Sunday, October 04, 2026

Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: Murphy and the Mystery of the Outlaw Gold Mine (Alaska Williwaw Mystery, #2) by Bradford D. Smith

Murphy and the Mystery of the Outlaw Gold Mine by Bradford D. Smith Banner

MURPHY AND THE MYSTERY OF THE OUTLAW GOLD MINE

by Bradford D. Smith

September 21 - October 30, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Murphy and the Mystery of the Outlaw Gold Mine by Bradford D. Smith

AN ALASKA WILLIWAW MYSTERY

 

When a beautiful day suddenly turns deadly Murphy finds himself in the middle of a perilous mystery and up against the dangerous criminal, the Black-Eyed Man and his gang.

Compelled to discover the truth and expose the criminals, Murphy leads his cousin Katrina on a risky adventure through the rain slicked streets of Juneau and Douglas and into the labyrinth of tunnels and shafts inside the abandoned and sealed Alaska Juneau gold mine.

What starts as curiosity soon becomes a dangerous struggle for survival and freedom as Murphy and Katrina face a new menace at every turn. Will Katrina’s special skills and a squad of unlikely allies be enough to tip the scale in their favor, or can nothing save them this time.

Find the answers in the pages of Murphy and the Mystery of the Outlaw Gold Mine the second book in the Alaska Williwaw Mystery series.


Murphy and the Mystery of the Outlaw Gold Mine Trailer:


Book Details:

Genre: YA/Middle-Grade Mystery
Published by: Fathom Publishing
Publication Date: September 20, 2026
Number of Pages: 270
ISBN: 978-1-954896949
Series: Alaska Williwaw Mystery Series, Book 2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1: Dangerous Den

Murphy recoiled in horror as the creature landed on his neck. He screamed when it flopped onto his face and omitted a high-pitched squeal next to his ear.

Frantically swatting the darkness in his panic, he twisted and lurched to get away, but his body was wedged in place. He dropped his phone and covered his face with one hand, flailing in the darkness with the other. To his relief, he was able to knock the beast off his head. He breathed heavily. He could hear his assailant flopping and scuffling nearby and he feared another attack. His body shivered involuntarily.

It’s just a bat . . . calm down, breathe.

Inhaling deeply, he counted to three as he drew air into his lungs, then he slowly exhaled to the count of three and repeated it. It was a technique Coach Troutman taught him in Junior wrestling class. It helped calm his panic when he was caught in a tight hold.

He wasn’t afraid of bats per se, but alone in the dark in a tight space was a whole other thing.

What if it’s a vampire bat? They don’t live in Alaska. But what if?

Tentatively running his hands over the ground in search of his phone, he still was not completely convinced the bat didn’t want to suck his blood.

Where’s my phone? Did the light go off? I hope I didn’t drop it down the . . .

At that moment the bat flapped its wings. Murphy shrunk away as a leathery appendage brushed his cheek. He listened as it gained flight. The sound grew fainter and he realized the bat had flown straight down into the chasm.

He gazed after it and noticed a faint glow of light. Pushing closer to the edge he peered over the rim. What he saw gave him hope. His cell phone was sitting upside down on a small ledge about an arm’s length away.

He dug the toes of his boots into the hard-packed earth and inched closer. Juniper branches dug into his back as protruding rocks pushed into his ribs. He stretched toward his phone. His fingers clutched at the air a few inches from it. With his free hand, he blindly searched for something to hold onto. His finger found a thick branch of the Juniper bush and he grasped it tightly.

He shoved with his feet and pulled with one hand, holding tightly to the juniper with his other. His body gained a few inches of progress so he tried for his phone again. His fingers touched it, but he couldn’t grasp it. He pushed and strained with all his might, only needing another inch.

Suddenly his brain registered a loud cracking sound, like you hear when a limb is torn from a tree. Murphy’s body suddenly jolted forward.

“No!”

The juniper branch tore loose in his hand. His body lurched again, his shoulders hung over the chasm. He was slowly slipping over the edge and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop it.

His hands desperately sought purchase on the smooth rock at the top of the opening. His fingers worked feverishly at every small bump and crack, but they couldn’t find a safe purchase.

Gravity steadily pulled his body into the black void while he tried desperately to dig his toes into the hard earth.

Abruptly, he fell headfirst into the abyss. For a brief moment his boots hooked the rim but immediately slipped off. He plummeted into the unknown.

“Nooooooooooooo . . . ”

* * *

An hour earlier, Murphy and Katrina had stepped from the Mount Roberts tram at its terminus nearly two thousand feet above the historic streets of Juneau, Alaska’s capital city. With the sun high in a cloudless sky it was a rare and perfect day to launch the season.

It was fast becoming a tradition for the locals to take advantage of the first week of tram operation before the multitude of cruise ship visitors overwhelmed the tiny city and the tram itself. Many came to hike the trails, some came to photograph the spectacular scenery and wildlife, others came only to admire the astounding panorama and to enjoy a picnic lunch.

Hogan pulled hard at his leash. Murphy leaned back to slow him down but was forced into a slow jog to keep up.

“Slow down, Hoge, we just got here. We have all day.”

Hogan wanted to sniff everywhere at once. His pushed-up black nose worked feverishly as his bulging eyes darted in every direction and his white feet pranced impatiently.

Murphy pulled on the leash and raised his voice. “Hogan, calm down.”

At the mention of his name, Hogan wagged his stubby tail and circled back to lick Murphy’s hand.

“Do you smell the flowers?” Katrina called as she began skipping to keep up.

“Yeah, it’s awesome up here in the spring and the tram is always cool anytime. A bit scary, but worth it.”

“It is a pretty good adrenalin rush for six minutes. I always imagine the floor dropping away.” She adjusted her round-lensed, red-tinted sunglasses and smiled.

Murphy gulped. “Great, thanks for that thought, we still have to go down.” He had managed to slow Hogan down to a walk. They walked side by side for a moment, neither talking until he said, “I like it.”

“Like what?”

“Your hair.”

“Oh, okay, um, thanks.”

“What do you call it?”

“What?”

“The color.”

“Indigo.” Katrina’s hair was tied high in a single ponytail that seemed to erupt from the top of her head. The sun glinted off the luxurious deep blue color.

Modern Pebbles chic.

Murphy smirked.

“Can I ask you something?”

She was silent for an uncomfortable pause. “I guess.”

He smiled before asking, “Where did you find neon green hiking boots to match your neon green leggings, or was it the other way around?” He snickered and stepped away quickly.

“At least I don’t order my clothes from Outdoor Nerds are Us.”

“Mean.” He couldn’t help looking down at his tan cargo shorts, plain brown hiking boots, and navy T-shirt.

She smiled and batted her eye lashes.

He grimaced.

I should have known better.

Changing the subject, Katrina said, “Sorry your mom has the flu and couldn’t come. It was nice of her to send us anyway, but I am feeling a bit guilty. Maybe we should have stayed home and helped her out.”

Murphy was surprised it made him happy that she had referred to his home as her home. She stayed with them so often people thought they were siblings. The two of them found it easier to say they were cousins. It was basically true as their fathers were lifelong friends and the families were extremely close.

“My dad’s coming in this afternoon,” he told her. “He said he will nurse her back to health.”

“Your dad sure travels a lot.”

“What about your dad? He’s out crabbing all season.”

“Not the same, but I guess.” She stopped skipping.

Murphy glanced at her and noticed a distant look in her eyes.

They made their way to an observation deck close to the tram’s terminal. From there Murphy could see his home across Gastineau Channel in Douglas, Alaska. He could see most of Douglas Island and the snowy tops of the Chilkat Mountains in the distance to the west. They enjoyed the vast and beautiful scenery in silent reverie. Even Hogan seemed taken with the amazing vista. He sat quietly beside Murphy. The pink tip of his tongue protruded from his mouth and wiggled slightly as he breathed.

They eventually tore themselves away from the spectacular view and began walking. They passed a gaggle of first graders coming down the path. They were all holding onto a rope and were led by a harried Mrs. Harper. Murphy knew she was new to the Grade School, and this may have been her first field trip. Mr. Able, Murphy’s friend Mikey’s dad, was at the tail end of the rope. Daisey, Mikey’s little sister, was second from the end. As they passed Murphy waved at Daisey and smiled at Mr. Able who rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders. Mr. Able was a building inspector during the day and he coached a men’s boxing club after work. From his gestures, it was apparent he’d met his match with a half dozen six-year-olds.

They passed the gift shop, the theater, and the bar and grill. The tram had delivered them approximately halfway up the nearly four-thousand-foot-high mountain.

They stopped to read the large sign mapping the hiking trail routes. Mount Roberts has a number of trails from easy to difficult. They chose a moderate three-mile trek that would take them through spruce forests, boulder-strewn alpine pastures, moss-covered rock glaciers and ending at a small glacier-fed lake in a picturesque mountain valley. They would wind their way back by a different route, one that followed the bubbly brook that drained from the lake.

After choosing their route, they set out. Strolling leisurely they following the wide gravel pathway through an alpine meadow. Small streams and waterfalls dotted the landscape. Murphy had a permanent smile plastered on his face.

Hogan stopped suddenly, woofed and stood erect. “What is it, boy?” Murphy reached down and scratched his ears.

A blur of red fur exploded across the trail a few feet in front of them. Hogan bolted, jerking Murphy from his feet and ripping the leash from his grasp. Murphy landed on his shoulder and his face at the side of the path but immediately sprang to his feet and brushed himself off. His cheeks exploded with a red bloom in his anger and embarrassment. He glanced about frantically and was just in time to see Hogan’s bouncing rear end and stubby tail disappear around a tall rock outcropping in the middle of a nearby meadow.

“Hogan, come.” Murphy called but Hogan didn’t come. Murphy repeated his command again and again but there was no Hogan.

“Wow.” Katrina appeared to be in awe and somewhat amused by the madcap spectacle she had just witnessed. She repeated herself. “Wow!”

As Murphy inspected a small cut on his knee, she plucked a chunk of fuzzy green moss from his hair.

He glanced at her and said, “Don’t start.”

“I know not of what you speak, oh graceful one.” She smiled demurely and took a step back.

“Very funny,” he sneered. “Just help me find the jerk.”

“I thought he always did what he was told,” she questioned. “Like, come when he’s called.”

“He usually does, but maybe he can’t hear me. Wait here. I’ll go get him.”

He didn’t look back and began jogging toward the stone obelisk where he had last seen Hogan’s white rear end disappear from sight.

He ran across a grassy meadow strewn with boulders and crumbling spires of decaying rock. At first, he tried not to step on the wildflowers, but there were too many and he cringed as he trampled through a patch of mountain crocus. The meadows were covered in a vibrant blanket that represented a kaleidoscope of color.

Murphy rounded the outcropping where Hogan had disappeared and was immediately confused. Stretched before him was a small sloping valley covered in nothing but moss-covered rocks and a vibrant carpet of flowers. There was absolutely nothing for a dog of Hogan’s size to hide behind.

“Hogan! Come, boy! Come now.” He called repeatedly but still there was no response. Murphy wandered the tiny valley calling Hogan’s name. Eventually he retraced his steps and arrived back at the last place he had seen his dog.

Murphy examined the craggy monolith. It was three times the size of his dad’s big SUV and twice as high as the monkey bars at school. The surface was cracked and porous, but he didn’t see any caves or fissures big enough for a full-grown Boxer to enter. As he circled it, he ran his hands along its surface as though searching for a hidden door. Low Mountain Juniper bushes grew along the base of the north side. He lay down on his stomach and peered under the lowest branches. There he saw an overhang and a space big enough for a fox or a dog. Far back under the shelf, he saw a black hole in the ground.

Could this be the fox’s den? Did Hogan follow it down there?

He peeled off his backpack, set it against the rock and squeezed his head and shoulders under the pungent branches. He inched toward the dark opening. It was a tight fit and he inched forward, struggling as the low branches dug into his back and tugged at his T-shirt. Grabbing the base of the bush he pulled while pushing with the toes of his boots. Slowly he neared the hole in the ground.

Repeatedly calling for Hogan he eventually got close to the darkened void. It was a struggle to retrieve his phone from his back pocket and turn on the light, but when he did, he was faced with a steep-sided deep opening about the size of a bicycle tire.

No way a fox went down there. How would it get out?

There was another recess on the other side of the hole. It was a wide crack in the rock that immediately turned a corner that he couldn’t see around, but he spotted a small tuft of reddish fur caught in a tiny crevasse where the opening disappeared around the corner. Both openings were small, but he realized Hogan could have fit in either.

Did he follow the fox? Did he fall?

“Hogan!”

He yelled into the breach. Then he yelled into the cavity across from him. He held his breath and listened. Nothing.

***

Excerpt from Murphy and the Mystery of the Outlaw Gold Mine by Bradford D. Smith. Copyright 2026 by Bradford D. Smith. Reproduced with permission from Bradford D. Smith. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

Bradford D. Smith

Bradford D. Smith grew up as an only child amongst a household of Huskies and Malamutes. At times, he thought they were his siblings. From the age of two, he lived in Atlin, British Columbia, a historic gold mining town nestled deep in the wilderness just south of the Yukon Border and connected to Alaska by the Juneau ice field. Brad grew up without radio or television in a time before video machines and home computers were common. Books and reading were important entertainment and in the dark, subzero winter months, they became paramount to the sound mental survival of many. Brad's mom read to him before he was born and throughout his childhood. This instilled an intense curiosity deep within him and an insatiable appetite to satisfy it. Brad read everything he could find and at a young age, he was reading books his mother enjoyed about arctic explorers, prospectors, trappers and first nations people. His latest book, a young adult mystery, Murphy and the Mystery of the Black Skull, was shaped by his own fascination with the mystery genre as a young adult. Updated to fit today's times, he leans heavily on the style of writing he himself enjoyed as a young teen. This book is sprinkled with real world places and the author's love of history is quickly exposed in this fast-paced adventure. Brad has lived and worked in many places across Alaska over the years including Juneau. He still works in Arctic Alaska seasonally and lives with his wife in central BC, Canada with their pack of dogs.

Catch Up With Bradford D. Smith:

BradfordSmithAuthor.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub
Instagram - @bradforddsmith
Facebook - @emokotz132
BlueSky - @bdsmithauthor65.bsky.social

 

Review:

4 stars!

A fun middle-grade mystery set in the historic gold-mining region near Juneau, Alaska. 

Murphy and the Mystery of the Outlaw Gold Mine is the second book in author Bradford D. Smith’s fun, informative, and adventure-filled middle-grade Alaska Williwaw mystery series, set principally on Douglas Island near Juneau, Alaska. While out hiking the trails of Mount Roberts on the mainland, Murphy Delgado accidentally falls into part of the old underground mining tunnels that honeycomb the mountainside. But before his close friend, Katrina, can help extricate him, he sees two men in a lower tunnel who shoot at him rather than offer aid. Glimpsing the men’s mysterious machinery and covered in the ubiquitous red mud in the tunnels, Katrina pulls Murphy to the surface and safety, and straight into their next exciting adventure. 

Murphy and Katrina are a fun pair of protagonists who give young readers relatable main characters to root for as they problem-solve their way through a variety of hazardous situations. They work things out on their own, using the adults in their lives as safe havens and sources of information, never telling them exactly what they’re up to. Some of the scrapes they get into, though, stem directly from ill-thought-out decisions and their failure to tell an adult the important things they’ve uncovered. 

Mentions of characters and events presumably from the previous book dot the narrative and conversations but were unexplained. I assume the encounters and inclusion tied the story to the characters’ history with each other and the others but from a newcomer’s viewpoint, these side stories slowed the current one down. Other than that, the story works okay as a standalone, but I do wish I’d started the series with the first book as the unexplained sorties into the past left me feeling a little confused and left out. The resolution came with its own fast-paced excitement as they outdo the bad guys. 

I recommend MURPHY AND THE MYSTERY OF THE OUTLAW GOLD MINE to readers of middle-grade mysteries and fiction, but especially for those who have read the previous book in the series.



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Children's Book Review - Let's Hide from Mom: I'm Not Sleepy Yet! by Parimalasri Docktor

Let's Hide from Mom: I'm Not Sleepy Yet!Let's Hide from Mom: I'm Not Sleepy Yet! by Parimalasri Docktor
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Children will relate to the vividly illustrated and simple story.

Let’s Hide From Mom is the fun sequel to author Parimalasri Docktor’s children’s book Tortoise Goes to the Vet. It features Radha, an Indian Star Tortoise who, like many young children, doesn’t want to go to bed at her established time. Along with her tortoise companion, Krishna, she scrambles to hide from Mom when she comes to put them to bed.

Radha is a precocious little tortoise who knows all the best hiding places. She also tries to coach Krishna in finding the perfect spot. Small children will love hearing about how they escape detection, maybe seeing themselves in Radha’s desire to stay up past bedtime.

The author also illustrates the story and uses bright colors in her often intricately detailed scenes. Her style gives readers plenty to look at and discover on each page. At the end of the book, there is an entertaining section devoted to finding specific items hidden in plain sight, such as birds, butterflies, and insects. That bumblebee is a tricky one!

I recommend LET’S HIDE FROM MOM to young readers and adults for reading aloud.

I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving an Advanced Review Copy from the author through Goddess Fish Promotions Book Tours.



View all my reviews

Saturday, October 03, 2026

Book Blitz & Giveaway: The Academy War by Sean Scarborough

The Academy War
Sean Scarborough
Publication date: October 1, 2026
Genres: Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Young Adult

Three colleges, three hearts, one prophesy that will either save magic or destroy it.

On their eighteenth birthdays, three strangers are ripped from ordinary life and thrust into a hidden world that has shaped history for centuries.

Aryna awakens a rare, volatile magic that doesn’t just channel power — it absorbs and reshapes it. At the Mage War College, her dangerous gift sets her apart and draws the secret attention of those with their own agendas.

Paul is claimed by an ancient vampire bloodline and forced into brutal trials where dominance means survival. As his humanity slips away, he realizes he’s being forged into a weapon for a war older than he knows.

Dean Blackthorn, an orphan desperate to belong, bonds with a powerful Stormwing dragon in trials where most recruits die. For the first time, he has a place — and a destiny tied to coming conflict.

Separated across rival academies, each believes they are training to protect their own kind. But when a devastating attack shatters the illusion of safety, a darker truth emerges:

They are not just students. They are pieces in a game controlled by an ancient power now awakening — and the fate of magic, monsters, and humanity may rest on who learns to control it first.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo


CHAPTER 1:

The Wish

Aryna

“Look, Aryna,” my mom said, setting down the lopsided chocolate cake she’d clearly stayed up late making—complete with uneven frosting and slightly smudged Happy 18th Birthday written in shaky pink letters—her cheerfulness seemed forced.

“Let’s try to make today as fun as we can,” she said.

I love my mom, I really do, but sometimes she drives me absolutely crazy.

“Honey, I’m not upset you were out with your friends last night. I just wanted to know where you were.”

“Disappointed, then,” I said, unable to keep the snark out of my voice.

“Aryna!” She gave me that look, the one that said I was pushing boundaries we both knew I shouldn’t cross.

Mom walked around our tiny dining table, probably to avoid saying something she’d regret. She worked two jobs while Dad pulled night shifts, and they could barely make ends meet despite doing everything they could for me. I knew that.

Knowing they were doing their best didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

All my hard work, school, science fair wins- everything my parents had always told me they were proud of yet it had come with the same quiet disappointment. They were always proud. They just weren’t always there.

I remembered the state championship for English literature, my best subject. I had stood at the front of the auditorium, looking out at the crowd while the other students’ names appeared on handmade signs. Their parents cheered, waved, and called their names.

I scanned the room anyway.

Just hoping I’d see Mom and Dad.

A smile. A wave. Anything that said, We’re here. We’re proud of you!

The last question was asked. “Who wrote The Divine Comedy”

Easy. I hit the button “Dante Alighieri,” one of my favorites.

Then I won first place.

I should have been excited, and I was. But there was a sadness underneath it, knowing I was experiencing it alone.

When it was over, I put the trophy in my backpack and went home.

It wasn’t that they were bad parents. They weren’t. They were busy. They were always cheering for me when they had the time—late at night, early in the morning, whenever our schedules happened to line up.

Just not in the moments when I wanted them there most.

Our apartment was so cramped, the dining room table took up most of the kitchen-dining room combo, leaving barely enough space to walk around it. On nights like this, with tension thick in the air, it felt even smaller. I could feel the frustration steaming from me.

I looked down at the table. The chocolate cake sat in front of me, eighteen candles flickering in the dim light of our cramped apartment kitchen. Mom’s face glowed with pride across the table, her tired eyes momentarily free of worry lines. Dad stood beside her, his arm draped around her shoulders, a rare moment of peace between them. Arguments about money were what I normally heard.

“Make a wish, Aryna,” Mom said.

I closed my eyes, feeling oddly self-conscious. Eighteen. A legal adult as of today, I felt no different than yesterday. What did one wish for when standing at the threshold of adulthood? College acceptance letters had already come and gone—mostly rejections with two waitlists. My part-time job barely covered gas money.

I wish for something extraordinary to happen, I thought, surprising myself with the childish desire. Something to make me special.

I leaned forward to blow out the candles.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Sean Scarborough is the author of The Academy War, a young adult/new adult urban paranormal fantasy that blends magic, dragon riders, vampires, and unforgettable adventure. Although this is his debut novel, storytelling has been a passion of his for years.

Inspired by a love of immersive fantasy and the belief that books can transport readers beyond the ordinary, Sean set out to create a world that feels as real as the one we live in—a place readers can return to whenever they need an escape.

The Academy War was written through both the best and most challenging seasons of Sean’s life. Throughout that journey, writing became more than a creative outlet; it became a way to build a world filled with hope, courage, friendship, and wonder.

Sean writes from the heart, believing every character carries a purpose. Some become a source of hope, others a promise, a reminder, or a heartbreaking loss—but each one is meant to leave a lasting impression. Every scene and adventure was created with the hope that readers would become fully immersed in the story and feel connected to the people and places within it.

Seeing this world come to life and finally sharing it with readers is a dream Sean has held for years.

He hopes The Academy War is more than just a book—that it becomes a place readers can get lost in, return to again and again, and carry with them long after they turn the final page.

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Friday, October 02, 2026

Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: All Guilty Anyway by Russell W. Johnson

All Guilty Anyway by Russell W. Johnson Banner

ALL GUILTY ANYWAY

by Russell W. Johnson

September 28 - October 9, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

All Guilty Anyway by Russell W. Johnson

Ivy Collins, a fourth-generation attorney, is the daughter her powerful father never wanted. After growing up chasing approval that never came, Ivy rebels by joining the practice of Lester “The Truth” Williams, a notorious criminal defense lawyer who once bested her dad in court. Ivy expects mentorship and mastery. Instead, she finds a burned-out cynic running a settlement mill where clients are pressured to plea bargain their cases because, as The Truth insists, “They’re all guilty anyway.”

Ivy plays along until she’s assigned to represent Sonia Cabrerra, a Guatemalan immigrant accused of unspeakable child abuse. The case seems open and shut with physical evidence and a devastating confession. However, Ivy uncovers some linguistic and cultural misunderstandings that could lead to a massive miscarriage of justice.

Up against a broken system, Ivy must decide how far she is willing to go to fight for a client when key evidence resides in dangerous, cartel-controlled regions of Guatemala and local witnesses live amidst the constant threat of deportation.

All Guilty Anyway asks whether, in a world built upon bargains and broken people, the truth still stands a chance.

Praise for All Guilty Anyway:

"A genuine page-turner with a cast of quirky but loveable characters and thought-provoking themes. A masterpiece of legal fiction."
~ Reedsy

"A brisk but thoughtful and timely legal thriller."
~ Kirkus Reviews

"While All Guilty Anyway is a slam dunk for legal thriller junkies, it possesses enough moral and emotional depth to engage a far broader audience. Highly recommended."
~ bestthrillers

"Russell Johnson delivers a fantastic courtroom drama."
~ J.D. Trafford, writer of the "No Time" series

"ALL GUILTY ANYWAY raises timely questions about immigration, structural inequities, and our fraught legal system, all while being a brisk, entertaining read."
~ Joanna Pearson, author of Bright and Tender Dark

Book Details:

Genre: Legal Thriller
Published by: Red Adept Publishing
Publication Date: April 28, 2026
Number of Pages: 282
ISBN: 9781971903019 (ISBN10: 1971903019)
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Red Adept Publishing

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

Ivy Collins had been going to the Wake County Courthouse every day for six months, yet the deputies still made her show her bar card before admitting her to the “Attorneys Only” line through security. At first, she attributed this to her youthful appearance. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, with that frightened, fresh-out-of-law-school expression, Ivy was used to people not taking her seriously. But the husky deputy eying her ID that morning had checked her in at least twenty times before and ogled her ass enough that he could probably describe its every contour in his sleep. So, she was pretty sure this was just part of the hazing, the numerous ways defense attorneys were treated like the visiting team inside the courthouse.

Virtually everything, from the Justice Center’s towering hard-block exterior to its inconvenient downtown location, surrounded by a maze of one-way streets with scarce parking, to the imperious judges seated high on mahogany benches, down to the beefy, gun-toting men who checked the bags, all of it felt designed to make the experience as intimidating as possible.

“I really am a lawyer, scout’s honor,” Ivy said, holding up two fingers.

The deputy sneered as he handed back her credentials and fired a thumb over his shoulder.

I bet prosecutors never have to deal with this crap. Ivy knew they, the assistant district attorneys, practically owned the courthouse. They got reserved parking in an underground garage, were issued key fobs to unlock private entrances that bypassed security altogether, worked out of cozy offices nestled in the building’s secret alcoves, and were on a first name basis with every judge and member of the courthouse staff. Even the youngest ADAs quickly became masters of the local bureaucracy. Plus, they got to basically set the court’s calendars and, in many ways, were more in charge of “the system” than even the judges themselves.

It was massively unfair.

Before law school, Ivy had been a fairly serious athlete, a five-seven point guard with a wicked crossover and decent jumper, so she was no stranger to competition or hostile environments. But she had never dealt with a home court advantage like this. Nor had she ever faced an opponent as fierce as the one she was set to meet that morning, the Hatchet Lady herself, ADA Eliza Wells.

Ivy slipped through the metal detector without a ding and retrieved her bag from the conveyor belt, looking back just in time to catch the deputy, once again, checking out her posterior.

Maybe tomorrow I should walk in backwards, so he’ll recognize me. Might speed things up.

As for that morning, however, Ivy was running late. She hustled across the ground floor, serpentining through pro se defendants meandering toward traffic court, then managed to squeeze into an over-full elevator just as the doors closed. Twenty people were mashed into a space built for ten, and it was a sweltering North Carolina morning outside, which meant various levels of BO swirling together into a kind of rotten stew, an unfortunate circumstance, considering Ivy was on for the long haul, headed all the way to the tenth floor.

She eyed the lighted numbers as they stopped at every level. Each time the elevator stopped, the crowded conditions required an awkward, time-consuming shuffle to allow those pushed into the back to exit before newcomers came on board. It wasn’t until the doors closed on the ninth floor that Ivy was finally alone, the sole rider ascending to the Superior Court, where the major felonies were handled.

The doors opened onto a faded tile hallway. Ivy took a deep breath of the rarified air. To that point in her brief legal career, she’d worked exclusively down in District Court, mostly pleading out misdemeanors. This would be her first foray into the big time, wielding the court-appointed case file she’d been handed that morning by her boss, Lester “the Truth” Williams, who’d assured her that the step up was nothing to worry about.

“Shoot, girl, it’s all the same.” Lester was a Black man in his fifties and a graduate of NC Central, an acclaimed HBCU in Durham, though the Truth liked to say his real degree came from the school of hard knocks. That morning he had been wearing one of his tailored three-piece suits, this one olive-green, and was settling into a leather office chair while snipping the end of his morning cigar with a finger guillotine, when he said, “Superior Court, District Court, it’s no different, Ivy. Remember, your job’s really not to fight with the prosecutor. Just find out what kind of deal they’re offering and go sell it to the client. The case pleads, we get our paltry fee, the state gets their conviction, and the client gets a reduced sentence. Everybody’s happy.” Lester mimed washing his hands.

“But what if she’s innocent?” Ivy asked.

The question caught Lester in mid-puff and launched him into a prolonged coughing fit as he laughed hysterically. “Oh, that’s a good one,” Lester said once he’d caught his breath. “Innocent.” He rested his cigar in a glass ashtray on the corner of his desk and gave Ivy one of those looks she despised, the grizzled veteran having to explain once again how the world worked to his little White-girl associate. “Listen, Ivy, I’ve been doing this a long time, okay? And one thing I can tell you, without hesitation, is everybody’s guilty. Everybody. Hell, we’re all guilty of something.”

Ivy knew she was in no position to argue. Though she didn’t consider herself naive, she was inexperienced and undoubtedly privileged. That was part of the reason she’d taken the job with Lester in the first place. She had something to prove and knew there was a lot she could learn from a legit street lawyer like “the Truth,” as Lester often referred to himself in the third person.

Ivy flipped open the file and started to read until Lester stopped her.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow your roll there, Nancy Drew. We don’t have time for all that. Need you to get on down to the courthouse pronto. Cesar wrote down everything you need to know, right here.”

Cesar was Lester’s paralegal/translator who hustled up most of the firm’s Latino clients. His unmistakable chicken scratch filled a post-it note on the folder’s outside cover:

Defendant, Sonia Cabrerra, 22
Felony child abuse
Victim, Hugo (son), 8.

“What’s the hurry?” Ivy asked. She didn’t like the idea of heading downtown on her first felony without having at least read the file.

Lester sighed like he was getting annoyed with always having to explain everything. “We need to find out what the offer is before the prosecutor starts a trial this morning that the court administrator says is expected to last three weeks. I know this Eliza Wells. She’s no joke. All focus. If you don’t catch her before she gets rolling on whatever poor schmuck she’s about to put away, then it could be a month before we get to talk to her. Meanwhile our client’s cooling her heels in the county jail.”

Ivy checked her watch. It was already nine thirty and Superior Court started at ten. Now she understood why Lester was pushing her to move. She’d really have to run if she was going to catch Eliza before her trial got going. Ivy stuffed the file in her leather bag and started for the door before asking, “Suppose they don’t offer a deal. What then?”

“Trust me,” Lester told her, “The last thing the state wants is the time and expense and uncertainty of a trial when they can get a nice and easy guilty plea. There’s always a deal. Always.”

***

Those words echoed in Ivy’s head as she slipped into the back of courtroom 10-C and immediately realized she was too late. Eliza Wells was already in the midst of her opening statement for this other case she was handling, laying out the particulars of a crime to a jury of twelve. Ivy thought for a second about heading back to the office to let Lester know she’d missed her shot, but she quickly became entranced by Eliza’s delivery.

The prosecutor was a humorless-looking woman in her sixties with gray hair pulled back tight. She wore little to no makeup and a long shapeless black dress accessorized only by a single strand of pearls. Yet every eye was on her as she strutted back and forth, commanding the courtroom, stalking the jury like a predator cat. For half an hour, Ivy watched as Eliza hammered away, utilizing no notes at all, every fact, every picayune detail not only committed to memory but absolutely mastered. Eliza drove them like nails into the defendant’s coffin.

“By the end of this trial,” she said in summation, “you will have no choice, but to find the defendant guilty.” Eliza fired a vicious point at the defendant that sent chills down Ivy’s spine. It was like a laser beam of judgment shooting from the tip of the prosecutor’s finger. Guilt was an absolute certainty. Even without hearing the other side of the case, Ivy could feel it from Eliza’s conviction, a righteous indignation that was palpable. Ivy saw it in the eyes of the jury as well. They were already nodding along, ready to hang the son of a bitch.

Jesus, this lady’s good.

“Thank you, Madam Prosecutor,” the judge said. “Why don’t we take a brief ten-minute recess, before the defense gives their opening statement.”

After that, there was some shuffling as people headed for the restrooms. It stirred Ivy from her reverie. She realized this was an opportunity to try and talk to Eliza about her new case. If she could muster the courage.

The prosecutor was making her way down the aisle toward Ivy, not giving her long to gin up her nerve. Ivy cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Eliza passed by and was about to exit the courtroom when Ivy timidly managed to say, “Excuse me, Ms. Wells?”

Eliza stopped, turned, and looked Ivy up and down, no doubt pegging her for a young wannabe lawyer in her short skirt and form-fitting blazer, both courtesy of Ralph Lauren. The prosecutor’s expression morphed from a natural sneer, what Ivy would classify as “resting bitch face”, into something decidedly less pleasant, as though Eliza had just discovered a wad of gum stuck to her shoe.

“Yes?”

Ivy cleared her throat and tried to use her big-girl voice. “I’m Ivy Collins. I’m... uh... handling the Cabrerra case.”

Eliza’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling, searching a mental filing system for the name, among what must have been hundreds of cases.

“Cabrerra, yes,” Eliza said finally. “I’m familiar with it.”

Ivy nervously dug into her bag for the folder that had been sent over from the Public Defender’s Office. “I’m sorry to bother you during trial. It’s just that I was wondering what kind of plea the state was offering.”

Eliza looked at Ivy like that was the stupidest thing she had ever heard. “Have you read the file?”

Ivy swallowed hard. “Um... just had time to skim it,” she said, lying. “Our firm was assigned the case this morning, from the court appointed list.”

The mention of “the list” brought a look of disapproval. It meant the defendant was indigent and, because the Public Defender's Office was grossly underfunded and overworked, the case had been farmed out to a local private attorney at way below their normal market rate. Many lawyers viewed such appointments as akin to indentured servitude. Thus, a court-appointed firm had an inherent economic motivation to assign the case to their least experienced lawyer, and to give it the least amount of attention possible, regardless of the case’s complexity.

“I suppose you haven’t seen the video then?” Eliza asked.

“There’s a video?”

“DVD,” Eliza droned. “Back of the file.”

Ivy flipped the folder over and, sure enough, taped to the inside cover was a shiny silver disk.

“Look, I really don’t have time to discuss this right now. If you’ll excuse me,” Eliza said, “I’d like to use the bathroom before we start back up.”

The prosecutor headed again for the door, but Ivy called after her, hating how desperate she sounded. “I just need to know what the plea deal is.”

Eliza turned, shaking her head defiantly. “Uh-uh. Nope. Not on this one. No reduction. No deal.”

Ivy assumed at first that this was just more hazing, like the deputy downstairs. But the prosecutor remained stone faced.

“I don’t understand,” Ivy said.

Eliza huffed. “Just watch the video. Trust me, you’ll understand.”

***

Excerpt from All Guilty Anyway by Russell W. Johnson. Copyright 2026 by Russell W. Johnson. Reproduced with permission from Russell W. Johnson. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Russell W. Johnson

Russell W. Johnson is a fiction writer and North Carolina attorney. His debut story, "Chung Ling Soo's Greatest Trick," was published by Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine in January 2015 and won the Edgar Award's Robert L. Fish Memorial prize for best short story by a new author. Since then he's been published in a number of outlets and recently won the West Virginia Writers Association’s Pearl S. Buck Award, as well as first place for book length fiction.

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Review:

5 stars!

Riveting courtroom drama and legal thriller. 

All Guilty Anyway by Russel W. Johnson is a riveting legal thriller featuring a first-year attorney assigned to the defense of an immigrant mother in what appears to be a slam-dunk case of child abuse. But everything quickly goes off-script, starting with no plea deal and ending in a courtroom facing a renowned assistant district attorney nicknamed “The Hatchet Lady.” 

Fledgling defense attorney Ivy Collins had turned her back on joining her father’s prestigious law firm and gone to work for Lester “The Truth” Williams, a famed defense attorney who may be beyond his glory days. Sonia Cabrerra, the pregnant mother of eight-year-old Hugo, is in jail awaiting adjudication on charges of child abuse, based on the child’s testimony that the scarring on his torso came from her deliberately burning him with a hot skillet grate. Speaking neither English nor Spanish well, she had given the investigating detective compromising answers that indicated she had hurt the boy in the past. However, subsequent questioning in her native language soon revealed a different story than what the police and district attorney were peddling. Still, obtaining corroborative evidence from those who could help prove Sonia’s innocence hit roadblocks at every turn. Ivy has her work cut out for her in her first-ever court trial, defending a client with all the evidence against her, whom she believes is innocent. 

Ivy Collins is an engaging young attorney, ready to do all she can to provide a righteous defense. She’s stubborn and headstrong when it comes to being told she can’t do something: the initial reason she turned her eyes toward working as a criminal defense attorney rather than following in her demanding and larger-than-life father’s footsteps. She’s softhearted, too, and willing to help her friends, even considering some shady maneuvers to keep a coworker from being deported. She’s a character you want to root for from start to finish. 

The plot features a horrible accusation by a seemingly charming little boy, so it was quite a long shot that readers would be persuaded to feel sympathetic toward the accused. However, the author accomplishes this, and Sonia Cabrerra becomes the underdog, trapped by circumstances and facing impossible odds. The courtroom scenes are riveting, with all the involved attorneys portrayed as top-notch professionals. For once, none were made to look buffoonish or incompetent, just formidable adversaries. The resolution is satisfying, with careful attention paid to the future of the unbearably broken mother-child relationship between Sonia and Hugo. 

I recommend ALL GUILTY ANYWAY to readers of legal thrillers and courtroom dramas.



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Book Review: Flimflam Fairy (Magical Cozy Mystery Bookstore, #1) by Elizabeth Pantley

Flimflam Fairy (Magical Cozy Mystery Bookstore #1)Flimflam Fairy by Elizabeth Pantley
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Fun beginning for this new paranormal cozy mystery spin-off!

Flimflam Fairy is the first book in veteran author Elizabeth Pantley's new Magical Cozy Mystery Bookstore series featuring new business owners Willa Treadwell and Lucy Young, longtime friends who have retired but surprisingly find themselves at loose ends until they discover the most perfect resolution. In this series opener, readers learn about the store's magical functions and watch as Willa and Lucy jump in with both feet on their first journey literally inside a book and race against time to save a young fairy's life.

Willa and Lucy are personality opposites: Lucy is a spontaneous, colorful extrovert, while Willa is more reserved and cautious. But in the effort to get them in possession of their new-to-them bookstore and off on their first adventure, we really don't learn too much background about these two main characters; in fact, we are halfway through the book before we even see their surnames. Still, a comfortable familiarity grows, and they are a likable pair, each with quirks and strengths they play to throughout the story.

The series is a spin-off of the author's previous Magical Cozy Mystery Book Club but works well as a standalone. However, the earlier series is a 'must-read' for paranormal mystery fans who enjoy a literary-themed tale. This book focuses on the front-end process of supplying reading material to the magical libraries and book clubs across the series' world.

Willa and Lucy get the first look at new publications and are to vet their suitability for inclusion in the libraries. Yet behind-the-scenes secrets remain to unfold. As in the previous series, there is a talking cat and a crossover pink lizard character, an olm named Bob, who makes an early appearance to explain the functions and rules of bookstore ownership to the two women.

As before, there is plenty of good camaraderie and the sharing of delectable meals as the gals, along with their experienced cat companion, Banjo, go about their mission to save a life or solve the murder of a much-loved fairy in the magical setting of Whisperglow Village. While Banjo is attuned to the ways of the book journeys, the two women must quickly adjust to becoming characters in a novel they are experiencing from the inside out.

A new twist in this book journey is a time-travel element that gives the main characters the chance to change the story's outcome altogether. This surprising left turn jolts the new investigators into action, adding another layer of suspense and a race against time. Will Lucy, Willa, and Banjo be able to track down the Flimflam Fairy and avert a murder in time?

I recommend FLIMFLAM FAIRY to readers who enjoy literary-themed paranormal cozy mysteries, especially fans of the author's previous series.

I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving an Advance Review Copy from the author through Great Escapes Virtual Book Tours.

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Thursday, October 01, 2026

Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: Coincidence by Jon Ketzner

Coincidence
by
Jon Ketzner

Speculative Historical Fiction
Publisher: Audecyn Books
Publication Date: September 1, 2026
Page count: 483 pages

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SYNOPSIS:
On the eve of President John F. Kennedy's final trip to Dallas, an irreverent narrator from the Ether begins to reveal the hidden chain of events that history never recorded. Spanning decades and weaving together Hollywood legends, political dynasties, secret affairs, and forgotten tragedies, Coincidence imagines how seemingly unrelated lives become entangled in the most infamous assassination of the twentieth century. From Joseph P. Kennedy and Gloria Swanson to Jackie Kennedy, Mary Pinchot Meyer, and the young Lee Harvey Oswald, every choice, passion, and betrayal sends ripples through time. Behind every headline lies another story, and every story hides a secret long buried. As the strands converge on November 22, 1963, the line between fate and accident begins to blur. Rich in historical detail and provocative speculation, Coincidence asks: was it really coincidence at all?
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ENJOY AN EXCERPT:

Jackie rarely consulted him about her clothing. Her sense of style, if not her sense of humor, was notorious.

“The pink.”

She seemed surprised. “Why the pink?”

“Texas. All those tired cowgirls raising their brat kids to be Miss America. They adore pink in Texas.”

The First Lady eyed the pink at arm’s length. She shrugged. “Okay. The pink.”

“But the hat,” POTUS said, “could you do without the hat. I hate those things.”

Jackie shook her head.

“I’ll need the hat. Without the bubble top on, my hair would be a mess.”

The president leaned back against the pillows on his rock-hard bed, supine in his boxers and the argyles Bobby had given him which bore the presidential seal. He grinned.

“Remember the times when we would drift down the Potomac, standing by the rail, the wind blowing wildly through your hair, and there on the river in the middle of the city you would sink sexily to your knees…”

“Drop dead, Mr. President.” Words Jackie would soon want back.

The door to Suite 850 opened and George Lapp entered to help The President dress. He nodded at Jackie. He had seen her naked many times and was indifferent to the marital scenario into which he had strolled. Jackie smiled curtly and sidled toward her own room to don the pink Chanel, including its matching hat.

Before she left, the President grinned and said to his valet. “I might need the back brace today, George, had a strenuous night.”


AUTHOR GUEST POST:

Please welcome the author of today's featured book, Jon Ketzner, to the blog to talk about the "Pros and Cons of writing in the genre of his story."

Jon: My newest novel, "Coincidence" is intended to be a historiographic meta fiction tale centered around the John Kennedy assassination. In other words, my fictional characters weave in and out of the actual historical events, interplaying with real folks but the basic historical arc is not changed. My rough model was "Ragtime" but the genre itself has been around in modern fiction for a while. "Catch 22," many of Kurt Vonnegut's novels, and Gore Vidal's are similar. I use an all-knowing narrator to speak directly to the reader to add context and shape to my re-telling of the days and years of events leading up to JFK's last bad day in Dallas. 

Google describes historiographic metafiction as a postmodern literary genre that blends historical fiction with self-conscious storytelling. The text explores how history is recorded, edited and shaped by power rather than presented as absolute truth. The text exposes its own artificial creation, breaking the traditional illusion of historical realism.  

Obviously, the biggest pro to writing in this genre is that the principal undercarriage of the story is already written...in the history books. The major characters are already out there...their appearances, voices, foibles, sins and heroics already known, probably well-known. The challenge then is to weave fictional characters and events into the narrative that are plausible and fresh. This can be great fun. Adding the metafiction element...say with a narrator or character speaking directly to the reader (Think "Deadpool") allows the introduction of humor, irony and snarky commentary. To me, this allows the actual historical characters to become more human and entertaining as the familiar historical understanding unspools. The real folks were blood and bone humans and the metafiction approach, i think, allows their genuine selves to be projected more entertainingly than might be available through classic historical fiction. 

The major con of this genre, like that of historical fiction, is that the readers may have a fixed notion about the historical characters and events and could fail to appreciate a tweaking of their notions. Myths and prejudices get hard-wired into readers about non-fictional people, and a writer runs the risk of alienating potential audiences by piercing the bubbles time has built around these historical players. Adding the asides and possible snark takes of the metafiction element can exacerbate the reader's alienation. On the other hand, many readers find historical fiction dry and not fun because the end of the story is known...putting a smartass in the middle of the telling might jack up the interest of a reader not otherwise interested in reading about something already known, and, like I said, probably well-known. The JFK tale is certainly very well-known, its major and minor characters exposed in hundreds of books and other writings. Hopefully, my take on the tale will prove refreshing to readers open to having some fun with what was a jarring historical event. 




ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 

Jon Ketzner was born in Cumberland, Maryland in the lovely Appalachian foothills. He grew up in Baltimore then graduated from Towson University with a degree in mathematics and went on to a long career as a consulting actuary. For many years, Jon and his family lived in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania before moving back to Cumberland in 1990.

As a recovering actuary and inspired by the Maryland Writers Association’s “Notable Authors” monthly challenges, Jon decided to try his hand at writing and give his left-brain side a rest. He cites as influences: Henry Fielding, Joseph Heller, Gregory McDonald, and Tim Dorsey.



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Wednesday, September 30, 2026

Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: The Harlot of St. Cecelia's (Inspector Garrett Mystery, #1) by Darcy Graves

The Harlot of St. Cecelia's by Darcy Graves Banner

THE HARLOT OF ST. CECELIA'S

by Darcy Graves

September 21 - October 16, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Harlot of St. Cecelia's by Darcy Graves

An Inspector Garrett Mystery

 

London, 1923. American expat librarian Eden Brior thinks things are bad when she is accidentally locked overnight in the St. Cecelia’s Library vault with the charming and unreliable Simon Cross. Then she emerges to find the body of his estranged wife — a celebrated French actress — draped over a chair upstairs.

Detective Inspector William Garrett is methodical, quietly perceptive, and already fairly certain he has his man. He tells Eden firmly to go home and leave the detecting to the professionals. But how can she?

Racing to clear their names before Garrett closes the case, Eden follows the truth from the bright footlights of the London stage through the sleek drawing rooms of Jazz Age society, and into secrets that someone will kill to keep buried.

Steeped in the style of the golden age of detective fiction, The Harlot of St. Cecelia’s captures a London still glittering on the surface and shadowed underneath — where every drawing room hides a secret and every secret has a price.

Perfect for fans of Jacqueline Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs series.

Praise for The Harlot of St. Cecelia's:

"This novel consistently delights, from the spicy title to the last page."
~ Kirkus Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Independently Published
Publication Date: May 3, 2026
Number of Pages: 306
ISBN: 979-8195315580
Series: Inspector Garrett Mystery Series, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

 

 

Author Bio:

Darcy Graves

Darcy Graves grew up in Boston and holds an MA in English history and a BS in copywriting. A marketing content writer for over thirty years, she brings to her work a deep love of the golden age of detective fiction — particularly Agatha Christie and P.D. James — and the whimsy of P.G. Wodehouse.

Darcy lives in the Berkshires with her daughter, two ragdoll cats, and a very naughty terrier named Merial. The Harlot of St. Cecelia's is her first novel.

Catch Up With Darcy Graves:

DarcyGravesAuthor.com
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BookBub - @darcygravesauthor
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Review:

5 stars!

Secrets run deep, and emotions run high in this new historical mystery debut. 

The Harlot of St. Cecelia's is the first book in author Darcy Graves's new 1920s London-set mystery series featuring Detective Inspector William Garrett of the Dayneton CID. When the body of a beautiful French actress is discovered in the Reading Room of the university library, DI William Garrett is tasked with finding her killer. Clues, however, are hard to come by, and the only witnesses on site were purposely locked in the basement vault the entire time. 

The 1920s time frame and London setting provide a vivid, often rainy backdrop for this tale of jealousy, betrayal, revenge, and murder. The victim, Isabelle Jalbert, while having many admirers over the years, is not well liked among her peers, and several characters are glad to see her demise. Jealousies among the theatre fold abound, and I thought there were a couple of very strong suspects coming from that direction. However, Isabelle had also developed strong emotions outside the theatre, and Garrett had his eye on both witnesses from the library. 

While Simon Cross, a former soldier with a damaged soul from his time in the First World War, seemed resigned to his being the chief suspect, his sister, Meg, and his library companion, Eden Brior, were not nearly as complacent as to allow the police to dilly-dally around. I enjoyed how they teamed up and took the bull by the horns, working through several clues to try to identify the real killer. The final reveal is exciting and is a surprising showdown of sorts. I look forward to seeing these characters return for the next case. 

I recommend THE HARLOT OF ST. CELELIA'S to readers of historical mysteries.



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Week Blitz & Giveaway: The Glass Moth by D. Lieber


The Glass Moth
by
D. Lieber

Dystopian Fantasy
Publisher: Ink & Magick
Publication Date: September 15, 2026
Page count: 372 pages

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SYNOPSIS:

Her magic comes naturally. His is synthetic. Their different approaches could get one of them killed.
 
Wisconsin, 2050. Kallista Marquis doesn’t expect much anymore. When poor air quality and undrinkable water are everyday problems, the pessimistic gardener is just glad to have a roof over her head. But when a handsome glassblower informs her she’s a natural witch, she eagerly learns the illicit craft as she discovers her ability to finally impact the world.

Fort Meade. Evan Wells should be thrilled with his special assignment. Desperate to keep taking the wish-granting drug that makes him feel invincible, the Army specialist focuses on hunting down naturals and avoiding the snarky yet attractive private who hardly gives him a moment’s peace. But when his lack of progress again threatens a court-martial, his spiraling anxiety endangers more than he's willing to risk.

Trapped by the economic, governmental, and environmental pressures of their time, these opposing sides believe magic is the only glimmer of hope either of them has. But is that power worth it? Is it worth dying for? Is it worth killing for?
 
Uncertainty, love, secrets, and sorcery tangle the threads of fate in this slice-of-life dystopian fantasy.

 CLICK TO PURCHASE!



ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

D. Lieber writes character-driven stories for every mood. Her characters breathe as if they have souls, and her effortlessly immersive worlds hold inner harmonies that cleverly tie everything together.

Beyond her skeptic and slightly pessimistic mind, Lieber wants to believe. She is a romantic idealist at heart, always fighting to keep her feet on the ground and her head in the clouds. When she isn’t planning her next physical adventure, she’s recklessly jumping from one fictional world to another. Her love of reading led her to earn a Bachelor’s in English from Wright State University. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband (John) and cats (Yin and Nox). 


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Tuesday, September 29, 2026

Book Blitz: Haunted Holiday (Holiday Chronicles, #3) by Lindsey Gray

Haunted Holiday
by Lindsey Gray
(The Holiday Chronicles, #3)
Publication date: September 29, 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance, Supernatural

Everyone in Clarkstown believes they know who killed firefighter Zane Gravenhurst.

His girlfriend, Jillian, sits behind bars, accused of leaving him to die after a rainy night ended in tragedy. The case is all but closed.

Only Zane’s younger sister, Molly, knows the truth isn’t buried because she can communicate with his ghost.

Molly needs help to get justice for her brother.

Her shy neighbor, whom she’s crushed on since high school, Duncan, comes to her aid.

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EXCERPT:

Molly

“Molly! Wake up!”

Molly groaned and rolled over to check the red numbers on her bedside clock. She wanted to jump back into the dream she’d been having before the voice rudely awakened her. In that dream, her thoughts lingered on her neighbor, Duncan, the one with the scar etched across his ear. Something in the scene comforted her; she wished to slip back into that warm haze and forget all the chaos that surrounded her.

“It’s five am, Zane. I’m not making you breakfast this early.” Her older brother, Zane, tended to work odd hours as a firefighter, but Molly spent three days climbing out of the grip of the flu going around the high school where she taught theater. She had no desire to indulge her brother’s cravings.

“Molly Gravenhurst. Please wake up. We need to talk,” the new voice pleaded.

The voice of her grandmother, Dawn, reached her foggy brain. Her dead grandmother.

Molly jerked up in bed and focused on the two ghosts that stood at the end. The appearance of her grandmother didn’t surprise her. What her grandmother called her “second sight” made her capable of communication with earthbound spirits. Genuine shock and abject horror slammed into her when she saw her brother, Zane. The night before, he’d been alive and kicking.

“No,” Molly whispered in utter terror. A simple, horrifying truth struck her. If her brother were a ghost, then he was dead.

Molly could see ghosts, a gift she possessed since toddlerhood. Three years ago, when her grandmother died, she and Zane inherited her house and the care of their grandmother’s ghost. While he lived, Grandma Dawn’s ghost remained invisible to Zane. Now, a ghost himself, he could finally see her.

“I know this is a shock, Molly, but Zane needs you to pull yourself together.” Grandma Dawn’s tone snapped Molly out of her silence.

“Wha-wha-what happened, Zane?” Molly fisted her blanket while she tried to gather herself.

“Jillian dropped me off at Paddy’s. He wanted to continue the Halloween party back at his house. After Paddy and I walked into the garage, everything is blank. I appeared in the kitchen here, where I found Grandma.” Zane spoke with clinical precision, not an ounce of emotion. She understood the pain of death since she dealt with the pain ghosts experienced every day.

“Where’s Jillian?” Molly grabbed her cell phone from her bedside table. “I need to call her.”

“She’s asleep on the sofa.” Zane’s voice cracked at the end of his statement. “I just peeked for a second. I can’t go …I don’t …”

Grandma Dawn took Zane’s hand in hers in a gesture of comfort and compassion.

Molly struggled with what to do next. She’d barely adjusted to her grandmother’s death. How could she live without her brother’s hugs, his teasing slaps, or witnessing his love and devotion for Jillian?

“What do I need to do?” Grandma Dawn died in her sleep. She found her in the primary bedroom of the very house she lived in. Where was Zane’s body? If it were at Paddy’s house, Paddy would have called her by now? He was Zane’s best friend. He’d had her number since the day she got it thirteen years ago.

Before Zane or Grandma Dawn had a chance to answer, Jillian burst into Molly’s attic space.

“You’re awake. Thank God.” She burst into the room and threw herself onto Molly’s bed, her blonde hair pulled back into a crooked ponytail. “Zane hasn’t come home yet. It’s still pouring outside. Visibility is shit. What if he got in an accident? What if he and Paddy are in a ditch? What if he tried to walk home and got hit by a car? I’ve called him five times and texted him six times. He hasn’t responded.”

Jillian’s frantic questions made sense, but she couldn’t confirm anything because she didn’t know whether any of those possibilities were correct. Neither did either of the ghosts.

“Let’s think.” Molly pushed away the knowledge of her brother’s death and gathered her thoughts. “You all went to that big Halloween party downtown, right?”

“Yeah. Paddy invited a bunch of us over to his house, but I told Zane I needed sleep. My sinuses have been getting worse. I think I caught whatever you have.” Congestion clogged Jillian’s voice, and tears or illness left her eyes red and bloodshot. Molly’s heart sank. The same symptoms had stalked her for the past several days.

“You dropped him off at Paddy and Lucky’s house, then?”

Jillian nodded. “It started to rain a few minutes before I got here. Now it’s pouring.”

“Let’s call Paddy first. Who else came to the party?” Molly scrolled through her numbers in her contacts to find Paddy’s number.

“Barb Sterling and her husband, Rhett.” Jillian dialed the number on speaker. “Then Marty and Ellen Culver. Maybe Grant Hannah. I think Paddy’s little brothers and a bunch of their friends were in town and staying with him for a while.” Voicemail answered after five rings. “It’s Jillian and Molly. Zane isn’t home. Is he with you, or do you have any idea where he went? Call me.”

“I’ve got Barb’s number.” Molly dialed and placed it on speaker.

“Molly?” Barb answered with a yawn. “What’s going on? It’s the butt crack of dawn.”

“Zane never came home from Paddy’s last night. Did he stay over? We can’t contact Zane or Paddy.”

“Wait a minute.” The sound of sheets and blankets shifting came through the speaker. “Jillian’s car pulled up outside Paddy’s house, but neither of them came in. I tried calling and texting Zane after her car left, but I never got an answer. We left here around two.”

“We need to look for him. I dropped him off and came back to his house,” Jillian’s voice carried extreme anxiety, burgeoning into mania.

“Jillian?” Barb yawned again on her end.

“What’s going on?” Molly heard a sleepy Rhett ask on the other end of the line.

“Jillian said she dropped Zane off at Paddy’s. I never saw him, did you?” Barb asked her husband.

“No. I thought it was weird you said you saw Jillian’s car, but they didn’t come in. But I started singing karaoke with Marty and lost track of everything.” Molly imagined the sound of strangled cats coming from Marty. None of Zane’s friends had a lick of musical or theatrical talent as she did.

Every wasted second ratcheted up Molly’s anxiety. They were no closer to answers. She looked to Zane for any suggestions while Jillian threw out scenarios left and right. Zane shrugged as he watched his girlfriend torment herself with grim what-ifs.

Barb decided she would come pick up Jillian, and they would search around town. Molly agreed to stay home in case Zane made his way back.

Molly knew for an absolute fact that November 1st would be the worst day of her life.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lindsey Gray is a writer, an over-thinker, and a chronic list-maker, but her passion for writing stories you'll love always tops the list. Her author journey began in 2010 with the publication of her first novel, and she has spent the last decade creating worlds for readers to play in. In addition to her own work, Gray uses her skills in novel formatting for other authors and hosts the weekly show Gray Matters on TMV Cafe Internet Radio. She lives and writes fueled by iced tea, her handsome hubby, and the beautiful chaos of mothering her children.

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