Tag Archives: Forge Books

A day in the life of Edith Head by Renee Patrick

As reported by Miss Head’s close personal friend and confidante, Miss Lillian Frost, formerly of Flushing, New York and crowned Miss Astoria Park of 1936.

Los Angeles, California. December 1938.

Ahem.

Morning does not greet Edith Head, bespectacled queen of costume design at Paramount Pictures, as it does us lowly mortals. Morning comes for Miss Head, in the words of the poet Carl Sandburg, on little cat feet. She is awakened in her palatial estate by a chorus of birds chirping in flawless harmony. She dines upon a breakfast of the freshest eggs while contemplating the day’s wardrobe, selecting her attire being so time-consuming an affair that she rises out of necessity with the sun.

Soon she is whisked to work, police escorts from multiple jurisdictions stopping traffic at each intersection to speed her arrival. Miss Head’s mind is already awhirl as she travels. Inspiration is everywhere, the clouds overhead suggesting the drape of fabric. She arrives at her studio salon, a taste of Paris under the palm trees. Famous faces from the silver screen await, eager to absorb her acumen. Miss Head makes subtle suggestions, each accepted as gospel truth. There are no questions. There is only admiration. For luncheon, she—

Sorry. I can’t keep this gag up. I’m no Jack Benny.

Here’s all you need to know about my friend Edith Head: she’s busy. Proof of that pudding is you’re hearing about a day in her life from yours truly instead of the McCoy. Edith? She simply doesn’t have the time.

I can’t tell you when she wakes up because no one’s ever seen the woman sleep. I can tell you she doesn’t live in a palatial estate but a darling cottage on the Silver Lake Reservoir that makes you feel like you’re in Italy. Or at least I assume so. I haven’t yet sallied to the Continent.

Edith drives herself to work, her roadster a winged fury striking fear in the hearts of motorists and pedestrians alike. She’s the first person to arrive at the studio and will be the last to leave. Her office smells faintly of paint because she’s just finished redecorating. Edith hasn’t been Paramount’s top designer very long. Ignore the soft soundtrack of whispers suggesting she pushed her predecessor and mentor Travis Banton aside. It’s the bunk. Her job isn’t so much designing wardrobe for Paramount films as it is walking a tightrope. All day long she deals with directors who don’t understand clothes and actresses who think they’re the next Elsa Schiaparelli. I love Claudette Colbert as much as the next starry-eyed fan—Did you see her in Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife with Gary Cooper?—but she told Paramount brass Edith is no better than an art student. An art student! Yet Edith smiles and goes about her business, namely making everyone around her look better.

That includes me. I met Edith last year, when I was a lowly department store salesgirl who’d traded dreams of stardom for steady employment. Then my former roommate was found murdered, wearing an Edith Head original purloined from Paramount. The police initially suspected me. I don’t know why. I don’t look a thing like Peter Lorre. Fortunately Edith got me out from behind the eight ball. She figured out who the real killer was—with a little help from me, I like to think, plus a gracious assist from my favorite movie star, Barbara Stanwyck.

Edith also proved instrumental in my securing gainful employment as social secretary to movie-mad millionaire and all-around good egg Addison Rice. Addison loves pictures so much he’s always willing to let me slip away to visit Edith at the studio—and even, on occasion, to do her a favor.

For instance, she wants me to help Marlene Dietrich find a missing piano player. Marlene is toying with a nightclub act—if you ask me, she’d be swell —but her usual accompanist has disappeared. She’s convinced the Nazis had something to do with it, and I told her that world affairs are a good bit out of my league. But Edith insists that’s just Marlene’s flair for the dramatic. A few phone calls are all that will be required. So naturally I agreed.

I’d do anything to help Edith. And I know she’d never put me in a situation where I don’t look my best.


You can read more about Edith in Dangerous to Know, the second book in the “Lillian Frost & Edith Head” series.

Los Angeles, 1938. Former aspiring actress Lillian Frost is adjusting to a new life of boldfaced names and endless glamour as social secretary to a movie-mad millionaire. Costume designer Edith Head is running Paramount Pictures’ wardrobe department—though her position is precarious and her eight Academy Awards are far in her future.

Lillian recently attended a swanky Manhattan dinner party at which well-heeled guests insulted Adolf Hitler. Now, a vengeful housemaid with Nazi sympathies has all New York society running for cover—and two Paramount stars, Jack Benny and George Burns, facing smuggling charges. Lillian tries to lay low while the studio is in an uproar over the scandal, but she has no such luck. Edith asks Lillian to look into the disappearance of Jens Lohse, the émigré pianist in Marlene Dietrich’s budding nightclub act, as a favor to Dietrich. Lillian reluctantly agrees, and soon finds him—dead.

Dietrich blames agents of the Reich for his murder, and Lillian investigates further. Could Hollywood—thought to be a safe place for German exiles and émigrés—be hiding a sinister Nazi element beneath its glitzy veneer? As Lillian and Edith unravel intrigue that extends from Paramount’s Bronson Gate to FDR’s Oval Office, only one thing is certain: they’ll do it in style.

# # # # # # # # # # #

About the author
Renee Patrick is the pseudonym for married authors Rosemarie and Vince Keenan. Rosemarie is a research administrator and a poet. Vince is a screenwriter and a journalist. Both native New Yorkers, they currently live in Seattle, Washington. Their debut novel, Design for Dying, is nominated for the Agatha Award for Best First Mystery and a Lefty for Best Debut Mystery Novel.

You can friend Renee on Facebook , follow her on Twitter at (@RPatrickBooks) and Instagram at reneepatrickauthor, and find more information at her website: reneepatrickbooks.com.

All comments are welcomed.

Dangerous to Know is available at retail and online booksellers or you can ask your local library to get it for you.

Cover Reveal ~ Dark Signal by Shannon Baker

I’m excited to reveal the cover for the second book in the “Kate Fox” mystery series, coming October 17, 2017.

dark-signal

Title: DARK SIGNAL
Series: Kate Fox
Genre: Mystery
Publisher: Forge Books
Website: Shannon Baker

Dark Signal by Shannon Baker is the second installment in the Kate Fox mystery series, called “A must read” by New York Times bestselling author Alex Kava, starring a female Longmire in the atmospheric Nebraska Sandhills.

Reeling from her recent divorce, Kate Fox has just been sworn in as Grand County Nebraska Sheriff when tragedy strikes. A railroad accident has left engineer Chad Mills dead, and his conductor, Bobby Jenkins in shock. Kate soon realizes that the accident was likely murder.

Who would want to kill Chad Mills? Kate finds that he made a few enemies as president of the railroad workers union. Meanwhile his widow is behaving oddly. And why was his neighbor, Josh Stevens, at the Mills house on the night of the accident?

While her loud and meddling family conspires to help Kate past her divorce, State Patrol Officer Ridnour closes in on Josh Stevens as the suspect. Kate doesn’t believe it. She may not have the experience, but she’s lived in the Sandhills her whole life, and knows the land and the people. Something doesn’t add up―and Kate must find the real killer before he can strike again.


About the author
Shannon Baker is the author of Stripped Bare, the first in the Kate Fox mystery series (Tor/Forge). Set in the isolated cattle country of the Nebraska Sandhills, Kirkus says, “Baker serves up a ballsy heroine, a colorful backdrop, and a surprising ending.” She also writes the Nora Abbott mystery series (Midnight Ink), featuring Hopi Indian mysticism and environmental issues. Shannon was voted Rocky Mountain Fiction Writer’s 2014 Writer of the Year.

Giveaway: Leave a comment below for your chance to win a print copy of Stripped Bare. US entries only, please. The giveaway ends January 31, 2017. Good luck everyone!

Dark Signal is available for pre-order at retail and online booksellers.

Tosca’s Quandary by Hank Phillippi Ryan

say-no-moreMay I have your advice? I don’t want to tell you my name right now, so I’ll just call myself Tosca. And I’m happy that we can do this privately. I’m a young woman, a student at a prestigious Boston college.

I guess I should’ve known better, I am a senior after all, and an opera student. I always planned to be an opera singer, or some sort of performer, but now I stay home in my little apartment overlooking Boston’s bustling Kenmore Square, barely able to go outside.

It’s a little embarrassing to tell you, but all I do now is watch out the window, looking at the packs of students hustling by, living their fun and busy lives, and I watch for the guy who assaulted me last February. February 21 to be exact.

I awoke one horrible morning, in his dorm room. How did I get there? And what had happened?

Now, in seclusion, I take classes via the internet. And what’s more, I keep track of his every move in a file I have labeled “Someday.” I know his Facebook friends, his Instagram photos, all his new girlfriends and his leading roles and when he’s at the library and Java Jim’s and I’ve even seen his new car parading up Beacon Street. “Someday”? I’m not quite sure what someday means. But perhaps it means someday I will do something about him.

I also check the campus sexual assault websites, because I have to get better someday, right? I need my life back. And the other day I saw a posting from a person who wanted to talk to survivors of campus sexual assault.

I hesitated, and then I called. Turned out it was a reporter named Jane Ryland, who said she was working on a documentary about campus sexual assault.

She wants me to talk to her about what happened. She says it’s time to empower college students, to let them know they have a right to be safe.

And she wants me to tell my story.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to do it, but here’s what I need advice about. There’s something else going on at the college campus, something dangerous, and potentially deadly, and I could be putting my life in danger if I say anything about that. On the other hand, how can I let it continue?

What should I do? Should I tell Jane the truth? She seems like a nice person. . .very sincere and reliable and trustworthy. Or. . . should I say no more?


Say No More is the fifth book in the Jane Ryland mystery series, published by Forge Books, November 2016.

A Boston newcomer watches a murder–but won’t tell police. A college sexual assault victim is trapped in a sinister scheme to force her silence. And after reporter Jane Ryland witnesses a hit-and-run, she discovers that revealing the truth may put her life in danger. What if staying silent is the only thing that keeps the three women alive? Hank Ryan’s newest ripped from her own headlines thriller: SAY NO MORE.

When Boston reporter Jane Ryland reports a hit and run, she soon learns she saw more than a car crash—she witnessed the collapse of an alibi, and now she’s under pressure to tell all to the police. She’s also digging up the inside scoop for an expose of sexual assaults on Boston’s college campuses for the station’s new documentary unit, and is working with a victim to reveal her heartbreaking experience on camera. But, a disturbing anonymous message—SAY NO MORE—has Jane really and truly scared.

Homicide detective Jake Brogan is on the hunt for the murderer of Avery Morgan, a hot-shot Hollywood screenwriter. As Jake chips his way through a code of silence as shatterproof as any street gang, he’ll learn that one newcomer to the neighborhood may have a secret of her own.

A young woman faces a life-changing decision—should she go public about her assault? What’s really going on behind closed doors at a prestigious Boston college? And when will the killer strike again? Jane and Jake—now semi-secretly engaged and beginning to reveal their relationship to the world—are both on a high-stakes quest for answers. Can they handle the consequences of the truth?

# # # # # # # # # # #

About the author
HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN is the on-air investigative reporter for Boston’s NBC affiliate, winning 33 EMMYs and dozens hank-steve-bucci-pressmore journalism honors. The bestselling author of nine mysteries, Ryan’s also an award-winner in her second profession—with five Agathas, two Anthonys, two Macavitys, the Daphne, and Mary Higgins Clark Award. Critics call her “a superb and gifted story-teller.” Her What You See is an Agatha and Anthony nominee and Library Journal Best of 2015. Ryan’s newest novel is Say No More — Jeffery Deaver says “Superb!” and a Library Journal starred review says “A fast-paced, edgy mystery.” Hank is a founder of MWA University and 2013 president of National Sisters in Crime.

Visit Hank online at HankPhillippiRyan.com, on Twitter @HankPRyan and Facebook at HankPhillippiRyanAuthor.

All comments are welcomed.

Giveaway: Leave a comment below for your chance to win one of Hank’s book – winner’s choice. US entries only, please. The giveaway ends November 14, 2016 at 11:59 AM EST. Good luck everyone!
hank-books

My Musing ~ Say No More by Hank Phillippi Ryan

Say No More by Hank Phillippi Ryan is the fifth book in the “Jane Ryland” suspense series. Publisher: Forge Books, November 2016

say-no-moreHer career is all about the truth–but now, keeping silent may be her last chance to stay alive.

When Boston reporter Jane Ryland reports a hit and run, she soon learns she saw more than a car crash—she witnessed the collapse of an alibi. Working on an expose of sexual assaults on college campuses for the station’s new documentary unit, Jane’s just convinced a date rape victim to reveal her heartbreaking experience on camera. However, a disturbing anonymous message—SAY NO MORE—has Jane really and truly scared.

Homicide detective Jake Brogan is on the hunt for the murderer of Avery Morgan, a hot-shot Hollywood screenwriter. Her year as a college guest lecturer just ended at the bottom of her swimming pool in the tight-knit and tight-lipped Boston community called The Reserve. As Jake chips his way through a code of silence as shatterproof as any street gang, he’ll learn that one newcomer to the neighborhood may have a secret of her own.

A young woman faces a life-changing decision—should she go public about her assault? Jane and Jake—now semi-secretly engaged and beginning to reveal their relationship to the world—are both on a quest for answers as they try to balance the consequences of the truth.

This fast-paced drama immediately grabbed my attention and I could not put this book down. The momentum of every chapter never faltered and I found myself wrapped up in the narrative as the author told a multifaceted story that underlies some of what is happening in society today. The angst of the characters, the pull of the situation, the roles that were cast all gave way to a story embroiled in the turmoil that existed for the detective, the reporter and the victim and it is the author’s cleverly written treatment that kept me engrossed in the ensuing play-by-play action. And what a testament to the author’s ability to weave a multi-plot story like no another, that sets the stage for a series of revelations that led to the resolution that was justified in all that mattered. One of the things I find enjoyable in reading this book is that with each segment, there are different viewpoints that enhance the telling of this tale. This is one of the best books in the Jane Ryland series and I can’t wait to see what exciting adventures awaits this dynamic duo.

FTC Full Disclosure – I received an Advanced Reader Copy (ARC) from the author.

Double-Booked Blog Tour with Jess Lourey and Shannon Baker

stripped bareThis is IT!

The culmination of Shannon Baker and my 30-ish-day, 24-ish stop Double Booked blog tour. Woof. We are so tired that we have hired monkeys to type for us. Fortunately, they are smart monkeys and there is little typing involved here because all we need to do is sit back and watch as Kate Fox, star of Shannon Baker’s Stripped Bare (releases today!) and Salem Wiley, protagonist of Jess Lourey’s Salem’s Cipher (also releases today! Smell that hot ink), serendipitously meet across books, on an airplane headed to Virginia.

Salem's Cipher“I have to use the bathroom.”

The woman from Nebraska stood to let Salem pass. The red-eye flight Lu had booked for her was surprisingly full. The bathroom line was three deep. Salem was okay with that. It gave her time to uncramp her legs. She thought about all she had to do—land, rent a car, buy gear, follow the coordinates, crack Beale’s vault, fly back to San Francisco to hand over to Agent Stone what they’d found—and how little time she had to accomplish everything.

I settled back on the rough fabric and stared across the empty seat to clouds outside the window. Flying to Richmond was a fool’s errand if ever there was. I figured Carly would be long gone before I got there. Still I had to try.

I unclenched my fists and tried to relax. I wasn’t the only one with problems. The woman next to me seemed to be wrestling with her own. She’d given me a strained smile when I sat, even ventured a little conversation, but it felt like maybe she pushed herself into it, like she ought to. She told me her name and I was about to give her mine but the flight attendant piped up with his safety spiel before I got it out.

Funny name. Salem. She probably had a story, guess we all do. She didn’t seem interested in sharing and I didn’t feel inclined to get into my pile of woes with a stranger I’d never see again.

The man in front of Salem turned, smiled. He wore sunglasses. She didn’t smile back. Something about him made her uncomfortable. Was it his smell? But if he had an odor, it was too mild to pick out on the plane. His face appeared pleasant enough around the metal rims of the sunglasses. She didn’t recognize him. She looked away, but he didn’t.

“Been to Virginia before?” His voice rumbled just above a whisper. A couple sleeping in the seats next to him shifted, the woman pulling the thin airplane blanket closer to her.

Is he really picking me up on an airplane? Salem shook her head and looked away. She hoped he’d get the hint. Did it bother her that he was wearing sunglasses at night, in the air?

He nodded and turned back toward the bathroom door accordioning open. A woman squeezed out and another sardined in. The line was now down to two, plus Salem. The man in sunglasses returned his attention to her.

“Where in Richmond are you going?”

A whispering voice chilled me, even though I shouldn’t have heard it above the swirl of conversation and roar of the engine. I twisted to see Salem giving the stink-eye to a guy who looked as wrong as a badger in the chicken shed.

Salem felt trapped. She wanted to be polite, but his attention was making her uncomfortable. Her body language should have made that clear, but she gave it one more shot, shrugging by way of an answer.

The guy was a certifiable creep and Salem seemed shaky, but I hated to jump into the fray, like some Lone Ranger. Salem had given a clear signal for him to back off, so she’d be fine.

That must have registered loud and clear, finally, because he turned away from her. Thirty seconds later, though, he turned back, his lower lip trembling. “I’m just trying to make conversation, you know? I don’t know if you think you’re too good to talk to me, or what, but I think I deserve some decent human interaction here.”

First the sunglasses and the voice like a rattlesnake, now upping the sleaze factor. My gut tensed but, I held back. I didn’t even know Salem. She might be black belt for all I know. And I’m not in the saving game. Except for Carly. And any of my other brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, or just about anybody in the whole damned Sandhills. My list was long enough.

Every one of Salem’s fears came crowding back in. She felt terrible for making him feel bad. She opened her mouth to speak, but found the woman from Nebraska, a stranger she’d made only cursory conversation with, at her side.

With the list so long, what was one more. “All right, cowboy, why don’t you use the bathroom at the front of the plane?”

“It’s okay.”

Not okay, none of it. A five-hour drive to Denver to catch a flight in a desperate race to find Carly when I knew she was long gone. And then compensating by trying to rescue Salem. But it wouldn’t make me feel any better. I stared at Salem, asking her silently if she needed me.

“Really, it’s fine.” She appreciated the woman’s reaction, but she didn’t want a scene. She certainly didn’t want to make this man mad. They were going to be stuck on this plane together. “You can sit down. I’m okay. He’s going to leave me alone, and everything will be all right.”

The woman glanced at her, tossed an angry glare at the man, then nodded and shuffled back to her seat.

I slumped into my seat, my face burning. I had all the self-control of a six month old black lab. Too bad there were millions of ways to make a fool out of myself because I seemed determined to try them all.

Salem stopped herself short of apologizing to the man in sunglasses, just, and shoved her hands in her pockets. She wished she had a phone to look at.

The bathroom door opened again and places were traded. The man in sunglasses was next in line. Salem was glad she wouldn’t have to stand next to him much longer.

“You never said where in Richmond you were going,” he said, without turning.

Her breath caught. Really? She opened her mouth to say something to him directly then snapped it shut. The plane ride was almost over. She could keep her peace until they landed. Besides, the man wasn’t even looking at her.

That voice! He was at her again, like a dog after a bone. I tried not to listen.

Then he did. He turned. She saw her own face reflected in his lenses, upside down and tiny. “Northern Richmond is pretty this time of year. Are you visiting friends?”

She didn’t know what exactly it was about the interaction that dug up, dusted off, and pushed her fuck it button after all these years, and especially after the last five days. Maybe it was his simpering aggressiveness, his shaming of her for not doing his bidding, the way he’d ignored all of her nonverbals. Maybe it was that she realized she’d gone without Ativan for four days, and that she was surviving. Better than surviving. Probably accumulated stress had something to do with it, too, but suddenly, she found herself caring much more about her own comfort than his. “You’re being a dick.”

Something inside me busted, like a cinch that had been on too tight, and I took a breath like I hadn’t since I’d raced to Denver. Salem was taking control. She didn’t need me to protect her. Carly and Salem, two women who could take care of themselves. Without my help. Salem had asked me to back off, Carly had done the same. Mom would spout something about the universe giving me messages. Maybe I’d tell her about this bit of serendipity after I caught the first flight west.

He jerked as if she’d hit him. “What?”

“I clearly don’t want to talk to you, and you won’t let it go, so fuck you. Fuck you for thinking I have to speak with you because we’re both standing in line and fuck you for your creepy sunglasses on a plane. I will stand in this line until it’s my turn, I will not talk to you, and you will respect that.”

“Let ‘er buck,” I muttered just loud enough to be heard.

Salem realized her chest was moving up and down rapidly, her heart racing. She’d heard the Nebraska woman’s words, knew she wasn’t alone. She waited for the man to react. He opened and closed his mouth. Time unspooled at a snail’s pace. He finally responded, sort of. He pushed past her and returned to his seat four rows ahead of hers. She waited until the bathroom door opened, went in, and slid the lock closed.

She leaned against the bathroom door, laughing quietly.

There may have been tears mixed in.

I gave Salem a grin when she sat back down. We might only have an hour left of the flight, but I thought it might be enough time to share a story or two. “Kate Fox, Grand County Sheriff. I’m glad to meet you.”

Salem took it. “It’s been a heckuva week for me. You?”


Uff da, now I not only want to read Shannon’s new book, I want to write a book with her! Dang that woman can spin a story.

Thank you so much to Dru Ann for hosting us, for those of you who have followed us across this massive, cross-country blog tour, and for any of you who have stumbled in today. We are so happy to share the news of our simultaneous book release today here, on the blog of one of our dear friends and one of the mystery community’s biggest supporters.

In celebration and out of thanks to you all, I am giving away a copy of Salem’s Cipher and Shannon is giving away Stripped Bare. Tell us which two mystery protagonists you’d most like to have a chance meeting, or leave a comment for a chance to win. Shannon and I are also going to bring in award-winning and bestselling authors to join in on the conversation below, so keep checking back to see what’s up!

About the authors
Jessica (Jess) Lourey is best known for her critically-acclaimed Murder-by-Month mysteries, which have JessLoureyearned multiple starred reviews from Library Journal and Booklist, the latter calling her writing “a splendid mix of humor and suspense.” She is a tenured professor of creative writing and sociology, a recipient of The Loft’s 2014 Excellence in Teaching fellowship, and leads interactive writing workshops all over the world. Salem’s Cipher, the first in her thrilling Witch Hunt Series, hits stores September 2016. You can find out more at www.jessicalourey.com, or check her out on Facebook or Twitter.

Shannon Baker writes the Kate Fox mystery series. Stripped Bare, the first in the series, features a ShannonBakersheriff in rural Nebraska and has been called Longmire meets The Good Wife. Baker also writes the Nora Abbott Mystery Series, a fast-paced mix of murder, environmental issues and Hopi Indians published by Midnight Ink. Baker was voted Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers’ 2104 Writer of the Year. She writes from the Colorado Rockies to the Nebraska Sandhills, the peaks of Flagstaff and the deserts of Tucson. Visit her at www.Shannon-Baker.com.

All comments are welcomed.

Giveaway: The giveaway will end September 8, 2016 at 12 AM EST and US entries only, please. Good luck everyone!