Pages

.

Seasons of Death/Echoes of Death Book Tour with Marlene Mitchell and Gary Yeagle


In the fall of 1969 in the foothills of East Tennessee, a farmer, by the name of Millard Pender, a local moonshiner, is shot and killed along with his wife Etta. All of the animals on their farm as well are shot to death. Their two young sons, ages eight and ten are hidden high up in a nearby tree during the killings and go unnoticed. Later, when interviewed by the police, the two frightened boys report that four drunken hunters wonder onto their father’s property. The boys overhear the drunken laughter and conversation of the hunters: the cold wet sleet and rain swept weather has made for an unpleasant day of hunting. The men haven’t even seen a single deer, let alone fired their guns.

It was then that the hunters decided to take a few potshots at an abandoned school bus at the edge of the Pender property. Between the breaking glass of the windows and the pinging of shells off the side of the bus, the hunters don’t notice the approach of Millard Pender and his three vicious Rottweilers.

Leveling his twelve gauge shotgun in the direction of the hunters, Pender sternly orders the men to leave his property. The hunters argue with Pender, stating that they are just having some fun shooting at a worthless rusted out bus. Pender fires a warning shot over their heads and warns them that coming up into the Iron Mountains and messing with mountain people is not a good idea. Unless, they want to disappear and never be heard from again, they need to move on.

After cursing Pender, the four hunters decide to leave. The two boys, watching the entire incident climb down and run through the forest to another tree up ahead where they are once again hidden. As the hunters approach the opposite side of the Pender property they come across two young fawns in a small pen. Their mother had been killed and the two boys were raising them until they were old enough to be set free.

One of the hunters, upon seeing the young deer raises his rifle and kills one of the fawns, the second young deer soon to follow as yet another hunter joins in on the senseless slaughter.

Old man Pender hearing the shots, appears out of nowhere and empties his shotgun, as he shoots one of the hunters in the arm, another in the leg. He releases the three hounds as he tires to quickly reload, but the hunters, trying to defend themselves not only shoot Pender to death, but the three dogs as well. One of the hunters, the leader of the group, in a state of drunkenness shoots a horse grazing in nearby field. Mrs. Pender, hearing the commotion runs down from the house to see what’s going on, but is shot to death as well.

The two boys, now scared to death remain high up in the tree, still unnoticed by the hunters. They listen to the conversation below as the hunters leave as they vow to never divulge their involvement. Between the rain and sleet and the hunting equipment the men were wearing, the boys are unable to identify the men who murdered their parents.

Forty years later, in the small community of Townsend, Tennessee more commonly referred to as “The Peaceful Side of the Smokies,” one of the local citizens, a man by the name of Asa Pittman is found brutally murdered on Thunderhead Trail in the Great Smoky Mountain Park. Pittman is a man who is not well liked because of his treatment of animals, but the manner in which he is killed is appalling to the locals. The clues left behind at the ghastly murder scene indicate that Pittman had been duct taped to a tree, beaten over the head with a tree branch and then his fingers had been amputated with some sort of tool. He was then left to bleed out, still secured to the tree. The coyotes, birds, insects ands whatever other wildlife who picked up on the scent of blood finished the job long after the murderer escaped into the woods.

Little did the local police or the residents realize that this was just the first in a string of brutal murders that would take place in or near Townsend, a town where there hadn’t been a murder in over a hundred years. Someone was getting revenge!


Seasons of Death
Book Synopsis:

In the fall of 1969 in the mountains of eastern Tennessee, a poor backwoods farmer and his wife were brutally shot and killed by four drunken hunters, along with their three dogs, horse and two fawns. The farmer’s two young sons managed to escape but were unable to identify the killers. Now decades later, the murders of the Pender family remain unsolved. In Townsend, Tennessee, in Blount County, someone has decided to take revenge.

Echoes of Death
Book Synopsis:

It’s springtime in the Smokies and despite the four murders of the previous year, tourists from every corner of the country have made the journey to Townsend, Tennessee. The hiking trails are packed, the restaurants are jammed, and the campsites are full. Vacation season is in full swing in the peaceful side of the Smokies.
But then… there is another murder.

Links:
Seasons of Death - Amazon
Echoes of Death - Amazon


About Marlene Mitchell:
Originally from St. Louis, Marlene makes her home in Kentucky now. A mother and grandmother, Marlene has a wide range of interests including watercolor and oil painting, yet writing has always been her passion. That comes through loud and clear in her wonderful novels!

These novels reflect a genuine sincerity with very strong characters to which her readers can relate. To quote Marlene: “It took me a long time to start writing, but now I can’t stop. The stories just keep on coming.”

About Gary Yeagle:Gary Yeagle was born and raised in Williamsport, Pa., the birthplace of Little League Baseball. He grew up living just down the street from the site of the very first Little League game, played in 1939.

He currently resides in Louisville, Kentucky, with his wife and four cats. He is the proud grandparent of three and is an active member of the Jeffersontown United Methodist Church. Gary is a Civil War buff, and enjoys swimming, spending time at the beach, model railroading, reading, and writing.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

reade more... Résuméabuiyad

Murder in the Monastery with Lesley Cookman Book Tour: A Day In The Life of Libby and Fran


It’s an ordinary day in Steeple Martin, a quiet village in a corner of Kent, England. It’s almost as quiet in Nethergate, an old fashioned seaside town a few mies away, although this is the beginning of the holiday season and a few early visitors are already on the beach opposite Fran Wolfe’s Coastguard Cottage on Harbour Street. Balzac, her black and white long haired cat, is sitting on the deep windowsill watching them.

In Libby Sarjeant’s garden, under the cherry tree, Sidney the silver tabby is stretched out, pretending not to watch the blackbird hopping from branch to branch above his head. Libby herself is standing in her conservatory staring at the almost finished painting on her easel and wondering, if she could get it finished this morning, if that could be the excuse to drive down to Nethergate in time for lunch with her best friend Fran.

The trouble is, Libby’s bored. There have been no mysteries to solve, no adventures to get involved in, and there’s nothing going on at the Oast Theatre, where she acts and directs.  Ben Wilde’s family own the theatre, and The Manor which sits next to it, and he will be there all day, working in the estate office.  So, she rolls up her sleeves and gets on with it.

Later, she loads the painting, another small watercolour view of Nethergate Bay, into the back of the car, and hopes it’s dry enough. She drives down Allhallow’s Lane in the bright May sunshine and turns into the high street, where she parks outside the Pink Geranium, the restaurant owned by her friends Harry and Peter. Harry, the chef, can be seen inside, and she gets out of the car and taps on the window.

Having booked in for dinner that evening, she waves at Bob the Butcher, standing in the doorway of his shop, gets back in the car and drives off towards Nethergate.

From the top of the hill, she can see the whole of the bay, with the brooding Dragon Island in the middle and the red and white painted lighthouse over to her left on the very tip of the point. Down the hill she steers the little car, past The Swan Inn at the bottom, and turns left into Harbour Street, where she finds a parking space not far from Guy Wolfe’s shop and gallery. She delivers her painting to Guy, then walks the few yards to Coastguard Cottage, where Fran is waiting for her.

At the other end of Harbour Street sits The Sloop Inn, next to the Blue Anchor café and opposite the tiny harbour. The two tourist boats, the Dolphin and the Sparkler bob gently at anchor, while their captains, George and Bert, sat outside the Blue Anchor and Mavis serves them tea.  Libby and Fran sit outside The Sloop and order fresh crab sandwiches and wave at George and Bert. After lunch, they stroll down to Lizzie’s tiny ice cream shop and buy huge cones of freshly made vanilla ice cream, and leaning on the railings overlooking the beach, eat them watching the holiday makers.

Libby accompanies Fran back to Coastguard Cottage, where she says hello to Balzac, then, back to the car and back to Steeple Martin.

The village high street is even quieter than it was this morning. Parking the car opposite Number Seventeen Allhallow’s Lane, Libby sees Sidney watching from the window of the sitting room. As soon as she opens the front door, he shoots out between her legs, off up to the end of the lane and the woods.

A cup of tea at the kitchen table, a quick tidy up, then a pre-dinner drink when Ben arrives.  A little later, a stroll down to The Pink Geranium, where Guy and Fran are already waiting for them, sitting on the sofa in the window, a bottle of red wine on the table before them. Libby’s son Adam, who helps out in the restaurant occasionally, somes forward in his long white waiter’s apron and gives Libby a kiss on the cheek and the menu. Harry waves from the kitchen, and Peter strolls in to join them.

An ordinary day in Steeple Martin and Nethergate. But tomorrow – who knows?

Murder in the Monastery - Cover
About Murder in the Monastery:
The eleventh book in the Libby Sarjeant series of British murder mysteries which features a retired actress as the female sleuth and are based in the picturesque village of Steeple Martin.

Libby Sarjeant is invited to look into the provenance of a jewelled Anglo-Saxon reliquary which has appeared on a website. The nuns at St Eldreda’s Abbey are curious, as it apparently contains a relic of St Eldreda herself. Libby’s friend Peter obtains permission to mount a play based on St Eldreda’s story in the ruins of the original monastery called, naturally, Murder In The Monastery. And then, inevitably, a real body is discovered, and Libby and her friend Fran find out that this is not the first.

Lesley Cookman - Author Photo
About Lesley Cookman:
Lesley started writing almost as soon as she could read, and filled many Woolworth’s exercise books with pony stories until she was old enough to go out with boys. Since she’s been grown up, following a varied career as a model, air stewardess and disc jockey, she’s written short fiction and features for a variety of magazines, achieved an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Wales, taught writing for both Kent Adult Education and the WEA and edited the first Sexy Shorts collection of short stories from Accent Press in aid of the Breast Cancer Campaign. The Libby Sarjeant series is published by Accent Press, who also publish her book, How to Write a Pantomime, with a foreword by Roy Hudd. Lesley is a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, the Society of Authors and the Crime Writers’ Association. Links to their sites are listed below.
Lesley’s pantomimes are published by Jasper Publishing.

Purchase from Amazon.
Connect with Lesley Cookman: Website | Twitter | Facebook

Enter to win a $25 Amazon.com gift card or $25 Paypal cash here.
reade more... Résuméabuiyad

Review: Death and the Courtesan by Pamela Christie

Currently Reading
Blurb: Pamela Christie's sparkling historical mystery goes beyond the modest drawing rooms of Regency London in the company of the city's most esteemed and scandalous courtesan. . .

Since the age of sixteen, Arabella Beaumont has been happily employed as a highly paid woman of pleasure. True, respectable ladies of the ton would never deign to call at Lustings, her delightful home. Then again, Arabella has no desire to make dreary small talk and sip tea when she could be enjoying the company of amusing, intelligent, and extremely generous gentlemen.

But while Arabella's admirers are legion, she also has enemies. A paper knife stolen during one of her salons was discovered near the body of a former rival. Arabella was entertaining her wealthy benefactor on the night of the murder, but the engaged duke can't provide the alibi she desperately needs. It falls to Arabella and her resourceful sister, Belinda, to clear her good--or at least innocent--name. Utilizing all the talents in her arsenal, the irrepressible Miss Beaumont will endeavor to catch the real culprit, before the hangman catches up to her. . .

My Review: If you love mysteries and Regency romance, have I got a book for you!!! Arabella Beaumont is one of the wittiest, spunkiest amateur sleuths I've encountered in quite some time.

In the opening scene our heroine, a highly paid courtesan, is enjoying a leisurely breakfast in bed, planning an upcoming trip to Bath where she hopes to catch a glimpse of Jane Austen, when she discovers shocking news in the paper. A former friend and rival, Euphemia Ramsey, has been found murdered with Arabella's monogrammed letter opener! (The insignificant item that caused the estrangement between Arabella and Euphemia, a ruby glass elephant, ends up playing a pivotal role in the outcome of the story.) Death by hanging is most certainly in Arabella's future unless she can track down the real killer, and thanks to her protector and sister/fellow courtesan Belinda, she's given a month to do just that. When a famous courtesan turns to the man who wants her hand in marriage for help, the Rector of Effing ("That Effing church! Those Effing choirboys!"), Regency London just may never be the same again.

All I could think while reading this book was what a wonderful PBS British mystery series it would make. I can hardly wait to see what deliciously naughty adventures await Arabella in the next book!


I received a copy of this book from the publisher with the request for a review.


reade more... Résuméabuiyad

Tara Thursday: I'm a Lucky Girl


Hey everybody, it's Tara! I have an exciting announcement to make...starting today Thursdays will be all about my favorite topic - ME!!! And why shouldn't I have my own column??? I am the tortie on the blog header, after all. What I want to know is what took Mommy so long to ask me!

But I can't complain too much, I have it pretty good around here. As a matter of fact today I want to talk about how lucky I am. That might sound kind of strange coming from a kitty with as many medical issues as I have, but the truth is, if Mommy hadn't adopted me 6 years ago I probably wouldn't be here today. She loves me so much and makes sure I get everything I need. I've been diabetic and on insulin for two years now; since August of last year I have been on 4 different medicines for my heart problems; and I take a powder to prevent those awful urinary tract infections that hurt so much and an immunity-boosting supplement to slow the progress of whatever is growing on my spleen.

Look at my medicine box...all of this for one little kitty...


I really think a guardian angel was looking out for me the day Mommy saw me at the shelter and fell in love with me at first sight. Many people would have given up on me long ago. Nine months ago we never thought we would still be together today; the doctors are even amazed by me.

I call it the power of love.

Note from Mommy: I'm the lucky one.

reade more... Résuméabuiyad

A Q&A with Pamela Christie, author of DEATH AND THE COURTESAN

(June 2013 / Kensington / Trade Paperback Original / ISBN: 978-0-7582-8640-6) 


What was the biggest challenge you faced while writing DEATH AND THE COURTESAN? 
Solving the mystery. Because ireal life, I like to leave the mysteries unsolved. Once I was in a pet store comparing the prices on chicken feed blends while a Mynah bird in a cage on my left appeared to be studying me with great interest. Suddenly it said, “Hi, Pam!” I couldn’t believe I’d heard that. So I pretended that I hadn’t. But the Mynah stuck its beak through the bars and said, “HI, PAM!” again, slowly and loudly, so I that couldn’t possibly ignore it. My roommate heard it on the other side of the store. She came over, with her eyes the size of saucers 
“Did you hear what that bird said?” she asked.  
“Oh, God. You heard it, too? I thought I was merely having a psychotic break.””  
“What are you going to do?” she demanded. 
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, it’s pretty agitated. I think you need to answer it, don’t you?”  
The Mynah was bobbing up and down on it’s perch, staring at me and flapping its wings. “Hi,” I muttered, feeling like an idiot. It stopped bobbing and cocked its head to one side.  
“So,” it said, conversationally. “How ya been?”  
Come on, Margie,” I cried, grabbing my roommate“We’re getting out of here!”  
And as we ran for the door the bird called after us, “THAT’S NOT VERY NICE!”  
Was I scared? Yes, indeed, but it’s not what you think. I was afraid that if I’d stayed to ask the owner about it, I’d have received some rational explanation, like “Oh, yeah. My wife’s name is Pam.” Of course, there might have been an even bigger mystery. He could have said, “I know. That bird’s uncanny! Whoever comes in here, total strangers, whatever, he instinctively knows their name.” But odds were that the answer was much more prosaic 
And, as I’ve said, I like to preserve a little mystery. 

Why do you write about England?  
Because I don’t live there. When I lived in Africa I wrote about Hollywood. When I moved back to LA I wrote about Africa. In Alexandria, Virginia, everything reminded me of Seattle. Now I’m in Seattle and I write about England. 

What’s the best writing advice you ever got?  
In the back of my mind, whenever I write I hear my metaphysical literature professor, saying –  and you have to imagine this with an East Indian accent –  “I cannot tell you what literature is. But I can tell you what it is for. The dual purpose of literature is to teach and delight.” Professor L. was a brilliant man. I never got to know him personally, but I was great friends with another professor, who used to drink with him on a regular basis. They must have made an interesting couple: he was quite a small man, and she was this big, horsey woman. One night, she told me, when he was quite sloshed, he turned to her and slurred: “Tell mee jokes...vith a sexual connotation.” Then he slid from his bar stool to the floor, and Anne carried him to the car in her arms, looking, I imagine, like the Mortimer Snerd of Calcutta. 

How do you stimulate your imagination?  
I’m visual, so looking at pictures of the places I’m writing about really helps to center my prose. I also like to find faces that look the way I picture my characters. 

Describe one perfect moment in your life.  
Following a personal tragedy in the 1980’s, I wanted the comfort of my family around me and went home to California. My mother was absolutely wonderful. All I wanted at the time was to walk and walk and walk in my favorite public gardens. We went to the Huntington and the Arboretum, and on New Year’s Day, we went to Descanso. The gate to the instructional center, which is usually locked, was wide open. I used to take classes there as a child: vegetable gardening, pond life, terrarium construction. There was a secret pond on the property that I had always loved and had not seen in over 20 years, owing to the locked gate. You have to understand how important this place is to me: whenever I’m stressed out, or unable to fall asleep, I picture myself on that pond, lying in a canoe, endlessly drifting through the flocks of water birds and gazing up at the clouds. And on this day, when I needed it most, there was suddenly access to this lost world. As Mom and I made our way down the pond, you probably won’t believe this, but a sunbeam broke through the cloud cover and illuminated two chairs, placed right at the water’s edge! We sat on them, filled with awe, as more sunbeams broke through, lighting up the green water to a depth of several feet. And suspended there, we saw 7 turtles – all different kinds and sizes, hanging motionless, with their necks stretched out underwater in the golden light.  

What is your earliest memory? 
When I was a toddler my parents both worked, and I spent my days at the home of my Mexican Babysitter and her husband. They had a wonderful house, with a big parrot in a cage on the front porch, and strings of peppers and garlic bulbs. Every room painted a different color. I loved it there, and I adored Mimi and Jose, but every day after lunch, I was placed in a crib in the blue bedroom to take my nap. And on the nightstand was a Dia de Los Muertos figure, a skeleton, draped in blue like the Virgin Mary. At the bottom of the eye sockets (can this even be right?) there were two red light bulbs, that shone with palpable evil in the darkened room. I would scream and scream when they left me alone with this thing, but I didn’t yet know how to say “Take that away!” Or even “I’m scared!” The Cottas just assumed I was resistant to napping. So they let me scream myself unconscious. And this went on, every week, 5 days a week, for, I don’t know...6 months? It kind of fascinates me now...I’m told I was only 1 ½ when this happened. Why would a baby be frightened of a skeleton? Babies don’t know about death. Do they? 

What sort of people do you find the most difficult to bear?  
People who mess up the balance of life by forbidding all negativity. You have to have both: good & evil, politeness and rudeness. If everything was hearts and flowers all the time, we wouldn’t have any good stories.  

What are you working on now?  
Volume 3 of 10 in the Arabella Beaumont mystery series. In this one, the hare-brained Constance has unwittingly provided pornographic pleasure to paying voyeurs with Lady Ribbonhat’s footman. And because she conducted her affair at The Palais de Beautay (‘So much more than a beauty salon!’) the evil Madame Zhenay is blackmailing her. Arabella would dearly love to leave Constance to her fate, but she will be out £46,000 if she does, and her new courtesan club has to be paid for!  

Visit Pamela Christie online at: www.pamchristie.com 



ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 
Pamela Christie lives in Seattle and teaches English.  


ABOUT THE BOOK: 

Arabella Beaumont, courtesan parfait, is widely held by the bucks of Regency London to be the most desirable creature on two legs...or off them. She lives well and does as she pleases –  an altogether agreeable arrangement – until her rival is discovered in a pool of gore, stabbed with Arabella’s monogrammed paper knife!  
Though she has a month to discover the real murderer, Arabella is almost certainly going to swing for this, because it’s riot season, and the prince regent feels that a celebrity execution would be just the thing to mollify those mischievous mobs!  
Will she triumph, despite the obstacles? There seems to be quite a lot of them: adverse publicity; the vindictive Lady Ribbonhat; a wicked little nephew, and Arabella’s useless friend, Constance, who advises her to wear men’s trousers to her hanging so the gawkers won’t be able to look up her dress for free. Well, at least it was good while it lasted.
reade more... Résuméabuiyad