Wednesday, October 18, 2017

BLOG TOUR AND GIVEAWAY: Bones To Pick ( Brie Hooker Mystery, #1) by Linda Lovely

Bones To Pick

by Linda Lovely

on Tour October 16 - December 16, 2017

Synopsis:

Bones To Pick by Linda Lovely
Living on a farm with four hundred goats and a cantankerous carnivore isn’t among vegan chef Brie Hooker’s list of lifetime ambitions. But she can’t walk away from her Aunt Eva, who needs help operating her dairy.
Once she calls her aunt’s goat farm home, grisly discoveries offer ample inducements for Brie to employ her entire vocabulary of cheese-and-meat curses. The troubles begin when the farm’s pot-bellied pig unearths the skull of Eva’s husband, who disappeared years back. The sheriff, kin to the deceased, sets out to pin the murder on Eva. He doesn’t reckon on Brie’s resolve to prove her aunt’s innocence. Death threats, ruinous pedicures, psychic shenanigans, and biker bar fisticuffs won’t stop Brie from unmasking the killer, even when romantic befuddlement throws her a curve.

Book Details:

Genre: Humorous Cozy Mystery
Published by: Henery Press
Publication Date: Oct. 24, 2017
Number of Pages: 266
ISBN: 9781635112597
Series: Brie Hooker Mystery, #1
Get Your Copy of Bones To Pick by Linda Lovely at: Amazon Barnes & Noble Goodreads
Review: What a fun beginning to a new cozy series!!  A vegan chef, a goat cheese farm, a dead body dug up by a pot-bellied pig, and two guys interested in being more than friends---this is the life of Brie Hooker.

There's a lot of humor in this story, along with a very well written murder mystery. A small-minded crooked sheriff and a feud worthy of the Hatfields and McCoys add to the suspense around town.

I enjoyed the backstory of the main characters, and look forward to getting to know them all better.

**I received a copy of this book through the publisher and NetGalley, with no expectation of a positive review. All thoughts and opinions are entirely my own.**

Rating:  Four stars

Read an excerpt:

ONE

Hello, I’m Brie, and I’m a vegan.
It sounds like I’m introducing myself at a Vegetarians Anonymous meeting. But, trust me, there aren’t enough vegetarians in Ardon County, South Carolina, to make a circle much less hold a meeting.
Give yourself ten points if you already know vegans are even pickier than vegetarians. We forgo meat, fish, eggs, and dairy. But we’re big on cashews, walnuts, and almonds. All nuts are good nuts. Appropriate with my family.
Family. That’s why I put my career as a vegan chef on hold to live and work in Ardon, a strong contender for the South’s carnivore-and- grease capital. My current job? I help tend four hundred goats, make verboten cheese, and gather eggs I’ll never poach. Most mornings when Aunt Eva rousts me before the roosters, I roll my eyes and mutter.
Still, I can’t complain. I had a choice. Sort of. Blame it on the pig—Tammy the Pig—for sticking her snout in our family business.

I’d consorted with vegans and vegetarians for too long. I seriously underestimated how much cholesterol meat eaters could snarf down at a good old-fashioned wake. Actually, I wasn’t sure this wake was “old fashioned,” but it was exactly how Aunt Lilly would have planned her own send-off—if she’d had the chance. Ten days ago, the feisty sixty- two-year-old had a toddler’s curiosity and a twenty-year-old’s appetite for adventure. Her death was a total shock.
I glanced at Aunt Lilly’s epitaph hanging behind the picnic buffet. She’d penned it years back. Her twin, Aunt Eva, found it in Lilly’s desk and reprinted it in eighty-point type.

“There once was a farmer named Lilly
Who never liked anything frilly,
She tended her goats,
Sowed a few wild oats,
And said grieving her death would be silly.”

In a nod to Lilly’s spirit, Aunt Eva planned today’s wake complete with fiddling, hooch, goo-gogs of goat cheese, and the whole panoply of Southern fixins—mounds of country ham, fried chicken, barbecue, and mac-and-cheese awash in butter. Every veggie dish came dressed with bacon crumbles, drippings, or cream of mushroom soup.
Not a morsel fit for a vegan. Eva’s revenge. I’d made the mistake of saying I didn’t want to lose her, too, and hinted she’d live longer if she cut back on cholesterol. Not my smartest move. The name of her farm? Udderly Kidding Dairy. Cheese and eggs had been Eva’s meal ticket for decades.
My innocent observation launched a war. Whenever I opened the refrigerator, I’d find a new message. This morning a Post-it on my dish of blueberries advised: The choline in eggs may enhance brain development and memory—as a vegan you probably forgot.
Smoke from the barbeque pit permeated the air as I replenished another platter of shredded pork on the buffet. My mouth watered and I teetered on the verge of drooling. While I was a dedicated vegan, my olfactory senses were still programmed “Genus Carnivorous.” My stomach growled—loudly. Time to thwart its betrayal with the veggies and hummus dip I’d stashed in self-defense.
I’d just stuck a juicy carrot in my mouth when a large hand squeezed my shoulder.
“Brie, honey, you’ve been working nonstop,” Dad said. “Take a break. Mom’s on her way. We can play caterers. The food’s prepared. No risks associated with our cooking.”
I choked on my carrot and sputtered. “Good thing. Do you even remember the last time Mom turned on an oven?”
Dad smiled. “Can’t recall. Maybe when you were a baby? But, hey, we’re wizards at takeout and microwaves.”
His smile faltered. I caught him staring at Aunt Lilly’s epitaph. “Still can’t believe Lilly’s gone.” He attempted a smile. “Knowing her sense of humor, we’re lucky she didn’t open that epitaph with ‘There once was a lass from Nantucket.’”
I’d never seen Dad so sad. Lilly’s unexpected death stunned him to his core. He adored his older sisters.
Mom appeared at his side and wrapped an arm around his waist. She loved her sisters-in-law, too, though she complained my childless aunts spoiled me beyond repair.
Of course, Lilly’s passing hit Eva the hardest. A fresh boatload of tears threatened as I thought about the aunt left behind. I figured my tear reservoir had dried up after days of crying. Wrong. The tragedy—a texting teenager smashing head-on into Lilly’s car—provoked a week- long family weep-a-thon. It ended when Eva ordered us to cease and desist.
“This isn’t what Lilly would want,” she declared. “We’re gonna throw a wake. One big, honking party.”
Which explained the fifty-plus crowd of friends and neighbors milling about the farm, tapping their feet to fiddlin’, and consuming enough calories to sustain the populace of a small principality for a week.
I hugged Dad. “Thanks. I could use a break. I’ll find Eva. See how she’s doing.”
I spotted her near a flower garden filled with cheery jonquils. It looked like a spring painting. Unfortunately, the cold March wind that billowed Eva’s scarlet poncho argued the blooms were false advertising. The weatherman predicted the thermometer would struggle to reach the mid-forties today.
My aunt’s build was what I’d call sturdy, yet Eva seemed to sway in the gusty breeze as she chatted with Billy Jackson, the good ol’ boy farrier who shod her mule. Though my parents pretended otherwise, we all knew Billy slept under Eva’s crazy quilt at least two nights a week.
I nodded at the couple. Well, actually, the foursome. Brenda, the farm’s spoiled pet goat, and Kai, Udderly’s lead Border collie, were competing with Billy for my aunt’s attention.
“Mom and Dad are watching the buffet,” I said. “Thought I’d see if you need me to do anything. Are you expecting more folks?”
“No.” Eva reached down and tickled the tiny black goat’s shaggy head. “Imagine everyone who’s coming is here by now. They’ll start clearing out soon. Chow down and run. Can’t blame ’em. Especially the idiot women who thought they ought to wear dresses. That biting wind’s gotta be whistling up their drawers.”
Billy grinned as he looked Eva up and down. Her choice of wake attire—poncho, black pants, and work boots—surprised no one, and would have delighted Lilly.
“Do you even own a dress?” Billy laughed. “You’re one to talk.” Eva gave his baggy plaid suit and clip-on bowtie the stink eye. “I suppose you claim that gristle on your chin is needed to steady your fiddle.”
He kissed Eva’s cheek. “Yep, that’s it. Time to rejoin my fellow fiddlers, but first I have a hankering to take a turn at the Magic Moonshine tent.”
“You do that. Maybe the ’shine will improve your playing. It’ll definitely make you sound better to your listening audience. After enough of that corn liquor even my singing could win applause.”
A dark-haired stranger usurped Billy’s place, bending low to plant a kiss on the white curls that sprang from my aunt’s head like wood shavings. Wow.
They stacked handsome tall when they built him. Had to be at least six-four.
Even minus an introduction, I figured this tall glass of sweet tea had to be Paint, the legendary owner of Magic Moonshine. Sunlight glinted off hair the blue-black of expensive velvet. Deep dimples. Rakish smile.
I’d spent days sobbing, and my libido apparently was saying “enough”—time to rejoin the living. If this bad boy were any more alive, he’d be required to wear a “Danger High Voltage” sign. Of course, Aunt Lilly wouldn’t mind. She’d probably rent us a room.
I ventured a glance and found him smiling at me. My boots were suddenly fascinating. Never stare at shiny objects with the potential to hypnotize. I refused to fall under another playboy’s spell.
“How’s my best gal?” he asked, hugging Eva. “Best for this minute, right?” my aunt challenged. “I bet my niece will be your best gal before I finish the introductions.” Eva put a hand on my shoulder. “Paint, this young whippersnapper is Brie Hooker, my favorite niece. ’Course, she’s my only niece. Brie, it’s with great trepidation that I introduce you to David Paynter, better known as Paint, unrepentant moonshiner and heartbreaker.”
Eva subjected Paint to her pretend badass stare, a sure sign he was one of her favorite sparring partners. “Don’t you go messing with Brie, or I’ll bury you down yonder with Mark, once I nail his hide.”
Paint laughed, a deep, rumbling chuckle. He turned toward me and bowed like Rhett Butler reincarnated.
“Pleased to meet you, Brie. That puzzled look tells me you haven’t met Mark, the wily coyote that harasses Eva’s goats. She’s wasted at least six boxes of buckshot trying to scare him off. Me? I’ll gladly risk her shotgun to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Eva gave Paint a shove. “Well, if that’s the case, go on. Give Brie a shot of your peach moonshine. It’s pretty good.”
“Peach moonshine it is,” he said and took my arm. A second later, he tightened his grip and pulled me to the right. “Better watch your step. You almost messed up those pretty boots.”
He pointed at a fresh pile of fragrant poop, steaming in the brisk air inches from my suede boots. “Thanks,” I mumbled. Still holding my arm, he steered me over uneven ground to a clear path. “Eva says you’re staying with her. Hope you don’t have to leave for a while. Your aunt’s a fine lady, and it’s going to be mighty hard on her once this flock of well-wishers flies off.”
His baritone sent vibrations rippling through my body. My brain ordered me to ignore the tingling that remained in places it didn’t belong.
He smiled. “Eva and Lilly spoke about you so often I feel like we’re already friends. ’Course head-shaking accompanied some of their comments. They said you’d need to serve plenty of my moonshine if you ever opened a vegan B&B in Ardon County. Here abouts it’s considered unpatriotic to serve eats that haven’t been baptized in a vat of lard. Vegetables are optional; meat, mandatory.”
Uh, oh. I always gave relatives and friends a free pass on good- natured kidding. But a stranger? This man was poking fun at my profession, yet my hackles—smoothed by the hunk’s lopsided grin— managed only a faint bristle.
Back away. Pronto.
Discovering my ex-fiancé, Jack, was boffing not one, but two co-workers the entire two years we were engaged made me highly allergic to lady-killers. Paint was most definitely a member of that tribe.
“What can I say? I’m a rebel,” I replied. “It’s my life’s ambition to convince finger-lickin’, fried-chicken lovers that life without meat, butter, eggs, and cheese does not involve a descent into the nine circles of hell.”
Paint released me, then raised his hand to brush a wayward curl from my forehead. His flirting seemed to be congenital.
“If you’re as feisty as your aunt claims, why don’t you take me on as a challenge? I do eat tomatoes—fried green ones, anyway—and I’m open to sampling other members of the vegetable kingdom. So long as they don’t get between me and my meat. Anyway, welcome to the Carolina foothills. Time to pour some white lightning. It’s smoother than you might expect.”
And so are you. Too smooth for me.
That’s when we heard the screams.

TWO

Paint zoomed off like a Clemson running back, hurtling toward the screams—human, not goat. I managed to stay within a few yards of him, slipping and sliding as my suede boots unwittingly smooshed a doggie deposit. Udderly’s guardian dogs, five Great Pyrenees, were large enough to saddle, and their poop piles rivaled cow paddies.
I reached the barn, panting, with a stitch in my right side. I stopped to catch my breath. Hallelujah. I braced my palm against the weathered barn siding.
Ouch. Harpooned by a jagged splinter. Blood oozed from the sensitive pad below my right thumb. I stared at the inch-plus spear. Paint had kept running. He was no longer in sight.
The screams stopped. An accident? A heart attack? I hustled around the corner of the barn. A little girl sobbed in the cleared area behind Udderly’s retail sales cabin. I recognized Jenny, a rambunctious five-year-old from a nearby farm. Her mother knelt beside her, stroking her hair.
No child had produced the operatic screams we’d heard. Maybe Jenny’s mother was the screamer. But the farm wife didn’t seem the hysterical type. On prior visits to Udderly, I’d stopped at the roadside stand where she sold her family’s produce. Right now the woman’s face looked redder than one of her Early Girl tomatoes. Was the flush brought on by some danger—a goat butting her daughter, a snake slithering near the little girl?
I walked closer. Then I saw it. A skull poked through the red clay. Soil had tinted the bone an absurd pink.
I gasped. The sizeable cranium looked human. I spotted the grave digger, or should I say re-digger. Udderly’s newest addition, a Vietnamese potbellied pig named Tammy, hunkered in a nearby puddle. Tiny cloven hoof marks led to and from the excavation. Tell-tale red mud dappled her dainty twitching snout. The pig’s hundred-pound body quivered as her porcine gaze roved the audience she’d attracted.
A man squatted beside Tammy, speaking to the swine in soothing, almost musical tones. Pigs were dang smart and sensitive. Aunt Eva told me it was easy to hurt their feelings. The fellow stroking Tammy’s grimy head must’ve been convinced she was one sensitive swine.
“It’s okay,” he repeated. “The lady wasn’t screaming at you, Tammy.”
Tammy snorted, lowered her head, and squeezed her eyes shut. The pig-whisperer gave the swine a final scratch and stood, freeing gangly limbs from his pretzel-like crouch. Mud caked the cuffs and knees of his khaki pants. Didn’t seem to bother him one iota.
The mother shepherded her little girl away from the disturbing scene, and Paint knelt to examine the skeletal remains. “Looks like piggy uncovered more than she bargained for.” He glanced at Muddy Cuffs. “Andy, you’re a vet. Animal or human?”
“Human.” Andy didn’t hesitate. “But all that’s left is bone. Had to have been buried a good while. Yet Tammy’s rooting scratched only inches below the surface. If a settler dug this grave, it was mighty shallow.”
“Probably didn’t start that way.” I pointed to a depression that began uphill near the retail cabin. “This wash has deepened a lot since my aunts built their store and the excavation diverted water away from the cabin. The runoff’s been nibbling away at the ground.”
Mom, Dad, and Aunt Eva joined the group eyeballing the skull. Eva looked peaked, almost ill. I felt a slight panic at the shift in her normally jolly appearance. I thought of my aunts as forces of nature. Unflappable. Indestructible. I’d lost one, and the other suddenly looked fragile. Finding a corpse on her property the same day she bid her twin goodbye had hit her hard.
Dad cocked his head. “Could be a Cherokee burial site. Or maybe a previous farmer buried a loved one and the grave marker got lost. Homestead burials have always been legal in South Carolina. Still are.”
For once, the idea of finding a corpse in an unexpected location didn’t prompt a gleeful chuckle from my dad, Dr. Howard Hooker. Though he was a professor of horticulture at Clemson University by day, he was an aspiring murder mystery author by night. Every time we went for a car ride, Dad made a game of searching the landscape for spots “just perfect” for disposing of bodies. So far, a dense patch of kudzu in a deep ravine topped his picks. “Kudzu grows so fast any flesh peeking through would disappear in a day.”
Good thing Dad confined his commentary to family outings. We knew the corpses in question weren’t real.
Mom whipped out her smartphone. “I’ll call Judge Glenn. It’s Sunday, but he always answers his cell. He’ll know who to call. I’m assuming the Ardon County Sheriff’s Department.”
Dad nodded. “Probably, but I bet SLED—the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division—will take over. The locals don’t have forensic specialists.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “You spend way too much time with your Sisters in Crime.”
It amused Mom that Dad’s enthusiasm for his literary genre earned him the presidency of the Upstate South Carolina Chapter of Sisters in Crime.
Mom didn’t fool with fictional crime. Too busy with the real thing. As the City of Clemson’s attorney, she kept a bevy of lawyers, judges, and city and university cops on speed dial. However, Udderly Kidding wasn’t in the same county as Clemson so it sat outside her domain.
“Judge Glenn, this is Iris Hooker. I’m at the Udderly Kidding Dairy in Ardon. An animal here unearthed a skull. We think it’s human, but not recent. Should we call the sheriff?”
Mom nodded and made occasional I-get-it noises while she clamped the cell to her ear.
“Could you ask them to keep their arrival quiet? Better yet, could they wait until after four? About fifty folks are here for my sister-in- law’s wake. I don’t want to turn her farewell into a circus.”
A minute later, Mom murmured her thanks and pocketed her cell. “The judge agrees an old skull doesn’t warrant sirens or flashing lights. He’ll ask the Ardon County Sheriff, Robbie Jones, to come by after four. Since I’m an officer of the court, his honor just requested that I keep people and animals clear of the area until the sheriff arrives.”
Andy stood. “Paint, help me bring some hay bales from the barn. We can stack them to cordon off the area.”
“Good idea.” Paint stood, and the two men strode off. No needless chitchat. They appeared to be best buds.
I tugged Dad’s sleeve, nodded toward his sister, and whispered, “I think Aunt Eva should sit down. Let’s get her to one of the front porch rockers.”
Dad walked over and draped an arm around his sister’s shoulders. “Eva, let’s sit a while so folks can find you to pay their respects. This skeleton is old news. Not our worry.”
Eva’s lips trembled. “No, Brother. I feel it in my own bones. It’s that son-of-a-bitch Jed Watson come back to haunt me.”

THREE

Jed Watson? The man Eva married in college? The man who vanished a few years later?
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Eva, that’s nonsense. That dirtbag ran off forty years back. You’re letting your imagination run wild.”
Eva straightened. “Some crime novelist you are. You know darn well any skeleton unearthed on my property would have something to do with that nasty worm. Nobody wished that sorry excuse for a man dead more than me.”
“Calm down. Don’t spout off and give the sheriff some harebrained notion that pile of bones is Jed,” Dad said. “No profit in fueling gossip or dredging up ancient history. Authorities may have ruled Jed dead, but I always figured that no-good varmint was still alive five states over, most likely beating the stuffing out of some other poor woman.”
Wow. I knew Eva took her maiden name back after they declared her husband dead, but I’d never heard a speck of the unsavory backstory. Dad liked to tell family tales, including ones about long- dead scoundrels. Guess this history wasn’t ancient enough.
Curiosity made me eager to ask a whole passel of none-of-my- business questions, though I felt some justification about poking my nose here. I’d known Eva my entire life. So how come this was the first I’d heard of a mystery surrounding Jed’s disappearance? Was Dad truly worried the sheriff might suspect Eva?
I was dying to play twenty questions. Too bad it wasn’t the time or place.
I smiled at my aunt. “Why don’t I get some of Paint’s brew to settle our nerves? Eva, you like that apple pie flavor, right?”
“Yes, thanks, dear.”
“Good idea, Brie,” Dad added. “I’ll take a toot of Paint’s blackberry hooch. Eva’s not the only one who could use a belt. We’ll greet folks from those rockers. Better than standing like mannequins in a receiving line. And there’s a lot less risk of falling down if we get a little tipsy.”
Aunt Eva ignored Dad’s jest. She looked haunted, lost in memory. A very bad memory.
I hurried to the small tent where Magic Moonshine dispensed free libations. A buxom young lass smiled as she poured shine into miniature Mason jars lined up behind four flavor signs: Apple Pie, Blackberry, Peach, and White Lightnin’.
“What can I do you for, honey?” the busty server purred. I’m still an Iowa girl at heart, but, like my transplanted aunts and parents, I’ve learned not to take offense when strangers of both sexes and all ages call me honey, darlin’, and sweetie. My high school social studies teacher urged us to appreciate foreign customs and cultures. I may not be in Rome, but I’m definitely in Ardon County.
I smiled at Miss Sugarmouth. The top four buttons of her blouse were undone. The way her bosoms oozed over the top, I seriously doubted those buttons had ever met their respective buttonholes. No mystery why Paint hired her. Couldn’t blame him or her. Today’s male mourners would enjoy a dash of cleavage with their shine, and she’d rake in lots more tips.
“Sweetie, do you have a tray I can use to take drinks to the folks on the porch?”
The devil still made me add the “sweetie” when I addressed Miss Sugarmouth. She didn’t bat an eyelash. Probably too weighed down with mascara.
“Sure thing, honey.” I winced when the tray slid over the wood sliver firmly embedded in my palm. Suck it up. No time for minor surgery.
As I walked toward Eva’s cabin, crunching noises advertised some late arrivals ambling down the gravel road. On the porch, Dad and Eva had settled into a rhythm, shaking hands with friends and neighbors and accepting sympathy pats. Hard to hug someone in a rocker.
I handed miniature glass jars to Eva and Dad before offering drinks to the folks who’d already run the gauntlet of the sit-down receiving line. Then I tiptoed behind Dad’s rocker.
“I’ll see if Mom wants anything and check back later to see how you and Eva are doing.”
“Thanks, honey.” He kissed my cheek. I returned to Paint’s moonshine stand and picked up a second drink tray, gingerly hoisting it to avoid bumping my skewered palm. Balancing the drinks, I picked my way across the rutted ground to what I worried might be a crime scene.
Mom perched between Paint and Andy atop the double row of hay bales stacked to keep the grisly discovery out of sight. The five-foot-two height on Mom’s driver’s license was a stretch. At five-four, I had her by at least three, maybe four, inches. My mother’s build was tiny as well as short—a flat-chested size two. I couldn’t recall ever being able to squeeze into her doll-size clothes. My build came courtesy of the females on Dad’s side of the family. Compact but curvy. No possibility of going braless in polite society.
Mom’s delicate appearance often confounded the troublemakers she prosecuted for the city. Too often the accused took one look at Iris Hooker and figured they’d hire some hulking male lawyer to walk all over the little lady in court.
Big mistake. The bullies often reaped unexpected rewards—a costly mélange of jail time, fines, and community service.
Mom spotted my tray-wobbling approach. “Are these Paint’s concoctions?”
I nodded. “Well, Daughter, sip nice and slow. Someday I may file charges against Magic Moonshine. Paint’s shine is often an accomplice when Clemson tailgaters pull stunts that land them in front of a judge.”
Paint lifted his glass in a salute. “Can I help it if all our flavors go down easy?”
Mom turned back to me. “Have you met these, ahem, gentlemen?”
I suddenly felt shy as my gaze flicked between the two males. “I met Paint earlier. This is my first chance to say hi to Andy. I’m Brie Hooker. You must be the veterinarian Aunt Eva’s always talking about.”
Andy rose to his feet. “Andy Green. Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Your aunts were my very first customers when I opened my practice.”
He waved a hand at Tammy, the now demure pig, wallowing a goodly distance away. “I’m really sorry Tammy picked today to root up these bones. I feel partly to blame. Talked your aunts into adopting Miss Piggy. It aggravates me how folks can’t resist buying potbellied pigs as pets when they’re adorable babies, but have no qualms about abandoning them once they start to grow.”
Andy’s outstretched hand awaited my handshake. I held up my palm to display my injury. “Gotta take a rain check on a handshake. Unfortunately, I already shook hands with the barn.”
Andy gently turned up my palm. “I’ll fix you right up, if you don’t mind a vet doing surgery. Give me a minute to wash up and meet me at my truck. Can’t miss it. A double-cab GMC that kinda looks like aliens crash landed an aluminum spaceship in the truck bed. I’m parked by the milking barn.”
As Andy loped off toward the retail shop’s comfort station, Paint called after him. “Sneaky way to hold hands with a pretty lady.”
Andy glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.”
Paint chuckled and focused his hundred-watt grin on me. “Bet my white lightning could disinfect that sliver. Sure you don’t want me to do the honors?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Somehow I doubt honor has anything to do with it.”
The moonshiner faked an injured look. Mom rolled her eyes. “Heaven help me—and you, Brie. Not sure you’re safe with the wildlife that frequents this farm. Forget those coyotes that worry Eva, I’m talking wolves.” She looked toward the porch. “How’s Eva holding up?”
“Better.” I wanted to grill Mom about Jed Watson, but I needed to do so in private. “Guess I should steel myself for surgery.” I took a Mason jar from the tray I’d set on a hay bale. “Down the hatch.” My healthy swallow blazed a burning trail from throat to belly. Before I could stop myself, I sputtered.
“Shut your mouth,” Paint said. Yowzer. My eyes watered, and my throat spasmed. I coughed. “What?”
“Shut your mouth. Oxygen fuels the burn. You need to take a swallow then close your mouth. None of this sipping stuff.”
“Now you tell me.” I choked. Mom laughed. “That’s the best strategy I’ve heard yet to shut Brie up.”
I wiped at the tears running down my cheeks. “Your moonshine packs more punch than my five-alarm Thai stir fry.”
Paint’s eyebrows rose. “My shine is smooth, once you get used to it. You want a little fire in your gut. Keeps life interesting.”
A little too interesting. I’d been at Udderly Kidding Dairy just over a week, and I already felt like a spinning top with a dangerous wobble.
***
Excerpt from Bones To Pick by Linda Lovely. Copyright © 2017 by Linda Lovely. Reproduced with permission from Linda Lovely. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Linda Lovely
Over the past five years, hundreds of mystery/thriller writers have met Linda Lovely at check-in for the annual Writers’ Police Academy, which she helps organize. Lovely finds writing pure fiction isn’t a huge stretch given the years she’s spent penning PR and ad copy. She writes a blend of mystery and humor, chuckling as she plots to “disappear” the types of characters who most annoy her. Quite satisfying plus there’s no need to pester relatives for bail. Her newest series offers good-natured salutes to both her vegan family doctor and her cheese-addicted kin. She served as president of her local Sisters in Crime chapter for five years and belongs to International Thriller Writers and Romance Writers of America.

Catch Up With Linda Lovely On: Website , Goodreads , Twitter , & Facebook !


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Thursday, October 12, 2017

FALL READING CHALLENGE: Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton #FRC2017 @BookSparks



Doyle FRC 1
BOOK INFORMATION
Hardcover: 272 pages
  • Genre: Self-help, relationships

    • Publisher: Flatiron Books; Hardcover edition (September 6, 2016)
    • Language: English
    • ISBN-10: 1250128544
    • ISBN-13: 978-1250128546


    31845516

    Synopsis: The highly anticipated new memoir by bestselling author Glennon Doyle Melton tells the story of her journey of self-discovery after the implosion of her marriage.

    Just when Glennon Doyle Melton was beginning to feel she had it all figured out—three happy children, a doting spouse, and a writing career so successful that her first book catapulted to the top of the New York Times bestseller list—her husband revealed his infidelity and she was forced to realize that nothing was as it seemed. A recovering alcoholic and bulimic, Glennon found that rock bottom was a familiar place. In the midst of crisis, she knew to hold on to what she discovered in recovery: that her deepest pain has always held within it an invitation to a richer life.

    Love Warrior is the story of one marriage, but it is also the story of the healing that is possible for any of us when we refuse to settle for good enough and begin to face pain and love head-on. This astonishing memoir reveals how our ideals of masculinity and femininity can make it impossible for a man and a woman to truly know one another - and it captures the beauty that unfolds when one couple commits to unlearning everything they’ve been taught so that they can finally, after thirteen years of marriage, fall in love.

    Love Warrior is a gorgeous and inspiring account of how we are born to be warriors: strong, powerful, and brave; able to confront the pain and claim the love that exists for us all. This chronicle of a beautiful, brutal journey speaks to anyone who yearns for deeper, truer relationships and a more abundant, authentic life.


    Review: This book is my introduction to this author, and I am so glad I chose to read it. While some of it was difficult reading (I could feel her pain, disappointment, confusion), other parts were uplifting and wonderful. 

    The author takes us along with her on a deeply personal life journey, and she does it in such a way that we can all connect with her somewhere along the way. I can relate to being sure you know what love is and how it is supposed to look and feel, and then realizing that you've only bought into what society portrays--and working to unlearn it to find a deeper, truer love.

    Rating: Four stars
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    About the author
    Glennon Doyle is the author of the #1 New York Times bestselling memoir Love Warrior, which was selected as Oprah's Book Club pick, as well as the New York Times bestselling memoir Carry On, Warrior. Glennon is also the founder of Momastery, an online community reaching millions of people each week, and the creator and president of Together Rising—a non-profit organization that has raised over seven million dollars for families around the world.

    Follow Glennon and Momastery on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram, and sign up for her email updates here: http://eepurl.com/OiRan.

    Glennon is a columnist for O, The Oprah Magazine, and was named among OWN Network's SuperSoul100 inaugural group - as one of 100 "awakened leaders who are using their voices and talent to elevate humanity," as well as one as of Family Circle's 20 Most Influential Moms of 2017. Glennon and her philanthropic work have been featured on The TODAY Show, The Talk, The OWN Network, Chelsea, Dr. Oz and in The New York Times, The Atlantic, Forbes, Glamour, Parents Magazine, Newsweek, and Woman’s Day, among other television and print outlets. She lives in Florida with her family.

    Wednesday, October 11, 2017

    Fireworks In Paradise (A TJ Jensen Mystery #8) by Kathi Daley

    35677461
    BOOK INFORMATION


  • Series: Tj Jensen Mystery (Book 8)

    • Hardcover
    • Publisher: Henery Press (October 10, 2017)
    • Language: English
    • ISBN-10: 1635112583
    • ISBN-13: 978-1635112580

    Synopsis: While on vacation in South Carolina, TJ Jensen receives a call that her father has been left in a coma after a devastating car crash. Back home in Paradise Lake, TJ learns the accident that killed family friend Judge Harper and left her father clinging to life wasn’t an accident at all—someone cut their brake lines. To make matters worse, her friend and police contact, Deputy Roy Fisher, is working with a new partner who has no intention of letting TJ anywhere near the case. Facing an investigation more explosive than the annual fireworks show, TJ enlists the help of her best friends to unravel the mystery, all the while navigating a new romance and the thought her father may never wake up. 

    Review: This is one of my favorite Kathi Daley series. This time around, TJ finally seems to be coming into her own. She has realized how she truly feels about Kyle, and they are slowly growing their relationship into more than friends. There is a great scene where her younger sisters sit her down to talk about that relationship, which is so realistic and believable. Family is of  major importance in this story, not just the murder mystery.

    Speaking of the the mystery, it is once again very well written, with several suspects, and clues that may lead the reader in more than one direction before bringing you to the realization of the killer's identity.

    My only real issue with the book was that this story takes place before the three books I've already read in the Writer's Retreat series, so some of the information in this one was old news. However, with as many series as the author writes, that's a small blip in the scheme of things.

    Rating: Four stars

    About the author
    91 DWAjd WBj L SY200Kathi lives with her husband, kids, grandkids, and dogs in beautiful Lake Tahoe. When she isn't writing, Kathi likes to read (preferably at the beach or by the fire), cook (preferably something with chocolate or cheese,) and garden (planting and planning not weeding). She also enjoys spending time on the water when she's not hiking, biking, or snowshoeing, the miles of desolate trails surrounding her home. 
    Kathi uses the mountain setting in which she lives, along with the animals (wild and domestic) that share her home, as inspiration for her cozy mysteries. 

    Join me on Facebook at Kathi Daley Books (www.facebook.com/kathidaleybooks) for updates on my books, photos of life in Lake Tahoe, recipes, contests, and giveaways. For weekly updates and contests sign up for The Daley Weekly Newsletter (http://eepurl.com/NRPDf).

    BLOG TOUR: The Song Of Solomon Revealed by Owen Sypher



    We're happy to host Owen Sypher's THE SONG OF SOLOMON REVEALED Blog Tour today! Please leave a comment or question below for Owen and don't forget to check out his book at Amazon!




    Title: THE SONG OF SOLOMON REVEALED
    Author: Owen Sypher
    Publisher: Litfire Publishing, LLC
    Pages: 308
    Genre: Religion/Bible Studies

    The book of Song of Solomon is a spiritual book full of allegories or pictures where God used the natural to show the spiritual. By using the keys of understanding found in the Bible the author has unlock the hidden meaning of the book of Song of Solomon.

    The book of Song of Solomon is about the love that Jesus has for his bride. When looked at from this angle a lot of the verses makes more sense.

    Review: This is a fascinating book with a LOT of food for thought. The author takes us through this book of the Bible verse by verse, explaining it as he sees it. Some of it is very detailed and deep and will require, for me, more than a casual reading, as well as some personal research. 

    One of my favorite quotes, after a cursory reading, is this: "Jesus is only Lord of those who will let him rule in their lives." 

    I may suggest this to my small Bible study group as something to add to our agenda for next year, and I also look forward to reading more from this author.

    **I received a copy of this book from the author and from Pump Up Your Book with no expectation of a positive review.All thoughts and opinions are entirely my own.**

    Rating: Four stars

    ORDER YOUR COPY:

    Amazon * Barnes & Noble



    Song 4:16: Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits. KJV
    We know that north is God’s direction as stated in Psalm 75:6–7.
    Ps. 75:6–7 For promotion cometh neither from the east, nor from the west, nor from the south. 7 But God is the judge: he putteth down one, and setteth up another. KJV
    Since promotion comes from God, and the only direction not mentioned is north. That makes north God’s direction. That would make south man’s direction. This illustrates to me that we need the right spirit in our lives, no matter what comes our way. Whether the wind is blowing from the north or the south makes no difference; we still have the same spirit (our fragrance).  What this tells me is that no matter if I am receiving the blessings of God (north wind blowing upon my life) or cursing or tribulation from others (south wind, or man’s direction), I would have the same spirit blowing out of my garden or I would show the right spirit no matter what is happening in my life, and it would be a sweet smell to the Lord, and it is all because of the things that the Lord has planted in my garden.
    We have the capabilities of doing this because we understanding this verse in Romans 8.
    Rom. 8:28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. KJV
    Phil. 4:11 Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. KJV
    I use this scripture to show that I am not going to let outside circumstances dictate how my spirit responds to the Lord. I can be content in the Lord no matter what.


    Owen L. Sypher is a devoted servant of the Lord. At eleven years old, he started a spiritual journey to discover and understand God and his word.

    In 1979, he received the baptism of the Holy Ghost. Since then, he has had fellowships with the same group. Song of Solomon is his first book.

    You can visit his website at http://www.sypherbooks.com.   


    Thursday, October 5, 2017

    CD REVIEW: The Answer by Jeremy Camp #TheAnswer #Flyby

    81b T29vk SPL SX425
    • Audio CD (October 6, 2017)
    • Number of Discs: 1
    • Label: Sparrow
    • ASIN: B074PB7QQV

    Jeremy describes himself as “a minister who happens to play music as a way to minister.” He has truly experienced artistic growth and musical creativity, thanks to his recent touring with different artists, and it shows in this, his ninth studio album. The Answer features the radio single 'Word of Life,' along with the anthems 'My Defender' and 'The Answer.' This latest project is a bold statement that the answer to everything in life is Jesus. With multiple advanced singles and five music videos leading up to the album's release, Jeremy is taking listeners on an audio and visual journey to finding the answer in their own life Jesus. 

    “I can’t wait for everyone to hear these songs,” shares Camp about the new album and tour. “After all these years, it’s amazing how the well to draw from never runs dry, when we rely on Him. The Lord continues to give deeper and deeper songs that speak to different seasons of life. With this new album, we’re doing some things we’ve never done before.

    Track List
    1. Word Of Life
    2. My Defender
    3. The Answer
    4. Storm
    5. My Father's Arms
    6. Never Stopped Loving
    7. Tell The Whole World
    8. Heaven's Shore (Forevermore)
    9. Carriers
    10. Love So Great
    11. Awake O Sleeper

    Review: This is a great CD, and I had a difficult time choosing favorite songs from it. I finally decided on Awake O Sleeper and Carriers as my top two. with My Father's Arms a very close third. The lyrics and music of every song on the CD are moving and inspirational. 

    I love how most of the songs are filled with pounding drumbeats, amazing guitar work, and powerful vocals. They hold your attention and should be a hit with teens and young adults. It's a perfect addition to a road trip CD collection.

    **I received a copy of this CD from the publisher and Flyby Productions, with no expectation of a positive review. All thoughts and opinions are entirely my own.**

    Rating: Five stars





    Wednesday, October 4, 2017

    BOOK BLAST AND GIVEAWAY: Wickedly Ever After by Lotta Smith




    Title: WICKEDLY EVER AFTER: HALLOWEEN HIJINKS
    Author: Lotta Smith
    Publisher: Independent
    Pages: 213
    Genre: Paranormal Cozy Mystery

    As the new Mrs. Rowling, life is supposed to be easy for former FBI Special Assistant Amanda Meyer. Marriage to her drop dead gorgeous boss Rick is everything she dreamed of, unfortunately she can’t sleep, and she can’t even blame the ghost of his late stepmom Clara for popping up in the middle of the night with a tricky request.
    Someone staged mechanic Fynn’s death to look like a suicide, and now his unhappy ghost is keeping Clara and her dead friends awake all night. Proving he was murdered will keep the newlyweds hopping, and the real trick will be staying alive in this hilariously wicked book in the Manhattan Mystery Series. 

    ORDER YOUR COPY:

    Amazon


    At exactly three o’clock in the morning, I was in bed, turning over for the umpteenth time. For some unknown reason, I couldn’t fall asleep. In fact, I didn’t have even a blink of sleep.

    Okay, so I was pretending not to know the reason for my difficulty, but I could come up with possible reasons. For starters, I had a little too much espresso cake after dinner and a few more cups of strong green tea than the recommended amount at lunch. Also, in the past few hours alone, I had at least thirteen people visit me, asking about the whereabouts of their personal belongings and if I thought their spouses were cheating on them. All of them happened to be former residents of this upscale condo on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, where I called home. The last straw was Mrs. Williams, who kept demanding I return her hearing aid. I kept telling her that I wasn’t the evil woman who hid her belongings, and I shared my hunch that her family might have forgotten to put her hearing device with her; however, she didn’t seem to fathom what I was trying to say—perhaps because she didn’t have her hearing aid.

    By the way, did I mention that all those people who visited me during these ungodly hours had been dead for years?

    My name is Amanda Rowling, née Meyer, a part-time secretary for my husband and mostly a stay-at-home housewife, and people, including but not limited to my husband Rick, usually call me Mandy.

    Anyway, I was trying my best to grab some sleep before dawn, not that I had to get up early and go to work in the morning, but Rick had been busy since joining USCAB—United States Cover All Bases, a security-based conglomerate owned and run by his dad—and I wanted to do my best to be his super-supportive partner. Cooking power breakfasts for him and myself had become my ritual since I moved in with him at this condo over a year ago, and I was determined to continue this ritual. Anyway, using knives and a hot oven in a sleep-deprived status wasn’t high on my to-do list. I tended to commit faux-pas in the kitchen, like scorching eggs and bacon to a crisp, whenever I was short of sleep.

    Before marrying him, I used to work for the FBI’s New York City headquarters as a special assistant. At first, I was just an assistant with a mission to keep my then-boss Rick Rowling, the sexy, arrogant loose cannon who loved nothing more than trouble, from wreaking havoc and destroying NYC. However, a little after starting my FBI career, I developed a special skill of seeing dead people and communicating with them, and my tasks expanded to interviewing murder victims and dead witnesses.

    When Rick, who was the head of Paranormal Cases Division and the only colleague I had, left the feds to join his family business, I followed his suit and resigned from the feds.

    Even though Sheldon Hernandez, the head of the FBI’s New York City headquarters, offered me a lucrative consulting contract, I declined. At that time, leaving my life with the FBI, communicating with dead people and dodging frequent temper tantrums thrown at me by the deceased, and concentrating on being Mrs. Rowling seemed like a fabulous idea. But after the wedding and returning from our honeymoon, I wasn’t sure if I made the right decision. At that time, I presumed I’d stop encountering the spirits of dead; however, things didn’t go as I’d hoped. I was still having as many ghostly visitors as before.

    And, recalling my past life as an FBI assistant, I was horrified to found myself sort of missing my days dealing with the murderers, crooks, and dead people. Okay, so having nothing to do with criminals should be the norm for most people, and when I left the feds, I couldn’t wait to spend my days without worrying about being assaulted by evil ghosts and bad humans, but…

    Lotta Smith is the author of Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery series. She fell in love with mystery the moment she developed consciousness. She is especially fond of lighthearted murder mystery stories with a little sprinkle of romance.

    She went to medical school hoping to see real corpses and sexy professors. Back then, she was into this kind of mystery series about a smokin' hot forensic medicine professor and a quirky female student going a-sleuthing, cracking unsolvable cases. Lotta truly, madly wanted to team up with a superhot professor and crack a difficult murder or two. (Note; she got to see the corpses, but sexy professors were nonexistent.)

    Lotta loves to hear from her readers. Feel free to drop her a line at lottasmith_author@yahoo.com.

    WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

    AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK

     

    GIVEAWAY!

    Lotta Smith is giving away a collection of six books:

    Wickedly Ever After: Halloween Hijinks by Lotta Smith
    Trick or Treason by Kathi Daley
    A Witchmas Carol by Amanda M Lee
    Dark, Witch & Creamy by H Y Hanna
    Curse of the Day by Annabel Chase
    Dead Man Talking by Jana DeLeon

    Thank-you for your participation prize: Everyone receives a free ebook copy of:
    Whoever Finds the Wicked: Rick Rowling's Secret File (Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery Prequel) Whoever Finds the Wicked: Rick Rowling's Secret File

    Terms & Conditions:
    • By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
    • One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive the book collection.
    • This giveaway ends midnight October 13.
    • Winner will be contacted via email on October 16.
    • Winner has 48 hours to reply.
    Good luck everyone!

    ENTER TO WIN!


    a Rafflecopter giveaway



    Tuesday, October 3, 2017

    REVIEW: Trick or Treason (Zoe Donovan Mystery #26) by Kathi Daley




    35589284
    Book Information
    Genre: Cozy mystery
    Series: Zoe Donovan Cozy Mystery

    • Paperback: 258 pages
    • Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform (September 26, 2017)
    • Language: English
    • ISBN-10: 1548558214
    • ISBN-13: 978-1548558215

    Synopsis: As is his tradition, Zak has gone Halloween Crazy, while Zoe is trying to overcome the baby bump blues and harness some enthusiasm for the annual Haunted Hamlet. Things seem to be on track for a Spooktacular good time until Zoe stumbles onto a Halloween mystery even she didn't see coming.

    Review: Another successful novel from Ms. Daley. This is one of my two favorite series from her (be watching next week for my review of the latest release in the other one!).

    In the midst of preparing for Halloween, Zoe discovers another dead body and is determined to discover whodunnit before the holiday. Due to her pregnancy, she is a little more subdued in her sleuthing this time around, which I found to be realistic and a relief--I was concerned that she might continue to be reckless and I'd get frustrated with her!

    This mystery is filled with twist after twist. Every time I thought I had it solved, there were clues to point me in a completely different direction. The reveal was a surprise but in the end, the motive made sense. 

    I'm already looking forward to Zoe's Christmas adventure!!

    Rating: Five stars

    About the author
    91 DWAjd WBj L SY200Kathi lives with her husband, kids, grandkids, and dogs in beautiful Lake Tahoe. When she isn't writing, Kathi likes to read (preferably at the beach or by the fire), cook (preferably something with chocolate or cheese,) and garden (planting and planning not weeding). She also enjoys spending time on the water when she's not hiking, biking, or snowshoeing, the miles of desolate trails surrounding her home. 
    Kathi uses the mountain setting in which she lives, along with the animals (wild and domestic) that share her home, as inspiration for her cozy mysteries. 

    Join her on Facebook at Kathi Daley Books (www.facebook.com/kathidaleybooks) for updates on my books, photos of life in Lake Tahoe, recipes, contests, and giveaways. For weekly updates and contests sign up for The Daley Weekly Newsletter (http://eepurl.com/NRPDf).



    REVIEW AND GUEST POST: Halloween Is Murder (McKinley Mysteries #11) by Carolyn Arnold

    Every Day Is Halloween

     
    “A nice and fun, old-fashioned mystery. Halloween is Murder was a very well-written and fast read with great characters and a fun mystery with a resolution that I did not see coming.”
    –The Reading Café

    Ask anyone who loves Halloween and they’ll probably tell you their favorite part about it is dressing up. When you put on a costume, you can be whomever—or whatever—you want. It’s liberating! On top of that, it’s likely that there are all kinds of goodies lying around the house.

    When I was a girl, I loved playing Barbie. I loved dressing her up and assigning her whatever life story I wanted. And, man, did I enjoy it! Maybe for a little too long, in fact. I kept playing into my early teens! At the time, I felt like some sort of freak. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted this news to get out to the kids at school. They probably would have called me a baby or something like that. So I kept this part of my life a secret, and I justified my addiction by pinning the blame on my sister, who is six years younger than me—she needed someone to play with!

    Now that I’m older—much, much older—I look back and find this aspect of my past amusing. I realize that it’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, but it shows me that I’ve always loved telling stories and acting them out. No wonder I became an author!

    In the grand scheme of things, Halloween is very similar. The holiday allows people of all ages to participate in this fantasy, if only for one night. But as an author, I get to experience Halloween every day of the year. I become someone else every time I sit at my desk and immerse myself into the worlds of my characters. I get to delve into their minds, to know their thoughts, their feelings, their personalities, their lives. And I get to share my imagination with my readers. Now that’s a real treat!

    Speaking of, I’m going to grab a small bowl of candy corn and gummy peaches and get to writing. Happy Halloween!
    Carolyn Arnold

    Book Overview:
    Beware of all that goes bump in the night…Sean and Sara McKinley are excited about the haunted house they’ve set up as a Halloween charity fund-raiser, but things take a ghoulish turn when the reporter covering their story is found dead. With the media keeping mum about how she died, Sara’s curiosity is piqued, and she convinces Sean to take on the investigation through their PI firm.

    But this case is not without its challenges. The police are actively investigating it, as well, and it’s not even clear that the woman was murdered. It will take a little cloak-and-dagger, dress-up, and finesse for the McKinleys to get to the bottom of it, but they aren’t the kind to give up.

    As they troll for leads and work through the skeletons in the reporter’s closet, they unearth a few suspects, but they’ll need to carve out the whole truth if they’re going to find her killer. If they do so fast enough, there might even be time for a little trick-or-treating.

    Review: This is the first book I have read in this series, but I am sure it won't be the last! The Halloween theme makes it a very timely read, but it would be a good read for any time of year. It is also easily read as a stand-alone story if you haven't read the earlier books.

    Sean and Sara are a great couple....they complement each other's personalities well, which is always helpful for a sleuthing couple, as one can tend to keep the other out of trouble or danger at any given time. The supporting characters also fit well into the mix, and the goodhearted rivalry between Adam, the young tech genius, and Jimmy, the retired police sergeant, adds humor to the story.

    Along with the murder mystery, which is filled with red herrings and surprises leading up to a stunning reveal, we learn a great deal about Sean and Sara's haunted house project for charity. It is through that secondary storyline we meet the adorable young Mia, who was my favorite minor character.

    I would recommend this book to all cozy mystery lovers, and I definitely plan to read more of this series in the future.

    **I received a copy of this book from the publisher with no expectation of a positive review. All thoughts and opinions are entirely my own.**

    Rating: Four stars

     You can buy Halloween is Murder wherever books are sold, including the following popular retailers:

    To find out more about Halloween is Murder and the other installments in the McKinley Mysteries series, including box sets, visit CarolynArnold.net/Mckinley-Mysteries.

    About the McKinley Mysteries:
    Romance. Humor. Murder. Are you looking for a murder mystery without all the graphic violence and foul language? Something that you can enjoy in an afternoon and walk away feeling good about afterward? How about a dash of humor and romance? If so, meet former detectives Sean and Sara McKinley. When a billionaire leaves them all his money, they no longer have to work, but they find themselves sticking to what they’re good at—solving murders. Undercover, off the books, and around the world, they’ll get to the bottom of things…and romance it up along the way.

    This is the perfect book series for fans of Hart to HartCastleColomboMonkRockford FilesPsych, and Magnum PI.

    About the Author
    Carolyn Arnold is an international bestselling and award-winning author, as well as a speaker, teacher, and inspirational mentor. She has four continuing fiction series and has written nearly thirty books. Both her female detective and FBI profiler series have been praised by those in law enforcement as being accurate and entertaining, leading her to adopt the trademark, POLICE PROCEDURALS RESPECTED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT™.

    Connect with CAROLYN ARNOLD Online:
    Website | Twitter | Facebook
     And don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter for up-to-date information on release and special offers at
    http://carolynarnold.net/newsletters.