Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns

Murder, Sweet Murder

by Eleanor Kuhns

April 11 - May 6, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Will Rees accompanies his wife to Boston to help clear her estranged father's name in this gripping mystery set in the early nineteenth century.

January, 1801. When Lydia's estranged father is accused of murder, Will Rees escorts her to Boston to uncover the truth. Marcus Farrell is believed to have murdered one of his workers, a boy from Jamaica where he owns a plantation. Marcus swears he's innocent. However, a scandal has been aroused by his refusal to answer questions and accusations he bribed officials.

As Will and Lydia investigate, Marcus's brother, Julian, is shot and killed. This time, all fingers point towards James Farrell, Lydia's brother. Is someone targeting the family? Were the family quarreling over the family businesses and someone lashed out? What's Marcus hiding and why won't he accept help?

With the Farrell family falling apart and their reputation in tatters, Will and Lydia must solve the murders soon. But will they succeed before the murderer strikes again?

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Severn House Publishers
Publication Date: February 1st 2022
Number of Pages: 224
ISBN: 0727850091 (ISBN13: 9780727850096)
Series: Will Rees Mysteries #11
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

After regarding Rees for several seconds, Mr Farrell extended his hand. Rees grasped it, painfully conscious of his rough hand, calloused by both farm work and weaving. ‘Please attend me in my office,’ Mr Farrell said. ‘We are expecting a few guests for dinner tonight so we will have little time to talk then.’ Turning, he strode away. Rees started to follow but, realizing that Lydia was not by his side, he turned back. She stood hesitantly by the table, her hands tightly clenched together. Rees glared at Mr Farrell’s back and then, reaching out, he pulled one of her hands through his elbow. Together they followed her father into his office.

As Farrell moved a stack of papers from the center of the desk to one side, Rees looked around. A large globe on a stand stood to the right of Farrell’s desk and one chair had been drawn up to the front. A seating area, with additional chairs, were arranged by the window that looked out upon the front garden. A table in the center held an intricately carved tray with a crystal decanter and several glasses. Shelves of books lined the wall behind and adjacent to the desk, on Rees’s right.

The room was chilly although the fire was burning. Newly laid, it had been lighted, no doubt by some anonymous servant.

Farrell looked up and his eyes rested on Lydia in surprise. Rees felt his wife shrink back, intimidated. He was not going to stand for that. He pulled a chair from the window grouping and placed it in front of the desk. She hesitated for a few seconds and then, lifting her chin defiantly, she sat down. Once she was seated, Rees lowered himself into the opposite chair. After one final dismissive glance at his daughter, Farrell looked at Rees.

‘So, you are a weaver.’

‘That is so,’ Rees said, adding politely, ‘I understand you are a merchant.’

Farrell smiled. ‘I see your wife has told you very little about me or my profession.’ Since responding in the affirmative seemed somehow disloyal to Lydia, Rees said nothing.

Farrell took a box from his desk drawer and opened it to extract a cigar. ‘Would you like a smoke?’

‘No thank you,’ Rees said.

‘Or a glass of rum? Or whiskey if that is your tipple.’ When Rees declined again, Farrell put away the cigars and walked to the fireplace to light a splint. The end of the cigar glowed red and the acrid scent of burning tobacco filled the room. Puffing, Farrell returned to his seat. ‘I suppose one could say I was a merchant. But I do so much more. I own a plantation as well as a fleet of ships that sail between Boston, the West Indies and Africa. In Jamaica they take on sugar and molasses which are returned to Boston. Some of it is transformed into rum in my distillery. I export the liquor overseas, both to England and to Africa where the proceeds are used to purchase slaves.’

Sick to his stomach, Rees glanced at Lydia. She was staring at her hands, her face flaming with shame. Although she had alluded to her father’s profession, she had not told him the half of it. She had not told him of her father’s pride in it. Rees understood why she hadn’t.

‘Most of the slaves are brought to the sugar plantation,’ Farrell continued, seemingly oblivious to his daughter’s distress, ‘but some are sold in the Southern states. And you needn’t look so shocked. Why that upstart Republican with his radical ideas, Mr Jefferson, owns slaves. And he may be the next President. I suppose you voted for him.’

Rees did not respond immediately. Although many of Mr Jefferson’s ideas were appealing, Rees had found in the end that he could not vote for a slave holder. Instead, he had voted for Mr Adams. But that gentleman had not placed; the election was a tie between Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr. Sent to the House for resolution, Jefferson had won by one vote.’ No,’ Rees said carefully, keeping his voice level with an effort, ‘I voted for his opponent.’

‘Well, that makes us kin then. Although you will meet a few slaves here in Boston, in this very house.’ He grinned and Rees thought of Morris and Bridget with their tinted skin. ‘But few, very few. Neither the Africans nor the Spanish Indians adapt well to this northern climate and they quickly die.’ This was said with indifference as though he spoke of a broken chair.

Farrell flicked a glance at his daughter and smiled. With a surge of anger, Rees realized that Farrell fully understood the effect his speech would have on her and was enjoying her misery. Rees gathered himself to rise from his chair. Lydia reached out and grasped his sleeve.

‘This is for Cordy,’ she whispered. Rees sat down again, his body stiff.

‘But you did not come to listen to me natter on about my profession,’ Farrell said, watching the byplay with interest. ‘Shall we discuss that ridiculous murder, the one of which I am accused?’

Rees looked into Lydia’s beseeching eyes and after a few seconds he relaxed into his seat. God forgive him, a part of him hoped Marcus Farrell was guilty.

‘Go on,’ Rees said coldly. Marcus smiled.

‘Permit me to save you both time and effort,’ he said. ‘I did not kill that boy.’

‘Then why do people think you did?’ Rees asked. Puffing furiously, and clearly unwilling to reply, Farrell took a turn around the room.

‘Did you know him?’ Lydia asked, her voice low and clear. ‘This Roark?’

Farrell stood up so abruptly his chair almost tipped over. ‘Yes, I knew him.’ He glanced at Rees. ‘We were seen, Roark and I, arguing down at Long Wharf.’

‘Arguing about what?’ Rees asked.

‘It is not important. He was a nobody.’ Farrell glared at Rees, daring him to persist. Rees waited, never removing his gaze from the other man. Sometimes silence made the best hammer. Finally, Farrell said angrily, ‘He wanted a rise in his wages. I said no. He disagreed. That was all there was to it.’

Rees glanced at Lydia and found her staring at him. He knew, and he suspected she did too, that her father had just lied to them.

***

Excerpt from Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns. Copyright 2021 by Eleanor Kuhns. Reproduced with permission from Eleanor Kuhns. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Eleanor Kuhns is the 2011 winner of the Mystery Writers of America/Minotaur first mystery novel. Murder, Sweet Murder is the eleventh mystery following the adventures of Rees and his wife. She transitioned to full time writing last year after a successful career spent in library service. Eleanor lives in upstate New York with her husband and dog.

Catch Up With Eleanor Kuhns:
www.Eleanor-Kuhns.com
Goodreads
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Twitter - @EleanorKuhns
Facebook - @writerkuhns

We're also having an insta-party! Visit Instagram - #eleanorkuhns to join us!
 

 

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I Do or Don't by Rob Edwards

 

Today Rob Edwards and Rockstar Book Tours are revealing the cover for I DO OR I DON'T, his new Hollywood Thriller book which releases May 18 2022! Check out the awesome cover and enter the giveaway!

 

On to the reveal! 

About the Book:

Title: I DO OR I DON'T

Author: Rob Edwards

Pub. Date: May 18, 2022

Publisher: Rayn Media Inc.

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 284

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, iBooks, Kobo

Beautiful Brooke Winthrop, and brash Becca Dodge are known in Hollywood circles as the Queen B’s for their meteoric success. They are the host and producer of I Do or I Don’t, the number-one-rated reality television show in the country. It is a whirlwind courtship show that ends every episode at the altar where two people must decide, on live TV, whether they will say the words that will change the rest of their lives.

One unlucky bride says, “I do,” only to be murdered by the groom on their honeymoon. The distraught father of the bride holds Brooke and Becca accountable. He manages to kidnap them and produce his own internet show based on the format of their program. Brooke and Becca are run through the scenarios they put their couples through. They must use these brief moments to prove their innocence or be killed in the last episode.

 

Excerpt:

“Just so you all know, with the good press we’re getting and the increase in applications, I’m contemplating pushing the network to give us either Sunday night or Thursday night, too.”

“Are you serious?” Brooke said.

Becca looked up. “It’s either that or two hours on Tuesdays. We need to make hay here. With our numbers the way they are, sponsor rates are at a premium. That gives us leverage for a mid-season renegotiation. I say we go for it.”

“Hell, yeah,” Amantha said and others at the table chuckled.

The door opened, and a young girl walked in and rushed over to whisper to Amantha. Brooke had seen her before but didn’t know her name. She just knew she was Amantha’s casting associate.

Amantha listened and turned to Becca. “So, apparently we have a woman who’s not comfortable with any of the ten individuals we’ve supplied her with. She’s in tears and is begging RuLanne for a few more applications.”

Becca shook her head. “No way. That’s part of it. You may get lucky, or you may not. Tell her that we’re sorry it didn’t work out for her and send her on her way.”

“Hold on,” Brooke said. “Becca, can’t we give her another five or so? We’re supposed to be helping people find love.”

“No, we can’t,” Becca leaned forward. “And don’t think for a minute that it’s our job to help people find love. We’re here to put on a show. If suddenly we start giving extra applications for people to go over until they find someone, they’ll never make a decision, and we’ll never have a show.”

“Oh,” George said. “You mean that show we have about helping people find love?”

Becca glared at him and then turned to RuLanne. “Do this. Go tell her we’re sorry we can’t give her more applications to go through. But promise her ten seconds on the next broadcast so she can tell all her family and friends. Then get her name to the editors and tell them I said to put her in, or I’ll have their ass. Clear?”

RuLanne nodded and rushed back out.

As soon as the door closed Becca slammed her hands on the table and stood. “The name of this show is not called ‘Finding Love.’ It’s called I Do or I Don’t and don’t think for a minute that anybody watching this show is hoping for the former. There’s a huge segment that is hoping to see someone say, ‘I don’t,’ because watching a train wreck is a shitload more entertaining than watching someone else’s happiness.” She pointed at George, glaring. “And, George Crone, if you argue with me one more time in front of the crew, your ass will hit the pavement so fast you won’t know what happened. And you can just keep on bouncing because you aren’t getting back in. Got it?”

George closed his laptop quietly and rested his hands on top of it. “Got it.”

The door burst open, and Alanna Gates, Fiona’s little sister and Becca’s personal assistant rushed in. “Miss Dodge,”

“What?” Becca shouted, impatiently.

“Ehhh...” Alanna paused briefly at the harshness of her boss’s tone. “I think you all should come see this right away.”

“See what?” Becca asked. “We need to finish this meeting.”

“Kristine Haddock, the bride from the show the other night.” Alanna looked around the room.

“She’s dead.”

 

About Rob Edwards:

The majority of Rob Edwards working life has been in the video and film production world, giving him ample experience with storytelling and the creative process. He has written throughout his career and has won national and international awards for his work.

He is now transforming his efforts to the page, rather than the screen.

Rob lives in the mid-Michigan area with his bride. Together they enjoy traveling, foodie adventures, wine tasting, reading, and generally being outdoors.

He currently works as a Media Development Specialist and teaches video post-production.

​Rob loves hearing from readers, so please feel free to contact him.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub

 

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will win a $10 Amazon GC, International.

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Protecting His Prince by Emily Carrington

 

 

LGBTQ Romantic Suspense

Date Published: April 29, 2022

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

Aaron has escaped his past with scars and strength. But when he is targeted again for his looks and his talent, his belief in the goodness of the world and the power of love are challenged.

Jason knows there’s something wrong with his husband, but Aaron won’t talk about it. Will Aaron’s refusal tear them apart? Can Jason keep his temper or will his need to protect Aaron destroy their love?

 

Warning: Jason and Aaron’s story deals with issues of PTSD, M/M rape, hate crimes, stalking, kidnapping, and torture. Jason and Aaron’s stories may be triggers for some readers.

 

Excerpt

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2022 Emily Carrington

 

Aaron stirred the soup and hummed, aware he was a little off key but not caring. No one was home, and his husband, Jason, said he liked Aaron’s not-quite-on-pitch humming because, according to Jason, it was “resonant and heartfelt.”

He was humming a song from the musical they’d seen about three months ago. It had been Jason’s birthday present for Aaron, and even though his birthday was in December, this musical was the one they both wanted to see.

Aaron’s last five presents for Jason had all been paintings. The walls of their bedroom were almost full. The last painting had been of Jason’s entire family, from his oldest brother, Christopher, all the way down to his youngest sibling.

Anniversaries got paintings. Birthdays got paintings. Aaron would have felt guilty about not being able to give more than his art except Jason honestly seemed to love each one. His delight was infectious, and Aaron was already planning what to paint him for their ten-year anniversary, which was coming up at the end of this year.

The kitchen was full of the smell of baking bread and bean soup. Aaron’s mouth watered as he idly stirred the soup to keep the beans near the bottom of the pot from burning. Jason should be home in a few minutes and then they could eat.

The front door to their little apartment they shared with another couple burst open, and Jason literally waltzed in, turning and holding his hands out as if he was dancing with an invisible partner. He was singing “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” at close to full volume. Unlike Aaron’s humming, Jason was always perfectly on pitch.

Having Jason come in singing was slightly unusual, but dancing was another level of strange. Aaron found himself grinning in anticipation of something wonderful. He didn’t interrupt Jason’s song to ask and when Jason caught him by the waist and pulled him into the dance, he fell into easy step. They waltzed around the small kitchen, Jason leading.

When his husband stopped singing, they continued to dance. Aaron started to ask what had put such a spring in Jason’s step, but Jason kissed him, and Aaron went weak at the knees. He opened his mouth to Jason’s tongue, letting his lover explore. Jason tasted of coffee and something sweet, not quite chocolate.

There was a bubbling sound and Aaron turned toward the stove to stir the soup, having to let go of his lover to do so. He stirred and then tasted the concoction. It was excellent, if he did say so himself. He’d settled into cooking for the four of them: himself, Jason, and the couple they lived with. He’d been doing it for over nine years and his skills had improved.

Jason stepped up behind him and hugged him, resting his chin on Aaron’s shoulder. He smelled incredibly good, like summer heat and subtle cologne almost overshadowed by his shampoo. He smelled like Jason.

Like home.

“So?” Aaron asked as he turned off the burner under the pot. “What’s happened?”

“I got offered a job.”

Aaron frowned in confusion. He twisted in the circle of Jason’s arms and lifted his head slightly so he could meet Jason’s hazel eyed gaze. “But you love your middle school students. That’s not something every teacher can say.”

“Don’t you even want to hear where the job is?”

Still frowning, Aaron nodded.

“I’ve been offered a job in Colton, Pennsylvania.”

Aaron’s heartbeat picked up. Colton was the college town nearest to Marisburg. But then his excitement died. “You can’t take a lower paying job just to make me happy.”

“Who said it’s a lower paying job? I’m being offered the position as head of the math department at Colton University.”

Aaron gaped. “When did you apply?”

“I didn’t. Nearest I can figure is someone here works in Pennsylvania, or vice versa. Someone I know, maybe, or someone who’s…” He shrugged and a little of his enthusiasm faded. “Does it matter?”

 

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender erotica. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires.

Fantasy creatures not your thing? Emily has also created a contemporary romance world, called Sticks and Stones, where she explores being “different” in a small town.

Contact Links

Twitter: @CarringtonEmily

Facebook: @emily.carrington.370

Follow the Publisher on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter: @changelingpress

Pre-Order Now Books2Read

Princess & Prejudice (Devgarh Royals #2) by Alisha Kay

 

 

It is a funny, passionate, second chance Indian romance by the winner of the Amazon KDP Pen to Publish Contest 2020.

A not-so-fairy-tale romance!

They say opposites attract, but when Yuvarajkumari Jayshree Singh, Princess of Devgarh, and Dr Aryan Sharma meet, it’s more like opposites combust.
He thinks she is a bratty and entitled princess, while she thinks he is an uptight pain-in-the-ass, who needs to have the stick surgically removed from his rather delectable posterior.
When Aryan’s sister gets engaged to Jessie’s brother, they are forced to declare a reluctant ceasefire.
But the hostilities don't cease. Instead, they erupt in an unexpected and unlikely gush of desire and longing.
With their families set to merge, Aryan and Jessie need to decide if his prejudice and her pride can be set aside long enough for the love they feel to blossom. Or will they spend eternity wondering if they'd missed their chance at happiness?

Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon.in * Amazon.com

Read an excerpt from Princess & Prejudice

Chapter 1

JESSIE

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“It never is! Her Highness Jayshree Singh is never in the wrong. It’s always someone else’s fault,” ranted Dr Aryan Sharma, as he paced up and down the centre of the maze in my garden.

I picked a piece of lint off my red Banarasi silk sari and tried to ignore him.

He had taken his coat off in his rush to play the hero and had rolled his sleeves up at some point during this never-ending lecture. The Patek Phillipe that I had gifted him when he qualified as a paediatrician glinted on his wrist. I wondered if he had ever realised its true worth. 

Probably not, considering that I had convinced his sister - who was my best friend - to pretend that it was from her, and since Nivy still hadn’t made it to the big screen at that point, Aryan had believed her claim that it was the most real-looking fake Patek Phillipe that she had ever seen in Devgarh market. The fact that his sister had spent all her meagre savings on the watch ensured that her doting brother wore the watch proudly, even though he was morally opposed to fakes of any kind. Which was a good thing. If he knew that it wasn’t his sister’s meagre savings, but my more considerable ones that had paid for it, he’d probably fling it into the palace pond.

The watch suited him, I mused. It was gorgeous, almost a piece of art. Yet, it was strong and sturdy, and very, very reliable. Just like Dr Clueless himself.

It was difficult to take my eyes off his hands, beautifully shaped and strong, but sensitive. It was easy to picture him tenderly cupping a baby’s head with those hands, and even easier to imagine him cupping my breast. I shook my head to clear it, and looked away, wondering why you couldn’t find a good breeze right when you needed it. My face felt all flushed and hot.

Aryan was still going on about what a brat I was, and how he was sick and tired of my pranks. At that, I raised my hand like a student in front of a teacher, knowing very well that it would infuriate him.

“What?” Aryan barked, stopping mid-pace with his hands on his hips.

I took a moment to appreciate the sheer beauty of him in his light blue formal shirt, tie askew and sleeves rolled up roughly, all six feet of gorgeousness glaring at me fiercely. Then I relegated that moment to the back of my mind and proceeded to infuriate him even more.

“Would you really classify my actions as a prank?” I asked politely.

He notched up the heat level on his glare. If it got any hotter, I’d turn into sheesh kebab.

“Wouldn’t you?” 

I pretended to think for a second and then shook my head.

“Not really. Pranks are for kids. This was more like a happy accident,” I said, with a sweet smile.

It was. A very happy accident that sent his girlfriend, Dr Arshia Thakkar, flying into the big fountain in the centre of the palace courtyard. Happy for me, at least. I managed to wipe that smug smile off her face for all of five glorious minutes, until Aryan rushed to her rescue, carrying her out of the fountain like a Bollywood hero. I was hoping he’d slip and fall on his ass, but the fates had never favoured me before. So why would they change the habits of a lifetime now?

I was forced to watch him set her down tenderly on a bench and coo over her until Munshi Ji led her into the palace for a hot bath and change of clothes. I had rolled my eyes at the drama. Hot bath, indeed. This wasn’t fricking Siberia. It was Devgarh, and we were in the middle of one of the hottest summers ever. The twit should have been happy at the dunking, instead of acting as if she nearly drowned in what amounted to exactly one and a half buckets of water.

Besides, I didn’t know why he was blaming me for it.

“Why exactly are you blaming me for your girlfriend’s clumsiness?”

I watched with interest as he gritted his teeth and took a deep breath to calm down. An effort that failed miserably.

“Arshia is not clumsy,” he yelled.

“You mean she was trying to swim the length of that fountain for fun?”

“Your dog pushed her in,” he accused, pointing a finger at me.

I stood up slowly and gathered the folds of my sari around me as gracefully as I could. Then I walked up to him and gently pulled his finger down.

“Don’t yell at me, Dr Sharma,” I said softly.

When he opened his mouth to yell some more, I put a finger over his lips.

“Zombie is not my dog. He belongs to Veer. And he didn’t push Arshia in. She tripped and fell into the fountain when she was running around like a headless chicken, for reasons best known to her.”

About the Author:
Alisha Kay writes funny, exciting and steamy stories, with spunky heroines who can rescue themselves, and hot, woke heroes who find such independence irresistible.
The first book in The Devgarh Royals series, The Maharaja’s Fake Fiancée, won the grand prize at the Amazon KDP Pen to Publish Contest 2020.

Alisha on the Web:
Instagram * Twitter 

 

The Prince by Antony Soehner

 

I am so excited that THE PRINCE by Antony Soehner is available now and that I get to share the news!

If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book, be sure to check out all the details below.

This blitz also includes a giveaway for a finished copy of the book & a $10 Amazon GC courtesy of Antony & Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, check out the giveaway info below.

 

About The Book:

Title: THE PRINCE (Prince Theo Saga Book 1)

Author: Antony Soehner

Pub. Date: April 12, 2022

Publisher: Roll15 Publishing LLC

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 226

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, B&N, iBooks, Kobo, TBD, Bookshop.org

Destiny will always test the greatest of leaders.

"Theo never imagined life outside the king's castle. But when the queen's funeral reveals the king's true colors, Theo must rely on his sister, her allies, and his friends to get him to safety. With the help of mercenaries and the native tribes of the plains, Theo must learn to face his destiny and open his mind to the diverse world he's been thrown into."

The Prince is a High-Fantasy Adventure and the first book in the Prince Theo Saga by Antony Soehner. A multi-layered story about a young prince who discovers the diverse, fantastic world around him as he escapes his abusive tyrant father, King George. Finding himself in the care of a native tribe thought to be the enemy, Theo begins his long journey of growing and healing from the traumas he faced back home.

Content Warnings: Abuse(Physical, Mental), Fantasy Violence

 

Excerpt:

Chapter 17 “Man in the Mask”-

The prince started to crawl to his feet but something grabbed him by the ankle. He fought and struggled against the binding but it overpowered him. Theo was dragged through the dirt and left at the feet of the wandering third figure.

Panicking, Theo slashed with the saber still in his hand. The being shot their hand out and caught the silvery blade in their palm.

A flame roared nearby, illuminating the figure. Theo saw a man with ash-grey skin and long white hair beneath a dark cloak. He wore a black mask that covered the top half of his face revealing only his eyes and mouth.

The man knelt down next to Theo and reached into the breast of his cloak. He slowly produced a thin, smooth, black wand and pressed one end forcefully underneath the prince’s chin.

“Here’s the deal, Your Highness,” the man’s icy, emotionless words sent goosebumps down Theo’s back, “you’re going to come with me. I will bring you back to your father and we will act like none of this ever happened.” He twisted the end of the wand with the tips of his fingers and it pinched the skin on Theo’s chin. “If—” the man emphasized, “you give me any difficulty, I will paralyze you with a bolt of lightning through your brain, leaving you barely alive.” He pressed the wand further into the prince’s jaw.

The man looked away from Theo and over to the three slowly moving bodies trying to get back up. An evil grin crawled beneath his mask and he carefully pulled the wand off Theo’s chin. Pinching it between his thumb and first two fingers, he pointed it at Ta’goda.

“I’m going to let you ponder my instructions,” the man said greasily, dropping the saber’s blade.

“I have more orders to fulfill.”

With a flick of his wrist, a bolt of white lightning exploded from the end of the wand and struck Ta’goda’s shoulder.

It sent the chief, a towering orc of muscle, flying through the burnt husks of homes he once protected.

“I hope you don’t mind, Your Highness,” the man jabbed, “it’s just business.”

 

 

About Antony Soehner:

Raised on a healthy diet of geek and pop culture, I have come to share my love and appreciation for role-playing games, geek culture, and fantasy adventure. If it's random comic book fact, Star Wars trivia, or just the measly obscure movie reference, I'm there!

antonysoehner.com

 

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | TikTok | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub

 

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive an eBook of THE PRINCE & a $10 Amazon GC, International.

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Clarity by Sydney Jane Bailey

 

Diamonds of the First Water Series, Book One

Historical Romance, Victorian Romance, Regency Romance, Steamy Romance

Date Published: April 7, 2022

Publisher: WOLF Publishing

 

In this Victorian romance by USA Today bestselling author Sydney Jane Baily, an earl’s daughter is caught between the man who wishes to wed her and the one who desires her.

She’s a fun-loving earl’s daughter and he’s a titled stick in the mud!

Firstborn daughter of a prominent family, Lady Clarity Diamond came into the world smiling and has always brightened the lives of everyone around her. This social season, she’s decided to find a husband amongst her flock of suitors. And then her childhood friend appears, tall, handsome, and … as amusing as a box of rocks.

Lord Alex Hollidge’s heart turned to stone, and the laughter died in his eyes the moment he was orphaned. Taking up the mantle of a viscount at a young age, he has known nothing but responsibility and the tragedy of life. Now, it’s time to take a wife. Pity the lovely Lady Clarity is too frivolous to be his viscountess.

With everything—and everyone—telling Alex and Clarity to stay apart, and both of them promised to others, will their smouldering desire be snuffed out before it can blaze into love?

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Sydney Jane Baily writes happily-ever-after historical romance set in Regency and Victorian England, late 19th-century America, the Middle Ages, and the Georgian era.

Born and raised in California, she earned degrees in English and history on the East Coast and has traveled the world, spending a lot of exceedingly happy time in the U.K. where her extended family resides, eating fish and chips, drinking shandies, and snacking on Maltesers and Cadbury bars. Sydney currently lives in New England with her family — human, canine, and feline.

At her website, SydneyJaneBaily.com, you can learn more about her books, read her blog, sign up for her newsletter (& get a free book), and contact her. She loves to hear from her readers. To be notified of her new releases, please follow Sydney on BookBub or Amazon. Or you can connect with her on Facebook.

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Razing Stakes by TG Wolff

Razing Stakes

by TG Wolff

April 1-30, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The first day of summer is the last day of a young accountant’s life. Colin McHenry is out for his regular run when an SUV crosses into his path, crushing him. Within hours of the hit-skip, Cleveland Homicide Detective Jesus De La Cruz finds the vehicle in the owner’s garage, who’s on vacation three time zones away. The setup is obvious, but not the hand behind it. The suspects read like a list out of a textbook: the jilted fiancée, the jealous coworker, the overlooked subordinate, the dirty client.

His plate already full, Cruz is assigned to a “special project,” a case needing to be solved quickly and quietly. Cleveland Water technicians are the targets of focused attacks. The crimes range from intimidation to assault. The locations swing between the east, west, and south sides of the city. This is definitely madness, but there is a method behind it.

The two cases are different and yet the same. Motives, opportunities, and alibis don’t point in a single direction. In these mysteries, Cruz has to think laterally, yanking down the curtain to expose the master minding the strings.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery
Published by: Down & Out Books
Publication Date: February 14, 2022
Number of Pages: 294
ISBN: 978-1-64396-245-0
Series: The De La Cruz Case Files, 3rd in series
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Down & Out Books

Read an excerpt:

Ten minutes dead. The sun shined brightly, no clouds on this first day of summer, the last day of John Doe’s life. Cleveland police Detective Jesus De La Cruz squatted next to the broken body. The warmth beneath his hand testified to the newness of death.

Two EMTs had worked to sustain the man’s life. One was at the ambulance now, tending to the tools of his trade. The other stood over the body, shaking his head at the victim. “He was dead before we arrived, Detective. He just didn’t know it.” The EMT peeled off his gloves, finality in a simple act. “Damn it if we didn’t fight for him. In the end, he was just too crushed.”

Cruz rose looking east and west, north and south. The crime scene was on the side of a road halfway between East 9th Street and East 55th Street. North Marginal was a two-way street carved between Lake Erie and a spur off I-90 called the Shoreway. Properties cut off by the Shoreway—the Coast Guard station, Burke Lakefront Airport, a private marina, a condominium complex—were accessed from North Marginal. Even at the busiest times of day, vehicular traffic here was scant. Middle of a workday, a steady stream of runners arced around the first responders.

“Popular place,” Cruz said, meeting the eyes of a curious runner rubbernecking as he slowed to a jog.

“It is,” the EMT said. “Few better places downtown for running. A solid two and a half miles with no cross streets. Whoever hit him came from the east. Blew him up.”

The body spoke for itself. No way it could be where it was being hit from the west. Cruz straddled the curb, which was a generous term for the inch separating the driving surface from the running path. A bicycle wouldn’t call it an obstacle. John Doe either never saw it coming or was unable to get out of the way. The impact had launched him into the airport’s tall security fence. The fence bounced him back, the one-hundred-eighty-pound body a pinball rebounding off bumpers.

John Doe had been moved, necessary and appropriate as he’d been alive when he was found.

“Medical Examiner is en route,” the EMT said. “He’s yours now.”

“I’ll take care of him.” Cruz studied the victim. The man was mostly skin. He had taken off his shirt on the warm day, one of the first to be hot. A shirt lay on the edge of the path, marked by an evidence tag. Two other shirts lay close to the body; one black, one yellow and stained with blood.

The running shorts covered hip to mid-thigh. He wore socks, shoes, and a fitness device on his wrist. Skin was scraped off his arms, legs, chest, and face, the asphalt unforgiving. An AirPod was in his left ear, the right one missing.

Squatting again, Cruz felt the side seams of the shorts, finding zippered pockets. Inside the right one was a slim, card-size piece of plastic, a security badge for a building on East 9th Street. The dead man smiled out of a poor-quality image. Beneath was the name Colin McHenry.

“Detective, we found his phone,” one of the officers securing the scene called out. “It’s in good shape. Thumb print pass coded.”

“Open it before the ME takes him. Who found him?”

“A pair of runners. I parked them under the big tree.” The officer pointed across North Marginal to a small grove on a manmade hill. The two men waited anxiously under the tree, watching the activity. Both were runners. Both were shirtless. Both came to attention as Cruz approached and introduced himself.

“I’m Landon Chartres, this is Denny Bradford. We saw him as soon as we came around the bend. He was half in the street.” The otherwise straight line of North Marginal had a large curve bumping out to make space for an exit from the Shoreway. McHenry’s body would have been screened by the fence and shrubs separating the public from the airport’s private property.

“We knew someone was ahead of us,” Bradford said. “When you turn onto the Marginal, you can you see all the way to the curve.”

Chartres nodded like a bobblehead. “We saw the vehicle that must have hit him. It was the only one that passed us before we got to him. Black SUV. Part of the license plate was LDC. Those are my initials, so it caught my attention. I didn’t catch the make or model.”

Bradford looked behind him, to East 9th Street. He repeatedly shifted his weight from foot to foot. “He was only out of our sight to a few minutes. Would you say he had a five-minute lead, Landon?”

“At most. Probably more like three or four. We called 9-1-1 and pulled him out of the road. Anyone coming around the curve would have hit him. We used our shirts to try to stop the bleeding.”

As a pair of witnesses went, these two were easy, answering questions before he could ask them. They wanted to talk, maybe even needed to talk. “Did anyone pass you from behind, coming from East 9th going east?”

The pair looked at each other, huddled like they were on a pitcher’s mound deciding on a call. It was Chartres who answered. “We don’t think so, Detective, but we couldn’t swear to it. We weren’t paying that much attention. But the one that came toward us, the one with my initials, it was flying.”

“Is he going to make it?” Bradford asked, hope in his voice. “The ambulance got here fast. We kept pressure on his wounds, like they tell you to.”

“I’m sorry, he didn’t.” As if on cue, an engine started. The ambulance pulled away without a passenger.

***

Excerpt from Razing Stakes by TG Wolff. Copyright 2022 by TG Wolff. Reproduced with permission from TG Wolff. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

TG Wolff writes thrillers and mysteries that play within the gray area between good and bad, right and wrong. Cause and effect drive the stories, drawing from 20+ years’ experience in Civil Engineering, where “cause” is more often a symptom of a bigger, more challenging problem. Diverse characters mirror the complexities of real life and real people, balanced with a healthy dose of entertainment. TG Wolff holds a Master’s Degree in Civil Engineering and is a member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.

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