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Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts

Thursday, December 19, 2024

Interview of Jennifer Chase Author of Count Their Graves -Detective Katie Scott Book 12 (#Spotlight, #Triller)

 


A wind chime sways a sweet melody above several pairs of shoes neatly laid out on the welcome the mat: two large pairs, and three small. On the door frame, a perfect crimson handprint, the color of blood…  



Title: Count Their Graves

Author: Jennifer Chase

Publication Date: November 4 - December 27

Pages: 362

Genre: Crime Thriller

A wind chime sways a sweet melody above several pairs of shoes neatly laid out on the welcome the mat: two large pairs, and three small. On the door frame, a perfect crimson hand print, the color of blood…

Out on her morning run, Detective Katie Scott is stopped in her tracks when her service dog, Cisco, alerts her to something. Weaving through the towering pine trees, Katie is horrified to find a little girl alone in the woods, dressed in a white nightgown. The child sobs into Katie’s arms. She’s unharmed, but clearly traumatized. Scooping her up, Katie follows the trail to a large farmhouse. But what she finds there rips the air from her lungs: one, two, three, four bodies laid out side by side, all in matching pajamas.

The Banks family were attacked in their sleep, but how had the little girl trembling in Katie’s arms escape with her life? What twisted monster would do such a thing, and why leave no trace but a single bloody handprint on the doorframe? Katie vows to find answers for this sweet child who has lost everything and everyone.

Working night and day to piece together why this innocent family were targeted, Katie thinks she has her first lead when she discovers the family were under witness protection. Had they seen something they shouldn’t? Was the aim to silence them forever? Questions are still spinning in Katie’s mind when another family is discovered dead in their beds on the other side of Pine Valley.

With the entire department stretched to breaking point with an unprecedented body count and trace evidence stacking up, it’s going to take everything Katie has to track this twisted killer down. But as she closes in on her target, it’s clear someone close to Katie is keeping a deadly secret. How many more innocent lives will be lost before she can bring them to justice?

PRAISE:

5.0 out of 5 stars: A definite must read book and series!

“One of the things that I love about this author’s books is that she doesn’t shy away from the hard or difficult topics. Another is how she creates a realistic quality for the characters and their lives. There are no “perfect” characters or “make believe/fantasy” lives in these books. (That is one of the best things~in my opinion!) Because of these things, as well as many more, her stories are unique, passionate, creative, and intriguing. I have loved all of the stories that I’ve read, and can’t wait to read more.
I would definitely recommend this book, series, and exceptional author.” 

“Another great book in the series starring Katie and her dog Cisco. When one family are found all dead in their house apart from one of their little girls who they believed her mummy had helped her escape Katie and her team soon get to work. Someone is hiding who they really are and until Katie finds out who it is no one is safe not even her.
I really enjoyed this book like all of the others in the series that I have read. Looking forward to the next book.”  NetGalley

Release Date: October 30, 2024

Publisher: Bookouture

Soft Cover:‎ 978-1835256367; 362 pages; $11.99; eBook $3.99; Free with Kindle Unlimited; also available in audiobook .99

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Count-Their-Graves-completely-unputdownable/dp/1835256368

 

INTERVIEW:

Can you tell us when you started writing?

I've loved books ever since I can remember and writing just seemed like the next step. I've written on and off since I was a teen. I love mysteries and crime thrillers. I became a professional writer about thirteen years ago. With my background and education in forensics, criminology, and criminal justice, it became a great fit to write crime fiction.

Can you tell us how you came up with your title?

My publisher Bookouture created the title, Count Their Graves. They had several and we mutually agreed that this title fit the story.

Can you tell us a little about your main characters?

The main character Detective Katie Scott heads up the cold case unit and did two tours in Afghanistan with her K9 Cisco as an explosives K9 team. She's strong, tenacious, will hunt down the bad guy at all costs, but once she's your friend—she'll be loyal no matter what. Her partner, Detective Sean McGaven, is the calm and strategic detective compared to Katie's sometimes impetuous behaviors. And Cisco Katie's retired military dog helps with searches and tracking assignments.

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?

No I've never suffered from writer's block. I believe when this happens with writers it most likely stems from the fact that the storyline hasn't been completely thought through. It's easy to dive into a book and not have thought out everything.

Where is this book set, and why did you choose that setting?

It's set in the California Mountains at a fictitious town and area of Pine Valley. I wanted the series to have a rural, small town feel. And in larger rural areas, it gave me plenty to write out. 

What’s next on your writing to-do list?

I’m finishing up edits on one book and beginning to write another. It's always busy and challenging for me as a writer. 

Can you tell me about your experiences finding a publisher for the book?

I have an independent series, Emily Stone. I wasn't actively looking for a publisher, but someone that had a book blog site had read and reviewed some of my books. This person suggested to one of the editors at Bookouture to look at my work. I was asked to pitch a series storyline and the Detective Katie Scott series was born. I'm extremely thankful for the opportunity. 

If you were going to hang out with one of your characters, who would that be?

Detective Katie Scott and K9 Cisco all the way!

What do you like to do for fun when you’re not writing? 

I like being outdoors whenever I can—weather permitting. I love photography, dog training, and hiking. And of course I enjoy reading and some crafts too.

 

Book Excerpt

Katie stumbled forward onto her knees only to discover a little blonde girl with curly locks, dressed in an oversized white nightgown. The lace sleeves were longer than her tiny arms. Katie also noticed red spots splashed across the front and down the sleeves: blood.

“Good boy, Cisco,” she said, petting the dog, concerned by their discovery.

Turning her full attention to the little girl, she said, “What are you doing all the way out here, sweetheart?” She looked around to see if there was someone else, but it was deserted. There was nothing to indicate why the girl was outside. No footprints. No toys or pieces of clothing. It was as if she had been dropped here.

The sleepy-eyed girl appeared to be about four years old. “I’m cold,” she barely whispered as she shivered.

“Are you hurt?” said Katie as she looked for any injuries. The girl’s skin was icy, as if she had been out in the elements for a while—possibly a few hours. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Em… Emily,” she said.

“How did you get here?”

“Mommy brought me…”

A chill ran down Katie’s spine.

“Okay, Emily. Stay here with Cisco and I’ll be right back. Can you do that for me?” Katie wanted to pick the girl up, hug her, and take her to safety, but she needed to assess the area first. Security was her priority and then getting the little girl to safety.

The little girl nodded. Her blue eyes stared at Katie as she pet the dog. It was a look that Katie wouldn’t soon forget. The pure innocence struck her soul.

Katie stood up and unzipped her hoodie and then wrapped it around the little girl. The cool morning air hit her as she was now dressed in just a tank top. She pulled her weapon, still scanning the area. There was a farmhouse and barn down below the ridge and she assumed that was where Emily lived. There weren’t any other homes within view and most were likely several acres away.

Had the little girl ventured out without anyone knowing? Did the mother really leave her here? Or was there something terribly wrong?

Katie didn’t want to move Emily yet until she knew for sure that everything was safe on the property.

“Cisco, you stay.”

The dog instinctively downed next to the little girl. Emily’s small arms wrapped around the dog’s neck as she snuggled up against him for warmth.

Katie looked around and felt that, secluded in between trees, they would be safe until she could quickly search the area. Reaching into her pocket, she made sure her cell phone had a strong signal—which it did.

“Good boy, Cisco. Bleib… Wache…” She told Cisco to stay and guard the little girl. Her dog’s training words were in German, meaning stay and watch. Katie didn’t need to repeat herself because the dog knew what to do, but somehow it made her feel better. She hated leaving them alone, but it was the best way to proceed under the circumstances. By the time help arrived, it might be too late. She needed to report to dispatch exactly what was going on so that backup wasn’t blindly going into a potentially dangerous situation.

After taking one last look at Emily huddled with Cisco, Katie moved to the edge of the trail and began slowly making her way toward the backside of the house. She wondered how Emily got up the hill; there wasn’t dirt or mud on her gown.

Watching for any movement, Katie carefully stepped down the incline until she was on a walkway leading to the front of a modern farmhouse. There were unusual scrolled architectural details along the rooflines and windows that made it seem to be a custom build. Katie stopped and listened. The wind had died down and she felt the temperature had risen a few degrees from when she first began her run. Even though it was still cool, her skin was warm and clammy. Adrenalin was pumping, making her arms and legs strangely prickly and a bit shaky. She maintained her focus and continued to press forward. With her gun directed out in front of her, she kept moving, expecting anything.

There was a pickup truck and a minivan parked in the semicircle driveway, giving the impression that someone was home. The front of the farmhouse had a large porch with white wicker chairs and colorful pillows. There was a porch swing on one end and potted plants lined up side by side at the other. A cheerful welcome mat said, “Home Sweet Home.” A wind chime hung on the left side of the door and gently swayed a melody. There were several pairs of shoes carefully placed to the right side of the mat. By Katie’s quick assessment, there were two adults and three children that resided in the home.

The front door was wide open. Droplets of red spattered the porch and the entrance inside. Concentrated smudges were around the doorframe as if someone had tried to steady themselves.

“Hello?” she called out, watching her surroundings.

Nothing moved. No sound came from indoors. Katie’s senses were on hyper-alert. Everything seemed more vivid and louder than usual.

She cautiously stepped over the threshold and peered inside. The large open plan made it easy to see the living room, dining room, and kitchen in a quick scan. There were several photographs of the family—and she saw tiny Emily with an older boy and girl. Everything looked neat and orderly. That’s what made the bloody hammer lying in the middle of the floor so horrifying.

Katie stood surveying the room for a moment, taking a deep breath. It seemed that the bloody hammer had been dropped there. There were droplets of blood marking a path to the front door. There were no obvious signs of a struggle—no broken items, chairs overturned, or shelves spilled.

Katie turned and could see that the two main doors of the barn just across the open area were standing wide open. She wasn’t sure if it was instinct or fear that drove her, but she backed out of the house, careful not to disturb anything, and watchfully headed for the barn. Everything remained still and eerily quiet.

Katie kept to the sides of the barn and inched her way slowly to the opening. Her ears pounded. Her breathing shrank to shallow gasps. Staying low, she entered the building. It wasn’t a livestock barn, but rather a type of workshop and storage facility. Katie scanned the interior, taking everything in. Slowly lowering her weapon, she dropped to her knees in misery, only inches from the stagnant pools of blood on the ground in front of her. Barely registering what she saw, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the four bodies of a man, a woman, and a young boy and girl neatly lined up next to each other, still dressed in their pajamas.

– Excerpted from Count Their Graves by Jennifer Chase, Bookouture, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

 

About the Author
 
Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and USA Today Best Selling crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor degree in police forensics and a master’s degree in criminology & criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violent psychopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling.  

She is an affiliate member of the International Association of Forensic Criminologists, and member of the International Thriller Writers. 

Her latest book is Count Their Graves.

Website & Social Media:

Website – https://authorjenniferchase.com/ 

Twitter – https://twitter.com/jchasenovelist 

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenniferChase 

Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/jenchaseauthor/ 

Goodreads- www.goodreads.com/author/show/2780337.Jennifer_Chase



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Wednesday, December 18, 2024

Guest Post by Kenneth A. Baldwin Author of The Shards of Lafayette Book 1

 


A combat pilot and his magically-inclined mechanic discover the limits of loyalty, love, and friendship when they’re tasked with tracking down magical artifacts popping up around WWI’s Western Front.



 

Title: The Shards of Lafayette: Drops of Glass Book 1

Author: Kenneth A. Baldwin

Pages: 380

Genre: Historical Fantasy

1918. France. Reports of unexplained rogue attacks have come in from both sides of the Western Front.

When Marcus Dewar is tasked with investigating the aerial bombardments, it’s not because of his aviation record. To make a name for himself, he will have to escort his best friend, a woman named Jane Turner known for her witchlike repairs on damaged aircraft, through some of the war’s most dangerous battle zones.

But when they learn the rogue pilots seek out arcane devices filled with magic powerful enough to alter the war, it will take more than some hedgewitch tactics and smart flying to return with their lives.

And in a conflict that values human life so little, that’s the least they have to lose.

The Shards of Lafayette: Drops of Glass Book 1 is available at Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/Drops-Glass-Magic-Shards-Lafayette-ebook/dp/B0C42B144X .

 
 
 
 
GUEST POST: 

The Inspiration Behind The Shards of Lafayette by Kenneth A. Baldwin

Somehow, I got my hands on a copy of the personal diaries of Lieutenant Colonel Georges Thenault. It’s difficult to say what drew me into the pages, but I don’t doubt that somewhere inside of me a boyhood fascination with Charles Schultz’s Snoopy going wing to wing with the Red Baron lives on.

Thenault was the captain of a volunteer fighter squadron in WWI called the Lafayette Escadrille at a time when they didn’t even know to call them fighter squadrons yet. A group of American guys left their Ivy League educations to go and help France in its war against Germany. Many of them started as ambulance drivers, but somehow they ended up in airplanes. Thenault, a French officer, was assigned captain of this group, who wanted to name themselves the American Escadrille, but due to the United States’ neutrality, couldn’t do so without invoking the German ire and threatening relations between France and Uncle Sam.

Instead, they conjured up a name from the memory of the Marquis de Lafayette, a similarly young guy who gave up similarly great wealth to come and volunteer for the American Revolutionary War. 

I found reading Thenault’s firsthand account of managing this rowdy group of young men nothing short of magical, as I did the rudimentary and clumsy exploration of motorized flight, something that had been discovered by mankind only a decade earlier.

The Lafayette Escadrille captured my attention as firmly as it captured international attention during WWI. I wanted to explore the human magic that drove so many pilots like them to take to the skies and risk everything for the great game of combat aviation.

But beyond that, the bonds of friendship and love between fellow pilots, even when they were on opposite sides of the war, are so strong that they still have emotional power today.

So, I set out to tell a story about a young man who wanted glory as a combat pilot and his best friend, a woman known for her magical aviation repairs. 

I wrote the novel while in isolation during COVID, and I wanted to see how far friendship could stretch, to examine how important it really is to the human experience, by placing it under enormous, arcane pressure.

I also wanted to represent WWI in a way that is often neglected. I’ve had many readers refer to Drops of Glass as a “cozy war story,” and I don’t know if I’d go that far, but I’m proud of the moniker. It means that I was able to represent the human experience in the war out of the trenches in a meaningful way. Hopefully, those who read it can remember that the men and women who fought between 1914 and 1918 were more than lice-covered trench rats.

They are what we are built upon.



Book Excerpt


“Are those Boelcke’s goggles?” Marcus asked. 

Smith nodded and took them off.

“I Convinced Mustermann to leave them here as a sign of good faith.” Smith’s eyes glossed with a peculiar sheen. He laughed to himself and whispered. “I’ll be damned, but they work.”

I stared, grasping now for the first time the importance of Smith’s experiment. 

“You watched the fight through the goggles?” I asked.

“Hardly thought to grab them when the bomber showed up, but I’m sure glad I did.”

Marcus squirmed beside me.

“What do you mean they work?” he asked, a trace of anger on the edge of his voice.

“I mean that while Private Whiskey pulled his risky spiral, it just so happened to coincide with the German’s bottom gun jamming.”

“How do you know?” Marcus stammered.

But we all knew, at least after the fact. The bloated pause before Lufbery opened fire—a gun jam would explain it. A flash of sympathy for the pilots raced through me. How they must have panicked when they realized…

“It’s just like Mustermann said,” Smith replied, tossing the goggles brusquely to Marcus. “There’s something inside of you that goes off. And as you believe it, the plane gets a bit of a glow to it. Like the glow of a Christmas tree from down the hall after too many drinks. Hazy like, almost blurry. It’s like you could swear someone was shining a blue flashlight on the jammed gun.”

I turned to Marcus. Part of me wanted to flaunt how I’d been right, that the magic was real, but the danger of the immediate situation cut the wind from my sails. Instead, I hoped he would at least see reason. He saw red.

“Luf downed that plane because he’s the best pilot we have.”

Smith raised his eyebrows.

“Best American pilot, you mean.”

“Best Allied pilot.”

“Not by the numbers,” Smith said flatly.

“Then forget the numbers,” Marcus spat back, his voice raising.

I furrowed my brow.

“Marcus, you have to start believing. Why else would the Germans send a bomber after Mustermann if not to keep him quiet? These goggles are important. This mission is important. They must be on to something.”

“On to what?” Marcus asked. He shook his head “What? Blue flyers and special goggles? Smith, what if this is all part of a larger cup and ball routine? If I were Ludendorff, one of my top priorities would be finding a way to make the other Allied commanders lose faith in General Pershing. Isn’t this type of goose chase exactly the thing to accomplish that?”

“You think the Germans would sacrifice a Gotha bomber in a show of pageantry? Have you lost your mind?” I asked incredulously.

“I appreciate the point you’re trying to make, Marcus. But like it or not, she’s right.” He looked at the goggles with a faraway frown. “It’s too many validations. I don’t know if those goggles are some kind of military innovation or if they’re the product of some devious enchantment or what, but they worked for me just now. Could it be that the Gotha had some type of technology synched up with these goggles to show me what I expected to see? Maybe. But that’s not technology our government has any idea how to replicate.” 

“But, sir—”

Sharp shouts from Dupont and Atkins cut short our conversation. Calls for help mixed with rudimentary commands in German.

“This day keeps getting better,” Smith said as he peered through the trees toward the wreckage. “The pilot survived.”

– Excerpted from The Shards of Lafayette: Drops of Glass Book 1 by Kenneth A. Baldwin, Eburnean Books, 2023. Reprinted with permission.



About the Author
 

Kenneth A. Baldwin writes stories that blur the lines between history, magic, dreams, and reality. He loves finding oddities in history books with unbelievable tales or unexplained phenomena. His first series, The Luella Winthrop Trilogy, takes place during just such a time when late 19th-century Victorians struggled to balance a surge of occultism and never-before-seen scientific advancements.

Before he started writing novels, Kenny paid his way through law school by writing, performing, and teaching humor. You can still catch him on stage or in corners of the Internet that feature sketch and improv comedy. Now, he lives nestled under the Wasatch Mountains with his wonderful wife, sons, and Golden Retriever.

Website & Social Media:

Website www.kennethabaldwin.com 

X http://www.x.com/kennethabaldwin 

Facebook www.facebook.com/kennethabaldwin 

Goodreads ➜ www.goodreads.com/kennethabaldwin  

 

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Tuesday, December 17, 2024

Interview of Daphne Silver Author of the Rare Books Mystery Series(#interview, #Contests- Enter to win a GIFT CARD.)

The Rare Books Cozy Mysteries by Daphne Silver Banner

THE RARE BOOKS COZY MYSTERIES

by Daphne Silver

November 25, 2024 - January 3, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

CRIME AND PARCHMENT

 

A Rare Books Cozy Mystery - Crime and Parchment
Rare books librarian Juniper Blume knows this much… an ancient Celtic manuscript shouldn’t be in a Maryland cemetery. But that’s exactly what her brother-in-law claims.

Last year, Juniper saw the 1,200-year-old Book of Kells in Ireland. She learned how their bejeweled covers were stolen centuries ago, never to be seen again. So how could they have ended up in Rose Mallow, a small Chesapeake Bay town? Being Jewish, the Book of Kells might not be her sacred text, but as a rare books librarian, the ancient book is still sacred to her, making it important to Juniper to find out the truth.

Rose Mallow is the same place where Juniper used to summer with her sister Azalea and their grandmother Zinnia, known as Nana Z. Ever since Nana Z passed away, Juniper’s avoided returning, but her curiosity is greater than her grief, so she heads down in her vintage convertible with her rescue dog Clover.

Juniper discovers that her sister Azalea has transformed their grandmother’s Queen Anne style mansion into the Wildflower Inn, backing up to the Chesapeake Bay. Although Juniper isn’t much of a cook, Azalea has kept their grandmother’s legacy alive, filling the house with the smells of East European Jewish treats, like sweet kugels and tzimmes cake. Will coming back here feel like returning home or fill Juniper with a deeper sorrow? Can she apologize to her sister for not being there when she was needed most?

Purchase Crime and Punishment:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads



 

THE TELL-TALE HOMICIDE

 

A Rare Books Cozy Mystery - The Tell-Tale Homicide
Amazon | Goodreads
Rare books librarian Juniper Blume lands her dream job: creating a new museum in her Chesapeake Bay town of Rose Mallow, Maryland. But on her very first day, she makes a shocking discovery - a dead man clutching a book by Edgar Allan Poe, stolen from the collections!

As Juniper gets closer to cracking the coded message hidden inside the book, she realizes someone is desperate to keep its literary secrets buried… even if that means burying her too.

Dressed in her signature vintage style with rescue pup Clover by her side, the fearless bookworm must hunt down the culprit before becoming the next victim. But can she solve the case without jeopardizing a budding romance with her boss, the dashing Leo Calverton? And can she help her sister Azalea perfect their grandmother's legendary blintz recipe before the Rose Mallow Festival?

A delightfully deadly page-turner, The Tell-Tale Homicide continues the charming Rare Books Cozy Mystery series by Agatha award-winning author Daphne Silver. Fans of Kate Carlisle and Jenn McKinlay will love tagging along with the whip-smart, book-loving Juniper on her adventures.

INTERVIEW: 

Can you tell us when you started writing?

I’ve been writing as long as I can remember. In the third grade, I wrote my first story, "Walking Through the Attic of Time." My friends and I discovered that an old house's attic was actually a portal to the past. We traveled back in time to make new friends. As I grew up, I continued writing, even minoring it during college. However, it wasn’t until I became an adult that I began writing mysteries.

Can you tell me who or what the inspiration for the book was?

My main character Juniper Blume is a rare books librarian. She was inspired by two things: I have the pleasure of being married to a public librarian and also, I have spent most of my career in history museums, so creating a character that combined both of those passions was a natural fit. As for the story idea, it came from a trip to Ireland that my husband I took years ago, during which we saw the ancient Book of Kells in Dublin. Learning that its bejeweled covers have been missing for over a thousand years really made me curious and ask “what if?”

Can you tell us how you came up with your title?

Because Juniper is a rare books librarian, all the books in this series will have puns based on famous book titles. I loved the idea of Crime and Parchment, since it plays on her dealing with older books and the Book of Kells being written on parchment. The next book in the series is The Tell-Tale Homicide, which is a play on Edgar Allan Poe.

Can you tell us a little about your main characters?

Besides Juniper, there are several main characters, including her sister Azalea, who runs The Wildflower Inn - their late grandmother’s house turned into a hotel on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay. Azalea has a three year old daughter Violet who quickly becomes best friends with Juniper’s rescue dog Clover. Much of the story is also about rekindling the relationship between the sisters.

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?

Sure! To help with overcoming writer’s block, I start by drafting an intensive plot. While I’m working on the plot, if I hit a rough patch, I tend to just ask - what could go off the rails here? Who could Juniper run into? What kind of trouble could she find herself in? The answers may or may not end up in the book, but it helps keep the plot moving along. After I finish the plot, I go back and rewrite the story from the start, having a scene by scene guide to help me.

Where is this book set and why did you choose that setting?

Crime and Parchment and The Tell-Tale Homicide are set in the fictional town of Rose Mallow, on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay in southern Maryland. Rose Mallow is a former resort town, trying to recapture its glory days, but home to many charming shops and restaurants and eccentric characters. It’s based upon a few real towns along the Chesapeake Bay, most notably North Beach and Chesapeake Beach, which are linked by a public boardwalk.

What are your current/future projects?

The Tell-Tale Homicide, book 2 in the Rare Books Cozy Mystery series, will be out on November 19th. I’m knee-deep in book 3 and also working on book 4 as well.

How long did it take you to write the book, and how long did it take to get published?

There are two answers: about ten years or six months. Ten years because I first started writing about Juniper and Azalea around a decade ago after that trip to Ireland.

Six months because, after several starts and stops, I put the book aside. I wrote a history book, changed jobs, and had a baby. It wasn’t until my kiddo was entering kindergarten that I had enough brain space to attempt writing again. This time, the book flowed. Like a deluge. Finishing the first draft took about six weeks, give or take. Then I pitched it on a Twitter (which I also hadn’t used in a decade!) during #PitMad (the hashtag was short for pitch madness) and soon ended up with my agent Cindy Bullard of Birch Literary. By the spring, I had a deal with Level Best Books for the electronic and print versions of the book and Blackstone for the audio.

Do you have any tips for a young writer just starting out?

Keep writing! Read widely in general and then deeply in your genre, be that literary fiction, sci-fi, romance, mystery, or what have you. And read with an eye to structure, voice, pacing, and plot. If you plan to subvert expectations in your genre, know those expectations first.

Writing can feel solitary, but don’t let it be. Find your community. I joined Sisters in Crime, including both my local Chesapeake chapter and the Guppies (Great UnPublished) chapters. I cannot stress how incredible of an organization Sisters in Crime is, and I’ve been involved with several associations during my career. Everyone is so caring, and the organization provide incredible resources for its members. Learn more at www.sistersincrime.org.

Series Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Series:The Rare Books Cozy Mysteries
Series Links: Amazon | Level Best Books

Read an excerpt from Crime and Parchment:

CHAPTER 1

My 1965, robin’s egg blue convertible backfired as I parked in front of the Wildflower Inn. The noise set off Clover barking in the backseat. Not exactly the quiet homecoming I’d hoped for. I jumped out of my Karmann-Ghia – or “KG” as I’d nicknamed her – to check under the hood, hoping I wouldn’t need to get the roadster serviced yet again. No idea where that money would come from.

A screaming, ranting madwoman poured out of a neighboring house. Maybe in her late seventies, she brandished a large umbrella. I dropped the hood to find the umbrella pointing at me. Clover – all twenty pounds of him – jumped out and started growling.

“Easy, boy,” I said.

“You shoot something off, Missy? Here to cause trouble? Because I’m on the board of the Friends of the Rose Mallow Police.” the woman said. She wore a perfectly fitted Mamie Eisenhower pink skirt suit with enormous pearls – straight out of the 1950s. Her white bouffant billowed around her head. She reminded me of a researcher I’d helped earlier that day at the Library of Congress. That woman had been a murder mystery author looking for books about early detectives. This woman looked like she wanted to murder someone – namely me.

Suddenly I remembered her: Cordelia Sullivan. She was my late grandmother’s arch-nemesis. After my Nana Z had moved to Rose Mallow, they’d competed to be the president of almost every board in town. Nana Z had called it a “friendly rivalry to garner the most civic goodwill,” but I don’t think Cordelia saw it that way. To her, the Blume family were – and always would be – outsiders in her perfect Chesapeake Bay town.

“What’s going on?” My sister Azalea appeared on the wraparound porch of the Wildflower Inn. Although I was two years younger at twenty-eight, she looked like my twin, except that her hair was much longer and darker than my slanted bob. She pushed her bangs back and brought a hand up to her forehead when she saw me. “Juniper? What on earth are you doing here?”

“Well, I…” My words faltered. I’d spent the past hour driving and trying to figure out how to tell Azalea about why I’d finally returned, but every time I tested the words out loud, they failed. Clover had listened with confused curiosity before giving up and falling asleep.

“You know there’s a noise ordinance,” Cordelia said as she waved her umbrella around. Clover barked at the offending instrument. However, I think he wanted to play with it more than anything else. Occasional growling aside, he’s not exactly attack dog material.

“Yes, Mrs. Sullivan. Not until 10 p.m., and it’s not even 8 o’clock yet.” Azalea’s exasperated voice led me to suspect that she’d had this conversation more than once.

“Hmph. I plan on taking your ‘halfway house’ to the zoning board. What a travesty to do to our pristine historic district. You know I’m president of the Rose Mallow Historical Society.” Cordelia wagged a finger at my sister. I closed my eyes before rolling them.

“Mama! Mama!” A young bundle of legs and a mop of nearly black hair appeared next to Azalea on the wraparound porch. I couldn’t believe how big Violet had grown. She was almost four years old now.

She latched onto Azalea’s legs and held on tightly. I wanted to run up to my niece and smother her in hugs and kisses, but I wasn’t sure how I’d be received. Clover apparently did too because he took off after her. The little girl squealed with laughter as he covered her in licks.

“Go inside, Vi. It’s past your bedtime,” Azalea said. She turned to us. “I don’t have time for this. As you can see, I have a young child requiring my attention. Plus, I have a house full of guests. Mrs. Sullivan, it sounds like you have a plan in place to handle my zoning and noise issues. I’ll leave you to it. And Juniper, if you’re here, then let’s get you inside.”

Violet ran inside, letting Clover follow. I took that as a positive sign, so I grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and followed quickly, as Cordelia monitored us. Her umbrella remained held out in the air. She reminded me of Don Quixote in pearls.

“You’ve done an incredible job restoring the place,” I said as I walked across the perfectly manicured lawn. Azalea had recently converted Nana Z’s Queen Anne style mansion into a boutique hotel. After so many years away, I hadn’t been sure what to expect.

She eyed me with uncertainty. I could tell she was debating whether to chew me out for not being here for any of the work, let alone the hotel’s grand opening earlier in the spring. But my sister is much better at maturity than I am.

“It’s been a journey. Not an undertaking for the faint of heart. Repairing that turret alone had me almost give up and put up the for sale sign.” Azalea pointed up to the three-story round tower protruding from the side of the house. As a kid, I used to pretend Nana Z’s home was a castle and fought many dragons racing up that tower.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I said ‘Almost,’” she replied with a laugh.

“I love how bright the yellow siding is. I bet that color really pops in the morning against the Chesapeake Bay.” I walked up the stairs to the wraparound, past garden beds bursting with purple coneflowers and Black-Eyed Susans, Maryland’s state flower.

“You know what’s funny is how much I hated canary yellow when we were little. Every time we came here, I’d always wished Nana Z’s house was more like Cordelia Sullivan’s with her dark greens and rich reds. But now that Nana Z’s gone, I couldn’t stand to change it,” Azalea said.

“But it’s such a cheery color. Why would you want something so drab as Cordelia’s place? ” I asked. As a kid, Cordelia’s house had been as scary as the owner. Losing a ball into her yard meant it was never coming back. Neighborhood kids claimed her house was haunted.

Azalea shrugged. “Yeah, the yellow’s growing on me.”

“You kept this mess?” I said when I spotted the clunky clay mezuzah on the doorpost. I’d made the case at Jewish day camp as a kid. Inside was a tiny parchment scroll inscribed with biblical verses in Hebrew. The painted clay design was supposed to be a bunch of zinnias in honor of Nana Z’s first name, but it looked more like a lumpy mud puddle than a bright firework of flowers.

Azalea shrugged with a smile. “Oh, there are a few of my own masterpieces on some of the other doors inside. Maybe I’ll get Violet to make some new ones.”

The inside was as exquisite as the outside. I don’t think my memories did the place justice. The stained glass above the front door also sported Black-Eyed Susans, while those above each window featured a different native wildflower.

Azalea had kept our grandmother’s lush red carpets with ornate gold and white floral patterns. Polished mahogany inset panels gleamed from the walls. A staircase with beautifully carved spindles fed into the large lobby.

On the left was a parlor that Azalea had turned into the registration space. On the right was the library, overflowing with leather-bound books. It was in this room I had discovered my love for stories and books as a child. I wouldn’t have become a rare books librarian at The Library of Congress without Nana Z’s library. I sighed, wishing things were going better there. Nana Z would have been proud of me, but my job had become so difficult since I lost that promotion to Greyson. A little birdie had told me not to expect another chance for a long time, which meant I was stuck with someone Nana Z would have described as a “shlemiel.”

A narrow hallway disappeared between the registration area and the staircase, which led back to the dining room and kitchen. I remembered how those overlooked the back garden, public boardwalk, and the Chesapeake Bay. I could imagine how ornately she’d decorated the upstairs bedrooms.

Clover sniffed at everything in sight. I monitored him, but he was having a grand time exploring. Just not too grand of a time. I tried sending the message to him telepathically. He lifted his nose at me, as if to say, “Who, me?”

“I love that you hung some of Nana Z’s watercolors,” I said. My eyes grew misty as I gazed at her paintings of native flowers, including dwarf crested irises, ironweed, columbine, and, of course, the rose mallow for which the Maryland town was named. I shook my head, pushing the grief down deep.

A teenager hunched over a thick book sat at the registration desk. She had long, bluish-green locs that looked beautiful against her sepia brown skin. Her large glasses were rimmed in a matching turquoise color. She looked up from the book and said, “Sorry, Azalea. Vi got away from me.”

The teen didn’t seem alarmed, but then again, neither did Azalea. I wondered if this happened frequently. Maybe Vi was a regular escape artist. Nana Z would have been pleased. I held back my smile.

“I’m Juniper, Azalea’s sister,” I said to the teen as I extended my hand.

“You have a sister?” she asked Azalea with a look of surprise. Then she recovered, shook my hand, and said, “I’m Keisha Douglass. I’ve been helping Azalea with the Wildflower Inn. But, uh, we’re all booked up tonight.”

“I’ll figure it out,” said Azalea. “Although giving me some sort of a heads up you were finally coming would’ve been nice, Juniper.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I smiled awkwardly. Clover raced over to the desk to check out Keisha. The desk was higher than him, so he couldn’t quite see atop. Fortunately, she came around to pet him. “Oh wow! A dog? We’re allowing dogs now?”

I turned to check with Azalea, who massaged her temples. She breathed deeply but then simply shrugged. Great. Not only had I shown up out of the blue, but I hadn’t checked to make sure pets were allowed. I was pretty sure I knew the root cause of her sudden headache. I smiled sheepishly.

“No worries, Keisha. Clover’s the exception to the no dogs rule. Vi’s fine. I’m going to put her to bed,” Azalea said, as she ushered the bouncing kid down the narrow hallway and turned abruptly right before the kitchen. Unsure of what to do, I followed. There was a small sitting room there, which she had reconfigured into a bedroom. It was a tight space. Azalea caught me staring. “It’s a temporary solution. I’m still working on updating the Carriage House in the back garden. Once I’m finished, Vi and I will move there.”

Vi ran around the room, fighting Azalea’s attempts to return her to bed. My sister paused mid-chase and said, “This may take a bit. You know where the kitchen is. Why don’t you go there, start a kettle of tea, and I’ll meet you there when we’re done? I was getting ready to pull a kugel out of the oven anyway.”

That was my sister, always gently commanding, whether it was an unruly neighbor, an energetic preschooler, or me, the surprise guest. I thought of her like a duck. Above the water, she appeared to be smoothly sailing along, but below, it was a mad fury of management to keep everything afloat.

“A kugel?” I asked with excitement. Nana Z had made plenty of the baked noodle casseroles each summer. Sometimes they were savory, but more often, they were sweet, made with lokshen, or egg noodles, and various cheeses.

Azalea looked pleased. “I’ve been trying to perfect her recipe. You’ll have to tell me what you think.”

I knew immediately she meant Nana Z. As we headed down the hallway, I caught the aroma of the decadent noodle pudding. I could already detect the cinnamon she’d used. My eyes watered slightly at the memories the smell produced.

The kitchen was both familiar and new. No longer was it the 1890s meets 1970s chic that Nana Z had employed. Azalea had replaced most of the yellowed appliances with updated stainless-steel, upgraded the laminate countertops to granite, and removed the harvest gold wallpaper to paint the in vogue “greige” along with a matching subway tile backsplash. Someone had been watching a lot of HGTV. But it was still Nana Z’s kettle on the stovetop, her handcrafted cookie jar on the counter, and a variety of favorite teas in the same cabinet location. Being here felt like being at home, but only if that home had been completely renovated when you weren’t looking.

The view out back remained the same, looking past a blooming garden of blue hydrangeas and the small Carriage House, to the public boardwalk separating the garden from the Chesapeake Bay. On good days, you could make out the shoreline on the Eastern Shore. Being early June, the sun was beginning to set beyond the Bay’s edge, so the view became a Tonalist painting with its atmospheric blues, grays, and browns.

Clover found an embroidered tea towel to play with. I tried pulling it away from him, but he decided that meant the game was afoot. I dug into my suitcase and found his food. I borrowed a couple of low rimmed bowls to fill with his dinner and water. He quickly abandoned the towel for something to eat.

According to the timer, the kugel still had a few minutes left in the oven. I caught the kettle before it whistled and filled up two mugs. Given the abundance of Darjeeling black tea, I assumed it was still Azalea’s favorite and prepped it for both of us. Within a few minutes, she came in, plopped down on an empty seat, and dropped her head to the table. I sat up in alarm, afraid that my cool as nails sister might be about to cry.

***

Excerpt from Crime and Parchment by Daphne Silver. Copyright 2023 by Daphne Silver. Reproduced with permission from Daphne Silver. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:
Daphne Silver

Daphne Silver is the Agatha Award winning author of the Rare Books Cozy Mystery Series. Her first novel, Crime and Parchment (Level Best Books, 2023), won the Agatha for Best First Mystery Novel. Her latest book, The Tell-Tale Homicide, comes out November 2024 from Level Best Books. She’s worked more than twenty years in museums and symphonies and has the great fortune of being married to a librarian. When she’s not writing, she’s drawing and painting. She lives in Maryland with her family. Although she’s not much of a baker, she won’t ever turn down a sweet lokshen kugel.

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