter at this point--Uncles Jacob and Wilhelm. The book has been passed down through the generations.”   

Ben’s wide-eyed gaze flared. “You are crazy. You expect me to believe these are the magic beans they wrote about? That if you plant them, a stalk will grow as high as the clouds and if we climb it, we will meet a giant who has a goose that lays golden eggs?”

“Yes, and other things. A golden harp…”

Ben stood. “This has been an adventure to say the least, and I will admit you might have a very valuable book that could command millions, but you being related to the Brothers Grimm, “ he looked down at his hand, “And these are magic beans, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

He handed her back the book and held up fingers in a vee. “Two reasons. One, I suspect if there actually was a goose that laid golden eggs, some billionaire would own it and two, a giant, by sheer atomic weight and mass, cannot stand or live on a cloud.”

Siene shrugged. “Whether you believe me or not, it’s still true.”  

“Which part?”

“All of it.” She slipped her hand under his. “I better take those back now.” She carefully placed the beans inside the paper and back into the book.  

Ben remained still for several minutes as though processing the information he just heard. “It appears your uncles, if they truly are,  are not the only ones who can tell tall tales.”

She put the book back on the shelf. “They wrote the stories to protect the artifacts.”

“Artifacts. Like those in a museum?”

She looked at him and smiled. “No, the ones in my uncles’ stories.”

“Which stories?”
“All of them.”

– Excerpted from The Mirror by P.K. Eden, The Wild Rose Press, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

About the Authors

P.K. Eden is the alter ego of multi-published and award winning authors Patt Milhailff and Kathye Quick whose debut novel FIREBRAND was lauded as comparable to the Harry Potter series, garnered 5-Star reviews, and won numerous  Reviewer’s Choice Awards.

Born long, long ago in a place not so far away, Shenandoah, Pennsylvania, Kathryn Quick has been writing since the Sisters in St. Casmir’s Grammar School gave her the ruled yellow paper and a number two pencil.  She writes contemporary and career romances, romantic comedies, historical romances as well as urban fantasy. 

Kathye has twenty fiction books in print with various publishing houses and one non-fiction compilation of her town’s history at the behest of the Manville Library Bord.  She was honored to have been named an Amazon top 100 Romance Author for Ineligible Bachelor published by Montlake Romance. Other works include a three book  Grandmother’s Rings Series – Amethyst, Sapphire and Citrine, a rom-com series that follows three siblings as they use their Grandmother’s Rings given to them by their mother to find their soulmates. 

Because she has been fascinated by King Arthur and his knights for almost forever, her series Beyond Camelot, Brother Knights, is her vision of how the majestic kingdom may have survived after Arthur. Two books are written in this series with the third and final still in concept.

She is a founding member of Liberty State Fiction Writers and has been a part of Romance Writers of America and New Jersey Romance Writers.

She is married to her real-life hero, Donald, and has three grown sons, each having romantic adventures of their own. Her two grandkids, Savannah and Dax, happily cut into her writing time but she still manages to get a few pages done each day.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ www.Kathrynquick.com  

Twitter ➜ https://x.com/KQuickAuthor

Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/KathrynQuickBooks/

Instagram ➜ https://www.instagram.com/kathrynquickauthor/

Goodreads ➜ https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/217228581-the-mirror

***

Thanks to novelist and editor, Dr. Nathasha Brooks-Harris who invited Patt Milhailff to write for several TRUE CONFESSION lines of magazines where she learned tight and entertaining writing and resulted in the publication of more than two hundred short stories and articles.

One of Patt’s most gratifying experiences was when she moderated a standing room only workshop at the African American Romance Slam Jam in 2004 and has since enjoyed speaking engagements at libraries, book clubs and other forums. 

She was awarded 2009 Author of the year and 2010 Mentor of the year by Romance writers of America, New York City Chapter, a terrific organization that helped her to obtain valuable lessons and insight while on her writing journey. 

Patt is also featured in A Dream Deferred, A Joy Achieved, a non-fiction novella by Charise Nesbit a co-producer at Tyler Perry Studios, about foster care, as well as being included in two of Times Bestselling Author Zane’s anthologies. 

Patt is one half of the writing duo P.K. Eden along with Kathye Quick, authors of Firebrand,  that received a five star Affaire de Couer Reviewer’s Choice Award. 

She is also a member of Liberty States Fiction Writers the home of a magnitude of talented writers and fellow authors and is the author of nine novels.  

Patt was raised, and educated in New York City, residing in  New Jersey, and has since relocated to Delaware.

Social Networks for P.K. Eden:

Follow on Twitter: https://x.com/PKEdenAuthor 

Follow on Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/P.K.EdenAuthor

Follow on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p.k.edenauthor/

 

Sponsored By:

 

Guest Post by Ellen Kirschman Author of Call Me Carmela-A Dot Meyerhoff Mystery (#contests- Enter to win a Bookshop.org Gift Card-2 winners)

CALL ME CARMELA

by Ellen Kirschman

November 11 - December 6, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A Dot Meyerhoff Mystery

 

Police therapist Dot Meyerhoff helps a young woman find her birth parents and unburies dark family secrets in this psychological thriller.

Police psychologist Dot Meyerhoff’s caseload is usually filled with cops—which is why she’s hesitant to help an adopted teenager locate her birth parents. But the teen’s godmother is Dot’s dear friend Fran and a police widow to boot. How could Dot possibly say no?

Once Dot starts digging into the case, though, she’s drawn into a murky world of illegal adoptions and the choices a young pregnant woman might make as a last resort. Soon there’s only one thing Dot knows for sure: the painful truth of what happened all those years ago might heal one family—but it’s certain to destroy another.

Genre: Psychological/Domestic Suspense
Published by: Open Road Media
Publication Date: November 26, 2024
Number of Pages: 292
ISBN: 9781504095754 (ISBN10: 1504095758)
Series: A Dot Meyerhoff Mystery, #5
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Open Road Media

Guest Post:

I write the Dot Meyerhoff mystery series. Dot (after my mother), Meyerhoff (after my maternal grandmother), is a police psychologist. So am I. You could call my books semi-autobiographical, although Dot is younger and thinner than I am. And when it comes to helping her cop clients, she takes way more risks.

Readers often ask me, “Did you really do what Dot did? My answer is always “Of course, not. I would have lost my license.”

Dot solves most crimes using her brain and her training as a psychologist. But when more is called for she’ll do whatever it takes. Just so you know, I would never have impersonated a public official, broken into my ex’s office, hit someone over the head with a wine bottle, or tried to run anyone down with my car.

I write in first person. Dot’s voice is mine. So are some of the challenges she faces in every book. I’ve tangled with a lot of badge heavy cops like Eddie Rimbauer. I’ve helped rookies like Ben Gomez (Burying Ben) and Randy Spelling (The Right Wrong Thing) get their bearings in a job that is filled with challenge and tragedy. I’ve helped veteran officers manage the wear and tear of the job on family life (The Fifth Reflection). And I’ve struggled to maintain the belief that what I do as a psychologist helps people change for the better (The Answer to His Prayers).

Like most writers, I mine my personal life and family for material. With his permission, I plagiarized much of my husband Steve’s life for Dot’s love interest, Frank. I turn the tables on incompetent psychologists, bumbling police

chiefs, social unrest, as well as my own tendencies to overwork and never give up on anyone, no matter how bad they are. My struggles to build trust with cop clients and get administrators to appreciate my services, show up in every book.

Call Me Carmela, my most recent book (available now for pre-order) took me in a new direction. Ripped from the headlines in a British newspaper, it has all the same quirky secondary characters shaking their heads as Dot helps the adopted teenage god daughter of KPD’s only police widow find her birth parents. It was refreshing to look beyond my own experience and take a deep dive into the complicated and emotion-filled world of adoptions.

Thanks for reading. I hope you find my books to be informative and enjoyable. Happy reading.

 

Read an excerpt:

 

 

 

Author Bio:

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
Goodreads
BookBub - @EllenKirschman
Instagram - @ellen.kirschman.copdoc
Facebook - @ellen.kirschman

 

 

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