Tag Archive for: mystery

Release Day for An Unfamiliar Sea!

by Bethany Maines

An Unfamiliar Sea officially launches this week! An Unfamiliar Sea is a classic mystery with two sleuths: 28-year-old Tish Yearly and her 79-year-old grandfather Tobias.  Tish and Tobias navigate the rocky waters of living together in Tobias’s house on Orcas Island in the San Juan Island of Washington state, solve murders, and try to keep their dog Coats from getting diabetes.

This series was inspired by the time I spent assisting my grandmother before she moved out of her house, my childhood trips to Orcas Island and by those enduring one hour mystery shows like Murder She Wrote, Matlock, and Psych.  For me those shows were always about enjoying the quirks and foibles of the characters as much as the mystery. I enjoyed the puzzle of working out how someone died, but I loved seeing how the strengths and weaknesses of the detective would play out each week and how they would triumph in the end. And if you ever read any of my books, you’ll quickly realize that I like books with lots of chuckles and quick banter and these books are no exception. From Tish and Tobias arguing about condolence pie to the neighbors and who all have opinions on Tish’s dating life I try to keep readers laughing too hard to figure out the mystery (but good for you if you do!).  So if you want a mystery that makes you smile and feels like an island vacation between two covers, then please take a trip to the San Juan’s with Tish and Tobias Yearly.

**

AN UNFAMILIAR SEA 
In a storm, you never know which way is home.
Tish Yearly is about to open a wedding venue on Orcas Island, in the San Juan Islands of Washington State. All she wants is to sail through her first wedding, figure out why her best friend isn’t talking to her, and tell her grandfather she’s dating someone he doesn’t approve of. But before she can get to any of that, Tish’s favorite employee turns up dead—apparently drowned in four inches of water. Now Tish, and her grandfather, former CIA agent and current curmudgeon and licensed P.I. Tobias Yearly, are wading through the suspects including a meth-cooking uncle, a brother with anger-management issues, and the mysterious island drug kingpin, who may or may not be going straight. Tish is attempting to navigate this unfamiliar sea, but she may not be able to weather the storms to find her way home.

Learn more about Tish Yearly: Dru’s Book Musings Character Interview
Buy the book: Amazon

**

Bethany Maines is the award-winning author of the Carrie Mae Mysteries, San Juan Islands Mysteries, Shark Santoyo Crime Series, and numerous
short stories. When she’s not traveling to exotic lands, or kicking some
serious butt with her black belt in karate, she can be found chasing her
daughter or glued to the computer working on her next novel.
You can also catch up with her on Twitter, FacebookInstagram, and BookBub.

How to Craft a Mystery

by Bethany Maines
Step One:  Read the paper and/or listen to your weird uncle
to learn about strange ways people have died recently.  This usually involves blurting out something
like “ooh, another dead body!” while snatching up the paper in the middle of
the busy hour at a coffee shop. 
Bonus Points: If
someone shuffles away from you at the coffee shop, collect an additional 20 Murderer Alert points!
Step Two: Having
decided on your method of death it’s time for research! Start googling all
sorts of things that will help you cover up your crime.  Also, go on a vacation to the place that you
plan on putting your dead body. 
Bonus Points: If
you can say “This is a good place to kill someone!” in an aggressively cheerful
manner to the person at the tourist bureau who just wants to help, collect an
additional 20 Walking Sociopath points!
Step Three: Sit
down and write the book.  This is the
boring bit, but it does come with fun voices in your head to talk to.
Bonus Points: If
you finish the manuscript, collect an additional 20 I Have No Life points!
Step Four:  Realize that there is a plot-hole in your
book and go back to step three.
Bonus Points: If
you don’t become an alcoholic, collect an additional 20 At Least I’m Not an Asshole Like Hemingway points!
Step Five: Get
your book back from the editor and give back your Hemingway points while you
try to get over the stupid, stupid, stupid edits.
Bonus Points: Look,
you’ve got a complete book at this points, you shouldn’t need stupid bonus
points, but hey, if that’s what keeps you going, then take 5 I Need a Cookie points.
Step Six: Release
the book into the wild and realize that you are a winner!
An Unfamiliar Sea will be available on 1.21.20
Tish Yearly just opened a wedding venue on Orcas Island in
Washington State and one of her employees just drowned in four inches of water.
Now it’s up to Tish and her grandfather Tobias Yearly, the 79-year-old ex-CIA
agent and current private investigator, to find out who could have wanted the
sweet waitress dead. 

AN UNFAMILIAR SEA:
PRE-ORDER NOW! 











**

Bethany Maines is the award-winning author of the Carrie Mae Mysteries, San Juan Islands Mysteries, Shark Santoyo Crime Series, and numerous
short stories. When she’s not traveling to exotic lands, or kicking some
serious butt with her black belt in karate, she can be found chasing her
daughter or glued to the computer working on her next novel.
You can also catch up with her on Twitter, FacebookInstagram, and BookBub.

Anastasia Pollack visits The Stiletto Gang (or is it Lois Winston?)

I’m delighted to introduce you to my friend, Anastasia Pollack, and her creator, Lois Winston. With the holidays coming, I can’t wait to read Lois’ 8th book starring Anastasia – Handmade Ho-Ho Homicide and I bet you’ll feel the same once you get to know her.


What is your full name?
Anastasia Pollack

What is your Profession?
I’m the crafts editor for American Woman, a monthly women’s magazine sold at supermarket checkout counters.

How did you come to wind up as the protagonist of a cozy mystery series?
I was a typical middle-class suburban working mom when author Lois Winston hijacked my life. Now I’m a penniless widow who’s constantly dealing with murder and mayhem. Why would she do that to me?

I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that, but how did she do it?
Lois had my husband permanently cash in his chips in Las Vegas. I thought he was at a sales meeting in Harrisburg, PA. Turns out that was the tip of Karl’s iceberg of lies. After his death, I learned of his well-hidden gambling addiction. He’d not only blown through our savings, he’d maxed out our credit cards, taken out a second mortgage on the house, borrowed against his life insurance, and entered into a one-sided relationship with a bookie.

But wait! There’s more.

Karl also stuck me with his curmudgeon of a mother, a diehard communist, as a permanent houseguest. Lucille now shares a bedroom with my self-proclaimed Russian princess mother whenever she’s between husbands. You can imagine the fireworks that occur from that! I also have my two teenage sons, Mama’s cat, Lucille’s dog, and a Shakespeare-quoting parrot all crammed into my tiny suburban rancher.

But wait! There’s still more.
.
Lois decided there wasn’t enough conflict and stress in my life. So she started dropping dead bodies

at my feet.

Why do you think that your life has ended up being in a book?
I don’t know, but I definitely lost the heroine lottery. Lois used to write romances. Why couldn’t she

have chosen me for a heroine in one of those novels? Eight books and three novellas into the Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mysteries, and I’m still looking for my happily-ever-after.

Has she done anything nice for you?
Well, she did allow hunky photojournalist Zack Barnes to rent the apartment over my garage when

she could have rented to a couple of rowdy college kids. So I have to thank her for that since my relationship with Zack has progressed into much more than that of landlady and tenant. But being Lois, she couldn’t leave well enough alone. I seriously suspect the photography gig is cover for his real job—that of a government operative. He, of course, denies it, but how often do spies admit they’re spies?

Who should play you in the movie or TV show based on your books?
Tina Fey, hands down. In their starred review of Assault With a Deadly Glue Gun, the first book in the series, Publishers Weekly said I was “as droll as Tina Fey’s Liz Lemon.” So I think it would be only fair for Tina to portray me. And I hope the movie would lead to a franchise or the TV show would go into syndication for years after a successful run. I could use the money to help dig myself out of the financial mess Lois created for me.

Is there any aspect of your author’s writing style you like?
I do like that she’s given me a sense of humor, which helps me survive everything she throws at me—at least so far. I suppose I should be thankful she didn’t decide to write a series of noir mysteries.
What makes you stand out from any other amateur sleuths in your genre?

For one thing, I’m a reluctant amateur sleuth. Most cozy mysteries feature busybody sleuths. Me? I hate that people are calling me Westfield’s very own Jessica Fletcher. I didn’t ask for any of this. Also, most cozies are set in small New England, Midwest, or Southern towns. I’m a Jersey girl who lives in a Manhattan commuter town.

Thanks for sitting down with us today, Anastasia.

Handmade Ho-Ho Homicide
An Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery, Book 8

Two and a half weeks ago magazine crafts editor Anastasia Pollack arrived home to find Ira Pollack, her half-brother-in-law, had blinged out her home with enough Christmas lights to rival Rockefeller Center. Now he’s crammed her small yard with enormous cavorting inflatable characters. She and photojournalist boyfriend and possible spy Zack Barnes pack up the unwanted lawn decorations to return to Ira. They arrive to find his yard the scene of an over-the-top Christmas extravaganza. His neighbors are not happy with the animatronics, laser light show, and blaring music creating traffic jams on their normally quiet street. One of them expresses his displeasure with his fists before running off.

In the excitement, the deflated lawn ornaments are never returned to Ira. The next morning Anastasia once again heads to his house before work to drop them off. When she arrives, she discovers Ira’s attacker dead in Santa’s sleigh. Ira becomes the prime suspect in the man’s murder and begs Anastasia to help clear his name. But Anastasia has promised her sons she’ll keep her nose out of police business. What’s a reluctant amateur sleuth to do?

Buy Links
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07VG2QZXV/ref=as_li_ss_tl?keywords=Handmade+Ho-Ho+Homicide&qid=1563673299&s=gateway&sr=8-1&linkCode=sl1&tag=loiswins-20&linkId=cbd92af3c45b1134cb5408cc8450e3b4&language=en_US
Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/handmade-ho-ho-homicide
Barnes & Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/handmade-ho-ho-homicide-lois-winston/1132607263?ean=2940163093748
iTunes https://books.apple.com/us/book/handmade-ho-ho-homicide/id1473711082

USA Today bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance,

romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction under her own name and her Emma Carlyle pen name. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry.

Website: www.loiswinston.com
Newsletter sign-up: https://app.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/z1z1u5
Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers blog: www.anastasiapollack.blogspot.com
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/anasleuth
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Anasleuth
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/722763.Lois_Winston
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/lois-winston

The Second Shot Release Day!

by Bethany Maines
Have you ever seen one of those Looney Tunes characters just
runs around screaming?  That feels like
me today.  I mean, I’m trying to keep it
contained, but… inside I look like this.

My latest novel, The
Second Shot
, is now available to the public and that means that people will
(hopefully) buy it and then (ack!) read it. 
Today is the day that we see if all of my writing, marketing, and
general daydreaming has paid off. I’ll be celebrating the release with on-line
“take-over” parties and giveaways.
GIVEAWAYS:
Enter to win 1 of 10 print copies on Goodreads – giveaway
ends 10/26 – CLICK HERE TO ENTER

Enter to win a $40 Amazon card and a signed copy on Facebook – CLICK HERE TO ENTER
Meet me online and maybe get more free stuff!
October 25: Take-Over of Next Steps PR Facebook Page
October 30: BestStellars BestSellers Release Party (stay
tuned for who’s partying!) 
TRY BEFORE YOU BUY:
The Second Shot is
a thriller/mystery dished up with a heavy side of romance. Think that sounds
like you’re cup of tea, but aren’t quite ready to commit?  Read the first chapter at: bethanymaines.com/the-second-shot-chapter-1 
WHAT ITS ABOUT:
A drunken mistake in college cost US Marshal Maxwell Ames
the affection of Dominique Deveraux and six years later, he’s determined to fix
the slip-up. But there’s just one tiny problem—someone wants the Deveraux
family dead. Dominique Deveraux never expected Max to reappear in her life, let
alone apologize, but as Dominique investigates the mysterious attacks on her
wealthy family Max quickly becomes far more than her one time college
classmate. Now, Max and Dominique must dodge mercenaries and bullets as they try
to make sure that they’re the only ones who get a second shot.

Buy on all platforms: https://books2read.com/The-Second-Shot

The Marketing Paradox

by Bethany Maines

A funny thing happens when you begin marketing book. Suddenly
a project that has been intensely personal becomes public property. And even
worse, once it’s public, the public begin to have opinions about it. (The
nerve!) And as much as an author wants everyone to universally love our
precious baby novel, not everyone is going to. From reading while in a bad
mood, to just not being someone’s cup of tea, not everyone is going to like a
book.


But even if everything does go as smoothly as possible and
someone does love the book, suddenly ownership becomes shared with everyone who
loves it. The story takes up residence in someone else’s head which, for an
author who has had those characters living in her head for months or years, is
intensely strange and disconcerting. With each book I write I start out wanting
to share about it immediately.  It’s like
falling in love.  You’ve met these
wonderful, hilarious, romantic, daring people and you want to tell everyone
about them. But as I move into the marketing stage I find that in some ways I
become more protective of my characters and story. Please love that one even
though I’ve made him annoying.  And don’t
make fun of her – she has hidden depths! Although, yes, go ahead and hate
him.  We all should hate him.


Except that a book needs to be shared to be successful. I
want strangers to talk about it, readers to review it, and friends to share it.
Those things are literally what make a book a success. It is a very strange dichotomy
of wanting to shout as loud as possible while at the same time hoping nobody
looks at me while I’m doing it. So nobody look at me while I say this next
bit…


The Second Shot is coming out in two weeks!!! Please share the news with others.
A drunken mistake in college cost US Marshall Maxwell Ames the love of Dominique Deveraux. Six years later, he’s determined to fix the slip-up, but there’s just one tiny problem: someone wants the Deveraux family dead. Now Max must make sure that the only one getting a second shot at Dominique is him.

Pre-order on all epub platforms (Kindle coming soon!): CLICK HERE

Want a chance to win a free print edition of The Second
Shot? Enter to win at Goodreads!   CLICK HERE to Enter!


Bethany Maines is the award-winning author of the Carrie Mae Mysteries, San Juan Islands Mysteries, Shark Santoyo Crime Series, and numerous
short stories. When she’s not traveling to exotic lands, or kicking some
serious butt with her black belt in karate, she can be found chasing her
daughter or glued to the computer working on her next novel.
You can also catch up with her on Twitter, FacebookInstagram, and BookBub.

Countdown to a Joyful Form of Insanity

Countdown to a Joyful Form of Insanity by Debra H. Goldstein

Two things I’ve noticed reading the Stiletto Gang blogs for the past few years is that we are a diverse group of women in terms of ideas and lifestyles and we are a group of overachievers. There isn’t anyone in the group who isn’t over-extended in terms of family, writing, volunteering, handling health issues, teaching, or things I’m not even aware of.  Occasionally, in a post, we bemoan our status or announce we are prioritizing our lives, but the fact is there isn’t anyone whose picture appears on the side panel who ever fully has changed her lifestyle. While there might be some who have learned to balance better than others, the truth is we’re all some version of a Type A personality.

Periodically, I say I’m going to slow down and smell the proverbial roses, but I don’t. Right now, I’m in a countdown to true insanity. As you know, One Taste Too Many, the first of the Sarah Blair cozy mystery series, was published in January 2019. Although it already is up for pre-order, the second book in the series, Two Bites Too Many, will be in stores on September 24. Because of the close sequence of these books, I’ve been feeling mildly pressed.

In the past two months, I’ve turned in the final copy of the third book in the series, celebrated the birth of a grandchild, attended festivals and conferences as I continued promoting One Taste Too Many (btw, Kensington has reduced the e-book to $1.99 through October 1), and started writing blogs and other promotional pieces in anticipation of the release of Two Bites Too Many.

It sounds like a lot, but it works because I do one thing at a time, but even I’m a little nervous about

the next three months. The reality is I’m not good at balancing promotional activities with the other things I need to do. Somehow promotion always takes longer than I anticipate or when I finish a public speaking engagement or attending a conference, I have an adrenaline drop that makes me only want to do laundry or veg out in front of the television.

So what’s on my agenda for the next three months? Family obligations, which always come first; Kensington cozy cons, conferences, speaking engagements; my Birmingham book launch at Barnes and Noble at the Summit 2-4 p.m. on Sunday, October 6 and at Little Professor on October 17 from 4:30-7; the writing of blogs and other promotional pieces tied to the new book or that I write on a monthly basis; trying to make time to work out; and, beginning to write the fourth book in the series (yes, Kensington has contracted for a fifth and sixth book in the series which means there will be more Sarah Blair in 2020, 2021, and 2022).

I don’t think I’ll see daylight until December, but I’m not complaining. In some ways, I thrive on this type of insanity. What about you? What tips you into feeling insane? What makes you happy?

Cross Genre

by Bethany Maines
Cross-genre.  You’ll
hear the term a lot in writing circles. 
But what is it?  It’s book that
melds the elements of more than one genre together.  Books are coded by something known as a BISAC
code that allows libraries to appropriately shelve a book and search engines to
find it.  The list is extensive and
usually books can have two BISAC codes. 
(You can check out the list for fiction here: bisg.org/page/Fiction But
be warned—it’s extensive!)
My forthcoming book Shark’s
Hunt
, book #3 of the Shark Santoyo Crime Series, can appropriately be filed
under FIC031010 FICTION / Thrillers / Crime, but it’s possible that it
could be filed under FIC027260 FICTION / Romance / Action & Adventure
or FIC022000 FICTION / Mystery & Detective / General.    Or I could just go for a broad category and
label it: FIC044000 FICTION / Women. 
Am I the only one who finds it odd that women are a category of
fiction?  There isn’t a category for
Men.  Or is all fiction assumed to be
men’s fiction and we need to let people know that this book over here is just
for women? Seems odd, but we’ll just leave that one alone for now.
But beyond the BISAC codes, which while useful, are not the
end all definition of a book, there is marketing and that’s where things get
persnickety.  An author and a marketer
need to be able to tell and sell someone on a book in 30 seconds or less. 
The Shark Santoyo
Crime Series is a witty, romantic saga about a violent suburban underworld.
Shark Santoyo and Peregrine Hays are the Romeo and Juliet of the criminal set
and they are determined to find justice, revenge, and true love. There’s just
an entire mob and a few dirty FBI agents in the way.

So from my “elevator pitch” you should know that there’s
going to be violence, romance, crime, and a touch of humor.  But all of those things are hard to encompass
in a single book description and a cover.  
Which is why you’ll see cross-genre books “pushed” toward one genre.  There’s a girl in the book – make it sexy on
the cover!  Don’t mention the humor –
humor doesn’t sell!  On the other hand,
when a book succeeds you’ll hear people knowingly say, “Well, it’s really
cross-genre.”  Of
course, it’s cross-genre! No book is ever one thing entirely. It’s as though an author just can’t win. 

On the other hand, if you think cross-genre witty, romantic saga about a violent suburban underworld sounds fun, then check out Shark’s Instinct and Shark’s Bite and pre-order Shark’s Hunt today.

***
Bethany Maines
is the author
of the Carrie Mae Mystery Series, San Juan Islands Mysteries, Shark Santoyo Crime Series, and numerous
short stories. When she’s not traveling to exotic lands, or kicking some
serious butt with her fourth degree black belt in karate, she can be found
chasing her daughter or glued to the computer working on her next novel. You
can also catch up with her on
YouTube, Twitter
and Facebook
.

Living With a Mystery

by J.M. Phillippe

In October of 2018, some friends of mine and I met up at a shelter on the Upper East Side in Manhattan to look at cats. The giant, brand new ASPCA shelter was closed down for reasons the website wasn’t sharing, so we were at another city shelter — along with everyone else, it seemed. I met up with my friend, let’s call her J, and her two teenage twin daughters. The girls immediately went to look at all the animals, and were already getting misty eyed about the ones that might not be going home with anyone.

But me, I was on a mission: I wanted to get a bonded pair of kitties, one of them possibly being black since I’ve heard that black cats are still harder to adopt out. (Though it seems that this may be a myth, there were a lot of black kitties up for adoption.) I wasn’t sure if I wanted kittens or adult cats, but I knew I wanted cats under the age of six. I was still grieving the loss of my beloved Oscar, and wasn’t ready to take on senior kitties that maybe had health issues.

But while there were lots of tags talking about bonded kitties, it was soon obvious that the shelter wan’t actually focused too much on keeping them together. I was told by a volunteer that if both cats seemed social, bonded pairs would be separated and adopted out  individually, in order to give them their best chance at being adopted. I was also told that if you wanted to get a kitten you’d better show up early, much earlier than we had.

So we wandered around trying to find what I was looking for, and I was starting to think I was going to go home with a single cat (since, unless they are bonded, most shelters won’t let you adopt two adult cats at once). 

Then, the teen girls spotted them: two kitties, stuck in the less glamorous cages in the middle of the hallway, where the “special case” cats were. Two cats, whose cages had been connected, were curled up together, their backs to the world, their ears flat, trying everything they could to get away from anyone who tried to look at them. They were so terrified that the shelter volunteers draped towels over their cages to give them some privacy.

They were the only intact bonded pair in the place, and one of them was a black kitty. Here! the teen girls said. We found what you were looking for!

The problem was, they were too scared to do any sort of visitation, and too scared to even try to say hello to without hissing. Adopting these two cats would be adopting complete unknowns.

A couple I kept seeing around looking at kitties pulled me aside. Are you looking at those two cats? They are our second choice. We’d be really happy to see them go to a happy home. They are very sweet — we can tell!

So now I was getting big teenage girl eyes, and mopey couple eyes (they ended up going with a pair of cats that had some health issues and couldn’t be taken home that day), and these two cats who scrambled at the back of their cages when I tried to say hi to them.

So, of course, I adopted them. Brooklyn, a tabby, and Savannah, a black kitty.

The only thing the shelter could tell me was that they were owner surrendered and about four years old. Good health — a little overweight, and some teeth issues typical of their age.

The teen girls and my friend helped me carry them home to Brooklyn, no small feat while holding two cardboard carriers that had to be held just so or they might fall apart. When I got them home, they stayed in their open boxes until the next day, when they found hiding places in the living room. I consulted a friend who fosters cats who said to take them out of their hiding places and put them in the bathroom — the living room was going to be too much for them. I did, and it was a traumatic event for all three of us.

Eventually, after trying to figure out if I should change their names, I landed on calling them nicknames of their original names: B.K. for Brooklyn, and Savvy for Savannah. Slowly, they started to come out more, and spend time near me more, and eventually even let me pet them more.

When I went to make sure their microchips were transferred over correctly in my name, I found out that they were listed as lost. The shelter had updated all my information, but hadn’t updated their status. I found out they were born in 2014, and listed as lost in 2015, and then owner surrendered to the shelter on their birthday in 2018. As far as what happened to them in between or what their lives were like, I have no idea. Savvy startles at the sound of an opening can. Maybe that means something, maybe not. Both do not like to be picked up (yet). It’s been four months and they are just now able to sit either on my lap or curled up next to me, and they still run away if I walk in their direction. Maybe this is all about the trauma of being relocated. Maybe they are just naturally more skittish than some cats. Maybe something I will never know about happened to them.

In the meantime, we keep working on building trust together. In a weird way, I feel like we are all working through grief together, me getting over the death of the cat I had before them, them getting over the humans they had before me. Bonding wasn’t instantaneous for any of us, with me learning to love them as unique creatures over time and getting used to their specific personalities. Savvy plays fetch and curls up next to me in the bed but is more shy of strangers. B.K. is more curious and brave in general, and likes to sleep by my legs — she wouldn’t let me touch her the first month, but so far is the only one of the two who can tolerate being on my lap.

I still wonder — and probably always will — about the life they left behind. But I am very glad that we all found each other, even when their sibling rivalry acts up, or they meow loudly in the night just for attention. Theirs is the kind of mystery I can learn to live with.

***

J.M. Phillippe is the author
of the novels 
Perfect
Likeness and The Christmas Spirit, the sci-fairy tales Aurora One and The Glitter of Gold (part of the Galactic Dreams boxed sets)
 and the short stories The Sight and Plane Signals. She has lived in the
deserts of California, the suburbs of Seattle, and the mad rush of New York
City. She works as a clinical social worker in Brooklyn, New York and spends
her free time binge-watching quality TV, drinking cider with amazing friends,
and learning the art of radical self-acceptance, one day at a time
.

The Mystery of Crime Fiction

By Lynn McPherson

Have you ever wondered what draws a reader to crime fiction? Is there not enough crime in the real world that the human psyche longs for even more? Today, let’s explore the possibilities behind the love and longing for books that focus on the darker side of humankind. There are several sub-genres within the crime fiction family. I’ve chosen three of my personal favourites to discuss.

I love cozies. I read them. I write them. I have a mental note of books as long as Santa’s gift list of those I still have yet to read. I never seem to tire of them. The greatest part of cozies is getting to know the town and the characters that make each series unique. It’s like visiting your hometown or settling in to a comfy lounge chair to watch your favourite movie for the umpteenth time.  There is a familiarity that readers rely on and expect that cozies must deliver, if they are going to be successful. The protagonist must be likeable and the town must be where you’d love to spend time, as well as a recurring set of characters that draw the reader in, making them want to come back and visit with each new story. Comfort, escape, and a whodunit to challenge one’s intellect make it a no-brainer.
What about suspense or psychological thrillers? There is no known path. The reader must race through the pages to see if the character in jeopardy is going to be okay or achieve what they need to in order to get things back to normal—or at least, a semblance of order. When I read The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I had heart palpitations. I raced through each page, gripping the paperback novel like the outcome depended on it. There were moments I thought I couldn’t take it and would have to jump to the end—just to stop my anxious musings. But I knew there would be an end and that gave me the comfort and patience required to get there without cheating. There was great satisfaction with an ending that tied together all the most relevant details of the case. A perfect example of why they are so captivating to read.
Finally, let’s talk about police procedurals. These books have a professional detective in the police force who must follow the proper rules in order to solve the assigned case. This presents challenges that the cozy or amateur sleuth novels do not have to deal with, such as sticking to the law and proper procedure. You won’t see a detective sneaking around a suspect’s home to see what they uncover—that is, unless they have a proper warrant (I never like that part). However, they are granted access to crime scenes that a regular citizen is not given. The reader gets to walk in a police officer’s shoes and see what they see, with the tools and training given out by the department. We are given a glimpse into the mind of a police officer while we ride along like the proverbial fly on the wall. It’s fun to try and figure out if we make the same decisions and reach the same conclusions as the professional protagonist. It is an intellectual challenge and a journey into a life that most of us never get a change to experience.
With each category above, there is a different style and attraction that draws a reader in. However, the similarities cannot be denied—there is a puzzle to solve, a defined end, and a chance to live vicariously through the protagonist’s lens. Crime fiction allows a reader to escape into a dangerous story, path, or situation in which one would likely not experience in real life. By the end of the book, the reader can put it down, feeling satisfied that the story has come to completion. This, in itself, may be the best part of all.


Lynn McPherson has worked for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, ran a small business, and taught English across the globe. She has travelled the world solo where her daring spirit has led her to jump out of airplanes, dive with sharks, and learn she would never master a surfboard. She now channels her lifelong love of adventure and history into her writing, where she is free to go anywhere, anytime. Her cozy series has two books out: The Girls’ Weekend Murder and The Girls Whispered Murder.  

[Lynn’s Author Site] – [Buy Lynn’s Book]

Stiletto Heels, a Witch and a Deadly Dinner–TK Thorne



   Writer, humanist,
          dog-mom, horse servant and cat-slave,
       Lover of solitude
          and the company of good friends,
        New places, new ideas
           and old wisdom.

I love the idea of vicariously wearing stiletto
heels because that is the only way that will ever happen!  What Rose Brighton discovers, however, is
they might very well be good for something else.

Rose is a police officer who discovers she’s a
witch of House of Rose. She’s received an invitation to dinner from a
devastatingly handsome man, a warlock of another House of Iron. All she knows
is that someone from his House has been trying to kill her and wipe out her
family.

So, of course, she goes—

The Club (pronounced with emphasis on “The”) is a private
dinner club atop Red Mountain overlooking the city. Very posh. I wear my black
dress and a pair of heels I bought, which are killing me. How do women walk in
these things? I let the valet park the car, because I don’t think I could make
it all the way across the parking lot.
In spite of the fact that she is dead, I can hear Aunt Alice
in my head protesting how dangerous it is to meet Jason Blackwell anywhere. I
wonder if any of my family members were prone to do dangerous or impulsive
things. If so, I inherited it, and it’s not my fault, right? Besides, I’ve got
to have info, and I’m not going to get any sitting on my butt.
So, for the sake of gaining intelligence about House of
Iron, which I know nothing about, I am practically standing on my toes trying
not to fall on my face. My sympathies to the Chinese girls whose feet were
bound in ancient times to keep them small for the aesthetic taste of Chinese
men. Thinking about that horrid practice makes me angry. Why am I torturing
myself on these stilts for the pleasure of men?
By the time I make it to the private dining room, I’m
scowling.
Ciao, Rose!”
Jason Blackwell greets me, rising from his chair at a table by the expansive
window. “You are beautiful even when you look ready to eat the first person in
your path.”
“I look like that?”
“Indeed.”
“It’s the shoes.”
“Ah.” He pulls out my chair, and I sit . . . gratefully.
A bottle of wine chills in a bowl on a small stand by the
table. I’ve seen setups like this in movies, but this is way out of my comfort
zone. Jason gestures at the wine. “I took the liberty of ordering. It’s a fine
year. Would you like to try it?”
“Yes.”
He lifts a finger and a waiter I didn’t even see glides to
our table and opens the bottle, pouring a small amount in Jason’s glass. It
would be nice to have a touch of James Bond sophistication with wine at this
point, but I can see it’s a French white from the label, and that’s about the
extent of my wine knowledge. Fortunately, Jason seems at home with the
requirements and takes a sip, savoring it on his tongue for a moment before
nodding assent at the waiter, who pours my glass first, then his. I watch all
this with fascination, and because I am afraid to look at my date. He almost
hurts the eyes.
Suddenly Becca’s voice is in my head: Oh my God, Rose. Does he have a brother?
That breaks the spell and I smile. Thank you, Becca.
“So, has anyone tried to kill you lately?” Jason asks,
turning his attention to me.
I laugh and chastise myself for being so easily charmed.
This man, I remind myself, may have lived a lot longer than I, despite his
youthful looks.
“Actually, I have managed to outwit a sniper since we last
saw each other.”
His face, which I am now watching carefully, hardens. “I didn’t
know that. He missed, I assume.”
“How do you know it was a ‘he’?”
Now it is his turn to laugh. “Be easy, detective. I do not
know that. It was a chauvinistic guess.”
The waiter sets down a basket that smells heavenly. Jason
folds back the white linen to reveal the warm breads inside. “You must try an
orange roll, house specialty.”
I bite into it and close my eyes. After I swallow, my tongue
finds the bits of crystalized sugar on my lips.
Jason clears his throat. “I’m not sure if I wish to eat or simply
watch you eat.”
I open my eyes, my earlobes burning, and snatch at the menu.
I order fish, and he orders lamb. Appropriate. I feel like a
lamb stalked by a wolf and wonder if I used enough deodorant to last through
dinner.
Jason’s gaze drifts to the huge window that looks down into
the valley. “It is a beautiful view, isn’t it?” Below us, the lights gleam like
multicolored gems.
“It is.”
“Sometimes,” Jason says, “when I cannot sleep, I look down
on this from my bedroom window.”
Warning bells ding in my head. This personal revelation is a
bit of intimacy meant to make himself appear more human, a little bait thrown
out to gain my sympathy.
 I can play the game
as long as I know there is a hook beneath the bait . . . right?
“You have trouble sleeping?” I ask.
“More often than I’d like.”
I wonder what his
nightmares are about.
I take another swallow of wine and decide it is time to stop
flitting around. “I have a question.”
He arches a brow.
“Who is trying to kill me?” I ask.
For a swiftly passing moment, his face tightens. Anger? Then
the lines smooth and he considers me.
“I do not know.”
“You have no idea?”
“No.”
Was there the slightest hesitation before that answer? He
takes my hand and lightly rubs a thumb down the inside of my wrist. My pulse
jumps. ‘Jump’ is the wrong word, more like catapults.
. . . I take a deep swallow of wine and feel it burning into
my chest. “Are we going to have an honest discussion?”
His mouth crooks again. “That would be novel.”
“Answer the question,” I demand.
“Yes. Yes, we are going to have an honest discussion.” He is
amused again, which is irritating.
“You know more about who might have tried to kill me than
you are telling me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’m a detective, remember?”
“I think you are prejudiced against the House of Iron.”
“Maybe.”
He leans back. “I honestly don’t know. At times I’ve thought
it could be someone in my House, but I’ve no proof of any kind. Most of my
youth was spent in Italy where my father had a villa and a mistress. After his
death, I remained there. It is still my primary residence.”
“So who comes to mind when you think that?”
“Let us not play this game. I have no knowledge that my
family is involved. If I ever have, I will tell you. I find I have a desire to
keep you alive.
 Frutti proibiti sono i più dolci.”
“Which means?”
“Forbidden fruit is the sweetest.”
My ears burn again. “Is that a promise, Mr. Blackwell?”
“It is a promise.” He smiles. “Enough of that. Now, let’s
talk about you.”
My defenses rear up. “What about me?”
“I take it you are not a social butterfly.”
“Was it the shoes thing?”
He laughs. “In part. You are intriguing, Miss Brighton,
though forbidden fruit.”
I sip my own wine. “Forbidden? In what way?”
“House of Iron and House of Rose never . . . intermingle.”
“Really? Why is that?”
“Let us call it a strong cultural tradition. Both Houses must
marry outsiders.”
His reaction makes me suspect this prohibition is more along
the lines of prejudice, and my jaw tightens. “Them” and “us” exist even among
the witches and warlocks.
. . .Our food comes at that moment. It is beautifully
presented, with a small sprig of cilantro and a lemon wedge cut artfully in a
spiral design, and I realize I’m starving. While he talks, I eat, feeling his
eyes on me again. I want to believe he had nothing to do with my family’s
murder. I can’t explain why. I just do. Maybe because his eyes are so blue.
When our plates are whisked away, I excuse myself from the
table to powder my nose and wobble my way down the hall. “If I ever try to wear
heels again, just shoot me,” I mumble aloud.
A platinum-haired lady exiting the women’s restroom gives me
an odd glance. I smile and point to my ear. She sniffs in disapproval of the
concept of people talking on invisible phones in public and walks on with her
nose in the air.
Once inside, the first thing I do is kick off the shoes, sit
on the toilet seat and rub my arches. I linger just long enough to give my feet
a reprieve, wash my hands, and reapply lip gloss. Lipstick requires far too
much aim and control. My hair is curling wildly from the moisture outside, but there’s
not much I can do about that. I wash my hands and dry them in the curls, a
temporary taming technique. Reluctantly, I slip the heels back on.
In the hall, a girl with freckled skin and bony elbows steps
carefully around the corner, balancing a tray of glasses. Unbeckoned, a surge
of living-green sweeps into me. The girl freezes, and a shadow girl steps ahead
of her, slightly out of focus, moving in my direction. I am seeing the future,
moments from now.
A portly shadow man exits the men’s room, which is next to
the women’s room where I stand, and bumps into the girl, spilling her tray. He
turns on her, angry and wobbly, probably drunk. I can’t hear anything he says
to her, but it isn’t necessary. The slump of her shoulders reflects his abuse.
The whole thing fades, and the girl in my universe or time-line resumes walking
toward me.
Without thinking about it, I step to the men’s room and lean
against the door. Someone on the other side pushes to get out, but I set my
weight into it.
“What the hell?” he slurs from inside.
When the waitress is safely past, I move away from the door,
and it bursts open. The man staggers out like carbonated foam pent up in a can.
At that moment, the headache that seems associated with seeing into the future
hits me, and I just happen to step on his foot with my heel. “Oh, I am so
sorry,” I say and leave him cursing and limping in a circle.
These shoes might be good for something, after all.

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A retired police captain, T.K. has written two award-winning historical novels, NOAH’S WIFE and ANGELS AT THE GATE, filling in the untold backstories of extraordinary, yet unnamed women—the wives of Noah and Lot—in two of the world’s most famous sagas. The New York Post’s “Books You Should Be Reading” list featured her first non-fiction book, LAST CHANCE FOR JUSTICE, which details the investigators’ behind-the-scenes stories of the 1963 Birmingham church bombing case. Coming in November: HOUSE OF ROSE, the first of a trilogy in the paranormal-crime genre. 

She loves traveling and speaking about her books and life lessons. T.K. writes at her mountaintop home near Birmingham, Alabama, often with two dogs and a cat vying for her lap. More info at TKThorne.com. Join her private newsletter email list and receive a two free short stories at “TK’s Korner.