Review of Beyond the Cemetery Gate by Valerie Biel (#contests Win A $10 Gift Card @partnersincr1me)

BEYOND THE CEMETERY GATE

The Secret Keeper's Daughter

by Valerie Biel

March 3 - 28, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

When the police rule her dad’s death an accidental overdose, 16-year-old Chloe refuses to believe it and vows to find his killer. Alone against a potentially corrupt, small-town police force, a persistent social worker seeking proof that she has adult supervision, and precariously low funds, Chloe learns that her dad’s life as a cemetery caretaker masked a web of family secrets that quite possibly led to his death—and are now putting her in mortal danger.

Needing freedom to investigate, Chloe pretends that her only surviving relative, a famous war correspondent, has returned from an overseas assignment to be her guardian. But living alone in the caretaker’s house in the middle of the cemetery, mere feet from the crime scene, puts Chloe’s nerves on edge even before she unearths clues about the shadowy side of her small town. Help comes from unlikely and surprising allies: the colorful owner of the local retro diner, the quiet new classmate with his near-perfect memory, and a spirit who visits in her moments of greatest need.

But as Chloe gets closer to the truth, someone else is getting closer to Chloe, watching her every move. And when her aunt turns up on international news reporting from a war zone, Chloe’s cover is blown. Now the race is on to reveal her dad’s killer—but perhaps—Chloe isn’t as alone as she thought.

Book Details:

Genre: Young Adult Mystery Suspense
Published by: Lost Lake Press
Publication Date: October 31, 2024
Number of Pages: 342
ISBN: 9780998173641 (ISBN10: 0998173649)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

REVIEW:

I have always loved a good mystery or thriller, but "Beyond the Cemetery Gate" is one of the best mystery novels I have ever read. The author did a fantastic job of introducing us to the protagonist, Chloe, a strong-willed young lady who discovers her father dead in the cemetery where he worked, allegedly due to a drug overdose. 

Throughout the book, Chloe embarks on an adventure to uncover the truth about her father's death. A character known as "The Watcher" appears numerous times, keeping an eye on her. As the story unfolds, the backstory of her family's history is revealed, which adds depth to the plot. 

The novel explores themes of grief, corruption, mystery, and secrets, and it kept me hooked from the very first page. While reading the book, I was trying to figure out who the "The Watcher" was, and I never guessed who it was. The book was exciting, well-written, and had memorable characters. Great Job, Ms. Biel! 

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

CHLOE

In the space between sleep and wakefulness, a sound seeped into my consciousness. The sense that something wasn’t quite right pulled me fully awake. I listened beyond my own breathing for it to come again.

A wail pierced the silence. An animal in pain? Only it wasn’t. I knew it was human. I slipped from bed to stare out into the cemetery. The tombstones always made for fascinating or eerie shadows, depending on how you felt about graveyards. I never minded, which was a good thing, considering my house was smack dab in the middle of one.

The sound came again, more of a moan this time, followed by a murmur of voices. I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but people were definitely in the cemetery. One of them was scared or maybe hurt. Dad wasn’t going to like this. He locked the gate tight every night. The only way in was to scale the tall, spiked iron fence or pick the lock. Either one was going to piss him off.

In the distance, a pinpoint of light moved away from where I perched. It was too small to be a flashlight . . . maybe a cell phone?

I padded down the hall to Dad’s bedroom, calling for him. His door was ajar, and the hall light was enough to show his empty bed, the covers rumpled and thrown back as though he’d gotten up quickly. He must have heard the same thing.

His boots weren’t in their usual spot by the back door, so I knew for sure he’d gone to investigate. I had to help because Dad and I were a team, small and mighty, he said. We always made it through everything together.

In my hurry I forgot to stop the screen door from slamming behind me when I stepped out onto the porch, cringing when the sound echoed through the night.

I waited a moment and then whispered, “Dad,” as loudly as I dared.

No answer.

I angled toward the part of the cemetery where the small light had been, thinking I’d find him corralling some kids from high school pulling a prank. It happened once in a while but usually in a few weeks—closer to Halloween. I knew more than a handful of idiots my age who would think this was funny.

I hadn’t heard the wailing or voices since I left the house. Maybe whoever it was had left? That hopeful thought disappeared as a weird combination of worry and fear crawled up the base of my spine. Just in case it was something more menacing than kids, I hid my approach behind the cemetery’s largest and oldest tombstones. Maxwell, Bell, Ludington . . . I touched their cold granite and the mossy green lichen growing up their sides as I slid between them. I expected to find Dad by now. Where was he?

A terrible thought pushed me into full fear mode. What if the person making that horrible scream was Dad? It hadn’t sounded like him, but … what if he was out here somewhere and hurt? I had to find him!

My breath quickened and a damp sheen of sweat prickled my skin.

I sped up, more concerned with finding him than being seen. The cemetery was big, but I had to be close to where I’d spotted the light. I calmed myself long enough to pivot in a slow circle, my bare feet sliding on the dewy grass. The main gate was open, obviously where the trespassers came in—and hopefully where they’d gone out.

It was quiet and dark.

The cemetery had no lights of its own, and the glow of streetlights reached only to the second row of graves. Here and there, solar decorations shimmered for dead loved ones as cheerfully as possible but didn’t shine far enough to be helpful. The darkness didn’t hinder me. The cemetery had been my playground since preschool, so even in the dark I was able to avoid every tree root, odd stone, or divot that might trip me up.

I decided to be systematic and jogged a grid pattern, snaking through the rows. I stopped short and gasped at the next turn. A body was slumped against the base of my favorite statue, a white marble angel holding a sword and shield.

“Dad!”

He didn’t move. In two quick strides, I was at his side. “Dad!”

I gave his shoulder a gentle shake, and his head tipped sideways.

“Oh my god! Wake up!”

I needed a better look and found the light on my phone. What I saw scared me even more. Dad’s face was pale, his eyes unfocused. I needed help—fast!

Dialing 911 seemed impossibly slow for three simple numbers.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“It’s – it’s my dad. He won’t wake up.”

“What’s your location?”

“I’m in the city cemetery. My dad is the caretaker here.”

“What’s your name?”

“C-Chloe Cowyn.”

“Okay, Chloe, can you check whether your dad’s breathing?”

I bent low and placed my face close to Dad’s mouth. “I don’t think so. Please hurry!”

This didn’t make sense. Had someone hit him? I didn’t see any blood. I swept my eyes over his legs and arms—stopping abruptly at what I saw.

“Nooooo.”

At first, I thought the wailing had returned, until I realized that I was the one making the sound eerily like what woke me.

“Chloe, are you okay? I have help on the way. Stay on the line with me until they arrive.”

“No. No. No.” My cell phone dropped from my hand as I backed away.

Tears blurred my view until I could no longer see the needle stuck in my dad’s arm.

***

Excerpt from BEYOND THE CEMETERY GATE: The Secret Keeper's Daughter by Valerie Biel. Copyright 2024 by Valerie Biel. Reproduced with permission from Valerie Biel. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Valerie Biel writes books for middle grade to adult audiences--stories inspired by her travels and her insatiable curiosity. Her award-winning, young adult fantasy series, Circle of Nine, was inspired by the myth and magic of Ireland's ancient stone circles. She's also the author of Haven, a contemporary middle grade novel, and Beyond the Cemetery Gate, a YA mystery suspense story. She helps other authors with their book promotion and marketing and frequently teaches writing workshops to students of all ages. When Valerie's away from the computer, you might find her wrangling her overgrown garden, traveling the world, and reading everything she can get her hands on. Once upon a time, she graduated from the University of Wisconsin with degrees in journalism and political science. She lives with her husband on a (tiny) portion of her family's century-old farm in rural Wisconsin, but regularly dreams of finding a cozy cottage on the Irish coast where she can write and write.

Catch Up With Valerie Biel:
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Guest Post by Elizabeth Crowens author of Bye Bye Blackbird (#spotlight, #Guest Post, #Contests win a $10 Bookshop.org Gift Card 3 winners)

 

 

I want to welcome Beth Crowens to Books R Us. Beth is the author of Bye Bye Blackbird (The Babs Norman Golden Age of Hollywood Mystery Book 2.) The author has written a guest post just for my readers. Enter the great contest below and thanks for stopping by.

 

BYE BYE BLACKBIRD

by Elizabeth Crowens

February 17 - March 14, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A BABS NORMAN HOLLYWOOD MYSTERY

 

In the summer of 1941, Hollywood heats up again when Humphrey Bogart arrives right after a female corpse with a dead bird stuffed inside her overcoat topples into the office of B. Norman Investigations. While filming The Maltese Falcon, Bogie found a mysterious ancient Egyptian hawk artifact on his doorstep containing a mummified black bird. Someone with dark intentions threatens the main cast, one by one, leaving dead birds, from crows to falcons, as their calling cards.

While more murders pile up, jeopardizing the film from being finished, Bogie hires private eyes Babs Norman and Guy Brandt, infuriating his volatile third wife, Mayo Methot, or Sluggy, as she’s known in some circles. Unraveling the personal lives of Mary Astor, John Huston, Sydney Greenstreet, Elisha Cook, Jr., Peter Lorre, and Jack L. Warner in their quirky, humorous way, the PIs turn the underbelly of Tinseltown upside down to stop the crazed killer from claiming another victim.

 

GUEST POST: 

 

The Happy Accident

 One thing I can say about writing Bye Bye Blackbird is that it involved a lot of research. How many times did I have to watch The Maltese Falcon? Enough that I stopped counting. Often, I’d have to watch it from a different point of view, keeping my eyes peeled for locations, furniture, the clothes people wore, and the particular facial expressions they’d make. Did I ever get bored? Never.

The books I read were a different story altogether. And yes, there were multiple, expensive trips to Los Angeles since I don’t live there anymore full time. The Airbnbs I stayed at were hit and miss. Never perfect. The last one I stayed at was such a nightmare that I wrote a humorous mystery-horror short story about it. One anthology already rejected it. Perhaps it will find a better home in the future.

However, I read stacks of out-of-print celebrity biographies, and some weren’t all that easy to find. When books weren’t always available, I’d take my chances with clipping files at places like the Downtown branch of the LA Public Library and the Margaret Herrick Library for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences—the organization that brings you the Oscars.

Once in a while, however, I’d stumble upon what I call the “happy accident.” That’s when you’re researching one thing, but come across a juicy tidbit of information that you know will come in handy at some time and somewhere. So, if you’ve read the first book in my Babs Norman Golden Age of Hollywood series, Hounds of the Hollywood Baskervilles, which just today I found out was nominated for an Agatha Award for Best Debut Mystery at the Malice Domestic conference https://www.malicedomestic.net/ (Whoo hoo!). Basically, it’s about two young PIs who join forces with Basil Rathbone (Sherlock Holmes in the 1940s) and the Thin Man duo of William Powell and Myrna Loy (who play Nick and Nora Charles), to stop a

celebrity dognapping ring. So, it focuses on dogs, although my heroes manage to accumulate a whole menagerie of animals they rescue in the process.

In my new sequel to Hounds, Bye Bye Blackbird, the plot centers on threats toward the cast of The Maltese Falcon. We still have a few dogs carried over from the first book, but now the theme is about birds. Our PIs have somehow inherited a foul-mouthed, wisecracking myna bird who sounds like a Warner Brothers cartoon. But getting back to the “happy accident,” I had to read a biography (actually several) on Jack L. Warner, the executive head of production at Warner Brothers. In one of his biographies, he mentioned at one point someone gave him a foul-mouthed, wisecracking myna bird, but he out cursed the bird and drove it berserk.

Of course, I had to use that in my book. Things like that are too good to make up.

 

Bye Bye Blackbird Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Golden Age of Hollywood Private Investigator novel with satire
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: January 28, 2025
Number of Pages: 340
Series: Babs Norman Golden Age of Hollywood Mystery, Book 2 | Each is a Stand-Alone Mystery
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

Look at the Birdie!

Hollywood 1941

On Friday, July 4th, only the most essential, dedicated, or insane Los Angelenos punched the clock. Established businesses that usually stayed open closed early that afternoon. For the fledgling ones, like the young private detectives at B. Norman Investigations, there would be no weenie roasts, barbeques, or national holiday celebrations. Death would soon follow. Every electric fan they owned hummed its own tune. Between the fan blades whirring and the cats purring, panting dogs, who could qualify as hotdogs, an injured pelican with its wing in a sling, and their janitor’s wisecracking myna bird, the whole kit and caboodle at Hollywood Boulevard and N. Sycamore resembled a cross between the Humane Society and the Griffith Park Zoo.

Guy Brandt, more detective-partner than secretary, manned the desk upfront. On top of it: a shoebox of magazine clippings, scissors, and a stack of The Times and Herald-Examiner. He undid one more button on his clammy, sweat-stained shirt, flung his tie onto their hat rack, and took a swig of his warm Nehi orange soda, already flat. He hoped to find new clients from newspaper leads but wasn’t getting anywhere. Babs Norman, who always had every pin curl in place, patted off her sticky forehead with a handkerchief. Way beyond a simple touch-up with powder and fresh lipstick, only a masterful makeup wizard, like Perc Westmore, could bring new life to this wilted flower.

“Wouldn’t it be fine and dandy if we could afford to run an ad at least once a week saying that we’re private detectives, specializing in discreet celebrity cases?” she asked.

An adventurous kitten, who strayed from the pack, latched on to Guy’s sock and started to climb his leg. “Maybe we should ask if we can put a note in the downstairs lobby that we’re also a pet adoption service.” He unhooked its claws, returning him to his mama.

“You think that would pay off our debts?”

“Do you always have to sound like a broken record?” An Irish Wolfhound, in need of a bath, sauntered in from the doorway between the two offices. He went up to Guy and plopped his oversized, hairy head into his lap. “Dog days not agreeing with you, Sir Henry?” After rubbing the furry beast’s head, he went to their icebox and plopped chunks of ice in the various water bowls scattered around both rooms. Several prostrated cats laid on their backs, trying to find coolness on the linoleum floor.

From under his pile of clippings, he fished out a copy of Black Mask. Babs, with a wooden clothespin clamping her nostrils shut and carrying an odiferous box of shredded newspapers, walked into his office and stopped short when she caught him reading the pulp. “You think we’re going to find our next client from detective fiction? We need another high-profile case like when we rescued Asta, so MGM could go into production on their next Thin Man film. They paid us an unheard-of amount of money…until you lost it all.”

“Stop being such a sourpuss.” He refused to give her eye contact.

“Do you think I’m enjoying spending time in our stifling office? I’d rather be at the beach with the man of my dreams.” Her inflection had a hint of sarcasm.

“Who’s the lucky fella?”

She went over to their monstrous dog and kissed him on the nose. “Looks like it’s you, Sir Henry of the Baskervilles. Instead of my frog prince, you’re my dog prince. Ah, you’re such a good boy.” She stared at the bulldog in the corner. “But we really need to paper-train Bruno.”

Their adopted bulldog whined. “You hurt his feelings,” Guy said. “Give him a good scratch behind his ears and apologize.”

She scowled. “I’ll give him two more weeks, and it’ll be your job to train him. Otherwise, he can go back to Wiggins, and I don’t care if one of his kids breaks out in hives.” She headed out the door to dump the litter.

* * *

“Our phone rang twice while you were out,” Guy said. “But Wiggins’ stupid bird answered before I could.”

“Hello, sucker!” the myna bird cackled. “Down for the count…1…2…3. Knocked him in the kisser, didn’t ya?”

“By the time I picked up the receiver, whoever it was hung up,” he explained.

“It’s hard to believe a bird can be so smart,” Babs muttered.

“Smart-mouthed is more like it,” he said. “Sounds like Jimmy Cagney, who he’s named after. Maybe we should let him earn his keep. The bird can impersonate him at parties.”

Babs stared at the troublemaker. “The person on the other end probably thought it was a prank.” She looked around the room. “Keep it up and…I got a lot of hungry cats and canines who wouldn’t mind a bowlful of myna bird stew.”

Wiggins, the building janitor, propped their front door open, causing their ginger tomcat to disappear into the hallway faster than gunfire. “My wife said the same. What are the two of ya doing here on Independence Day? With the tenants gone, I heard yer bickering all the way in the basement. Sounded like a married couple in divorce court. How did ya get in?”

“We had an extra set of keys,” Guy said.

Wiggins planted his hands on his hips. “More like makin’ a copy of my set while my back was turned. There’s no foolin’ me. Come on now. Who’ll be the first to confess?”

Both detectives buried their noses in their newspapers.

“All right, if none of ya willin’ to come clean, why aren’t you out having fun?”

“Paying our overdue office rent is my idea of fun,” Babs replied.

Wiggins looked confused. Guy explained, “We’re hurting. Nothing but small potatoes since retrieving our dognapped canine stars.”

“We might be forced to move out, if we don’t land a decent case,” said Babs. “I’m not looking forward to setting up shop at my house.”

Wiggins inhaled but choked. “You make sure you keep this place spic-and-span. If your neighbors start belly achin’…”

From inside his desk, Guy took out a sardine from its wax paper wrapping and tossed it to their pelican.

“Sniff…sniff… If you don’t get rid of this stench,” Wiggins continued, “my boss’ll make sure he throws you out on your arse.”

She plucked a bottle of cheap toilet water from her purse and spritzed the room. “Better now?”

Wiggins pointed toward the exit. “Goin’ after that mouser. Left the back door open to the alley downstairs. He’s liable to slip out and get lost forever.”

Babs handed her partner a feather duster. “Do something.” Then she returned to her lair with a stack of discarded tabloids to make fresh litter and to do her own skewed interpretation of housekeeping.

Guy reset their wall clock, which was a few hours behind the last time they had a power outage, and gave the reception area the minimal once-over by removing accumulated grime from the top of file cabinets. He was just about to straighten the frame displaying his private investigator’s license, when out of the side of his eye, he noticed a shadow. A large, irregular object leaned against the pebbled glass window of their front door. At first he paid it no mind and continued his cleanup crusade.

When minutes passed and it hadn’t budged, he called out just above a whisper, “Do you mind coming over? Make it quick, but be quiet.”

A startled canary flew out their open transom as Babs breezed toward the front. Guy pointed to the silhouetted figure. “I tidied up, like you asked, but don’t recall hearing anyone approach. This thing…it appeared out of nowhere and hasn’t moved since.”

Babs called out to see if it was Wiggins, but whomever it was didn’t respond. She inquired again. “The door is open. Come on in. We’re too hot and tired for practical jokes.”

With a nod, she gave Guy the go-ahead to open the door, but when he did, a young woman they’d never seen before, wearing a hat and an oversized coat despite the heatwave, fell face-forward onto the floor.

“The casting office is on the fourth floor,” Babs said, until she realized the lady hadn’t moved or said a word. Horrified, she squealed and froze in place.

Guy, also shaking, reached for the phone and called Wiggins’ downstairs office. His voice broke up. “Come up—pronto!”

As soon as he put down the receiver, she demanded he call the cops. Without thinking, she leapt up on a wooden chair as if she’d seen a mouse. Her legs wobbled, and she continued to holler.

Wiggins returned, heaving as if he had skipped waiting for the elevator and sprinted up the stairs. He had the missing tomcat draped over his shoulders. “Heard screams echoing down the hallway. You better keep better tabs on your tabbies. What the blarney did ya think was so important—Holy moly! Mary, Mother of God!”

Guy poked the stranger with his feather duster. Not having any luck, Wiggins, who was bigger than the two detectives combined, got a firm toehold with his work boots and rolled her onto her back. All three stared at the stiff.

“Oh, she’s dead alright,” Wiggins assured them. “Ever seen her before?”

Both PIs shook their heads. Guy tiptoed around the corpse and closed the front door. Wiggins fended off their curious menagerie.

“Something dark and…fea-ther-y is protruding from her coat. Like she was trying to conceal whatever she was carrying.” Babs wrinkled her nose. “Smells like she or someone else doused her with…men’s cologne. Not flowery enough to be one a lady would wear. Wiggins, how do you think she got in?”

“Through the back-alley door, I suppose, ’cause I locked the front. Could’ve snuck in and been here a while. Maybe passed out in a stairwell while my back was turned and crawled up to your floor before she expired.”

Guy paced the room and checked the clock. “The cops seem to be taking their time.” He pulled a flask from his file cabinet and took a swig. He offered some to Babs, but she declined.

Wiggins wrested the flask out of Guy’s hand and finished it to the last drop. “Sure as hell, this would have to happen on a holiday when the police are short-staffed.” He took a swatter from off the wall and clobbered a pesky fly that landed on the stranger’s ear. Babs trembled.

“She can feel it no more than if you were all doped up at the dentist,” Wiggins said.

Babs commented that the police could examine the body. She wasn’t touching it.

Guy suggested to Wiggins to wait for the cops downstairs. “They’ll need you to unlock the building.”

Keeping his distance, Guy asked, “Babs, how do you think she died?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” She made it clear she wasn’t even interested in slipping on gloves to search for an ID.

He suggested that this could be the lead they’ve been looking for. She didn’t see it that way. “This is no way to spend a holiday. Let the police and the medical examiner do their jobs. They’ve expressed they don’t want us meddling in their homicide cases, anyway. I just want her out of here.”

Soon, they heard footsteps and the sound of crunching paper. She took for granted the cops had arrived. “Come in. It’s unlocked.”

She and her partner didn’t make a move until the front door creaked open.

Instead of the police, Humphrey Bogart stood there holding a parcel haphazardly wrapped in brown paper and twine. “I called twice. Assumed you had an answering service to leave a message. Dialed the right number, but someone with a peculiar voice like a Warner Brothers cartoon picked up. When I tried to explain my predicament, he mocked me and cracked a few jokes. Figured I better stop over.”

“How did you get into our building?” Guy asked.

“Your janitor recognized me. When I asked to see you, he figured I was harmless. He said he was waiting for—” Babs interrupted his train of thought. Still standing on the chair, she covered her eyes with one hand and pointed to the floor without making a sound. Bogie backed up. The blood drained from his face. “Whoa! Guess he wasn’t kidding when he said he was expecting the cops.”

A black cat jumped on top of the victim and started making biscuits. “Oh, no, you don’t.” Guy bent down to throw him off.

“Wh-a-a-t happened?” Bogie’s words came out choppy.

Babs regained her voice, which, at first, came out in squeaks. “Not sure. What brings you here?”

“I’m looking for a private investigator. You came highly recommended as some of the best private dicks in town.”

Babs flushed. She preferred a more ladylike elucidation. With no further introductions needed, she ushered Bogart into her office, and Guy followed, grabbing a notepad off his desk. Even though she hated staring at the corpse, she kept her door open to keep an eye out for the police. She kept reminding herself to take deep breaths and not to panic.

“Do you mind clearing your desk?” Bogie held out his parcel. “I’d like to show you what I found on my doorstep this morning.”

With one fell swoop of her arm, the papers went into a spare box, which Babs said she’d sort through later. Bogart put his parcel down on her desk and fanned out his jacket.

“I guess we can skip formalities when the weather beats us into submission. Mind if I take this off?” His shirt was soaked. “This has been one of those days where I’ve felt like an omelet slapped on the Devil’s griddle.”

Babs identified his mysterious object as a museum replica of an ancient Egyptian canopic jar of Horus, the Hawk, the offspring of Isis and Osiris.

“This is much smaller and lighter than the falcon prop in our movie. Ours is about forty-seven pounds of lead. If you dropped it, you could break someone’s toe.” Bogie lifted its lid and revealed a mummified object. Taking special care, he unwrapped its gauze, stained but far from looking ancient, to reveal a sizable dead crow.

“I have no idea what this is supposed to symbolize, but now it looks like I’ve got competition from what’s in your front room as to which gives me the worst case of the heebie-jeebies,” Bogie remarked.

Guy pulled the privacy shades down on the pebbled glass windows on the walls and door separating the front office from her inner sanctum. “One would presume to find a dead falcon, not a raven, considering you’re in the middle of production for The Maltese Falcon.”

* * *

Excerpt from Bye Bye Blackbird by Elizabeth Crowens. Copyright 2025 by Elizabeth Crowens. Reproduced with permission from Elizabeth Crowens. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Elizabeth Crowens is bi-coastal between Los Angeles and New York. For over thirty years, she has worn many hats in the entertainment industry, contributed stories to Black Belt, Black Gate, Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazines, Hell’s Heart, and the Bram Stoker-nominated A New York State of Fright, and has a popular Caption Contest on Facebook.

Awards include: Leo B. Burstein Scholarship from the MWA-NY Chapter, New York Foundation of the Arts grant to publish the anthology New York: Give Me Your Best or Your Worst (no longer in print), Eric Hoffer Award, Glimmer Train Awards Honorable Mention, Killer Nashville Claymore Award Finalist, two Grand prize, six First prize, and multiple Finalist Chanticleer Awards. Crowens writes multi-genre alternate history and historical Hollywood mysteries.

Catch Up With Elizabeth Crowens:
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Guest Post by Shelley Grandy Author of Devious Web (#contests- Enter To Win Some Book Swag)

 

I want to welcome Shelley Grandy to Books R Us. Shelley is the author of the Suspense Novel Devious Web. The Author has written a guest post just for my readers. Enter below to win a swag pack and thanks for stopping by.

 

DEVIOUS WEB

by Shelley Grandy

February 17 - March 14, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Gone Girl's twists, The Social Network’s scheming, and Agatha Christie’s detective sleuthing coalesce in this suspenseful mystery fiction novel set in Toronto in a mid-pandemic business environment.

When Tom Oliver, a successful Canadian entrepreneur, is offered millions from a Silicon Valley company for his data analytics business, he believes his only challenges as he considers the offer will be deciding on next steps for his company and reconciling with his aloof wife. What could possibly go wrong?

Things escalate quickly when Tom is targeted by an unknown perpetrator and his inner circle of family and colleagues comes under scrutiny. Tom’s friend, homicide detective Jason Liu, strives to keep Tom safe while he investigates to find the truth. Who would want to murder a well-liked tech CEO at the top of his game, and why? A progression of intriguing plot twists takes this bingeworthy thriller through business, politics, social media, interpersonal relationships, and even equestrian scenarios. When the dust has settled literally motivations become clear, and Tom discovers that while some relationships are worthy of long-term investment, others have expiration dates.

Genre: Thriller
Published by: SparkPress
Publication Date: October 15, 2024
Number of Pages: 272
ISBN: 9781684632749 (ISBN10: 1684632749)
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 GUEST POST:

When the premise of a novel manifests in real life: 

Devious Web

By Shelley Grandy

 

“Life imitates art far more than art imitates life.” – Oscar Wilde.

I’m not sure if that quote is universally true, but events that unfolded within mere weeks of my mystery novel Devious Web’s launch in October 2024 unnervingly brought to life the fictional targeting of my lead character, Toronto tech CEO Tom Oliver.

First there was the shocking kidnapping of cryptocurrency company WonderFi’s CEO Dean Skurka in Toronto on November 6th. Fortunately, Skurka was released unharmed after reportedly paying a $1 million ransom.

Then on December 4th came the brutal murder of Brian Thompson, CEO of UnitedHealthcare, who was gunned down in New York City as he walked to an investor meeting.

Both events sent chills down my spine because suddenly, a situation I contrived for my novel had played out in two major urban centres in Canada and the US.

When I construed the plot of Devious Web, I considered whether a tech CEO being under the gun was a believable scenario. Following the real-life attacks, the premise became all too credible. And these violent incidents have served as a wake-up call for companies to be vigilant in protecting their assets, the most irreplaceable of which are their business leaders.

In Devious Web, data analytics company CEO Tom becomes a target just as he’s considering a multi-million-dollar acquisition offer from a Silicon Valley artificial intelligence company. The investigating Toronto Police homicide detective Jason Liu suggests that the perpetrator could be someone who resents his success during a challenging economic time, given the story unfolds mid-pandemic in the summer and fall of 2021.

Looking at the real-life attacks, motivation for kidnapping Skurka was obviously to extort money, whereas Thompson’s murder may have more in common with Tom in terms of CEO’s representing more than just the head of a single corporation. “The poster boy for entrepreneurs” is how fictional detective Liu describes how Tom could be perceived by a perpetrator.

You’ll need to read Devious Web to uncover the reasons why Tom Oliver was targeted. But in our day-to-day reality, it’s evident that we’re in an era of great economic disparity between the elite running countries and corporations, and average citizens with lesser means— and that gap is widening.

My hope is that CEOs being targeted as symbols of corporate America is something that stays within the confines of my mystery novels. Ensuring that will depend on business leaders being mindful as they make decisions and take actions that will have the potential to impact a broad swath of the population.

####

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

TOM AND LAWRENCE—JULY 29, 2021

The pandemic had not been kind to Lawrence Cameron, at least not to his waistline. As The Big Guy strode across the restaurant to join him for dinner, Tom could easily see that Lawrence had packed on a few more pounds while working from home. Toronto’s legendary finance guru and media commentator had earned his nickname for his investing prowess, but now the term was even more suitable for the six-foot-two-inch, 250-pound influencer.

When Tom stood to greet him at their table, Lawrence gave him his usual whack on the back and the now customary COVID-19 elbow bump. Even though Tom had played football in high school and was himself six feet tall, he always felt dwarfed by his main investor and personal mentor. Maybe it was also because of the gap in experience between them, as Lawrence was twenty years older.

“Tom, how’s my favorite entrepreneur doing?” Lawrence asked while settling into the comfortable leather banquette reserved especially for him by the manager of ONE, the see-and-be-seen restaurant adjacent to the Hazelton Hotel in Toronto’s upscale Yorkville enclave.

“Good, thanks, Lawrence, but crazy busy with all that’s going on with the business, as you can imagine,” Tom responded.

“No doubt. And I bet you never thought that seven years in, you would have brought Pellucid so far!” Lawrence said.

Tom agreed as he reflected on how truly surreal it was that the data analytics software company he had founded— Pellucid—was valued at over US $200 million, and a Silicon Valley company was now proposing an acquisition.

To have hit that milestone at the age of thirty-eight is honestly mind-blowing, Tom thought.

“I’m looking forward to hearing your updates today, Tom, but given that Grace just put me on a no-frills diet, I’m definitely ready to dive into this menu before we get started,” Lawrence joked.

Tom smiled, knowing that Lawrence’s second wife, Grace, did her best to keep her husband’s life—and his weight—balanced. He knew Lawrence would be eyeing the restaurant’s signature lobster spoons as an appetizer and something carb-heavy and definitely not on Grace’s diet plan for the main course.

While Lawrence ordered for them, Tom admired the contemporary styling of the chic restaurant.

It’s the little things everyone missed during the restrictions of the pandemic, like being able to get together with friends or enjoying this kind of ambience, Tom thought.

Yorkville, with its high-end boutiques and elegant hotels and restaurants, was where Toronto’s elite dined and shopped. It wasn’t part of Tom’s typical day-to-day, but he and his wife, Miriam, sometimes had drinks at ONE’s expansive bar because the art gallery she curated was just around the corner.

After the waiter had filled their glasses with a Chianti Classico wine, Lawrence leaned forward and spoke quietly so other diners wouldn’t overhear.

“So, what about the acquisition? What’s the latest from Crystal Clere?” he asked.

Tom confided that the California artificial intelligence company’s CEO had confirmed he would be offering US $250 million in cash and stock to acquire Pellucid. The next step would be for Tom to receive a letter of intent formalizing the offer, and then Pellucid’s board would have until September 15—about six weeks—to decide whether to approve the sale.

“I’m open to the offer, which is certainly substantial, but I still feel a bit reluctant, Lawrence. I always envisioned taking Pellucid to an IPO on the TSX and Nasdaq myself. On the other hand, it’s hard to turn down a huge payout from a well-established company like Crystal Clere that’s a great fit for our software,” Tom said.

“Not only that, Tom, but as they say, timing is everything. The pandemic has shown you never know what kind of economic climate you might encounter just when you’re ready to take the company public. Sometimes it’s good to take a profit and focus on the next opportunity,” Lawrence said, as he nodded to acknowledge a couple of people passing by their table who obviously recognized the Big Guy from media interviews.

“That’s a great point, especially after everything we’ve seen over the last year, from market volatility to the January 6 insurrection,” Tom agreed. “It definitely creates a more opportunistic mindset.”

“And of course, I wouldn’t object if my investment in Pellucid netted out to a nice-sized return,” Lawrence quipped.

“Ha, I’m sure!” Tom replied. “Well, for now, Winston is earning his CFO pay and then some, working through the due diligence to address all the financials, and Crystal Clere’s CEO and I are in discussions ensuring we’re well aligned. But so far, I can say that I like what I see. And that’s important because if we sell, they’ll probably want me and possibly a couple of my senior team to commit to working for a year or so as part of Crystal Clere.”

“Yes, it’s pretty standard for the acquiring company to want at least the CEO to stay on for continuity,” Lawrence agreed. “Overall, you’ve got this, Tom. Working through the process, making sure you have all the information up front, and doing the due diligence is the right approach. Then when you have all the facts and feel comfortable, I’m sure it will be easier to make your final decision. And, of course, whatever direction you decide to take, the board of directors must be onside with it as well.”

Tom nodded agreement as Lawrence twirled some of his impressively presented main-course seafood linguini onto his fork.

“Okay, so fill me in on Patrick,” Lawrence said. “I know you were having some issues with him last time we talked. How did that net out?”

Tom sighed. It had been a tough situation to manage. Five years before, Tom had met Patrick McGowan at the stable where they both boarded horses and had soon hired Patrick to be his business development manager. The two men were close in age but had vastly different personalities. While Patrick’s Irish flair and direct manner with prospects had proven helpful in building the business, his proclivity for partying had created problems.

Tom shared with Lawrence that he’d had no choice but to fire Patrick and, after a contentious final meeting with him, he suspected their friendship had been permanently shattered.

“That’s unfortunate, Tom,” Lawrence said. “But eventually Patrick’s shenanigans would have attracted attention and reflected badly on Pellucid. I know you hate being tough on people, but didn’t he lose an investor for you when he missed a key meeting?”

Tom indicated that had indeed been the last straw and agreed he had run out of options when it came to keeping Patrick on his payroll.

The two men lingered over coffee and liqueurs while reviewing Pellucid’s latest quarterly results, upcoming sales pipeline, and the company’s case study currently in development at Tom’s father-in-law’s business in North Carolina, one of Tom’s biggest early-stage clients.

“Are you staying here in Yorkville tonight or at your place?” Tom asked as he and Lawrence concluded their business.

“Next door at the Hazelton,” Lawrence replied. “Grace and I have been living up north at the cottage during the pandemic, and I’m more comfortable playing tourist here in Yorkville rather than rattling around our big house in Rosedale without Grace.”

Tom chuckled at Lawrence’s candor and, as always, admired the close relationship Lawrence had with his wife. The two men parted ways, with Lawrence going to the bar for a final nightcap before turning in and Tom heading for home.

***

Excerpt from Devious Web by Shelley Grandy. Copyright 2024 by Shelley Grandy. Reproduced with permission from Shelley Grandy. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

Shelley Grandy is a Canadian communications professional whose journalism degree from Ottawa’s Carleton University fueled a career that started in newspapers and progressed to a high-tech company, Nortel. She subsequently founded Grandy Public Relations Inc. and has supported tech sector clients in Ontario and Quebec for the past fifteen years. You can find her at the boarding stable with her horses, Chancey and Briosa. Shelley lives in Trenton, Ontario, Canada, with husband Roy, Husky dog Luka, and cat Otto, and within spoiling distance of her granddaughters, Emilia and Olivia Oulds.

Catch Up With Shelley Grandy:
www.ShelleyGrandy.com
Goodreads

 

 

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Review of Twist of Time by GY Waldron (#thriller, # Contests- $20 Amazon.com Gift Card)

TWIST OF TIME

by Gy Waldron

February 10 - March 7, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A fast-paced thriller by Emmy Award-nominated screenwriter, producer, and director Gy Waldron

Detective Sgt. Kate Flynn of the Santa Barbara Police Department is called in to investigate a gruesome decapitation and homicide. Her first clue comes from a most unlikely source: an Anglican monk and Celtic studies expert.

Brother Thomas has been expecting the hand-delivery of a priceless diary of a fourteenth-century Templar Knight, but instead he finds the messenger has been murdered.

Kate and Thomas are pulled deep into a centuries-old mystery with roots in medieval Europe and branches that lead to government intelligence, the Vatican, and a top-secret private lab where untold powers were being alchemized that could alter the face of humanity forever.

It's a race against evil to uncover a plot that could lead them to centuries-old treasure-or to their own demise at the hands of a deranged tech billionaire who has nothing to lose.

With parallel quests for the truth taking place centuries apart, and a touch of mysticism, readers will be taken on a suspenseful journey with one twist after another in Twist of Time, an electrifying novel of intrigue and history.

Readers of thrillers and novels of suspense by Dan Brown, Ken Follett, David Baldacci will savor every surprise in screenwriter Gy Waldron's fiction debut.

Book Details:

Genre: Thriller
Published by: First Fruits Publishing
Publication Date: August 20, 2024
Number of Pages: 336
ISBN: 9798869378163
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

MY THOUGHTS: 

"Twist of Time" is thrilling and has two gripping and realistic timelines. The main characters, Brychan, a Templar Knight, and Kate Flynn, a Santa Barbara Detective, are strong characters in their timelines. The author smoothly connected the story lines with a historical backdrop, creating an exciting narrative. Additionally, different fonts distinguish between the two timelines, complementing the reading experience.
The characters worked well in each timeline, and many twists kept me engaged, so I finished the book rather quickly. The author did a great job researching the history surrounding the Templars, which added to the mystery.  

 

Author Bio:

Gy Waldron is an Emmy Award-nominated screenwriter, producer, and director who has written chart-topping television sitcoms, dramas, miniseries, and movies. He has created three network series, including The Dukes of Hazzard, and is known for the action-comedy film Moonrunners, which he wrote and directed.He started his writing career in Hollywood working as a staff writer for legendary producer Norman Lear on hit shows such as One Day at a Time. After an eight-year run with The Dukes of Hazzard, he segued into true crime limited series. He received an Emmy Award nomination for the six-hour limited series Billionaire Boys Club, and wrote other projects, including The Menendez Brothers, Brotherhood of the Rose, Innocent Victims, and The Unabomber.His creative work for theater received an American National Theater and Academy (ANTA) Award.In 2024, Gy Waldron received a Grady Fellowship from his alma mater, the Grady College of Journalism and Mass Communications at the University of Georgia. Whether writing for screen, for the stage, or for readers around the world, Waldron is widely known for his unique blend of action, comedy, and suspense, always leaving audiences highly entertained.With a background of serving in U.S. counterintelligence in Europe, Gy (a.k.a. Gyneth) has written about the fields of intelligence and crime. Stationed in Germany in the late 1950s, he was on the KGB desk working with captured Gestapo files and monitoring CIC (Counter Intelligence Corps) operations against various Communist intelligence services during the Cold War. Additionally, he worked with American operatives in executing orders from U.S. Command.He draws heavily on his experiences when writing fiction. Prior to his career in Hollywood, Gy worked in broadcast television at WSB-TV in Atlanta, Georgia. There, he was a director of specials, sports, and documentaries. Gy worked on many civil rights documentaries and directed feeds to NBC's Huntley-Brinkley Report that focused on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his associates.A native Southerner, he now lives in Malibu, California, in a canyon between the mountains and the ocean where he is writing his next novel, Fugue.

Catch Up With Gy Waldron:
www.gy-waldron.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads

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