Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Murder Most Welcome

MURDER   MOST   WELCOME
Series: The Charlotte Richmond Mysteries Book 1
Genre: Historical cosy mystery
Release Date: This edition Feb 2018 First Ed:2008
Publisher: Williams & Whiting Publishing

Outwardly a grieving young Victorian widow, Charlotte Richmond is concealing some scandalous secrets when she arrives at Finchbourne Manor to start a new life with her husband's family. The wealthy Richmonds must never discover that her husband's recent death in the Indian Mutiny came as a great relief. Nor must they hear about the rumors circulating in the army regarding his scandalous behavior. His death has also been the subject of speculation and Charlotte must take care not to spill any secrets. Above all she must make certain that nobody in her new life hears of her own adventurous upbringing in Australia. When the past catches up with Charlotte, she begins to fear for her own life.

LATE SPRING 1858 - in the South of England
Chapter 1

As she laid out the body, Charlotte Richmond made two surprising discoveries.
     The first of these led her to suspect that the man on the bed had been murdered.  By whom, she had not the slightest notion. To whom she was profoundly grateful.
     The second discovery confirmed what she had known all along, that the deceased - late and far from lamented - had not possessed the habits of a gentleman.
     As this was the second time in less than a year that he had apparently been murdered Charlotte felt she might be forgiven for not falling into a paroxysm of grief; indeed, strong hysterics might, she considered, be a more appropriate reaction.
     Hysterics not being in her nature she merely veiled his face decently with a linen cloth and wondered what to do with the object she had so surprisingly encountered. ‘Well, well,
well,’ she murmured. 'Here you are, dead again, I see. I wonder what is to become of me now?'
A few short weeks previously, Charlotte, who was waiting with some trepidation in the entrance hall at Finchbourne Manor and trying to overcome her anxiety by observing the
ancient, dark oak of the panelling, the extreme chill of the flagstone floor, and the picturesquely leaded windows that let in so little light, had overheard her mother-in-law express a similar sentiment.
      'Oh, that dreadful Mutiny, what will become of that unfortunate child, poor, dear Charlotte?' she had enquired, allowing an artistic sob to colour her voice.
      'Well, Mama,' answered a prosaic female voice. 'I understand that Charlotte is even now on her way home from India to Finchbourne. If you recollect it was your own suggestion, when we heard of dear Frampton's sad death, that she should make her home here with us. And after all there is no reason to believe that Charlotte is a child; remember, dearest Frampton was thirty-seven and his letters made no mention that his bride was much younger than he was himself.’
      'Oh do hush, Agnes dear!' 
      In spite of the nervous tension that had her sitting ramrod straight on an uncomfortable oak settle, blackened by age, Charlotte listened, with wry amusement, to this conversation. Shifting very slightly in her seat she felt a twinge of guilt as she recollected how differently Frampton Richmond’s ‘sad’ death had been viewed by her military acquaintances in India.
      I must say nothing, she thought, shaking her head.  I have seen the damage caused by a stray shell fired into the midst of the market place, who am I to lob a shell of my own and destroy their illusions about their lost hero - and for what?   Rumour?   Speculation?  
      No, not I, my part is to play the grieving widow and ingratiate myself into their home and into their affections, to make a settled home for myself at last.  Besides, she reminded herself, I dare not raise any spectres from the past, what if they found out about me?

BUY LINK MURDER MOST WELCOME


 
CHECK OUT THE OTHER 2 BOOKS IN THE SERIES





Nicola Slade has been a Brown Owl, an antiques dealer, and once lived in Cairo for a year. Her published novels include a romantic comedy, Scuba Dancing, three Victorian mysteries featuring a young widow, The Charlotte Richmond Mysteries, and three contemporary mysteries featuring recently-retired headmistress, Harriet Quigley, and her clergyman cousin, the Reverend Sam Hathaway. The Harriet Quigley Mysteries. Her eighth novel, a mystery romance, The House at Ladywell, was published in late 2017.
Nicola’s family is now grown up and she and her husband live near Winchester.
Twitter: @nicolasladeuk




An ecopy of THE HOUSE AT LADYWELL (open internationally)


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Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Cover Reveal An Artisan Lovestyle





An Artisan Lovestyle

Are you ‘living’ your life or just living your life?

Elsa Clairmont was widowed barely five years after marrying her childhood sweetheart. She has struggled to come to terms with the loss and, six years later, has almost ceased to live herself. She does just enough to get by.

Danny Delaney is the ultimate ‘Mr Nice Guy’. He’s kind, caring and sweet. A talented artist in his teens, his abusive mother ruined his career in art and he turned his back on his exceptional gift. Now, he does just enough to get by.




On New Year’s Eve, both Danny and Elsa die in unrelated accidents.

Thanks to some poker playing shenanigans, Elsa’s husband Harry, and Danny’s old Art teacher, William, manage to orchestrate a deal with Death that allows Danny and Elsa to live for one more year on the condition they both agree
to complete three tasks.

They have until the last chime of Big Ben on the 31st December
to fulfil their quests.

If they succeed, they stay in the world of the living.

If they should fail however…

An Artisan Lovestyle’ is a story of personal growth and self-discovery as two people find themselves forced to make overdue changes in their lives, changes in other people’s lives, and all with the added challenge of
finding true love before their time runs out.

Will they do it?

Can they do it?

After all, it’s a matter of Life or Death…









AUTHOR BIO


Kiltie grew up in Glasgow in Scotland,  
This is a very unique city with a very unique way of looking at life.

When she was old enough to do so, she moved to London and then,
after several years of obtaining interesting experiences -which are 
finding their way into her writing - she moved up to the Midlands. 

Kiltie currently lives in Staffordshire with five cats and one grumpy husband. 
Her little home is known as Moggy Towers, even though despite having 
plenty of moggies, there are no towers! 
The cats kindly allow her and Mr Mogs to share their house on the 
condition they keep paying the mortgage! 


She loves reading, watching movies, and visiting old castles. 
She really dislikes going to the gym! 

Her biggest desire is that one day she can give up the day job 
and write her stories for a living.

Kiltie's debut novel, 'A Rock 'n' Roll Lovestyle', was released in September 2017 and won 
a "Chill With A Book - Reader Award" in December 2017. 


She first began writing her debut novel eleven years before it was released but shelved 
it as she didn't think it was very good.

In November 2016 when, having read more on a best-selling author who had begun 
her own career as a self-published author, she was inspired to revisit the unfinished 
manuscript and finally finish what she had started.

Since beginning to write again, the ideas have not stopped flowing. 
'An Artisan Lovestyle' is the second book in the Lovestyle Series.
 
Work is due to begin on book three (not yet titled but also part of the Lovestyle Series)
in the Summer of 2018.
 
She currently has a further ten plots and ideas stored in her file (it's costing a 
fortune in USB drives as each story has its own memory stick!) and 
the ideas still keep on coming. 

Kiltie now lives her life around the following three quotes: 
"I love having weird dreams, they're great fodder for book plots!"
"Why wait for your ship to come in when you can swim out to meet it?"
"Old enough to know better, young enough not to care!"




@rararesources

Full Moons, Dunes & Macaroons


Full Moons, Dunes & Macaroons: A Cozy Witch Mystery (Spells & Caramels) by Erin Johnson

 

About the Book


Cozy Mystery 5th in Series 
Self Published 
Print Length - 248 Pages 
ASIN: B07BPGFNRR


The big day has finally arrived, and Imogen, Iggy and the bakers head to the Fire Kingdom for Hank and Shaday’s wedding. Imogen is totally fine with it—or so she keeps telling herself. Even the murder of a famous wedding guest can’t stop the impending nuptials. So when Imogen’s repressed feelings magically ruin her baking and she’s banned from the kitchen, she sets herself to finding the killer. Her search leads her through the desert kingdom’s bustling marketplaces and the maze-like raid, to discover underground movements, shady characters, and more secrets about the people around her than she thought possible. Could the killer be the clever journalist or the rebellious palace maid? Perhaps it’s a member of the royal family. With the Fire Kingdom’s people churning for change, a mysterious artifact missing from the museum, and a dastardly plot brewing, Imogen begins to feel the heat. When Horace contacts her and makes her a tempting offer, she struggles to choose between him and her new friends. Imogen’s choice will have enormous consequences over a deadly plot that threatens the people she loves. Will she stop a killer and find a happy ending in the process? Or will an ancient legend come to life and destroy them all?

 I was able to read this in one day, as I kept wanting to know what would happen next.
It is Hank's wedding time, a fact Imogene dreads yet understands. Each Kingdom has certain rules and customs. Imogene is still learning how to handle her magic and her emotions.
When banished from the kitchen, for letting her emotions taint her cookies, she finds other ways to stay active as well as be of service to her friends. She is shocked when she finds her brother Horace among the assembled guests! 
Delicate subjects are tastefully covered. This is a book about empowerment and being true to onself.
A delightful fantasy read.

About the Author

  Erin Johnson is a native of Tempe, Arizona,
Erin spends her time crafting mysterious, magical, romance-filled stories that’ll hopefully make you laugh.
In between, she’s traveling, napping with her dogs, eating with her friends and family, and teaching Pilates (to allow her to eat more).
  Website: www.erinjohnsonwrites.com.
Facebook: www.facebook.com/EJohnsonWrites.
Twitter: @EJohnsonWrites

  Purchase Link - Amazon 


In addition to the Rafflecopter winner, the author will give an e-copy (digital) of  this book to one commenter on this blog. Comment must be received by end of day, May 27th, 2018. 
Tell us what magical creature you would want as a familiar or you wish you could shift into yourself.

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Monday, May 21, 2018

Just One Summer Release Blitz

Title: Just One Summer
Author: Lynn Stevens
Genre: New Adult Romance
Cover Designer: Ampersand Book Covers
Publication Date: May 21st, 2018
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Blurb:  One summer, no regrets
Carly Reynolds does not want to work at her father’s Branson theater over the summer, but she has no choice. After wrecking his prized Mercedes on Prom night, she’s got to pay him back somehow before she leaves for college. Now she’s stuck working as the personal assistant to twenty-year-old Gracin Ford, former member of one-hit-wonder boy band Accentuate.
Gracin is demanding, condescending, and an all-around jerk. Carly would rather eat glass than deal with a male diva who’s more famous for his stint in rehab than his music. Until she realizes that Gracin’s lonely. Once she welcomes him into her life, she starts to let him into her heart. Even though she knows it will end when she leaves for school, Carly doesn’t want to look back on her life and wonder what if. Even if it means a broken heart.


Lynn Stevens flunked out of college writing her first novel. Yes, she still has it and no, you can't read it. Surprisingly, she graduated with honors at her third school. A former farm girl turned city slicker turned suburbanite, Lynn lives in the Midwest where she drinks coffee and sips tea when she's out of coffee. She’s the author of Full Count and Game On..
Author Links:
Buy Links:
CHAPTER ONE
Nobody sane should ever be up at eight on a Saturday morning. Especially not when said person stayed up until three a.m. for a horror movie marathon with her best friends Ivy and Nena. So totally worth it though. 
What a waste of a Saturday. I could be sleeping, or bungee jumping, or sleeping, or ziplining, or sleeping instead of starting a job I didn’t want in the first place.
I bit back a yawn as I smoothed the wrinkled turquoise polo, the required uniform for Mountain View Resort employees. Taking a deep breath to steady the waves in my stomach, I knocked on the door to room four-oh-two three times, as instructed, and squeezed my clipboard against my chest.
What had my father been thinking bringing this guy to Branson? For the last few years, I’d overheard Dad lamenting to my brother about how the shows didn’t make enough money and the profits from the resort disappeared into the theater. If Dad wanted to revive that dump, he’d need someone to sell out every performance. I had serious doubts about his choice. Another reason I was in the doghouse.
I lifted my fist to hammer the door a second time when it flew open.
A wet torso greeted me, and a hint of the hotel’s jasmine soap drifted from the room. My gaze followed water dripping down tanned pecs and over the only real six-pack I’d ever seen as it disappeared into the thick hotel towel wrapped around his waist. Wow. My face burned hotter than the coffee I’d slammed earlier, and I forced my head up to meet the gaze of The Gracin Ford, celebrity bad boy and former member of Accentuate, a one-hit wonder boy band.
Gracin’s manscaped eyebrows arched as bright blue eyes took a circuit over my body. My skin tingled all over in response to his gaze.
Sadly, he had to open his mouth. “Not my type, but thanks.”
Then he slammed the door in my face.
What? That… that… that son of a bitch! I punched the door three times, fully prepared to give this egotistical asshole a piece of my mind. Meanwhile, my father’s lecture from half an hour ago echoed between my ears: “If you want to go to U of N in the fall, you work for me this summer to pay me back for the damage to the Mercedes. Don’t, and you can go to Southern Community like your brother did.” I counted to thirty, trying and failing to calm myself while I waited for his highness.
The door swung in. At least this time, he’d had the decency to put on a pair of khaki shorts and a t-shirt. His gaze shifted over me once more, and I tried not to squirm, but blue eyes gave me the creeps. And brought back memories I’d rather pretend didn’t exist.
“What now?” he asked. If he was even slightly miffed, he didn’t show it. The cool nonchalance in his voice didn’t stop my temper from shooting toward the atmosphere.
I dug my nails into the back of the clipboard and smiled my best smile. “Hi, Mr. Ford. I’m Carly Reynolds, your … personal assistant. Your father provided us with a detailed itinerary of your day-to-day–”
“Let me see it,” he said, leaning his shoulder against the door jam.
I handed it over, keeping the tremor in my hands at bay. Personal assistant my ass, more like his errand bitch. If he hadn’t fired his previous P.A., I could be lounging by the pool as a lifeguard or cleaning rooms or checking guests at the front desk. Instead, I had to spend my summer following every whim of a twenty-year-old has-been. As he took the itinerary, his eyebrows furrowed at something else. Before my hand could drop back to my side, he snatched it and tugged at the tie holding the leather cuff covering my wrist.
His eyebrows lifted again and amusement danced across his full lips. “Nice tat. Why hide it?”
 “Who says I’m hiding it?” He let go of my hand, and I quickly retied the cuff over the small trinity knot tattoo on my wrist. It had only been two weeks since I’d gotten inked, but Mom and Dad hadn’t noticed. Yet.  I crossed my arms and bit the inside of my upper lip. As much as I didn’t want to be here, I also didn’t want to go to Southern Community. Keeping my mouth shut was kind of required if I wanted to go to Nashville in the fall.
Gracin nodded and refocused on the itinerary. He flipped the paper, shaking his head. “According to this, you’re supposed to take me to breakfast every morning at eight so we can discuss the day’s schedule.” He handed the clipboard back to me. “I’m assuming that’s why you’re here now.”
“Yep.”
He sighed. “Let me get my shoes. No doubt the big kahuna will be expecting me.” He moved into the room and I reached out to hold the door open. “I’ll get a more realistic schedule to you.”
“Realistic?” I asked as he slipped on a pair of boat shoes and a Rolex that could pay for half a semester at U of N or the entire two years at Southern Community.
“Yeah, that’s clearly the schedule Dad wants me to keep. Not even close to reality.” Gracin stepped into the hallway, patting his pocket. He groaned and turned to stop the door from shutting completely, but it was too late. He fell forward, letting his forehead thunk against the thick wood. “You wouldn’t happen to have a key to my room, would you?”
“No, but we can get one from the front desk after breakfast. You’re moving into one of the cabins today anyway.” I shrugged because it wasn’t that big of a deal. “No worries.”
Gracin laughed, but there wasn’t any humor to it. “Do me a favor. Keep this key thing between us, okay? The last thing I need is to hear how irresponsible I am. Again.”
I held back the scoff and the sarcastic comment that would normally shoot from my mouth in record speed. Especially since I’d heard the same lecture more times than I could count. “Yeah, okay. But we have to go now, or you’re going to have to hear how irresponsible I am.”
“Well, I won’t say anything about the tat in that case.” Gracin’s smile showed his Hollywood white teeth.
We were half way between his room and the elevator when his cell rang. I tried to ignore his half of the conversation, but when you’re alone with someone, it’s hard not to listen.
“Hey, babe.” Pause. “Yeah, I had a great time too.”
Another pause. Gracin laughed, clutching his hand against his chest.
“Probably best they didn’t catch us. Photographic evidence and all.”
Another pause when we got to the elevator. Gracin’s face turned from California tan to the shade of a bruised red pepper.
“You didn’t? Please tell me you didn’t.”
I wanted to lean closer to hear what the person on the other end had done. Celebrity drama and all. I didn’t seek it out, but that didn’t stop me from reading the headlines when they popped up on my computer.
After I pushed the button for the elevator, we stood side by side. Gracin’s fingers tightened around the phone. I could hear a female voice coming from his speaker but not what she said. Gracin slapped the mirrored doors.
Housekeeping’ll love that.
The doors dinged open as Gracin’s fist soared toward them, and he threw himself into the elevator. He managed not to fall, but it was so hard not to laugh.
“Next time you talk to that jackass, tell him you were just another one-night stand.”
Wow. I’d somehow managed to keep my expression neutral when he fell into the elevator, but my mortification couldn’t be hidden. 
He stared at me in the mirror. “There goes hiding my lack of responsibility today,” he said in a calm voice that didn’t match the fury from a moment ago.
I kept my mouth shut despite the thoughts running through my head and held his mirrored gaze. Both took supreme battles of will. I thought only one thing: U of N. Nothing was going to keep me from going to Nashville.
Gracin tilted his head. His eyebrows sagged as he opened his mouth. A beep sounded from his phone, distracting him from whatever he was about to say. He shook his head at the screen and then handed it to me. “Here. Fair warning before Hurricane Albert leashes his wrath on me.”
I wasn’t interested in getting caught up in his drama, but curiosity got the best of me and I glanced at the image on the screen. It wasn’t anything major. A beautiful girl with bright brown eyes and obviously dyed red hair kissed a smiling Gracin on the cheek. It was pretty clear they were in a bar when this was taken. Several empty beer bottles sat on the table in front of them.
“A hot chick took a photo of you guys in a bar?” I handed the phone back. “Big deal.”
 “The ‘deal’ is she sold it to a tabloid.” Gracin shoved the phone into his pocket. He didn’t spare me a glimpse, even in the mirror. “I can see the headlines already: ‘Gracin Ford Falls Off the Wagon.’ ” Finally, he faced me. “Except I didn’t. I’ve been sober for almost a year. None of those empties were mine. Not that anybody will believe me. Especially King Albert.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh.’”
I didn’t say anything, but the heat burning the tips of my ears was enough.
The elevator opened to the lobby. Gracin motioned me out first and followed me to the private dining room. Dad sat at the head of the table in the middle of the room. My mother sat to his right, and a gray-haired man with a stringy comb-over sat on his left. His extensive lack of hair didn’t stop Albert Ford from trying. My older brother, Luke, sat next to three empty seats for me, Gracin, and my little sister, Miranda. Quite the family affair.
“Carly, I’m glad you made it,” Dad said, adding a fake laugh at the end. To anyone else, it might’ve appeared teasing. I knew better. Dad was not happy we were a minute late. Of course, when it came to me, he wouldn’t have been happy had I been two minutes early either. My father was the consummate politician around here. He ruled more like a dictator, but was JFK when guests were around. “I thought you were going to be late.”
“That’s my fault, Mr. Reynolds,” Gracin said. He threw out a hundred-watt smile.
I fought to roll my eyes. At least he’s taking the hit for me.
“Carly rushed me out the door, then let it close before I remembered to grab my key.”
And under the bus I go. Thanks, asshat.
Dad stared through me with his laser pointer green eyes. “Well, Carly, I suggest you head to the front desk and get another. While you’re there, make sure housekeeping stays out of his room until this evening when the cabin is ready.”
“Yes, sir.” I let my head drop in good girl compliance, catching the laughing eyes of my brother. We both inherited Dad’s light brown hair, but Luke lucked out getting Dad’s eyes. Unfortunately, he used them to taunt me at every turn, which only served to remind me who was the chosen one in the Reynolds family. Hint, his name began with an L.
Gracin made his way toward the buffet spread. He piled fresh fruit on his plate, winking at me. I shuddered as I freed myself from the room. Guys who winked were just plain creepy.
My last summer before heading off to college was going to be the worst one of my life. All because of a little dent in a Mercedes. Smashing.