Mailbox Monday - Dec 10

Mailbox Monday is a meme started by Marcia of To Be Continued. Mailbox Monday is the gathering place for readers to share the books that came in their mailbox during the last week. It now has a permanent home at the Mailbox Monday blog.

Here we are back to Monday. I hope you had a fabulous weekend. I worked my tail off, which is worth every aching muscle, because the dumpster leaves today and my house is much cleaner for it. Between donating things and tossing stuff, our house is definitely more organized. I am looking forward to getting this place ready for Christmas. That was made a bit easier when I won this beautiful wreath at our work holiday luncheon.

Trying to read, but I've got a lot going on here. These are two I am trying to finish up:

My physical mailbox was empty last week, but I picked up these two books that were Kindle freebies. 

What was in your mailbox? Hope you have a blessed week.

Mailbox Monday - Nov 6

Mailbox Monday is a meme started by Marcia of To Be Continued. Mailbox Monday is the gathering place for readers to share the books that came in their mailbox during the last week. It now has a permanent home at the Mailbox Monday blog.

Warning: Mailbox Monday can lead to envy, toppling TBR piles, and humongous wish lists.

A busy week it was in this neck of the woods. Sold a house, enjoyed some trick or treaters, the dog and the Lil' Princess celebrated birthdays, and I am preparing for numerous closings coming up this month.

Nothing in my mailbox but I did pick up this short Deputy Tempe Crabtree story from one of my favorite authors--Marilyn Meredith.

When a body is discovered in the hills, Deputy Tempe Crabtree is called to the scene. The victim is Claude Forester who claims to be a reincarnated Native American medicine man. Several members of the local tribe have reason to dislike him, but who is responsible for his death?

You can pick up your copy at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0774QGQK1

What was in your mailbox? Hope you'll share.

Mailbox Monday - Mar 27

Mailbox Monday is a meme started by Marcia of To Be Continued. Mailbox Monday is the gathering place for readers to share the books that came in their mailbox during the last week. It now has a permanent home at the Mailbox Monday blog.

Warning: Mailbox Monday can lead to envy, toppling TBR piles, and humongous wish lists.

Happy Monday! Hope you're having a great day. It's raining cats and dogs out here, but it's spring and hopefully no more snow will be coming.

Last week an unexpected gift arrived.

A daring, compelling, and impeccably researched historical novel that offers dramatic new insight into the life of the greatest composer the world has ever known. Its fresh perspective and deeply felt understanding of Beethoven's motivations, passions, and challenges speak eloquently to us today, connecting us to our own successes, failures, and dreams, and ultimately to the true consequence of our lives.

At the moment of his death on a snowy afternoon in March, 1827, Ludwig van Beethoven pleads with Providence to grant him a final wish one day, just a single day of pure joy. But first he must confront the many failings in his life, so the great composer and exceedingly complex man begins an odyssey into the netherworld of his past life. As he struggles to confront its ugliness, we encounter the women who loved and inspired him. In their own voices, we discover their Beethoven a lover with whom they savor the profound beauty and passion of his creations. And it's in the arms of his beloveds that he comes to terms with the meaning of his life and experiences the moment of true joy he has always sought.

I also downloaded a Kindle freebie.

After a brutal mugging in Manhattan leaves him with a broken arm and fractured skull, insurance investigator Jeff Resnick reluctantly agrees to recover at the home of his estranged half brother, Richard. At first, Jeff believes his graphic nightmares of a slaughtered buck are just the workings of his traumatized mind. But when a local banker is found in the same condition, Jeff believes the attack has left him with a psychic sixth sense--an ability to witness murder before it happens.Piecing together clues he saw in his visions, Jeff attempts to solve the crime. His brother Richard is skeptical, but unsettling developments begin to forge a tentative bond. Soon, things that couldn't be explained by premonition come to light, and Jeff finds himself probing into dangerous secrets that touch his own traumatic past in wintry Buffalo--and the killer is ready to eliminate Jeff's visions permanently.

What was in your mailbox?

Mailbox Monday - July 7

Mailbox Monday is a meme started by Marcia of To Be Continued. Mailbox Monday is the gathering place for readers to share the books that came in their mailbox during the last week. It now has a permanent home at the Mailbox Monday blog.

Warning: Mailbox Monday can lead to envy, toppling TBR piles, and humongous wish lists.

We're on vacation this week, but we've had the joy of visiting two used book stores on the Outer Banks. One of them has been around for years, the other of which just opened three weeks ago. Title Waves in the Jockey's Ridge Crossing plaza sells used books, gifts, and coffee. The owner, Cathy Williams, is a former school teacher. It was nice to see a new shop there. The Lil' Diva picked up a movie cover version of Divergent that included a movie poster and a 2005 version of Uglies by Scott Westerfeld.

I found this 1995 copy of a Murder, She Wrote book.

Cozy Cabot Cove, Maine, has a country luncheonette, but not much high culture. Mystery author Jessica Fletcher is the only writer in residence, but the renovation of the local Worrell mansion into an art colony may bring scores of artistic people to town. No one, however, expected a creative killer.

The posh retreat offers struggling artists a European spa, psychiatry, and even hypnotism. But soon the retreat begins to look like a health hazard. A suicide attempt and a brutal murder quickly arouse the sheriff's attention--and Jessica's. And when an old friend mysteriously disappears, Jessica fears a twisted genius is at work writing a scenario for murder--putting Jessica's own life on the line.

Murder, She Wrote remains one of my favorite television shows. I watch it on Netflix. There are over 35 books to this series and a new one is slated for October.

Before we left on vacation, I downloaded the following books for my Kindle:

What would you give for a chance at true love?

When Sherry's best friend, Lorena, promises her a virtual reality adventure for her sixty-third birthday, neither of them expect a trip back in time. But when Sherry bumps into the handsome stranger she'd once kissed on a London train in the summer of '69, she knows it couldn't be anything else. And this time she doesn't want to run.

Lorena's heart belongs to her husband who died four years ago. She returns to the present to find a letter from David which urging her to travel to a past she doesn't remember because it hasn't happened yet. Lorena will risk anything to have more time with Dave. Will travelling to this past change their shared future?

Ela Roeh of Parne doesn't understand why her beloved Creator, the Infinite, wants her to become His prophet. She's undignified and bad-tempered, and at age seventeen she's much too young. In addition, no prophet of Parne has ever been a girl. Worst of all, as Parne's elders often warn, if she agrees to become the Infinite's prophet, Ela knows she will die young.

Yet she can't imagine living without Him. Determined to hear the Infinite's voice, Ela accepts the sacred vinewood branch and is sent to bring the Infinite's word to a nation torn apart by war. There she meets a young ambassador determined to bring his own justice for his oppressed people. As they form an unlikely partnership, Ela battles how to balance the leading of her heart with the leading of the Infinite.

I recently won a drawing at Freda's Voice. I got the chance to choose one Kindle book up to $5.00 as my prize. I went with Strong Enough to Die by Jon Land because it was on my wish list.

Caitlin Strong is a fifth-generation Texas Ranger, proud to wear the badge of her father and grandfather—until a deadly shoot-out along the Mexican border causes her to question her calling.

Five years later, Caitlin is still trying to purge herself of guilt from the day that ended her Ranger career. But a shattering discovery will reopen old wounds, and Caitlin’s renewed investigation into the truth behind the bloody desert firefight uncovers a terrifying plot that reaches into every home and threatens the very core of the country.

Her only hope for success—and survival—is to team up with Cort Wesley Masters, a deadly outlaw who has every reason to want her dead. But he also holds the key to the truth she desperately seeks in the anguished brain of an amnesiac torture victim.

Caitlin’s tormented quest for redemption takes her to a dark world, ranging from Washington to Bahrain to the wastelands of Mexico, as she finds that the strength to live comes from learning how to die.

I'll probably have a new book or two once we get home, too. What was in your mailbox?

The Friday 56 - Week 169

Welcome to Week 169!

Rules:
*Grab a book, any book.
*Turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader
*Find any sentence, (or few, just don't spoil it) that grab you.
*Post it.
*Add your (url) post to the Linky at Freda's Voice. Add the post url, not your blog url. It's that simple.

The body that washes up on the beach leads Detectives Milligan and Zachary on a murder investigation that includes the victim’s family members, his housekeeper, three long-time friends, and a mystery woman.

“I’m going to be making a public service announcement about the recent rape cases. I’ll be having a conversation with your wife, Detective Milligan, since she’s the one who has talked to both victims.” She glanced at notes on the yellow pad. “But the reason I called you two in is to find out where you are on the Harlan Knight case.”

Mailbox Monday - February 24

Mailbox Monday is a meme started by Marcia of To Be Continued. Mailbox Monday is the gathering place for readers to share the books that came in their mailbox during the last week. It now has a permanent home at the Mailbox Monday blog.

Warning: Mailbox Monday can lead to envy, toppling TBR piles, and humongous wish lists.

What a busy week it was. The kids were on vacation last week. Actually, thanks to a snowstorm on February 13 and 14, they had two extra days of vacation. I think all of us were ready to get back to our schedules today. I didn't get a lot of reading done, but I did get a few surprises in my mailbox. The following three books came unsolicited from Chronicle Books:

When Bryce Billings says he will clobber Fish Finelli in the Captain Kidd Classic boat race, Fish has no choice but to accept the bet. But Fish’s 1970s Whaler with a broken motor is no match for Bryce’s new, top-of-the-line, 9.9-horsepower Viper—even if Fish, Roger, and T. J. can fix their measly 5-horsepower motor, it can’t compete with Bryce’s boat. With $9.63 between them, do the guys even have a chance at the Classic? A hilarious romp, filled with fun facts seamlessly integrated into the story, Fish Finelli informs as much as it entertains for perfect middle-grade reading.

Armani Curtis can think about only one thing: her tenth birthday. All her friends are coming to her party, her mama is making a big cake, and she has a good feeling about a certain wrapped box. Turning ten is a big deal to Armani. It means she’s older, wiser, more responsible. But when Hurricane Katrina hits the Lower Nines of New Orleans, Armani realizes that being ten means being brave, watching loved ones die, and mustering all her strength to help her family weather the storm. A powerful story of courage and survival, Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere celebrates the miraculous power of hope and love in the face of the unthinkable.

As befits a future President of the United States of America, Maggie Mayfield has decided to write a memoir of the past year of her life. And what a banner year it’s been! During this period she’s Student of the Month on a regular basis, an official shareholder of Coca-Cola stock, and defending Science Fair champion. Most importantly, though, this is the year Maggie has to pull up her bootstraps (the family motto) and finally learn why her cool-dude dad is in a wheelchair, no matter how scary that is. Author Megan Jean Sovern, herself the daughter of a dad with multiple sclerosis, writes with the funny grace and assured prose of a new literary star.

A portion of the proceeds of the sale of this book will be donated to the National Multiple Sclerosis Society.

I also added to my free books list because these seemed too good to pass up. My daughter will probably want to read the first one.

Millions have already died, and thousands more are perishing daily. As a last ditch effort to preserve the human race, the government implements Project ELE. With the earth heating at rapid speeds, all remaining survivors are forced to turn to F.E.M.A. shelters to wait out ELE's wrath.

Fifteen-year-old Willow Mosby's life, as she knows it, ends the moment she walks through the shelter's door. Willow has to quickly adapt to the new challenges that shelter life demands, the least of which includes making new friends and working a full time job.

Soon after making an interesting discovery, Willow and her friends start exhibiting strange abilities. Seeking answers, they embark on a mission to find out what these new abilities mean and whether they are a gift or a curse.

This new adventure can send her world crashing down around her. The question is: Can Willow survive the fall?

From the authors of Night Marchers comes a new apocalyptic series with a paranormal twist.

The summer of 1984 was a golden time in America. From California, where gymnast Mary Lou Retton was winning Olympic gold, to Cape Cod, where explorer Barry Clifford was discovering pirate gold, the nation seemed obsessed with the precious metal. But for 15-year old Al, that obsession hits a little too close to home when he finds a code-filled notebook belonging to his missing father that may contain the ancient formula for turning lead to gold. Convinced that his father's sudden disappearance is connected to his secret experiments in alchemy, Al sets out to find the truth. He enlists the help of Cammie, a beautiful girl staying for the summer while her marine biologist father tracks a wayward manatee, and together they begin unraveling the mystery. But the closer they get to an answer, the closer they grow to each other, and as the end of summer draws nearer, Al wonders if they can break the code without breaking his heart.

Mike Wood is from Massachusetts, which influenced my decision to download this one. It's important to support local authors.

The popularity of homeschooling combined with concerns over the development of curriculum in public schools has encouraged me to find out more.

This book aims to provide parents and teachers a good resource to start when considering homeschooling. It outlines the benefits and downsides of homeschooling and it can be helpful for anyone who wants to learn the whole process of homeschooling from early childhood years through tertiary level. In addition to sample homeschooling curriculum, this book laid out essential learning processes and teaching methods that parents and teachers need to practice and observe when homeschooling.

A murder mystery that happens in a library. Talk about blending two of my favorite things.

A man is found murdered in the locked library in his home. Surveillance cameras show that no one other than the deceased entered the library. The deceased left a clue for the police, only they cannot figure out what the clue means.

What did you receive in your mailbox?

Teaser Tuesdays - Oct. 22

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

• Grab your current read
• Open to a random page
• Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
• Share the title and author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

This comes from one of my favorite mystery authors. Her witty, sarcastic female leads always make me laugh.

"...I don't know what the hell Carlisle was doing in the theatre at that time of night."

"Getting himself killed, for one thing."

~Location 110 from The Dagger Before Me by Heather Haven

Guest Blogger: Michael Bigham, Author of Harkness (Giveaway)

In this thrilling debut novel, by Michael Bigham, Sheriff Matt Harkness faces a perilous challenge. He isn’t your typical Western sheriff. Cowboy boots make his arches ache, he’s phobic of horses, he drives an old battered pickup and his faithful companion is a wiener dog named Addison. Set on the Oregon High Desert in 1952, life in the small town of Barnesville has been easy-going for Matthew until a star-crossed teen-age couple disappears. Harkness is the keeper of secrets in his little town and to solve the crime, he must decide which secrets to expose. One secret involves Judge Barnes, the county’s most powerful man. But Harkness has a secret of his own: he’s in love with the Judge’s wife. How much is Harkness willing to risk to catch a murderer?

Purchase at Amazon!

The Lay of the Land

Landscape in Fiction

by Michael Bigham

There’s a feeling you get driving down to Casper at night from the north, and not only there, other places where you come through hours of darkness unrelieved by lights except the crawling wink of some faraway ranch truck. You come down a grade and all at once the shining town lies below you, slung out like all western towns, and with the curved bulk of the mountain behind it.

Annie Proulx, “A Lonely Coast” from Close Range: Wyoming Stories

If you live out west, you’ve probably driven this stretch of road, maybe not this particular stretch in Wyoming, but perhaps one similar somewhere in Idaho or Colorado. In Central Oregon where I grew up, there’s a ten-mile down grade running from the shoulder of Grizzly Mountain into Prineville. When you crest that rise, the town lights seem so distant.

Annie Proulx is a favorite writer of mine. She creates complex characters and is a master at using landscape in her prose. Whether you’re reading The Shipping News or Brokeback Mountain you can be sure that the landscape will play an important role.

Another of my favs is Flannery O’Connor.  Let’s look at A Good Man is Hard to Find:

They turned onto the dirt road and the car raced roughly along in a swirl of pink dust. The grandmother recalled the times when there were no paved roads and thirty miles was a day's journey. The dirt road was hilly and there were sudden washes in it and sharp curves on dangerous embankments. All at once they would be on a hill, looking down over the blue tops of trees for miles around, then the next minute, they would be in a red depression with the dust-coated trees looking down on them.

Here O’Connor uses description of the landscape to foreshadow danger for the story’s characters.

In my own novel, I use the landscape not only to give the reader a sense of place, but also to define my protagonist, Sheriff Matthew Harkness:

The ride up the valley to the North Redmond Ranch was pretty enough in summer or winter, just too long on washboard roads for my taste. I kept the window down and hummed to myself as the countryside drifted by, sagebrush and juniper, up and over the hill out of town, then along wheat and alfalfa fields, faded to brown by August, and up the Paulina Valley. I could buy a few acres up here. Good land, plenty of water, cheap, and undiscovered… so far.

                                                Michael Bigham, Harkness: A High Desert Mystery

Landscape in fiction enhances the reader’s experience and can play a role in character, plotting and creating tension.

You can find Harkness: A High Desert Mystery in both e-book format and in paperback on sale at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Be sure to check out my blog at www.michaelbigham.com

I thank The Busy Mom's Daily for this guest blog opportunity.

Raised in the mill town of Prineville in Central Oregon beneath blue skies and rimrocks, Michael Bigham attended the University of Oregon and during his collegiate summers, fought range fires on the Oregon high desert for the Bureau of Land Management. He worked as a police officer with the Port of Portland and after leaving police work, obtained an MFA degree in Creative Writing from Vermont College. Michael lives in Portland, Oregon with his wife and daughter. Harkness is his first novel.

Visit the author online at www.muskratpress.com and his blog at http://blueparrot.blogspot.com/


Enter for your chance to win a free paperback of Harkness. Please use the Rafflecopter form below. Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Mystery Novel Month: Rip-Off by Mar Preston

High-tech burglary and murder are bad for business in the upscale, tourist-destination beach city of Santa Monica with its leftist politics, rich homeowners, and huge homeless population. Bad for Detective Dave Mason of the Santa Monica Police Department. 

A deadbeat burglar has been found in the upscale Santa Monica beach condo of a playboy studio exec. The dead body must link up with a string of high-tech burglaries, and the Chechens Mason keeps meeting must link up with each other somehow, but how? 

The investigation leads him down mean streets into the dark world of embezzlement and an explosion that almost kills him. The stakes rise as the investigation send Mason to the Hollywood Russian community where he is warned off by the FBI and Homeland Security. A bungled take down results in two murders of key informants. Fingers are pointed. Mason is outranked and the Department blamed.

While Mason brings an international whodunit to an end, restoring his own and the Department’s reputation, he finds his relationship with his community activist girlfriend teetering on the edge.

PURCHASE AT AMAZON!

I grew up in northern Ontario and love its lakes and forests. But I lived in Santa Monica for decades watching big money, land development, and politics clash. 

Getting a good murder mystery novel out of what goes on behind the scenes in grassroots politics, glitzy businesses, and developer skullduggery makes all those dreary Santa Monica city council meetings worthwhile. 

I live now in a village in the California mountains not that far from the edge of the Los Angeles sprawl. There's too much to do here: I'm writing crime fiction seriously, but I can't get away from the SPCA, local environmental politics, and the writing community.  

Life is good.

Author’s website: http://marpreston.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mar-Preston/136299239777273

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/YesMarPreston

Seasonal Titles: Gold, Frakincense, and Murder by Barbara Early

High school geometry teacher, Donna Russell likes her life well-ordered and logical, even if it is a tad solitary at times. But when a charming co-worker at the local food bank disappears just before Christmas, Donna is left with more questions than solutions.


After the missing man's neighbor, muscle-bound EMT Sam Holton, volunteers as Donna's crime-fighting sidekick, sparks fly between them. Donna wonders if Sam can be trusted, or if he's trying to throw an unknown into her calculations—and her life.

And when police recover a body from the icy Niagara River, Donna is faced with the most frustrating equation of all: can murder plus mayhem ever equal romance?

Read an excerpt!

Food pantries are lousy places to meet men.

I slammed another dusty can of sauerkraut into the rough wood shelving to punctuate that thought, enjoying the reverberation through the brick storefront. Don’t get me wrong. That’s not why I volunteered. My days of pining after some testosterone-charged he-god passed a decade or so ago when all my friends married and started having kids. I’d officially become “Aunt Donna,” and I was pretty okay with that.

Most of the time.

I had my friends, my students, and my cat. Only my friends were all busy chauffeuring their kids to basketball practice and dance recitals, my students at the high school drove me up the wall, and my black cat was one of those independent sorts, content stalking birds from the window. He rubbed against my leg twice a day when I filled his food dish, and that was pretty much the extent of my physical contact with other living things.

Read the reviews!

"Wonderfully written with a nice mix of thrills, chills and laughs, Gold, Frankinsense and Murder is a lovely short story to curl up with on a winter's night. I loved the scene with the cat attacking the tree - something my cat did reguarly - and the sleuthing Donna reminded me of Miss Marple. It's 83 pages are jam packed with vivid descriptions and action that keep you turning pages."

--Clare Revell, author of Saving Christmas

PURCHASE GOLD, FRANKINCENSE, AND MURDER AT PELICANGROUP.COM AND AMAZON!

Barbara Early grew up buried in the snowy suburbs of Buffalo, NY, where she developed a love for all things sedentary: reading, writing, classic movies, and Scrabble. She holds a degree in Electrical Engineering, but her penchant for the creative caused her to run away screaming from the pocket-protector set. She taught secondary English and science for several years in a Christian school before home schooling her daughter successfully through high school. Barbara cooks up cozy mysteries with a healthy dose of comedy and sometimes a splash of romance, and was a double finalist in the 2010 ACFW Genesis competition. When not reading or writing, she enjoys cooking, crafts, home-improvement projects, and spending time with her husband and daughter.

Visit Barbara online at http://www.barbaraearly.com/ and her blog at http://barbearly.blogspot.com/.

Mystery Special Feature: Missing, Assumed Dead by Marva Dasef

When Kameron McBride receives notice she’s the last living relative of a missing man she’s never even heard of, the last thing she wants to do is head to some half-baked Oregon town to settle his affairs. But since she’s the only one available, she grudgingly agrees.

En route, she runs afoul of a couple of hillbillies and their pickup in an accident that doesn’t seem...accidental. Especially when they keep showing up wherever she goes. Lucky for her, gorgeous Deputy Mitch Caldwell lends her a hand, among other things. Her suspicions increase when the probate Judge tries a little too hard to buy the dead man’s worthless property.

Working on a hunch and trying to avoid the Judge’s henchmen, Kam probes deeper into the town’s secrets and finds almost no one she can trust. With Mitch’s help, she peels away the layers of prejudice, suicide, murder, and insanity. But someone in town doesn’t like her poking around, and when they show their intentions by shooting her through the police chief’s office window, the stakes are raised. Kam must find out what really happened to her dead relative before someone in this backward little town sends her to join him.
And she thought Oregon was going to be boring.

Read an excerpt!

Kam gasped and jumped down the embankment toward the creek, stumbling through the underbrush. She heard the pickup tires screech and glanced back. Scruffy had gotten out and headed down the slope behind her. She moved faster, gripping her hair spray. A strap broke on her sandal, and she kicked it off. Ignoring the brambles poking into her legs through her jeans, she moved as fast as she could, the terrain preventing her from flat out running.

She heard the crashing of bushes behind her and put on more steam. She knew the pickup would have reached her car by now, but she’d be coming up on the passenger door, slightly downhill from the driver’s side. She switched the hair spray to her left hand and pawed into her purse for the keys. Finding them, she dropped the bag on the ground to free her hands and kept moving.

When she reached the Chrysler, the driver had already skidded down the embankment and was standing on the driver’s side. Thin compared to the other man, but his arms were solid muscle under the tats. She rushed to the passenger side, jerked open the heavy door, dived in, slammed the door and hit the lock button on the key fob.

The driver pounded the window with his fist. The scruffy one had caught up and pulled on the passenger side door handle. Kam hit the panic button on the fob. The deep and seriously loud Chrysler horn went off with honking bursts. Both men jumped back from the car.

The driver yelled, “I’ll fetch the rifle.” He scrambled to climb up the embankment.

Kam’s heart almost stopped. Even the shatterproof windows wouldn’t stand up against a hunting rifle. She looked around the car wildly, her breath coming in sharp rasps, and then launched herself over the console and into the rear. Sweat ran from her armpits, soaking her blouse. She ran her shaking hands across the top of the seat back hunting for the latch. She hoped the Chrysler had fold down back seats. If she could just reach the tire iron, she’d have a weapon. If this stupid car even had one that is.

She felt the latch pin, grasped it and pulled it up. It clicked. She grasped the seat back in both hands and pulled it down. On her belly, she crawled halfway into the trunk searching for the spare tire well.



Read the reviews!

"I could not put this story down until the last word was read! I give Missing, Assumed Dead thumbs up!!"
 
--M. McDannell, Amazon Reviewer
 
"In addition to the Oregon setting, which I enjoyed, this action-packed mystery is rich with colorful characters, a tight plot, and a warm romance. Recommended!"
 
--L.J. Sellers, author of the Detective Jackson mysteries
 
"Action packed, suspenseful, with a good dose of mystery. Ms. Dasef had me hooked from the first page through to the end. Highly recommend this read!"
 
--Elizabeth Bonecher-Brenaman, Amazon Reviewer
 
PURCHASE MISSING, ASSUMED DEAD AT AMAZON OR MUSEITUP PUBLISHING!
 

Marva Dasef is a writer living in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and a fat white cat.  Retired from thirty-five years in the software industry, she has now turned her energies to writing fiction and finds it a much more satisfying occupation.  Marva has published more than forty stories in a number of on-line and print magazines, with several included in Best of anthologies. She has several already published books and a few more scheduled for 2011 and 2012 from her super duper publisher, MuseItUp.


Visit Marva online at http://marvadasef.com/ or her blog at http://mgddasef.blogspot.com/. You can find her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/MarvaDasef or Twitter @Gurina. Visit her author page on MuseitUp Publishing's website.

Mystery Special Feature: Invisible Path by Marilyn Meredith

To kick off my Mystery and Crime Fiction Special Feature, I am spotlighting Invisible Path by Marilyn Meredith. This is a 2010 release in Meredith's Deputy Tempe Crabtree series. She'll have a new book in this series (Bears With Us) coming out soon, so I felt it was the perfect time to mention this one, which is one of my favorites from the series of those books I've read.

While Tempe’s son, Blair is home from Christmas break, he and his roommate from college do a bit of snooping to find out about the para-military group who’ve been seen driving through town. When a young popular Indian is found dead near the recovery center on the reservation, Tempe is called in to help with the investigation. Another Native American but a newcomer to the rez, Jesus Running Bear, is the only suspect. A hidden pregnancy, a quest to find the Hairy Man, and a visit to the pseudo soldiers’ compound put Jesus and Tempe in jeopardy.


Read an excerpt!

“Jesus, I need to talk to you.”

My grandma was the only one who could get away with pronouncing my name like Jesus in the Bible. My friends say it like “Hay-soos.” Grandma didn’t like it when she heard someone say my name like that. She usually corrected whoever it was by saying, “My grandson is not Mexican, he is Indian. His name is Jesus Running Bear.”

I don’t know what inspired my mother to give me such a name, and she wasn’t around to ask.

Grandma fixed her small dark eyes on me. When she smiled her eyes became crescent moons. She wasn’t smiling now. Whatever it was she wanted to say, it had to be important.

I put down the bowl I’d gotten out of the cupboard. Breakfast would have to wait.

“You’ve been thinking about something a lot. Something that’s going to give you problems.” Grandmother’s face was round, weathered, and brown as a nut. Her gray hair was pulled straight back and arranged in a bun. Wiry strands escaped and poked out around her ears and the nape of her neck. She wore a man’s red plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, over a pair of faded blue jeans. Beneath the baggy clothes, she was slim and muscled. Her toes peeked out from a pair of worn leather sandals.

I loved my grandma; after all she was the one who raised me after my mother left me alone while she went on a three day drunk. My uncle found me and brought me to grandmother’s house where I’ve been ever since. No, I don’t miss my mother because I don’t even remember her. I only know what I’ve been told about her—not much of it good.

I wasn’t sure what kind of problem Grandma meant. Sure, I’d been going down to the beer joints with my cousin and friends even though I knew she didn’t want me drinking. Maybe that’s what this was about. I respected my grandmother, but I hadn’t obeyed her warning about never touching alcohol. She hated alcohol. Grandfather had died from drinking too much. Maybe my mother was dead too. No one had heard from her in years.

“Come. Sit down.” She motioned to the chair where I usually sat. In front of her was a cup of tea. “We’re going to find out exactly what is going on with you.”

I sat on the edge of the seat. She was going to do some weird Indian stuff. We were Miwok—though we didn’t live on or near a reservation. We lived in a small town in the foothills above Modesto which is in the Central Valley of California. Frankly, I didn’t know much about my heritage except what my grandma told me.


She was an amazing woman, and could do so many things. I was proud of most of what she did. She knew how to gather herbs that could cure most sicknesses. She wove beautiful baskets that she sold at Pow Wows and to tourists in gift shops in Yosemite and other places.

When I was a kid, she took me on camping trips into the back country. She could out hike me even today. But I wasn’t crazy about all the Indian stuff she did that I didn’t understand.

Grandma stared into the cup and began speaking in her native language. That’s what she always did when she was concentrating on something.

She lifted her head and fixed her eyes on me again. “You’re looking for a girlfriend. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Well, sure. What young guy isn’t trying to find a girl? But for once I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut.

Again, she peered into the cup. “I see all kinds of women. Be careful not to choose the wrong one. If you do, you’ll be miserable.”

She stared and her eyes looked funny, like she was seeing something far, far away.

I squirmed, wondering where this was leading. Maybe she already had someone picked out for me.

“I see a pretty girl with a nice figure. She has long straight hair, clear down to her waist. She’ll wiggle her plump bottom and you won’t be able to think. Women have power–especially young pretty ones. Don’t you so much as give her more than a passing glance. If you do, you’ll be miserable your whole life.” Grandma didn’t look up.

In my mind I could see the pretty girl walking down the street, her shiny black hair swinging back and forth like her hips.

After a few minutes my day dream ended when Grandma said, “There’s another one. Short and skinny like I was when I was young. But beware, she’s nothing like me. This one is sneaky. She’ll act like she cares for you when she has lots of other men.”

Interesting. This was more fun than I’d expected.

“I see another one, curly headed and laughing. She’ll welcome you to her bed.”

This was sounding better and better, and I risked a smile.

“Take my warning, grandson. Don’t marry her. She knows nothing about being a wife or taking care of children. She only knows how to have fun. She only wants to party, party, party. She’s not for you.”

I was beginning to wonder if there was anyone Grandma would see in that teacup who was good enough for me.

“Ah, there’s the one you must look for. She’s a sweet girl, with dark brown wavy hair and a dimple in one cheek. She knows and respects the old ways.”

“Where is she? Does she live around here?” I was ready to introduce myself to this wonderful woman.

“No, she lives far away. It may take a long, long while before you meet her.”

That wasn’t such good news. “How will I find her?”

“The path lies straight ahead. Sometimes it will be invisible, but it’s always there.”

Grandma’s discussion about my future seemed to be over.

She picked up the cup and dumped the dregs in the sink. Wiping her hands on a tea towel that had been draped through the handle of the old refrigerator, she asked, “Are you ready to eat?”

* * *

I almost forgot about Grandma’s predictions, because I started drinking more and more with my buddies. I became an embarrassment to her and my other relatives, and I didn’t care.

Read the reviews!

"Invisible Path is phenomenal!"

--The Book Connection

"The novel is in the classic traditional mystery mode with a lot of emphasis on character development and setting. Relations between members of different races and religious beliefs are very well handled with insight and care. This is another enjoyable and satisfying adventure with Deputy Tempe Crabtree."

--Carl Brookins, Crime Writers

"Author Marilyn Meredith's infusion of Native American legends and traditions into the story elevates Invisible Path to something more than just a police procedural. The reader truly gets a feel for the balancing act Tempe engages in every day between her job as a law enforcement officer and her Native American heritage. If you like murder mysteries / police procedurals but are looking for a change of pace from yet another one set in a big city, Invisible Path is a nice alternative with believable, well developed, sympathetic characters and a fascinating setting."

--All Purpose Monkey

"What I like best about Meredith's books is that they are all family friendly and yet, they lose none of their edginess in the process. She takes you to the scene of a murder but it doesn't turn into the detailed CSI gore that we are getting hit with in most all crime books. Readers will like the interplay between her deputy and her family as well as the criminals in the story. In this book she doesn't let on to what is really going on until she has woven you completely in the mystery of it all. The story takes several twists and turns and will keep you on the edge of your seat while you try to sort things out.

This is a must read. I fully recommend this book without any hesitation!"

--W.H. McDonald Jr, author of A Spiritual Warrior's Journey

PURCHASE INVISIBLE PATH AT:

AMAZON.COM
MUNDANIAPRESS.COM OR FROM THE AUTHOR'S WEBSITE AT
http://fictionforyou.com/.

ALSO AVAILABLE IN A KINDLE EDITION!

Marilyn Meredith is the author of over thirty published novels, many award winning, including the Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery series. Writing as F. M. Meredith, her latest Rocky Bluff P.D. crime novel is Angel Lost, the third from Oak Tree Press. Marilyn is a member of EPIC, Four chapters of Sisters in Crime, including the Central Coast chapter, Mystery Writers of America, and on the board of the Public Safety Writers of America. She’s also a been an instructor at many writing conferences including the Maui Writers Retreat, Central Coast Writing Conference and many others.


Visit Marilyn online at http://fictionforyou.com and her blog at http://marilynmeredith.blogspot.com.

Book Spotlight: Murder on the Interstate by Jean Henry Mead

Two feisty 60-year old women sleuths encounter murder, homegrown terrorism, kidnapping and disasters as they travel Arizona in their motorhome. The third novel in the Logan & Cafferty mystery/suspense series, Murder on the Interstate will leave you breathless.

Read an excerpt!

Lulled by a lack of traffic and the steady beat of rain, Dana was in danger of nodding off when a convertible roared past, followed by a late model pickup. The heavy downpour obscured her view, but they appeared to be coupled like boxcars. Why were they driving that dangerously close, and why so fast in the rain?

An I-40 highway sign signaled an approaching curve so she clicked off the cruise control and slowed to forty-five. Taillights had vanished and she glanced in both side mirrors. The earlier truck traffic had also disappeared and no headlights were visible in either direction. Darkness was closing in on her.

Sarah groaned from the passenger seat, apparently still asleep. Must be the anchovies. Her friend had insisted on stopping for pizza at a Kingman roadside cafe. Dana groped for the Tums. As she rounded the curve, she noticed two sets of brake lights not far ahead. The motorhome swayed as she stepped into her own brakes and skidded on the pavement. Road signs had warned of animal crossings. The convertible might have swerved to avoid hitting a deer and gone off the mountain road. Dana pulled onto the shoulder as the pickup following the convertible screeched back on the pavement. Why hadn’t the driver stopped to help?

Bolting upright in the passenger seat, Sarah said, “What’s happening?” Her voice was thick with sleep.

“We’re about to find out.”

Headlights angled upward from somewhere off the road, illuminating a huge digger pine. It had to be the convertible. Dana opened her door and climbed down. The steps were slick with rain and she nearly lost her balance. She heard the passenger door slam as she started down the embankment. Chilled and miserably wet, she slipped and landed in a bed of pine needles. Why hadn’t she grabbed the flashlight? Dana glanced up at her friend, who stood shivering on the shoulder. “Sarah,” she yelled, “Call 911 and hurry.”

The smell of gasoline was strong, despite the heavy rain. The convertible had missed several pine trees but a boulder had stopped its forward motion. Both doors were locked. Peering through the driver’s window, she could see nothing more than shattered glass, a dime-sized hole centering the web design. She then heard several backfires and a ping of metal as though the convertible had been struck by a rock. Realizing it was a gunshot, she dropped to her knees in the mud.

Sarah!

Slipping and clawing her way up the slope, she crawled onto the shoulder. A pickup was parked behind the RV. The driver had a nervous foot. A moment later another set of headlights emerged from the curve down the road. Tires squealed as the pickup roared off. As it passed, the RV’s headlights caught a dark red truck, which appeared to be a newer model. When Dana glanced in the passenger window, Sarah was crouched between the seats, the cell phone clutched in her hand. She took her time unlocking the passenger door.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m not sure.” Sarah patted her chest, breathing heavily.

“What happened?”

“He shot up the motorhome.”

“Did he shoot at you?”

“I don’t think he saw me. He only seemed interested in wounding Matilda.”

Dana hated the name Sarah had christened the RV, but that was the least of her worries. Grabbing a flashlight, she climbed back down the steps. A quick inspection revealed inside tires still inflated but the outer ones in the back were flat. She heard an engine shift down and was caught in the glare of headlights. Signaling with her flashlight, she was relieved when the big truck slowed and pulled in behind the motorhome. The driver seemed to be endlessly checking gauges before descending from the cab. Once on the ground, a warm, plump hand gripped hers in greeting.

“The name’s McCurdy,” the husky voice said. ”Everybody calls me Big Ruby.”

At nearly six feet, she was Dana’s height although nearly twice her girth.

Read the reviews!

“Careen into crime with two intrepid sleuths who outwit terrorists in a fast-paced plot taken from today’s headlines. A page turner.”
–Carolyn Hart

"Murder on the Interstate burns rubber right out of the gate and exceeds the speed limit on every page. With all the car chases, gun shots, screeching breaks, and crashes, the movie version could be the sequel to one of those car-heist action-films. Except for the fact that the protagonists are two women approaching Medicare, and their vehicle is a motorhome. Dana and Sarah are stalwart, clever and funny characters, and author Jean Henry Mead caroms them from one tight situation to another as they weave along the Interstate and into a high stakes mystery."

—J. Michael Orenduff, Lefty Award-winning author of The Pot Thief Who Studied Einstein

"Full of surprising twists and turns, Jean Henry Mead has produced an RV adventure with her two senior sleuths in hot pursuit of a murderer, but the tables turn and the two women learn that not only are they in danger but so is our national security. An exciting mystery that will keep you turning pages."

–F. M. Meredith, author of Angel Lost

COMING MAY 2011! FOR MORE INFORMATION VISIT JEAN'S WEBSITE AT www.jeanhenrymead.com!

The author's virtual book tour takes place from May 2-May 27. Three copies of Murder on the Interstate will be given away and one of the winners (from a drawing of blog visitors leaving comments) will be a character in her next book. The tour schedule is posted at: http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/2011/03/25/murder-on-the-interstate-virtual-book-tour-may-2011/

Jean Henry Mead is a mystery/suspense and western historical novelist. She's also an award-winning photojournalist. One of her fortes is interviewing writers, actors, politicians, artists and ordinary people who have accomplished extraordinary things. She began her writing career as a California news reporter/editor/photographer, first in Central California and later in San Diego. Mead then transferred to Casper, Wyoming, to serve as a staff writer for the statewide newspaper. While there she served as editor of In Wyoming Magazine and two small presses. She also freelanced for other magazines, both domestically and abroad, among them the Denver Post's Empire Magazine. Her first book was published in 1981. She's since published thirteen novels and nonfiction books.


She currently writes the Hamilton Kids children’s mystery series as well as the Logan & Cafferty mystery/suspense series. Her latest release in the Logan & Cafferty series is Murder on the Interstate.


Visit Jean online at www.jeanhenrymead.com. She blogs at:


http://mysteriouspeople.blogspot.com/  


http://writersofthewest.blogspot.com/  


http://murderousmusings.blogspot.com/


http://makeminemystery.blogspot.com/


She is also on Facebook and Twitter.

Book Spotlight: Love You More by Lisa Gardner

WHO DO YOU LOVE?

One question, a split-second decision, and Brian Darby lies dead on the kitchen floor. His wife, state police trooper Tessa Leoni, claims to have shot him in self-defense, and bears the bruises to back up her tale. For veteran detective D. D. Warren it should be an open-and-shut case. But where is their six-year-old daughter?

AND HOW FAR WOULD YOU GO . . .

As the homicide investigation ratchets into a frantic statewide search for a missing child, D. D. Warren must partner with former lover Bobby Dodge to break through the blue wall of police brotherhood, seeking to understand the inner workings of a trooper’s mind while also unearthing family secrets. Would a trained police officer truly shoot her own husband? And would a mother harm her own child?

. . . TO SAVE HER?

For Tessa Leoni, the worst has not yet happened. She is walking a tightrope, with nowhere to turn, no one to trust, as the clock ticks down to a terrifying deadline. She has one goal in sight, and she will use every ounce of her training, every trick at her disposal, to do what must be done. No sacrifice is too great, no action unthinkable. A mother knows who she loves. And all others will be made to pay.

Love you more . . .

Read an excerpt!

1

Sergeant Detective D. D. Warren prided herself on her excellent investigative skills. Having served over a dozen years with the Boston PD, she believed working a homicide scene wasn't simply a matter of walking the walk or talking the talk, but rather of total sensory immersion. She felt the smooth hole bored into Sheetrock by a hot spiraling twenty-two. She listened for the sound of neighbors gossiping on the other side of thin walls because if she could hear them, then they'd definitely heard the big bad that had just happened here.

D.D. always noted how a body had fallen, whether it was forward or backward or slightly to one side. She tasted the air for the acrid flavor of gunpowder, which could linger for a good twenty to thirty minutes after the final shot. And, on more than one occasion, she had estimated time of death based on the scent of blood--which, like fresh meat, started out relatively mild but took on heavier, earthier tones with each passing hour.

Today, however, she wasn't going to do any of those things. Today, she was spending a lazy Sunday morning dressed in gray sweats and Alex's oversized red flannel shirt. She was camped at his kitchen table, clutching a thick clay coffee mug while counting slowly to twenty.

She'd hit thirteen. Alex had finally made it to the front door. Now he paused to wind a deep blue scarf around his neck.

She counted to fifteen.

He finished with the scarf. Moved on to a black wool hat and lined leather gloves. The temperature outside had just crept above twenty. Eight inches of snow on the ground and six more forecasted to arrive by end of the week. March didn't mean spring in New England.

Alex taught crime-scene analysis, among other things, at the Police Academy. Today was a full slate of classes. Tomorrow, they both had the day off, which didn't happen much and warranted some kind of fun activity yet to be determined. Maybe ice skating in the Boston Commons. Or a trip to the Isabelle Stewart Gardner Museum. Or a lazy day where they snuggled on the sofa and watched old movies with a big bowl of buttered popcorn.

D.D.'s hands spasmed on the coffee mug. Okay, no popcorn.

D.D. counted to eighteen, nineteen, twent--

Alex finished with his gloves, picked up his battered black leather tote, and crossed to her.

"Don't miss me too much," he said.

He kissed her on the forehead. D.D. closed her eyes, mentally recited the number twenty, then started counting back down to zero.
"I'll write you love letters all day, with little hearts over the 'i's," she said.

"In your high school binder?"

"Something like that."

Alex stepped back. D.D. hit fourteen. Her mug trembled, but Alex didn't seem to notice. She took a deep breath and soldiered on. Thirteen, twelve, eleven . . .

She and Alex had been dating a little over six months. At that point where she had a whole drawer to call her own in his tiny ranch, and he had a sliver of closet space in her North End condo. When he was teaching, it was easier for them to be here. When she was working, it was easier to be in Boston. They didn't have a set schedule. That would imply planning and further solidify a relationship they were both careful to not overly define.

They enjoyed each other's company. Alex respected her crazy schedule as a homicide detective. She respected his culinary skills as a third-generation Italian. From what she could tell, they looked forward to the nights when they could get together, but survived the nights when they didn't. They were two independent-minded adults. She'd just hit forty, Alex had crossed that line a few years back. Hardly blushing teens whose every waking moment was consumed with thoughts of each other. Alex had been married before. D.D. simply knew better.

She lived to work, which other people found unhealthy, but what the hell. It had gotten her this far.
Nine, eight, seven . . .

Alex opened the front door, squaring his shoulders against the bitter morning. A blast of chilled air shot across the small foyer, hitting D.D.'s cheeks. She shivered, clutched the mug more tightly.

"Love you," Alex said, stepping across the threshold.

"Love you, too."

Alex closed the door. D.D. made it down the hall just in time to vomit.

Ten minutes later, she remained sprawled on the bathroom floor. The decorative tiles were from the seventies, dozens and dozens of tiny beige, brown, and harvest gold squares. Looking at them made her want to puke all over again. Counting them, however, was a pretty decent meditative exercise. She inventoried tiles while she waited for her flushed cheeks to cool and her cramped stomach to untangle.

Her cellphone rang. She eyed it on the floor, not terribly interested, given the circumstances. But then she noted the caller and decided to take pity on him.

"What?" she demanded, her usual greeting for former lover and currently married Massachusetts State Police Detective Bobby Dodge.

"I don't have much time. Listen sharp."

"I'm not on deck," she said automatically. "New cases go to Jim Dunwell. Pester him." Then she frowned. Bobby couldn't be calling her about a case. As a city cop, she took her orders from the Boston turret, not state police detectives.

Bobby continued as if she'd never spoken: "It's a fuckup, but I'm pretty sure it's our fuckup, so I need you to listen. Stars and stripes are next door, media across the street. Come in from the back street. Take your time, notice everything. I've already lost vantage point, and trust me, D.D., on this one, you and I can't afford to miss a thing."

D.D.'s frown deepened. "What the hell, Bobby? I have no idea what you're talking about, not to mention it's my day off."

"Not anymore. BPD is gonna want a woman to front this one, while the state is gonna demand their own skin in the game, preferably a former trooper. The brass's call, our heads on the block."

She heard a fresh noise now, from the bedroom. Her pager, chiming away. Crap. She was being called in, meaning whatever Bobby was babbling about had merit. She pulled herself to standing, though her legs trembled and she thought she might puke again. She took the first step through sheer force of will and the rest was easier after that. She headed for the bedroom, a detective who'd lost days off before and would again.

"What do I need to know?" she asked, voice crisper now, phone tucked against her shoulder.

"Snow," Bobby muttered. "On the ground, trees, windows . . . hell. We got cops tramping everywhere--"

"Get 'em out! If it's my fucking scene, get 'em all out."

She found her pager on the bedside table--yep, call out from Boston operations--and began shucking her gray sweatpants.

"They're out of the house. Trust me, even the bosses know better than to contaminate a homicide scene. But we didn't know the girl was missing. The uniforms sealed off the house, but left the yard fair play. And now the grounds are trampled, and I can't get vantage point. We need vantage point."

D.D. had sweats off, went to work on Alex's flannel shirt.

"Who's dead?"

"Forty-two-year-old white male."

"Who's missing?"

"Six-year-old white female."

"Got a suspect?"

Long, long pause now.

"Get here," Bobby said curtly. "You and me, D.D. Our case. Our headache. We gotta work this one quick."

He clicked off. D.D. scowled at the phone, then tossed it on the bed to finish pulling on her white dress shirt.

Okay. Homicide with a missing child. State police already on-site, but Boston jurisdiction. Why the hell would the state police--
Then, fine detective that she was, D.D. finally connected the dots.

"Ah shit!"

D.D. wasn't nauseous anymore. She was pissed off.

She grabbed her pager, her creds, and her winter jacket. Then, Bobby's instructions ringing in her head, she prepared to ambush her own crime scene.

Read the reviews!

“This book had me at the author’s name. Lisa Gardner…no one owns this corner of the genre the way she does—And Love You More might be her best ever.”
—Lee Child

“Crisp prose, crackling plots, layered characters. A stickler for detail. Lisa Gardner is the best female thriller writer working today.”

—Steve Berry

“Lisa Gardner’s books come with a built-in set of hands. They reach up out of the pages, grab you by the lapels, and hold you until you’ve read to the final, suspense-filled sentence. And Love You More is no exception.”

—Linwood Barclay

"I would recommend this book if you like thrilling edge of your seat suspense."

--A Room without Books is Empty

"I highly recommend this murder/mystery!"

--Black Diamond's Book Reviews

"Are you ready for page-turning suspense, then read Love You More by Lisa Gardner."

--My Reading Room

"...take the time to read this emotionally complex, more than 5 star worthy, WOWtastic suspense novel."

--Book Reviews by Molly

"The writing is phenomenal and the story line is superb! You will be hooked from the very first page and once you're hooked, be prepared, because you won't be able to put this book down!"

--Life in Review

Lisa Gardner is the New York Times bestselling author of thirteen novels. Her Detective D. D. Warren novels include Live to Tell, Hide, Alone, and the International Thriller Writers’ Award-winning novel The Neighbor. Her FBI Profiler novels include Say Goodbye, Gone, The Killing Hour, The Next Accident, and The Third Victim. She lives with her family in New England.


Lisa’s latest book is Love You More. Visit her online at http://lisagardner.com/.