A day in the life with Val Deniston by Maya Corrigan

My latest encounter with a murderer started when my grandfather came into the kitchen a transformed man. He looked as if he belonged in a fountain-of-youth drug ad, not at all like the man who’d welcomed me as a housemate a year ago. Only yesterday he’d resembled Santa Claus, with a fluffy beard, white curls fringing his head, and wire-framed bifocals slipping down his nose. Now he had shorter hair, a trimmed beard, rimless glasses with tinted lenses, and a tweed driver’s cap covering his bald spot on top.

I pointed my wooden spoon at him. “Who are you, and what did you do with the real Don Myer?”

“I got a new look for the New Year and a new client.” He sauntered across the kitchen as if on a runway in a fashion show. Then he shed his black wool car coat, hung it over his chair at the breakfast table, and showed me his shirt and pants—black, hip, and expensive.

“You look . . . fantastic, Granddad. What are you doing that requires a stylish wardrobe?”

“That’s confidential. I’m finally attracting the right type of business. No more tracking down runaway tabbies or stolen garden gnomes.”

I suppressed a smile. “With a business card that identifies you as a problem solver and sleuth, you have to be prepared for any challenge. Mrs. Smith was very grateful you found her cat.”

“She wasn’t grateful enough to pay me with cash, just cookies. I want to earn back some of the money I forked over for that online private-eye course. My client is paying my expenses and gave me an advance. Big bucks.” He adjusted the angle of his driver’s cap.

I turned the burner down as I digested his words. Hard to believe he merited upfront payment based on his dubious online training and a minor role in solving a murder or two. Granddad refused to tell me who was paying him and what he was supposed to do. I only hoped he wasn’t getting in over his head.

My hope was dashed later that afternoon. After parking at an outlet mall, I spotted a bearded man in a black coat and a driver’s cap at the other end of the mall’s sprawling parking lot. Granddad in his new clothes. Could he have been hired as a mystery shopper? A car turned into the lane where he was walking. He paid no attention to it. He staggered. Then he disappeared as if a stage trap door had swallowed him.

You can read more about Val and Granddad in The Tell-Tale Tarte, the fourth book in the “Five-Ingredient” mystery series.

It’s a cold January in the Chesapeake Bay area, but Cool Down Café manager Val Deniston has plenty to sweat over—like catering a book club event, testing recipes for her Granddad’s cookbook, and catching the author of a deadly tale of murder. The last thing Val needs in her life is an unsolved murder, especially when the victim, an actor famed for impersonating Edgar Allan Poe, happens to be dressed exactly like her Granddad. To keep an eye on Granddad, whose latest job takes him to the home of Rick Usher, a local author inspired by Poe, Val gets herself hired as a cook in Rick’s House of Usher. When she discovers the actor wasn’t the only one doing an impersonation, separating the innocent from the murderous becomes a real-life horror story. But Val must decipher a killer’s M.O. sooner rather than later . . . or she can forget about finding poetic justice.

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About the author
Maya (Mary Ann) Corrigan, lives outside Washington, D.C., an easy drive from Maryland’s Eastern Shore, the setting for her culinary mysteries: By Cook or by Crook, Scam Chowder, Final Fondue, and The Tell-Tale Tarte. Her Five-Ingredient Mysteries feature a café manager and her grandfather. Each book includes five suspects, five clues, and Granddad’s five-ingredient recipes. Visit her website at mayacorrigan.com, for more about the series and for trivia about mysteries.

All comments are welcomed.

Giveaway: Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of The Tell-Tale Tarte (print copy for US entries, e-book outside the US). The giveaway ends June 27, 2017. Good luck everyone!

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A day in the life of Reginald Proctor by Carolyn Haines

When I found myself working with Madam Petalungra, world famous medium, in the cosmopolitan Louisiana city of New Orleans, I discovered a world hidden to most people. And I began to realize many things about my chosen line of work. The first is that I have no real ability to see spirits. Madam, who is a true talent in the spirit world, said I might eventually learn sensitivity to the specters trapped between realms, but that nonetheless I was her ablest assistant because while I could not see the dead, I do have an ability to read the living. Madam, who is a true talent in the spirit world, said I might eventually learn sensitivity to the specters trapped between realms. Nonetheless I was her ablest assistant because, while I could not see the dead, I have an uncanny ability to read the living. My years of working with Madam were the beginning of a very strange path.

Not so long ago, I was attending Madam at one of her regular séances. Her New Orleans home is a frequent stopping place for the famous and wealthy, including Mr. Doyle, the English writer of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries. But on this particular night, it was a young female writer who caught my eye. Raissa James was in the company of her uncle and two friends and they’d arranged to attend Madame’s session. The rest, as they say, is history.

I returned to Mobile, Alabama with Raissa and her uncle to investigate a series of unexplained incidents in the magnificent Caoin House. The mystery we uncovered was far more complex and devious than I’d ever anticipated. But I also discovered in Raissa a young woman who doesn’t judge my lifestyle and who also keeps my secrets. Now we’re business partners in the gumshoe agency, Pluto’s Snitch. Our specialty is solving mysteries with a supernatural influence. And in our second case, we’re working for none other than the most modern woman in America, Zelda Fitzgerald.

Our adventure will take us to Montgomery, Alabama where Mrs. Fitzgerald’s childhood friend is suffering from what she calls a possession. Camilla Granger has been institutionalized in the state mental hospital, a voluntary commitment. Described as a sweet, meek young woman, Camilla has twice tried to kill her fiancé, a man she claims to love. She is either mentally ill, in which case we won’t be able to help, or some entity is deviling her. If her erratic and dangerous behavior is the result of some kind of haunting, perhaps Raissa and I can intervene.

We’ll travel up the Alabama river on one of her uncle’s steamboats. I hope to get some gambling in along the journey and replenish my threadbare finances. As I mentioned, I’m pretty good at reading people and in my past life, I’ve learned how to survive. Gambling is generally easy money. Raissa has never traveled by river, and the trip will give her time to work on the stories she wants to write and publish. She is quite talented. This slow pace traveling up-river will allow us time to put the finishing touches on our approach to this case.

If we complete this case successfully, then I see a bright future for Pluto’s Snitch. For those who aren’t familiar with the slang of the day, snitch mean private investigator, and for those who enjoy mythology, Pluto was the god who ruled the land of the dead. Hence our clever name!

Madam has a number of clients who will hire us to resolve hauntings, strange phenomena, and resolve crimes that have no apparent explanation. Raissa and I are both single. She is widowed and my lifestyle doesn’t allow for a marriage, so we are free to travel to various locations. Resolving hauntings requires that we be on-scene. I may not see spirits but I am sensitive to gut feelings, and I believe Pluto’s Snitch will be a service much in demand.

Come and share the mystery of the haunting of Camilla Granger with us in The House of Memory, the second book in the “Pluto’s Snitch” mystery series, coming June 27, 2017.

Raissa James not only sees the dead but she’s caught the ears of the living—especially now that she’s solved her first case. Word of Pluto’s Snitch, her private-investigation agency specializing in the occult, has spread far and wide. It’s even come to the notice of Zelda Fitzgerald, the nation’s most celebrated flapper. And Zelda’s in need of its services.

Along with Reginald Proctor, her partner in detection, Raissa travels to Montgomery, Alabama, where Zelda’s friend Camilla has suddenly become prone to violent fits and delusions. Has Camilla gone mad. . .or has she been possessed?

Raissa and Reginald soon discover that Camilla’s not the only young lady in the area to fall victim to something unnatural. Now it’s up to the Snitches to follow the clues and save Camilla, locked away behind the walls of the formidable Bryce Hospital asylum. But the key to her rescue might not lie among the living at all. Because Raissa knows that the dead have their secrets, too.

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About the author
Carolyn Haines is the USA Today bestselling author of The Pluto’s Snitch mystery series set in 1920. The Book of Beloved is the first book in the series. Haines is also the author of the Sarah Booth Delaney humorous mystery series and the Familiar, black cat detective series. She does see ghosts—but runs away because she’s afraid. And she operates an animal rescue on her Alabama farm. You can learn more about her at the following links. Connect with Carolyn at carolynhaines.com, on Twitter, on Instagram, on her Amazon Author page, on BookBub, and on Facebook.

All comments are welcomed.

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A day in the life of Melanie Travis by Laurien Berenson

Who doesn’t love puppies? Certainly not me. So when I was asked to serve as a puppy wrangler at a charity event modeled after the famous Puppy Bowl, I couldn’t say yes fast enough. My name is Melanie Travis, and aside from being a wife, mother of two sons, and a special needs teacher, I am also an avid breeder and exhibitor of Standard Poodles. So dealing with puppies is right up my alley.

What I’m not nearly as good at, is dealing with the humans that come long with them.

Millionaire philanthropist, Leo Brody, was the driving force behind the event. And unfortunately for me, all nine of his grown children were determined to put in an appearance at Puppy Fest and lend a (not particularly) helpful hand to the proceedings. In other words, they all wanted to butter up their old man.

That plan backfired spectacularly when the bowl game started and Mr. Brody failed to show up at the ballroom of his seaside mansion where the event was being filmed for broadcast. Having volunteered to make myself useful, I was the one who was sent to locate the missing millionaire. I found him in his office, lying dead on the floor, with his much-younger mistress bending over him.

In Leo Brody’s case, charity hadn’t begun at home.

With three ex-wives and a blended family that included not only the adult children but also six grandchildren, the contentious, chaotic Brody clan was definitely not the Brady Bunch. And with a vast inheritance on the line, the finger-pointing started almost immediately. Trying to sort out those nine squabbling siblings was like trying to herd cats. Worse still, none of them seemed able to keep their story straight for longer than it took to tell it.

Fortunately, things seem to be proceeding much more smoothly on the home front. As long as you don’t count the fact that while my son, Davey, and I were driving along a quiet country road, a passing driver stopped his car to dump out a malnourished puppy, then immediately sped away. As a result, our pack of Standard Poodles has been joined by a small, spotted mutt whom Davey has named Bud. We’ve been checking with local vets and animal control, and putting out feelers online. But even though Bud just got here, he’s already stolen our hearts. We’re all hoping desperately that nobody shows up to claim him.

With two mysteries to solve, I’m going to have a busy summer. But I’m a Mom so I’m used to that. Multi-tasking is one of the things I do best. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. Now if only I can figure out how to stay one step ahead of Leo Brody’s vindictive, money grubbing, children, everything should turn out just fine.

You can read more about Melanie in Murder at the Puppy Fest, the 20th book in the “Melanie Travis” mystery series, coming June 27, 2017

Frolicking with dogs is Melanie Travis’s idea of heaven. So when she’s invited to be a “puppy wrangler” at a benefit for a local dog rescue, the last thing she expects is to be chasing after a tricky killer.

As a busy mom and pedigree Poodle owner, Melanie has little time to spare. Still, she doesn’t mind helping out at Puppy Fest, an annual fundraiser to benefit Puppy Posse, a local dog rescue organization. Considering the venue—Belle Haven mansion, owned by wealthy philanthropist Leo Brody—it’s shaping up to be the can’t-miss charity event of the summer. Unfortunately, when Melanie’s breeding background lands her in the doghouse with Jane, Leo’s snappy daughter who runs the rescue, Melanie finds herself simultaneously managing Puppy Fest and the millionaire’s hopelessly fractious family.

But once Puppy Fest kicks off, Leo is nowhere to be found—until Melanie discovers his current mistress crouching over his dead body. According to police, the father of nine’s severe nut allergy went into overdrive after he accidentally consumed a contaminated cookie. However, Libby, one of Leo’s children and a friend of Melanie’s Aunt Peg, believes someone deliberately put him down for good. And now, she’s begging a reluctant Melanie to unearth the secrets hidden by the Brody pack. But the closer Melanie gets to fetching answers, the higher the stakes become—and the more she realizes that she’s chasing a criminal who’s been groomed to win.

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About the author
Laurien Berenson is the author of more than thirty novels that have sold two million copies worldwide. Her cozy mystery series revolves around the world of dog shows, a milieu she knows well as her family has been involved in the sport of dogs for three generations. There are currently twenty Melanie Travis canine mysteries including the newest book, Murder At The Puppy Fest.

Berenson is a four time winner of the Maxwell Award for Fiction from the Dog Writers Assoc. of America and a winner of the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award. She is also an Agatha and Macavity nominee. Her work has appeared in The New York Times as well as numerous magazines. She is a graduate of Vassar College, and she and her husband live on a farm in Kentucky, surrounded by horses and dogs.

Connect with Laurien at www.LaurienBerenson.com and on Facebook.

All comments are welcomed.

Giveaway: Leave a comment below for your chance to win a print copy of Murder at the Puppy Fest. US entries only, please. The giveaway ends June 26, 2017. Good luck everyone!

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A day in the life of Becca Leighton by Victoria Hamilton

Age 16 in 1984

I’m pretty sure every parent on the face of earth says it just once: “You’re so lucky; these are the best days of your life! Enjoy them!” Being a teenager. . . yeah, it’s a bucket of laughs.

So, my life? Right now it consists of school and babysitting my infant sister, Jaymie. While other kids get to go to football game, the movies, bowling, on dates, I go home right after school so I can babysit Jaymie so that Dad can work and Mom can get some sleep.

And that’s about it. I mean, I’m not complaining, right? Or. . . I guess am. I love my little sister. She’s so cute, a bundle of pink, squirming baby. She smells so good right out of the bath, I just want to smoosh her little face. And I want to help, because I’m worried about my mom, who isn’t well right now and just doesn’t have the patience for Jaymie when she’s crying, and for my dad, who always looks so worried.

But as for my life? My friends are all mad at me for not doing stuff with them, and even Delores Paget, my summer friend, who I went to ride horses with whenever I got a chance, is distracted and half the time not speaking to me. She’s hung up on Brock (I know, right? Brock Nibley? Eeuw to the max!) and there’s something else worrying her. I wish I had time to find out, but maybe it will all straighten out by the new year. Dad says nothing bad lasts forever, and he’s optimistic it’ll all work out with Mom and Jaymie and everything. He’s trying to get Mom to agree to have Grandma Leighton come stay with us for a while to help look after Jaymie. That would help so much. Trouble is, she and Mom don’t get along all the time.

But. . . maybe. I hope so. ‘Cause right now, a day in the life of Becca Leighton, age 16? Blech. Check on me in a few years.

You can read more about adult Becca in Leave It To Cleaver, the sixth book in the “Vintage Kitchen” mystery series, coming June 23, 2017.

Jaymie Leighton, planning a big event in her own life along with her sister, Becca, is distracted by the 33-year-old mystery of two missing local teens, schoolmates of Becca’s. It’s a very odd trip back in time and gives her a glimpse of her sister’s life as a teenager when Jaymie was just an infant. But some of the secrets she uncovers may have devastating repercussions in the families of her best friend in the world, Valetta Nibley, and others close to her!

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About the author
Victoria Hamilton is the pseudonym of nationally bestselling romance author Donna Lea Simpson. She now happily writes about vintage kitchen collecting, muffin baking and dead bodies for Berkley Prime Crime in the Vintage Kitchen Mysteries and Merry Muffin Mystery series. Besides writing about murder and mayhem, and blogging at Killer Characters, Victoria collects vintage kitchen wares and old cookbooks, as well as teapots and teacups. Victoria also writes the Teapot Collector Mysteries as Amanda Cooper!

For more information, visit victoriahamiltonmysteries.com and sign up for the newsletter, or find me on Facebook.

All comments are welcomed.

Giveaway: Leave a comment below for your chance to win a limited edition “Cozy up to a great mystery!” mug, pen, fridge magnet and bookmark. US and Canadian entries only, please. The giveaway ends June 23, 2017. Good luck everyone!

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A day in the life with Chrissy McMullen by Lois Greiman

If it wasn’t for weird I’d be bored out of my mind.

—Christina McMullen, who is rarely bored

“You look well,” I said and kept my tone clipped, my wayward hands strictly to myself. I was casually dressed in cutoff jeans and a T-shirt that had seen better days.

He smiled, just a tilt of those swoon-worthy lips. “As do you,” he said, but his eyes, those burning sapphire flames, said so much more.

Heat seared my cheeks, then zipped off to less humdrum parts. But I resisted fidgeting, though I had dreamt of this moment on a hundred less . . . conscious . . . occasions. I put my hand on the countertop, making certain I was still in the here and now. The newly installed granite felt cool, smooth, and simultaneously sticky. Sure enough, I was home.

“So your business in Callatis went well?” I asked.

He shrugged. The gesture would have been oh so insignificant had he not been sans shirt. His chest, a lightly oiled work of art, was, in a word coined by a man I’d known as Thing One, spectaculent.

“Well enough.” His voice was slightly accented. He took a step toward me.

I lifted my chin to maintain eye contact. At 5’9” plus, I’m no wilting dandelion, but no part of him appeared to be droopy. His pecs were bulging, his arms corded, his chiseled face shadowed with bristly scruff.

“Rahim was satisfied?” I asked.

He stepped closer, crowding my personal space, filling my senses. He looked like a wet dream, smelled like chocolate Bundt cake. “When have I failed to satisfy?”

I ignored the steamy suggestiveness as best I could, but honest to Pete, he was shedding sexual innuendoes like a molting lovebird. “I’m glad—” I began and turned away, but he grabbed my arm, yanking me toward him.

“Admit it!” he snarled.

His grip was steely around my biceps. My heart pounded. I should never have agreed to meet him. But he was here now, up close and personal, while my cell phone, my most reliable means of obtaining help, seemed a million miles away.

“Admit what?” My voice was raspy.

“You want me.” He breathed the words into the air between us, setting it afire. “Say it.”

But I couldn’t. Didn’t dare. Too much had happened. I straightened my spine. Raised my chin. “No. You’re—”

He kissed me.

His lips seared mine, but I held strong, held steady . . . for two endless seconds, then I twisted my fingers in his hair and jumped him like a hyena on a hapless hare. He stumbled a little under my weight, then grabbed my ass, holding me astride as I wrapped my legs around his waist and dove in.


His torso was hard and rippled against mine, his lips full and warm and—


His heart was drubbing like a kick drum. Other parts throbbed in concert. My own answered lustily. I fumbled with his belt, but his sword—the plastic one suspended from his hips—kept impeding my progress.

“Mac,” Laney called.

“Ms. McMullen,” he murmured.

“Christina Mary McMullen!” Laney scolded, perhaps thinking that using my full name, as the Holy Name sisters had done on a thousand ill-disciplined occasions, would somehow penetrate the fog in my brain.

Brainy Laney Butterfield, aka the Amazon Queen, stood ten feet away, baby to her shoulder, TV script held loosely in one hand. “That’s the end of the scene.”

You can read more about Chrissy in Unhinged, the 9th book in the “Chrissy Mullen” mystery series.

Chrissy McMullen, L.A.’s most death defying psychologist, is madly juggling a couple of too-hot-to-handle beaus, several weirder-than-hell family members, and a plethora of disturbed clients when longtime friend, Micky Goldenstone, is found shot and unresponsive beside a dead adversary. Is Micky a murderer? Or can Chrissy find the culprit before her juggling act crashes to a deadly conclusion?

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Meet the author
USA Today bestselling author, Lois Greiman, was born on a cattle ranch in central North Dakota where she learned to ride and spit with the best of them. After graduating from high school, she moved to Minnesota to train and show Arabian horses.

She sold her first novel in 1992 and has published more than forty titles since then, including romantic comedy, children’s stories, and her fun-loving Christina McMullen mysteries. A two-time Rita finalist, she has won such prestigious honors as Romantic Times Storyteller Of The Year, MFW’s Rising Star, RT’s Love and Laughter, the Toby Bromberg for most humorous mystery, and the LaVyrle Spencer Award. Her heroes have received K.I.S.S. recognition numerous times and her books have been seen regularly among the industry’s Top Picks!

With more than two million books printed worldwide, Ms. Greiman currently lives on a small farm in Wisconsin with her family, some of whom are human.

Connect with Lois at www.loisgreiman.com

All comments are welcomed.

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A day in the life of Elle Rose by Wendy Tyson

Castle San Pietro is asleep. It wasn’t long ago that nights and mornings ran together, blurred lines on an Italian canvas, but since Damien’s death, the party has died. Now we sit around in the evening, quarreling about movie sets and brands of vodka until Daddy goes to bed and the rest wander off. Karina says I need to clean myself up. I think she might be right.

It’s not easy being a rock star’s daughter. It’s even harder being a has-been actress holed up in the mountains thousands of miles from home. I stare longingly at the medicine bottle on my bedside table. Early mornings are my least favorite time of day. They seem to stretch on and on, and it’s then that my heart palpitates and my mind wanders to forbidden places. Oh, Damien, how things have changed. Would you even recognize me? One little pill and I could be out cold, like the rest of the castle’s inhabitants. But not today. Today I have a decision to make.

I crawl out of bed and pull on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. A quick glance in the mirror tells me it’s good I haven’t left the castle in forty-seven days. No one Out There needs to see me like this. I fumble for shoes, reluctant to turn on the light. Starring in a few spy B-movies taught me the importance of being stealth. Lights aren’t stealth. Flip-flops aren’t stealth, either. I leave the shoes behind.

The castle’s marble floors are cold on bare skin. Ancient stone walls retain imprints of lost loves and evil deeds—I’m convinced of that. I’m also convinced that evil still lurks here. No one believes me, though. Not Daddy, although he’s too lost in a fog to notice more than whether his breakfast is cold. Not the staff. And not Daddy’s entourage. While I’m happy for the company, I wish. . .well, what do I wish? I don’t even know anymore.

Outside the sun is just peeking over the horizon, but the light has yet to reach inside these castle walls. No matter. I know this castle like I knew Damien’s body—its smooth surfaces, its hidden places—and I don’t need light to find my way through the halls and down the great staircase. Downstairs I tip-toe quietly through the dining hall and the kitchens, careful to be quiet. I let myself out through the old servants’ quarters.

I make my way across the courtyard, and down the walking path that leads to the ruins of the old stone wall. From there, I could go into the woods, follow the path through the trees, toward the crumbling old church, and see the quaint town of Bidero spread out before me. But I won’t. These cliffs have teeth, and while the Dolomite Mountains look breathtaking, they’re less sentinel than prison guard. I will stay here, by the wall, where it’s safe.

I sink down on hard stone and pull out a cigarette. I’m two puffs in, thinking of the list of image consultants our attorney emailed me the week before, when I hear a sound behind me. Shoulders tense, but I don’t turn. Lately I’ve felt things inside the castle, heard things. Things that make me feel just a little bit crazy.

I return to the list, mentally going through the candidates. One name stands out: Allison Campbell. Not because she’s a well-known author on the topic of reinvention. Not because she seems like someone I could relate to. Not because she’d be discreet. Because she’s solved several murders. And if evil does lurk within these walls, I sure could use an ally.

“A bit early for you to be out and about, don’t you think?”

I don’t jump at the sound of Mazy Coyne’s voice, and for that I’m proud. The author doesn’t wait for an invitation. She joins me by the wall, her round body encased in white terry cloth, a cigarette dangling from yellowed fingers.

“What’s on your mind, kid?” she asks. “Awfully early to see you out here.”

“Nothing.” Everything.

Mazy is staying in one of the cottages on the castle grounds. She’s written a book that’s being made into a movie, and Daddy thinks I could land a role. I look at Mazy sideways, suddenly conscious of the mascara smeared around my eyes, my rumpled clothes. I want her to leave. I want them all to leave.

“Beautiful, aye?” Mazy points to the pale peaks rising above us. Her gaze turns to the rolling pastures, sheep dotting the landscape in the distance like tiny ants. “I can see why you stay.”

“Can you?”

“It’s a fairy tale spot, a place of fantasies.”

I watch the sheep, seemingly unaware of their own vulnerabilities. “It really is.”

Mazy lets out something like a laugh. “Of course, the original fairy tales were not sanitized. There was rarely a happy ending.” She looks at me over circles of smoke. “Something to think about.”

Oh, I’ve been thinking about it. I take another puff of my own cigarette and go back to considering the list. Allison Campbell. She’s the one we’ll call.

You can read more about Elle in Fatal Façade, the fourth book in the “Allison Campbell” mystery series.

Allison Campbell accepted a dream assignment: a visit to the Italian Dolomites to help Hollywood socialite Elle Rose reinvent herself. A guest cottage on the grounds of Elle’s historic castle promises to be a much-needed respite from Allison’s harried life on the Philadelphia Main Line, and the picturesque region, with its sharp peaks, rolling pastures, and medieval churches, is the perfect spot from which to plan her upcoming wedding.

Only this idyllic retreat is anything but peaceful. There are the other visitors—an entourage of back-biting expats and Hollywood VIPs. There’s Elle’s famous rock star father, now a shadowy recluse hovering behind the castle’s closed doors. And then there’s Elle’s erratic behavior. Nothing is as it seems. After a guest plummets to her death from a cliff on the castle grounds, Allison’s trip of a lifetime turns nightmarish—but before she can journey home, Allison must catch a killer.

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About the author
Wendy Tyson’s background in law and psychology has provided inspiration for her mysteries and thrillers. Originally from the Philadelphia area, Wendy has returned to her roots and lives there again on a micro-farm with her husband, sons, and two dogs. Wendy’s short fiction has appeared in literary journals, and she’s a contributing editor and columnist for The Big Thrill and The Thrill Begins, International Thriller Writers’ online magazines. Wendy is the author of the Allison Campbell Mystery Series and the Greenhouse Mystery Series. Find Wendy at www.WATyson.

All comments are welcomed.

Giveaway: Leave a comment by June 21, 2017 for your chance to win one of the books from Wendy’s “Allison Campbell” series (Killer Image, Deadly Asset, Dying Brand, or Fatal Façade), either Kindle/Nook (open to everyone) or paperback (U.S. residents only), winner’s choice. Good luck everyone!

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Cover Reveal ~ Curses, Boiled Again! by Shari Randall

I am thrilled to share with you the cover of the first in the NEW “Lobster Shack” mystery series from St. Martin’s Press, coming January 30, 2018.

Title: Curses, Boiled Again!
Series: Lobster Shack #1
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press
Shari Randall

Murder. It can get you into hot water. . .

Welcome to the seaside village of Mystic Bay, where the fish is always fresh, the folks are ever-friendly, and murder is on a roll….
Allie Larkin is living her dream as a ballet dancer when a bad fall puts her out of business. Now she’s back home in Mystic Bay to heal a broken ankle while helping her Aunt Gully get her Lazy Mermaid Lobster Shack off the ground. Nothing would help Aunt Gully more than winning the local food festival’s Best Lobster Roll contest. The competition is sure to be killer – especially after one of the contest judges dies after eating a lobster roll from one of Aunt Gully’s biggest rivals.

Soon, all eyes fall on Aunt Gully as the prime suspect. Allie may have only one good leg to stand on, but she’s not going to let her aunt go down for a crime she never could have cooked up. Can Allie, along with her devoted crew of friends, family and customers, find a way to trap the killer and claw herself out of this hard-boiled murder case?

Meet the author
Shari Randall lives in a drafty old house on the sea. She loves traveling, antiques, old Hollywood musicals, tea time, dancing, and all things mermaid. Her short stories have appeared in the Chesapeake Chapter of Sisters in Crime anthology series: “Keep It Simple” in Chesapeake Crimes: This Job Is Murder and “Disco Donna” in Chesapeake Crimes: Homicidal Holidays.

Pre-order Link