Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: Diamond in the Ruff (Wiggle Butt Manor Mystery, #1) by Cindy Goyette

DIAMOND IN THE RUFF

by Cindy Goyette

May 19 - June 13, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

WIGGLE BUTT MANOR MYSTERY SERIES

 

Charlie Calderbank always dreamed of being a cop, but a medical issue forces her out of the academy and to rethink her future. When Charlie’s Aunt Jo-Jo suffers injuries in a car accident, she offers to help at her aunt’s pet hotel, Wiggle Butt Manor, in the charming Pacific Northwest island town of Orca Cove.

With her Cocker Spaniel Noah at her side, she settles into life on the island and at the Manor. When the owner of Maya, the precocious mutt, is murdered, Jo-Jo becomes a suspect, forcing Charlie to find the real killer before they put her aunt away for good. While she rushes to hide clues that point to her aunt, she tries to wrangle Maya into control. But she, too, seems eager to solve the case and doesn’t follow the rules. Charlie’s quest leads her to uncover plenty of the small town’s secrets, and to fall for the hot local cop trying to find the killer. It also puts her on the radar of the murderer who will do anything to protect their secret, including making Charlie the next victim.

Praise for Diamond In The Ruff:

"Diamond in the Ruff brims with intrigue and heart. The engaging heroine, Charlie, will rivet you to her story as she navigates a deadly maze of old and new secrets to uncover a murderer, while Maya and Noah, the canine players, will capture your heart as you race to the novel's suspenseful ending."
~ Angela M. Sanders, bestselling author of the Witch Way Librarian mysteries

"A tightly-crafted cozy featuring a memorable cast of characters—and canines!"
~ Dawn Ius, Author of Anne & Henry, Overdrive and Lizzie

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: May 2025
Number of Pages: 320
Series: Wiggle Butt Manor Mystery Series, book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

“I’m suspicious of people who don’t like dogs, but I trust a dog when it doesn’t like a person”
Bill Murray

The massive bridge from mainland Washington to the village of Orca Cove lay before me like the highway to hell. Not that Orca Cove’s a bad place. Quite the contrary. It’s just that heights scared the bejesus out of me—and it was going to take every bit of courage I could muster to cross it.

The sky was hazy as the sun threatened to burn off oppressive dark gray clouds. Spikes at the top of the bridge disappeared into the fast-moving fog. The looming structure reminded me of green metal toothpicks, supporting a wobbly death trap in the sky. It took my breath away and not in a good way.

Come on, Charlie. Put on your big girl pants and suck it up.

I tried to concentrate on the quaint town on the other side and the refuge it would provide. But all I could think of as I navigated my rental car across the bridge was that the Pacific Northwest was long overdue for an earthquake. Wouldn’t it be my luck to be on this bridge when it happened? I imagined I would feel suspended in the air forever during the plunge, but death would come quickly as the ice-cold water below swallowed us whole.

“I know,” I said, glancing down at my buff Cocker Spaniel, Noah, fast asleep on the seat beside me. “Stop being so dramatic.” But as I white-knuckled our way across the bridge, Noah was oblivious. He continued to sleep off the meds I’d given him to make the flight from New Jersey more tolerable. His snore reminded me of what an overweight lumberjack might sound like after a few too many beers. Hard to believe such a rattling noise came out of a twenty-two-pound fur ball, so adorable people often mistook him for Lady from Lady and the Tramp. A thorn in my side, but I was prone to overreacting when it came to my boy.

Four miles seemed a long time to contemplate one’s death. Cars behind me honked as I drove just under the speed limit, my eyes intent on the few feet of road in front of me. I tried to stifle the hysteria that rose in my chest and choked me.

Deep breaths, Charlie.

I did my best to ignore the impatient drivers behind us. Fate threw in a pack of serious bicyclists, making the bridge even more narrow. I focused on the toned calves pumping the petals on the bike of the woman in front of me, while wishing there was another way onto the island. But my unemployed status and dwindling bank account didn’t allow for luxuries like a private boat or seaplane.

Exiting the bridge, I let out a long breath. “That was stressful,” I said to Noah.

More snoring. Well, it was terrifying for me.

The sleepy town always made me feel like I’d entered a time warp and had surfaced in the 1950s. Quaint buildings, with brightly painted mismatched architecture for each mom-and-pop shop, boutique, and restaurant lined the streets. Because orcas frequented the area and drew many tourists, everything had a nautical theme, and murals of killer whales and other sea life decorated the buildings. Despite its appeal, the town remained a best-kept secret, and even during the height of the season, crowds were few and far between.

Couples walked hand-in-hand down sidewalks, others pushed strollers, and many had a canine friend on a leash. I knew from previous visits that many of the residents were retired, and there was a high population of artists on the island.

Back on solid ground and with this storybook town before me, calm released like water from a dam, washing my trepidation out to sea.

Not wanting to visit my aunt empty handed, I stopped at the town bakery and bought two giant molasses cookies, my aunt’s favorite.

As I started up the hill to Aunt Jo-Jo’s house, I felt excited at the prospect of seeing her again. She was not only my favorite relative, but she’d also been my savior growing up when my mom went off the deep end—which was more often than I’d like to admit. I spent snippets of my childhood on this island and some of my best memories were of my time here. But I’d been remiss, having not visited her since my uncle passed away about five years ago. Life had gotten in the way. First, there was college and then the life-changing decision I’d made to leave my tedious corporate job for the police academy. Like most people my age, I was perpetually broke, and travel wasn’t in the cards.

But my aunt seemed to understand, and we kept in touch through email and weekly phone calls. She was still my sounding board when dealing with my mom’s antics. Those calls kept us close, but there was nothing like face-to-face time.

Aunt Jo-Jo’s Craftsman house perched on the hillside like a proud bird overlooking its kingdom. From it, she had a fantastic view of the water and the, gulp, bridge. The house was painted royal blue with white shutters. Colorful gardens surrounded the property, and a small dog park flanked the west side of the house. A banner reading Future Home of Orca Cove’s First Agility Course stretched across the fence. A handful of dogs frolicked on lush grass while owners sat on benches in animated conversation.

A more modern structure sat behind the home, painted the same shade of blue. A hotel for dogs–Wiggle Butt Manor.

Ten individual rooms were decorated with children’s furniture, on which the four-legged guests slept. Each room had a theme. There was a One Hundred, and One Dalmatians suite, a Lassie room, and one had French Bulldogs and a Paris theme.

I parked in the gravel driveway behind a mud-splattered Jeep Cherokee with an I love Golden Retrievers bumper sticker peeking out from beneath the dirt.

Rousing Noah with a quick belly rub, I got out of the car and stretched. The chill of the late September air reminded me that fall was around the corner. “Come on, Boo.” I slapped my thigh.

Noah’s flowing ears swayed as he jumped to the ground. He followed me like a shadow as I walked up to the pet hotel and rapped on the door. When no one answered, I opened it and stuck my head inside. “Hello?”

Barking erupted from the back room when we entered. The lobby held a desk and two overstuffed chairs, along with a giant bucketful of dog toys. A collage of photos taken of guests over the years hung on the wall. Noah gave me a look that said: what the heck, I thought I was the only one.

“You’ve led a sheltered life,” I said. “You’re not one of a kind.”

Noah was not a “dog person,” and he couldn’t care less about the canines eager to greet him. He glanced toward the barking dogs, yawned, and then leaped onto a chair and curled into a compact ball. I opened the door that led to the pet rooms and made my way down the hall. A wall of guest suites was to my left. Dogs of all sizes and colors stuck their noses out of low, barred windows to greet me. I bent down and said hello to each of them. I didn’t want to be rude.

The door at the end of the hall opened as Martha stepped inside. “Oh, dear!” She patted her chest as if she needed to restart her heart. “Charlie! You scared me half to death.”

Martha had worked with Aunt Jo-Jo for as long as I could remember. They argued constantly, but they’d take a bullet for each other. Martha’s curly gray hair looked like a startled ferret on her head, and her glasses were askew. She wore faded overalls and lime green Crocs.

“Sorry to scare you,” I said. “We just got here. Is everything all right?”

“One of the dogs is AWOL,” Martha said. “That teenager we hired must have failed to latch the kennel, and when I opened the hotel door, the slippery rascal bolted.”

I grabbed a leash off the hook. “What’s the breed?”

Martha scratched her head. “Basic brown dog. Size of a lab, soul of a scoundrel. Answers to Maya, if she’d ever bother.”

“I’m on it,” I said.

Heading back to my car, I called for Noah to join me. Not buying into the urgency, he lumbered off the chair and followed. Back in the rental car, we set off down the street, driving up and down the hilly roads that made up the neighborhood. Charming houses had well-manicured lawns, and vibrant flowers were abundant.

I watched the road while quickly scanning the bushes for a hiding dog. I wished I would have asked how long Maya had been missing. A dog like that could make it to the main road in minutes. I prayed a car wouldn’t hit the runaway.

I soon spotted a tan blur leap over a six-foot fence three streets down, disappearing into a backyard. Slamming on the brakes, my arm automatically jerked out to stop Noah from flying off the seat. I told him to stay, grabbed the leash, and jumped out of the car. I was five-foot-ten, and for once, I didn’t curse my height.

Standing on my toes, I could easily see over the fence and into the yard. The dog chased a flock of chickens while a middle-aged woman dressed in a low-cut top and shorts that might have fit her twenty years ago yelled at Maya to stop. Yielding a broom, she chased the dog in circles with little effect.

“I’m here to help,” I yelled over the fence. “Maya, come here!”

If the dog could flip me off, she would have. The look she gave me had the same result. Maya was on a tear.

“Do something,” the woman said, near tears.

I put my foot onto a nearby wheelbarrow, pulled myself up on my forearms, and swung my leg over the fence like they’d taught me in the police academy. Dropping into a crouch on the other side, I straightened and stepped between Maya and a chicken seconds before what would become the last moment of the feathered creature’s life.

“Come here.” I leaned down to the dog’s level and motioned her forward.

But Maya had other ideas. She charged at me, knocking me on my backside before pushing off me like a diving board, ready for round two.

I struggled for breath as I reached up, and almost caught her mid-flight, but she dodged me, leaving me laying on the ground flat on my back.

I got to my knees, then staggered to my feet. “Okay,” I said, out of breath. “You win, you slippery devil.”

I swear she laughed at me.

Out of ideas, I looked at the woman still wielding the broom like a baseball bat, and the chicken, who ruffled her feathers as if she was trying to pull herself together. They didn’t look impressed by my ungraceful moves.

Apparently satisfied that she’d proven her point, Maya walked slowly over to me and ducked her head, allowing me access to her collar. Getting a firm hold of it, I gave Maya a nod. She’d earned my respect. Pushing my hair out of my face, I turned to the woman. “Sorry about that. We’ll get out of your way.”

Neither the woman nor the chicken looked particularly grateful.

Dragging the dog, who continued to lunge at the flock behind us, we made our way back to the car, where Noah still snored undisturbed. Yin and Yang, I thought as I shoved Maya into the backseat.

“Wait,” the woman called, running toward me.

Keys in hand, I paused by the door.

“You dropped this.” She handed me my phone, covered in mud and what I guessed was chicken poop.

I carefully took it, holding it by the corners, trying not to gag. “Awe, thanks.”

“And thanks to you, too, Maya,” I said under my breath.

I got into the car and looked in the rear-view mirror, about to back out of the space, when I spied Maya biting down on one of the cookies I’d planned to bring to my aunt. A twinkle sparkled in her eyes, and she held my gaze as she swallowed.

So, this was how it was going to be?

***

Excerpt from Diamond In The Ruff by Cindy Goyette. Copyright 2025 by Cindy Goyette. Reproduced with permission from Cindy Goyette. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Armed with a handgun and a word processor, Immigration Officer Cindy Goyette spent her nights creating fictional friends to help pass the lonely hours between border crossers. A portable black-and-white TV cancelled the unexplained noises coming from the ancient jail cells in the creepy basement. The resulting book will stay in the closet where it belongs, but the seed was planted and she’s been writing ever since.

Cindy spent the ensuing years as a probation officer, dealing with hardened criminals with hard-luck stories that sometimes kept her up at night. Every day was an adventure. She survived by seeing humor in situations where she could find it. She joked about writing a book and then she did just that.

The Probation Case Files Mystery series books, OBEY ALL LAWS and EARLY TERMINATION incorporates the wild and crazy life of a probation officer with issues currently in the news. Cindy’s history with flirtatious felons who thought they were charmers and addicts who denied the drugs in their pockets, claiming they’re wearing their friend’s pants have given her ample material for the books she now writes. Released JANUARY 2024 and January 2025

Cindy has a habit of adopting dogs who get into as much mischief as her probationers. A vet told her, Maya – a basic brown miscreant mixed breed – was lucky Cindy had taken her home because no one else would have put up with her antics. So why not give Maya her own series? Thus, Diamond in the Ruff: A Wiggle Butt Manor Mystery was born. Released May 6, 2025

Born in New Jersey, Cindy lived in Phoenix for twenty years. She now makes her home in Washington state with her husband and two cocker spaniels.

Catch Up With Cindy Goyette:

www.CCGoyette.com
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Facebook - Cindy Goyette, Author

 

 

Review:

5 stars!

Clever, twisty murder mystery with a great canine theme! 

Diamond in the Ruff is the first book in author Cindy Goyette’s cozy canine-themed Wiggle Butt Manor Mystery series set on a small island off the Washington coast and featuring a strong young female protagonist and her companion dog, a lovable cocker spaniel named Noah. With its wonderful main characters, both human and canine, and an intriguing, complex plot, I didn’t want to put this one down. 

When Charlie Calderbank returns to Orca Cove, where she spent many happy childhood visits, it is to help out at her Aunt Jo-Jo’s dog hotel while her aunt recuperates and undergoes rehab after a near-fatal car accident. But while walking dogs with her aunt’s troubled teenage part-time employee, they discover the body of the owner of a particularly rambunctious charge, floating near the shore, with Jo-Jo’s unique handmade necklace clutched in her hand. As the evidence against Jo-Jo starts to stack up, Charlie initiates her own investigation into who murdered Lucy Masanova and is trying to implicate her aunt. 

Charlie is such an interesting and relatable character. Although a life-long dog lover and clearly happy to help out with her aunt’s business, it had always been her dream to be a police officer back in her home state of New Jersey. However, a recent diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis and symptoms affecting her hands and fine motor skills make her career choice no longer viable. Anyone suffering from this incurable disease will find her experiences relatable and authentic. Suddenly out of work, when the call comes about Jo-Jo’s accident, Charlie is able to leave immediately for the Pacific Northwest to help out. The descriptions of her aunt’s island home are entrancing. 

The plot, with its different concurrent storylines, moves at a fast pace, and the suspense quickly mounts as someone is seen lurking around the hotel in the dark, the orphaned part-timer is threatened by her sleazy uncle and aunt, and the case against Jo-Jo continues to look bleak. The hunky island police officer is a tempting distraction both for Jo-Jo’s future freedom and Charlie’s heart as she tries to keep him focused on those she pinpoints as better suspects, including Lucy’s own nephew, who arrived suspiciously quick from Georgia, for her murder. With the storylines intertwining, there are a couple of good red herrings to knock off the suspect list before arriving at the shocking revelations of some years-old island secrets and real killer. 

I recommend DIAMOND IN THE RUFF to mystery readers who enjoy canine themes, Pacific Northwest settings, underlying romantic potential, and a strong female protagonist.

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Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: All We Buried (Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery, #1) by Elena Taylor

The Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery Series

by Elena Taylor

April 28 - May 23, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

ALL WE BURIED

Interim sheriff Elizabeth "Bet" Rivers has always had one repeat nightmare: a shadowy figure throwing a suspicious object into her hometown lake in Collier, Washington. For the longest time, she chalked it up to an overactive imagination as a kid. Then the report arrives. In the woods of the Cascade mountain range, right in her jurisdiction, a body floats to the surface of Lake Collier. When the body is extricated and revealed, no one can identify Jane Doe. But someone must know the woman, so why aren't they coming forward?

Bet has been sitting as the interim sheriff of this tiny town in the ill-fitting shoes of her late father and predecessor. With the nightmare on her heels, Bet decided to build a life for herself in Los Angeles, but now it's time to confront the tragic history of Collier. The more she learns, the more Bet realizes she doesn't know the townspeople of Collier as well as she thought, and nothing can prepare her for what she is about to discover.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery
Published by: Crooked Lane
Publication Date: April 7, 2020
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Penguin Random House

Plus, Don't Miss

A COLD, COLD WORLD*

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Severn House

Now In Paperback!

The world felt pure. Nature made the location pristine again, hiding the scene from prying eyes. As if no one had died there at all.

In the months since Bet Rivers solved her first murder investigation and secured the sheriff’s seat in Collier, she’s remained determined to keep her town safe. With a massive snowstorm looming, it’s more important than ever that she stays vigilant.

When Bet gets a call that a family of tourists has stumbled across a teen injured in a snowmobile accident on a mountain ridge, she braves the storm to investigate. However, once she arrives at the scene of the accident it’s clear to Bet that the teen is not injured; he’s dead. And has been for some time . . .

Investigating a possible homicide is hard enough, but with the worst snowstorm the valley has seen in years threatening the safety of her town, not to mention the integrity of her crime scenes – as they seem to be mounting up as well – Bet has to move fast to uncover the complicated truth and prove that she’s worthy of keeping her father’s badge.

A Cold, Cold World is nominated for a Foreword INDIES Award, Best Mystery of 2024 (winner announced early June)

Praise for ALL WE BURIED:

"Well-crafted . . . Taylor skillfully sets the scene, describing the distinctive local landscape [while] the introspective, conflicted Bet proves her mettle. Readers will look forward to her next outing."
~ Publishers Weekly

"This spooky and suspenseful story should be a must-read for fans of Lisa Unger, J. A. Jance, and Julia Keller."
~ Booklist

"Extremely hard to put down . . . Would recommend this to anyone who loves mystery thrillers."
~ San Francisco Book Review

"This book stands apart due to its smart, thoughtful protagonist and its richly layered setting in the remote Washington wilderness."
~ Midwest Book Review

"A thrilling start to a mystery series."
~ BookTrib

 

Author Bio:

Elena Taylor spent several years working in theater as a playwright, director, designer, and educator before turning her storytelling skills to fiction. Her first series, the Eddie Shoes Mysteries, written under the name Elena Hartwell, introduced a quirky mother/daughter crime fighting duo.

With the Bet Rivers Mysteries, Elena returns to her dramatic roots and brings readers much more serious and atmospheric novels. The series introduces Collier, Washington, with its dark and mysterious lake, tough-as-nails residents, and newly appointed sheriff with her sidekick Schweitzer, an Anatolian Shepherd.

Elena is also a senior editor with Allegory Editing, a developmental editing house, where she works one-on-one with writers to shape and polish manuscripts, short stories, and plays. If you’d like to work with Elena, visit www.allegoryediting.com.

Her favorite place to be is at Paradise, the property she and her hubby own south of Spokane, Washington. They live with their horses, dogs, and cats. Elena holds a B.A. from the University of San Diego, a M.Ed. from the University of Washington, Tacoma, and a Ph.D. from the University of Georgia.

Catch Up With Elena Taylor:
www.ElenaTaylorAuthor.com
Elena's Blog: The Mystery of Writing
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @elenataylorauthor
Instagram - @elenataylorauthor
X - @Elena_TaylorAut
Facebook - @ElenaTaylorAuthor

 

 

 

Review:

5 stars!

Dynamic and relatable young sheriff uncovers long-buried secrets when she returns to her small mountain hometown. 

All We Buried is the first book in author Elena Taylor’s Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery series, and with its engaging and relatable new female sheriff, remote mountain setting, and intricate plot, it was absolutely unputdownable. Elena Taylor has zoomed to the top of my list of favorite mystery writers. 

At the request of her ailing father, Elizabeth ‘Bet’ Rivers returns to her hometown of Collier, Washington, a small remote town in the Cascades, to serve as interim sheriff while he undergoes treatment for cancer. Bet, a four-year veteran with LAPD and studying for the upcoming detective’s exam, takes a leave of absence, never expecting her father to succumb to his illness within months and leave her in the position. Serving as her father’s eventual successor had always been her plan, a Rivers had been sheriff of Collier for generations; however, she had hoped to have a solid career under her belt in LA before taking the helm once her father retired. She’s torn about her future, wanting to resume her life in LA but realizing with her father’s premature death, her earlier plans may no longer be feasible. Underlying her plans is a deeply ingrained desire to protect the people of Collier, and waiting in the wings for her to leave is a young but inept and lazy deputy who’s already campaigning to be the next sheriff. The discovery of a murder victim found floating in glacial Lake Collier is not only a tough case but an opportunity for Bet to prove herself to her community. But as her investigation progresses, long-buried secrets are revealed, and once disparate storylines start to converge. 

The story kicks off early with the discovery of the body of a young woman, and the author subtly weaves in Bet’s backstory and her dream about seeing a body disposed of in the lake, as well as introduces the supporting characters, the residents of Collier and its visitors, and their secondary storylines. In realistic fashion, the author keeps Bet busy juggling all manner of calls and duties while pursuing her homicide investigation, just like real life in a small department. Still, the pace picked up even more as Bet got closer to the truth, storylines came together, and the resolution loomed. 

One of the most memorable aspects of the story is the small-town setting in the Washington Cascades. Collier, with a tiny year-round population and dependence on tourism, is quite remote, and its isolation impacts the availability of services to the residents and the Sheriff’s Department, delaying responses, information, assistance, and Bet’s case. Lake Collier, a glacial lake devoid of fish or life of any kind, has a dangerous reputation and casts an eerie and ominous presence throughout the book. 

With its engaging main character and exciting plot, I recommend ALL WE BURIED to readers of mysteries and thrillers, especially those who enjoy strong female protagonists or remote mountain settings.

*See my review for A Cold, Cold World HERE!

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Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: A Cold, Cold World (Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery, #2) by Elena Taylor

A COLD, COLD WORLD

by Elena Taylor

July 29 - August 23, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery

 

A female sheriff tries to fill her late father’s boots and be the sheriff her small Washington State mountain town needs as a deadly snow storm engulfs the town, in this dark, twisty mystery.

The world felt pure. Nature made the location pristine again, hiding the scene from prying eyes. As if no one had died there at all.

In the months since Bet Rivers solved her first murder investigation and secured the sheriff’s seat in Collier, she’s remained determined to keep her town safe. With a massive snowstorm looming, it’s more important than ever that she stays vigilant.

When Bet gets a call that a family of tourists has stumbled across a teen injured in a snowmobile accident on a mountain ridge, she braves the storm to investigate. However, once she arrives at the scene of the accident it’s clear to Bet that the teen is not injured; he’s dead. And has been for some time . . .

Investigating a possible homicide is hard enough, but with the worst snowstorm the valley has seen in years threatening the safety of her town, not to mention the integrity of her crime scenes – as they seem to be mounting up as well – Bet has to move fast to uncover the complicated truth and prove that she’s worthy of keeping her father’s badge.

Praise for A Cold, Cold World:

"Readers who appreciate the strong woman police chief in Linda Castillo’s Kate Burkholder books or the vivid landscapes of Craig Johnson’s Walt Longmire mysteries will appreciate Taylor’s riveting crime novel."
~ Lesa Holstine, Library Journal Starred Review

"Taylor perfectly captures the tension and determination of a small town sheriff facing down an isolating blizzard while racing against the clock to solve a murder and save a missing child. Sheriff Bet Rivers will be your new favorite character"
~ Lisa Gardner, #1 New York Times bestselling author

"A terrific ensemble cast in a total immersion setting! Fans of CJ Box and Julia Spencer-Fleming will adore this novel – it’s whipsmart, completely cinematic, and full of heart. Not to be missed!"
~ Hank Phillippi Ryan, USA Today bestselling author of One Wrong Word

"Sheriff Bet Rivers is back with a suspenseful and shrewdly plotted story of deadly small town secrets . . . Think Longmire meets Yellowstone"
~ James L’Etoile, award winning author of Dead Drop and Face of Greed

"Tense and divinely atmospheric, this is the perfect book to curl up with on a cold winter’s day"
~ J.L. Delozier, author of the multi-award-winning mystery, The Photo Thief

A Cold, Cold World Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Police Procedural, Mystery
Published by: Severn House
Publication Date: August 6, 2024
Number of Pages: 256
ISBN: 9781448314065 (ISBN10: 1448314062)
Series: A Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery, Book 2 | Each is a Stand-Alone Mystery
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Severn House

Read an excerpt:

ONE

Bet Rivers sat in the sheriff’s station and watched the radar on her computer screen turn a darker and darker blue. Snow headed for the little town of Collier and keeping everyone safe was her responsibility. Bet’s advancement to sheriff had taken place less than a year ago, but the name Rivers had followed ‘Sheriff’ all the way back to the founding of the town. None of the previous Sheriff Rivers, her father included, ever failed the community, and she didn’t plan to be the first. With her father’s death last fall, Collier residents were the closest thing she had to family.

The valley Bet protected sat high in the Cascade Mountain Range of Washington State. Winter storms often dropped a couple inches of snow at once, a situation Collier could handle, and winter had been relatively mild so far. February, however, was shaping up into something else.

This morning, nearby Lake Collier – a dark and dangerous body of water the locals respected from a safe distance – started freezing completely over for the first time in years.

Bet couldn’t remember such a large storm ever bearing down on the valley. The weather was determined to test her in ways that patrolling the streets of Los Angeles and her short stint as sheriff had not yet done.

Clicking off the weather radar screen and opening another file, Bet read over her severe winter storm checklist. Snowplow – ready to go. Volunteers with tractors and trucks with snowplow attachments – set. The community center would be open twenty-four hours a day in case the town’s power went out and people needed a warm place to go. Donna, the elementary school nurse, was on hand for minor health emergencies. She would be staying at the center twenty-four seven until the storm passed.

Most residents owned generators and a lot of people used fireplaces for heat, but the community center provided a central location for anyone in trouble.

Nothing like living in an isolated mountain valley to make folks respect what Mother Nature hurled at them – and rely on each other, rather than the outside world. A lot of people would look to the sheriff as a leader. She couldn’t let them down.

Bet turned her attention to the pile of pink ‘while you were out’ notes that Alma still loved to use rather than sending information to Bet digitally. Alma was much more than an office manager, but she also fought certain modern conveniences.

Most of the notes were mundane issues that Alma could handle, but the last in the pile was a call from Jamie Garcia, a local reporter trying to get back into Bet’s good graces after an incident a few months ago had cost her Bet’s trust.

Wants to chat about the possibility of an increase in drug use in the area, the note read. Specifically – meth.

That would definitely have to wait. It crossed Bet’s mind that Jamie might exaggerate the situation just to have reason to touch base with her, but Bet taped it to the computer monitor to follow up on after the storm passed. Her valley didn’t have the kind of drug problems as many other communities, and Bet wanted to see it stay that way. If Jamie had any information on a rise in illegal activity, that could be useful.

The rest of the notes she would return to Alma to deal with. Right now, weathering the tempest would take all of Bet’s resources.

Bringing up the radar one more time, Bet’s stomach clenched as she tracked the monster storm. What if she made a decision during this event that hurt her entire community? Confidence didn’t make responsibility lighter to bear, and the hot, sunny streets of Los Angeles hadn’t prepared her for one thousand residents slowly buried under several feet of snow. They were a long way from the plowed highways and larger cities with fully functional hospitals.

Bet was the first line of defense against disaster.

She was also likely the last line of defense. Once they were snowed in, she couldn’t bring help in from the outside.

A year ago, she had been poised to take the detective’s exam in Los Angeles. Her goal was a long and successful career in the nation’s largest police force. But events outside her control got in the way, and now she was back in Collier, trying to fill her father’s large, all-too-recently vacated shoes.

She faced a once-in-a-century storm with her lone deputy, a septuagenarian secretary, and one very big dog.

Her first instinct was to talk to her father, but his death prevented her from ever gaining new insight into his expertise. Her second instinct was to contact Sergeant Magdalena Carrera. Maggie had mentored Bet during her time at the LAPD.

‘We chicas need to stick together,’ she’d said to Bet early on in her career, back when Bet still called her sergeant.

But as good as Maggie was at her job, Bet doubted she’d have much advice about facing a blizzard.

‘It’s up to us, Schweitzer,’ Bet said to the Anatolian shepherd sitting in her doorway. ‘As long as no one has a heart attack after the storm hits, we’ll be fine.’ Schweitzer had a look on his face like he knew what was coming. He always could read her mood, not to mention the weather, and he’d been edgy all morning.

She had learned to read his mood too, and right now it wasn’t good.

‘It’s going to be all right, Schweitz.’ It surprised her to realize she believed her own words. She could handle this.

Lakers – residents proudly took the nickname from their mysterious lake – could hunker down in their valley and survive on their own. Everyone in town knew that if snow blocked them in and a helicopter couldn’t fly, they had no access to a hospital. But Donna was good at her job too. Plus, it would only be for a couple of days.

The phone on her desk rang, jarring her from her thoughts.

As long as the ring didn’t herald an emergency, everything would be fine.

Bet rolled out in her black and white on the long teardrop of road that circled the valley. She didn’t turn on her siren; there wasn’t anyone on the loop to warn of her approach and the sound felt too loud, like a scream into the colorless void. The emergency lights on top of her SUV stained the white unmarked fields of snow on either side red, then blue, then red again, like blood streaking the ground. Her studded tires roared on the hard-packed snow, the surface easy to navigate – at least for now.

The drive to Jeb Pearson’s place took less than twenty minutes, even with the worsening conditions. Pearson’s Ranch sat at the end of the valley farthest from the lake and the town center. The ranch occupied an area the locals called the ‘Train Yard’, though that name didn’t show up on any official maps.

Long ago, the roundhouse for the Colliers’ private railway perched there at the end of the tracks. The roundhouse was a huge, wedge-shaped brick structure, like one third of a pie with the tips of the slices bitten off. It was built to house the big steam engines owned by the Colliers. The facility could hold five engines, each pulled inside through giant glass and iron doors. Engines could be parked and serviced inside the roundhouse, while an enormous turntable sat out front to spin the engines around, sending them down different tracks in order to pass each other in opposite directions.

It was unlikely the Colliers ever housed five engines up here all at once, but they owned other mines around the state and had used engines in other places. It must have been reassuring to know that if they ever needed to, they could bring their assets up here, protected in their high-elevation fiefdom.

Jeb used the property as a summer camp for boys who struggled with drug and alcohol addictions and guesthouses for snow adventure enthusiasts during the winter. Jeb lived there year-round, with a giant Newfoundland dog named Grizzly, a half a dozen horses, and one mini donkey named Dolly that helped him rehabilitate the boys.

Bet pulled up in front of the roundhouse. The cabins and other outbuildings stretched away from where she parked, with the barn the farthest from the road. The pastures were empty with the storm bearing down, the animals all safely tucked away in their stalls. Jeb stood out front with two bundled figures that must have been the father and son who were currently staying at his place. A third member of their party, the mother, was nowhere to be seen.

Bet got out of her vehicle and walked over to where two of Jeb’s snowmobiles were parked, running and ready to go. Layers of winter clothing padded Jeb’s wiry form, his face ruddy in the arctic wind.

‘What have we got, Jeb?’

‘Mark and Julia Crews and their son Jeremy came across what looks to be a solo wreck up on Iron Horse Ridge. They didn’t have any details about the driver’s condition, so I’m not sure what we’re looking at. The parents wanted to protect their son and got him out of there before he could see anything gruesome. These two came down to get me while Mrs Crews stayed with the injured rider.’

Bet nodded to the man standing a few feet away. Only part of his face was visible through the balaclava he wore. His eyes looked haunted.

‘You did the right thing,’ she said to him. ‘If the driver’s got a spinal injury, you could have done more damage than good trying to bring them down.’ She didn’t add that if the driver was dead there was nothing to be done except locate the next of kin.

‘Thanks, Sheriff,’ Mark Crews said, his voice shaky. ‘That was—’

Emotion cut off the man’s words. He reached for his son and pulled him close. The boy didn’t resist, but he also didn’t hug his father back. Bet considered checking the boy for shock, but guessed he was just a teen being a teen.

She gave Mark a nod and hoped the accident victim survived the wait – otherwise Mark Crews would always wonder if he should have made a different choice.

The father got his emotions under control and turned his attention back to Bet. ‘Please get my wife Julia down safely.’

Jeremy might be shocky, but the two people up on the ridge were her priority.

‘Always prioritize,’ Maggie said to Bet on a regular basis. ‘Don’t get caught up trying to fix everything at once. Fix the big things first.’

Her father would have agreed. His voice no longer took precedence in her mind, but his teachings never left her.

Bet promised to take care of Julia Crews and walked over to straddle the closest snowmobile. Pulling on the helmet she’d brought, she tucked her auburn curls out of the way before closing the face shield. Bet admired the Crews family for helping a stranger as the ominous storm bore down on the area. It must be terrifying to know Mrs Crews waited up on the ridge as the weather closed in. Bet was impressed the family put their own safety in jeopardy for someone they didn’t know. Not everyone would do that. It would have been easy enough to pretend they never found the accident, leaving the driver alone in the snow.

Jeb hopped on the other snowmobile, which was already set up to tow the Snowbulance – a small, enclosed trailer with a stretcher mounted inside. Bet made eye contact with Jeb to confirm she was ready, and they took off with him in the lead. Search-and-rescue was Jeb’s specialty, and he knew the terrain better than she did.

Her father Earle always said a good leader knew when to follow. Like most of her father’s advice, Bet knew it was true even if her instinct was never to admit someone else was the right person for a job she could do. In her defense, her father never faced life in law enforcement as a woman.

Maggie always said, ‘Never let a man think he’s got control. If you hand control over, he’ll never give it up.’

Bet wasn’t her father, but she wasn’t a patrol officer in LA, either. Sometimes neither Maggie’s nor her father’s advice was any help to her at all.

Not far from the ranch, Jeb turned off the main road and started up a forest service road that went west and north into the mountains. The turnoff wasn’t obvious, so it was interesting that the Crews had found that particular trail.

Snowmobiling was a popular sport in Collier and a lot of people used these forest service roads for trails, even the ones that were officially closed to traffic because there were no funds for maintenance. Without anyone to police the extensive system, the locals used them as their own private playground.

The roads connected in a complex web throughout the area. The injured teen could have arrived at the ridge from any direction. The forest was riddled with paths that the forest service no longer had the money or workforce to keep up, but people and animals kept cleared. In a lot of ways, the community benefited from the interlopers who cleared the roads, because that provided fire access into their local forest, which would otherwise become impassable through neglect.

If the brunt of the storm held off long enough for them to locate the scene of the accident and get the injured teen down the mountain before the conditions worsened, everything should still be all right.

Bet kept her focus on Jeb’s sled as they rode up the hill. The road turned dark as they got farther into the trees and the cloud cover grew almost black. She was glad for the headlight and someone she trusted to follow. At least in this moment, her father’s advice was right.

If only the injured rider survived the wait.

***

Excerpt from A Cold, Cold World by Elena Taylor. Copyright 2024 by Elena Taylor. Reproduced with permission from Elena Taylor. All rights reserved.

 

 

Review:

5 stars!

Wow! Complex characters and a complicated case! 

A Cold, Cold World is the second book in author Elena Taylor's Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery series, and readers are beckoned back to the small mountain town of Collier, Washington, and the secrets it hides. As a massive snowstorm pummels the little town, Sheriff Bet Rivers is confronted with a possible murder, a missing father and daughter, and a blood-soaked sleeping bag, all of which may be related. 

I really enjoyed Bet, the main character, who's gotten her feet under herself a little more firmly since the events in book one. Still, she retains some feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty and projects a vulnerability that makes her so very realistic and human. However, she's smart and makes better decisions than she realizes. In such a small town, she's investigating incidents that involve neighbors and lifelong friends, people who watched her grow up, and others she has witnessed do the same. What happens in this town is personal for her, and that takes its toll. She's also working under a lot of stress, with little sleep or time to eat properly as the storm descends. Clayton, her full-time deputy, is unavailable and in another town, as his wife goes into labor with their first child. 

The action takes place as great amounts of snow bury the town, bringing down trees and power lines and covering up footprints, tire tracks, and other possible clues critical to solving the ongoing investigations. The descriptions of the storm and crime scenes are vivid and atmospheric. I could feel the chill as I read. Each call for service brings with it a level of urgency that Bet must prioritize, but she's still pulled in several directions at once, even when she gets a little extra help. The story is a complete surprise as it unfolds. 

With its absorbing plot, eerie and dangerous snowstorm of a setting, and impressive main and secondary characters, I recommend A COLD, COLD WORLD to readers of mysteries, police procedurals, and thrillers.

Author Bio:

Elena Taylor spent several years working in theater as a playwright, director, designer, and educator before turning her storytelling skills to fiction. Her first series, the Eddie Shoes Mysteries, written under the name Elena Hartwell, introduced a quirky mother/daughter crime fighting duo.

With the Bet Rivers Mysteries, Elena returns to her dramatic roots and brings readers much more serious and atmospheric novels. The series introduces Collier, Washington, with its dark and mysterious lake, tough-as-nails residents, and newly appointed sheriff with her sidekick Schweitzer, an Anatolian Shepherd.

Elena is also a senior editor with Allegory Editing, a developmental editing house, where she works one-on-one with writers to shape and polish manuscripts, short stories, and plays. If you’d like to work with Elena, visit www.allegoryediting.com.

Her favorite place to be is at Paradise, the property she and her hubby own south of Spokane, Washington. They live with their horses, dogs, and cats. Elena holds a B.A. from the University of San Diego, a M.Ed. from the University of Washington, Tacoma, and a Ph.D. from the University of Georgia.

Catch Up With Elena Taylor:
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Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: Secrets and Photographs (Marissa Ambrose Witness, #1) by A.K. Ramirez

SECRETS AND PHOTOGRAPHS

by A. K. Ramirez

June 17-28, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Marissa Ambrose Witness Series

 

How do you stop a killer you can't even see?

It’s been two years since Detective Marissa Ambrose nearly lost her life working the Couple’s Killer case, but time hasn’t stopped the vivid nightmares. She still carries the heavy guilt of her partner’s death, and the Seattle Police Department refuses to support her theory that the suspect they arrested had an accomplice. With her ex-husband regretfully out of the picture, Marissa was supposed to be focusing on adjusting back to something resembling normalcy in her quiet tourist town. Then the letters came.

Unmarked envelopes full of photographs have been arriving at Marissa’s door. Candid shots of her at home. Now, Marissa is certain the missing murderer is stalking her, tracking her every move to finish what he started. As she obsesses over the strange images, the Seattle PD unexpectedly asks for her help. A serial killer is on the loose and targeting members of the Port Townsend community. Despite a personal connection to the first victim, Marissa agrees to pin her badge on once more.

The photographs are piling up and the suspect can’t be seen by surveillance cameras. Like a ghost, this killer is haunting her.

Praise for Secrets and Photographs:

"This book is Amazing!! I couldn't put it down. I need book 2!!!"

~ Nicola Jamieson

"We love a messy family and a plot thick with dark and winding paths. Truly enjoyed this book and read it very quickly! I am very excited to get a signed copy of the next book that was just released!! AK Ramirez is "one to watch" in the crime/thriller genre. You have a fan for life now."

~ Molly Badgett

"I had the pleasure of meeting this author in Richmond at a convention. I really enjoyed the story. The author pulls you in from the first page. Quick read"

~ Chris Kennedy

"A friend recommended this book to me as I was looking for a new mystery novel and I was so sad when it ended because I wanted more! The writing was exceptional and the story captivated me. Twists I didn’t expect had me reading this book in record time. Absolutely recommend!"

~ Melissa Brown

"I’m a sucker for a good crime novel and this one kept me hooked. I also love books set in the Pacific Northwest - I might be biased since I live in the PNW but I thought the author did a good job of using the coziness of Port Townsend to contrast with the horror of the crimes. I’m looking forward to reading book 2!"

~ April O'Brien

"I was hooked on the book from the beginning. It was a great read. I really enjoyed it and would recommend it to anyone that likes mystery and suspense."

~ Diana

"I wasn't sure how much I enjoyed this book at the beginning. It felt like it was moving very slowly. In fact, I was wondering if there was ever going to be a murder when I was about a third done. Then a couple minutes later, a murder! That's when the book sped up! I had a little trouble keeping the two investigations separate. The twist was great! And I did enjoy how the two cases crossed. I felt for Marissa that no one believed her and was thankful when the police started listening to her. She's a great detective and I'm looking forward to revisiting her and hopefully solving the big mystery soon!"

~ CMC

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery Thriller
Published by: 4 Horsemen Publications
Publication Date: November 15, 2022
Number of Pages: 362
ISBN: 9781644506639 (ISBN10: 1644506637)
Series: Marissa Ambrose Witness Series, #1
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | 4 Horsemen Publications

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

Marissa felt cold. She couldn’t see anything, a blindfold tied tightly against her eyes. Music blared against her ears, the throbbing in her head synced with the beat of the music. The cold, rough concrete burned her bare legs, and every time she attempted to adjust them, she felt sharp sensations rush through. She was stiff and cold and tired. Her right hand was handcuffed to something that felt heavy and unbreakable, though she tried to pull away. Time had blurred, and her mind swam, unable to focus on anything. She was thirsty, hungry, and tired. Marissa had never been so frightened in her life.

Someone grabbed her by the arm, squeezing tight as they unlocked her cuff from whatever she was attached to and ushered her along. She whimpered in protest and tugged away from the fingers that dug into her. She thought she heard a laugh in her ear over the music before that hand shoved her hard. She nearly toppled over but fell into another set of hands that caught her in their arms. These weren’t as rough and didn’t grip her as tightly. They held her up as she pulled her legs back under her, and one of the hands rubbed her arm where the other had aggressively gripped. She could feel his breath on her neck as his lips touched her ear, whispering something she couldn’t quite hear.

She gasped, sat up with a start, and sighed, acknowledging she was safe in her room. Ellie was lying on top of her legs, her cold nose poking at her in concern. She rubbed Ellie’s ears, feeling her heartbeat slow to normal. Her chest heavily convulsed as tears fell down her cheeks. Pulling the dog in close, she hugged her tight—a solid reminder she was no longer in that place but inside her bedroom, in her home. Safe.

“Good girl,” she whispered, gripping Ellie’s fur. The shepherd leaned in close, burying her cold nose into her neck.

Leaning back, Marissa glanced over at her clock. It was nearly five.

“Come on. Let’s go downstairs.”

With a heavy sigh, she shifted as Ellie bounced off the bed and toward the door. Marissa swung her legs over the side and winced, aches traveling through her body from her heels as they hit the floor.

“It’s going to be a day,” she mumbled and forced herself to stand.

It was still dark outside, and she was sure the air outside was cold, but the old house was warm. It may have been old, but her mom had updated everything except for the walls. Marissa wandered into the bathroom; she could still hear Ellie bouncing in the hallway, excited to start her day. She did not share the dog’s enthusiasm.

She washed her hands and stared at the reflection that stared back at her. Her dark hair was a tangled mess, and dark circles were under her eyes. Marissa remembered when she took pride in how she looked, brushed her hair several times a day, and had a whole skincare routine. She had been a beauty queen when she was younger. It all seemed so pointless now. Her eyes drifted from her face down to her shoulder with the long, dark scar. Then they drifted to the scar that ran from the bottom of her collarbone across her chest. Her tank top covered most of it, but she knew the rest ran down her side and to her back. She was full of scars now.

She turned the light off and followed Ellie to the hallway, stopping at the top of the stairs. It was the same every morning: the stairs were always daunting. Her ankles locked up like they usually did, forcing her to take slow and precise steps. Once she reached the bottom, she headed to the kitchen and opened the back door, letting Ellie bound out into the dark yard. Sunrise was still a way off, but the sky was beginning to lighten.

She went to the cabinet above the sink and dug out her meds. Since her recovery from the events at the warehouse, Marissa had received a long list of diagnoses: fibromyalgia brought on by trauma, panic attacks, PTSD, and arthritis. Not to mention a rapid heart rate they couldn’t pin down, chronic migraines—so many meds.

Putting on her tea kettle, she set up her teacup and waited for the water to boil. It had taken some time, but Marissa had made her childhood home her own again. Her mom had signed the house over to her while she healed, which gave her full rein to do as she pleased with the place, taking the opportunity to downsize without selling. Port Townsend was not where Marissa thought she would be, especially after so many years in Seattle. She loved the city: the noise, the crowds, the food. The fact that almost everything was open until at least midnight. Not like this tourist town, which felt like it had a town-wide bedtime of 9 p.m. It was known as a charming, quaint town by the sea, and as far as she was concerned, it had lost its charm decades ago.

Slowly but surely, the house was coming together. She sighed, grabbed her hoodie off the hook by her back door, and threw it over her head while letting Ellie back inside. Her mom had done all the hard stuff, remodeling the upstairs and downstairs to an open-concept floorplan and updating the plumbing and electricity. Marissa could see her front door, the living room, the dining room, and a study from the kitchen. Below the stairs was a full bathroom.

As the tea kettle screamed, she poured the water into the cup and watched the steam rise. This was not where Marissa expected to be at thirty-six. Growing up, all she wanted was to get the hell out of this town. She would be married to her high school sweetheart with kids, living in a big city, and making detective. The funny part was, Marissa had married her high school sweetheart. Twice. They’d also had two divorces. She had been living in a big city, owning not one but two properties in Seattle. She had made detective, reaching incredible heights as one of the youngest promoted in her unit. And now, she was back in her childhood home, divorced and alone, still a detective but benched for the unseen future. It felt like a punishment.

Of course, some of it was her doing. She had pushed Jared away and moved back home. Her nightmare wasn’t only when she slept. Her precinct had done all but call her a liar during her recovery when she told them there was more than one assailant. She couldn’t see, so it was simply her word. She had undergone so much; she couldn’t have been sure. That was what her unit had said because it didn’t fit into the profile the SPD had given. People she had trusted with her life didn’t have her back.

She paused for a moment before retrieving the hidden key from her hutch and carefully climbing onto her counter. Despite telling herself she wouldn’t, most mornings she would pull down the box. She winced, pain stretching through her leg as she reached the top of her cabinets to recover a lockbox. Once it was on the counter, she paused as her feet hit the ground. She hoped that one day, something new would stand out. Some tangible clue she could hold in her hands. Ellie came right alongside her and whined, sensing her discomfort. Marissa stretched a hand down, scratching her ear as she unlocked the box and let the photographs pour out onto the countertop. There were candid shots of her going about her day, walking down the street, leaving the bakery, checking her mail. A good stack of them was just Jared. Sometimes they would arrive weekly, and sometimes she would go a few weeks without receiving anything. Or maybe it was just a good reminder of why this was her life now. Why she had chosen to be here, alone. A reminder that her life was in danger.

Local cops and SPD, while agreeing she was a victim of a stalker, wouldn’t connect it to that case because before the warehouse, Marissa hadn’t received any photos. She had been given police protection across the street, but she knew no one had taken her seriously. In the eyes of the law, she hadn’t been threatened and couldn’t identify anyone. She only had pictures that appeared on her doorstep or in her mailbox. She kept them safely locked away, spending most of her days trying hard to forget them. But too often, she found herself thumbing through them. It had become an almost daily ritual.

Once she was satisfied the tea had steeped long enough, she returned the photos to the box and put everything back in its place. Her former partner, Tom, would tell her dwelling over the same pieces of evidence wouldn’t get her anywhere. He had always given her advice like that. He had been so much like the older brother she’d never had, having been the oldest of three sisters. Taking her mug with both hands, she headed out to the backyard, not bothering to turn the light on. She stretched out on her swinging bench and scrolled through her socials. Occasionally, she found her eyes wandering over the backyard, watching for anything or anyone out of place. She knew there was always an officer across the street, watching over her and her home, but they hadn’t proven very helpful yet. They hadn’t managed to see who or how things were being left on her doorstep.

The early morning air was chilly and quiet. The only noises she could hear were Ellie’s panting as she plopped herself down next to Marissa and the occasional breeze blowing by. She glanced at the clock on her phone. Barely any time had passed. Putting her feet up, she finished her tea, put the empty cup down on the side table, and looked out into her dark yard. She needed to rest, but she knew sleep would keep eluding her. She didn’t want to sleep anymore; the nightmares had worsened.

If she had stopped to think about it, she would have realized why. All that mattered was every time she closed her eyes, she was back there again.

***

Excerpt from Secrets and Photographs by A. K. Ramirez. Copyright 2024 by A. K. Ramirez. Reproduced with permission from A. K. Ramirez. All rights reserved.

 

 

Review:

5 stars!

What a fantastic story! I’m glad book two is already available! 

Secrets and Photographs is the first book in this exciting new mystery series by A.K. Ramirez, Marissa Ambrose Witness. I was completely and totally swept away into the story of this former police detective recuperating from the trauma of her last case for the Seattle PD. The main character is wonderfully sympathetic and believable, one I could root for from the very start. 

Homicide detective Marissa Ambrose lost her partner on a call and was kidnapped by his murderers. What happened to her during this ordeal is slowly revealed in the story only in tiny bits and pieces. She returned to her hometown, nearby Port Townsend, to heal her wounds and learn to manage or overcome her PTSD from the incident. She’s off the job until cleared for duty by a therapist, and her leave of absence has already been extended by more than two years. 

To complicate her rehabilitation, she’s got a stalker sending her photos to her home: secretly snapped pictures of her and her former husband, Jared, with the implied threat that they are targets of the Couple’s Killer, the same criminal that shot her partner and kidnapped her two years earlier. When her former department doesn’t believe her theory that these two things are related, she breaks up with Jared to get him out of harm’s way. When murder comes to Port Townsend, the sheriff of the small town enlists Marissa’s aid to investigate the case. 

While I felt Marissa’s thoughts and reactions were believable, for the most part, I didn’t feel the same about some of the plot elements. A two years leave of absence? Probably not. Breaking up instead of leveling with the man you’ve loved forever and who is your lifelong best friend and confidant? I don’t think so. The sheriff of another department enlisting the assistance of a, for all intents and purposes, civilian who he knows is in therapy for psychological issues rather than the state police or a nearby agency? No. Nevertheless, it still makes for a tense, suspenseful, and fantastic story, and this author is an absolutely riveting storyteller. I was all in. It’s fiction. 

While I had suspects along the way, I was surprised when everything didn’t all wrap up by the book’s end. However, I was delighted to see book two was already available and ready to go. This story was intense and one that I could have happily read in one extended session if life had cooperated. It is one I’ll definitely be talking up with family, friends, and my local mystery book club. I recommend SECRETS AND PHOTOGRAPHS to mystery and thriller readers.

Author Bio:

A.K. Ramirez is a mystery writer tucked in a corner of the Pacific Northwest. She likes to weave mystery, and family drama with a little bit of romance all in one. She has participated in NaNoWriMo on and off for years, reaching her goal three times with three different novels, in both the mystery and fantasy genres. When she isn’t writing, she runs a dog training, boarding, and daycare facility or spends time with her husband, kids, and pack of dogs.

Catch Up With A.K. Ramirez:
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Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: Three Strikes, You're Out (Eddie Shoes Mysteries, #3) by Elena Hartwell

The Eddie Shoes Mysteries

by Elena Hartwell

March 18 - April 26, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

*One Dead, Two to Go

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Book One in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private Investigator Edwina “Eddie Shoes” Schultz’s most recent job has her parked outside a seedy Bellingham hotel, photographing her quarry as he kisses his mistress goodbye. This is the last anyone will see of the woman … alive. Her body is later found dumped in an abandoned building. Eddie’s client, Kendra Hallings, disappears soon after. Eddie hates to be stiffed for her fee, but she has to wonder if Kendra could be in trouble too. Or is she the killer?

Eddie usually balks at matters requiring a gun, but before she knows it, she is knee-deep in dangerous company, spurred on by her card-counting adrenaline-junkie mother who has shown up on her doorstep fresh from the shenanigans that got her kicked out of Vegas. Chava is only sixteen years older than Eddie and sadly lacking in parenting skills. Her unique areas of expertise, however, prove to be helpful in ways Eddie can’t deny, making it hard to stop Chava from tagging along.

Also investigating the homicide is Detective Chance Parker, new to Bellingham’s Major Crimes unit but no stranger to Eddie. Their history as a couple back in Seattle is one more kink in a chain of complications, making Eddie’s case more frustrating and perilous with each tick of the clock.

**Two Heads are Deader Than One

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Book Two in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private Investigator Eddie Shoes is enjoying a rare period of calm. She’s less lonely now that Chava, her card-counting mom from Vegas, is sharing her home. She also has a new companion, Franklin, a giant dog of curious ancestry.

Hoping for a lucrative new case, Eddie instead finds herself taking on a less promising client: her best friend from her childhood in Spokane. Dakota has turned up in Bellingham, in jail, where she is being held on a weapons charge. Eddie reluctantly agrees not only to lend her friend money for bail but to also investigate who is stalking her.

Soon after Dakota is freed, she disappears again, leaving Eddie to answer to the local cops, including her ex-boyfriend Chance Parker. Has Dakota been kidnapped? If not, why did she jump bail? What are Eddie’s business cards doing on the bodies of two murder victims?

The key to these mysteries lies in Dakota and Eddie’s shared history, which ended when Eddie left home after high school. As a person of interest in both murder cases, Eddie is forced to go in search of the truth, digging into the past and facing her own demons.

Three Strikes, You’re Dead

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Book Three in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private investigator Eddie Shoes heads to a resort outside Leavenworth, Washington, for a mother-daughter getaway weekend. Eddie’s mother, Chava, wants to celebrate her new job at a casino by footing the bill for the two of them, and who is Eddie to say no?

On the first morning, Eddie goes on an easy solo hike, and a few hours later, stumbles over a makeshift campsite and a gravely injured man. A forest fire breaks out and she struggles to save him before the flames overcome them both. Before succumbing to his injuries, the man hands her a valuable object. He tells her his daughter is missing and begs for help. Is Eddie now working for a dead man?

Eddie wakes in the hospital to find both her parents have arrived on the scene. Will Eddie’s card-counting mother and mob-connected father help or hinder the investigation? The police search in vain for a body. How will Eddie find the missing girl with only Eddie’s memory of the man’s face and a photo of his daughter to go on?

Praise for The Eddie Shoes Mysteries:

"ONE DEAD TWO TO GO is a well-written fast-paced story that kept me fully engaged from beginning to end. It’s one of those stories where you get to the end of a chapter and think, “Okay, just a few more pages.” And the next thing you know, you’ve read three more chapters."
~ Mayor Sonni, Readeropolis

"…an engaging mystery that will keep you stumped to the very end."
~ Susan Sewell, Readers’ Favorite

"THREE STRIKES, YOU’RE DEAD gives us another vivid adventure with the quirky, genuine private eye Eddie Shoes. As usual, author Elena Hartwell’s characters are so real you feel like you could run into them at your local dive bar. Three Strikes takes us even deeper into Eddie’s complex family relationships with her charming-but-deadly father Eduardo and hilarious mom Chava, giving us further insight into Eddie’s psyche. The laugh-out-loud moments are many in this vital third installment, and you’ll find yourself wishing you could stay longer in the world of Eddie Shoes."
~ LS Hawker, USA Today bestselling author

Book Details:

Genre: Private Eye Mystery
Published by: Open Road Media, March 2024
Series Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt from One Dead, Two to Go:

CHAPTER ONE

Call me Eddie Shoes.

Not a very feminine moniker, but it suits me. My father’s name was Eduardo Zapata. In a fit of nostalgia, my mother Chava named me Edwina Zapata Schultz, even though by the time I was born she hadn’t seen my father in seven months. Edwina was a mouthful to saddle any child with, so at the ripe old age of six, I announced that I would only answer to Eddie. I didn’t have any nostalgia for a guy I’d never met, so Zapata just seemed like a name no one ever spelled right the first time. Chava wasn’t particularly maternal in any conventional sense, so not a lot of nostalgia for Schultz either. At eighteen I legally changed my name to Eddie Shoes.

It said a lot about my sense of humor.

Chava and I had come to an understanding. She stayed in my life as long as our contact was minimal and primarily over email. It was just enough to allay her guilt and not enough to make me crazy, so it worked for both of us. She’d always been down about my choice of career, but what did she expect from a girl who called herself Eddie Shoes? If I hadn’t become a private investigator, I probably would have been a bookie, so she should have been a little more positive about the whole thing.

My career was the reason I sat hunkered in the car, in the dark, halfway down the block from a tacky hotel, clutching a digital camera and zoom lens, waiting to catch my latest client’s husband with a woman not his wife. I’d already gotten a few choice shots of the guy entering the room, but he’d gone in alone and no one else had arrived. I assumed the other woman was already waiting for him. After tailing the guy for a few days, I had a pretty good guess who the chippie would turn out to be. I didn’t think he’d hired his “office manager” for her filing skills, and sleeping with the married boss was a cliché because it happened all the time. I could already prove the man a liar. He’d told his wife he played poker with the boys on Wednesday nights, and I didn’t think he was shacked up in this dive with three of his closest buddies, unless he was kinkier than I imagined.

But then, people never ceased to amaze me.

December in Bellingham, Washington, often brought cold, clear weather and that night was no exception. Starting the engine to warm up sounded tempting, but I didn’t want anyone to notice me sitting there. Nice it wasn’t raining, but if the thermometer had crept much over twenty, I hadn’t noticed. To make matters worse, I’d scrunched my almost six-foot frame down in the driver’s seat for more than two hours. Even with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I was half frozen, and desperately hoped my mark didn’t have more stamina than I’d pegged him for. All I wanted was to go home and go to bed.

And at some point, I would need to pee.

Up on the second floor, the door of the hotel room I had my eye on finally opened. I brought my camera up, ready for the money shots. My earlier pics proved that the dirty white stucco on the side of the building bounced the pale glow from the minimal exterior lights enough for pictures to be clear without a flash. Even from this distance, there was a nice unobstructed view of the location. The only barrier between someone standing on the narrow walk and my camera lens was a flimsy, rusty-looking, wrought-iron railing. The balusters looked too thin to stop anyone from falling the height of the first floor to the asphalt parking lot below. I doubted anything at the tawdry place passed code.

But what did I care? I wasn’t going to stay there.

The “liar”—I have always been creative with nicknames—stepped out, straightening his tie. I snapped a few pictures and held my breath, hoping the other woman would come out behind him. Even if I took pictures of her exiting a few minutes later, the husband needed to be in the picture with her. A surprising number of wives would argue with me about what actually took place in these various, if interchangeable, hotel rooms. For some reason they would rather believe the info about their husband cheating was fake than admit he strayed, which confused me because I got paid either way. It felt especially crazy when they must already know the truth, otherwise they wouldn’t have hired me in the first place. But I knew better than to look for logic in the ways of the human heart and got the best evidence possible.

The man turned sideways. Light from the room behind him threw his face into silhouette. He had an exceptionally generous head of hair, which made him very recognizable even in bad light. Mid-forties, and mostly in good shape, he appeared athletic as long as he didn’t unbutton his sport coat. I could see why women were attracted to him, though he didn’t do a thing for me. I preferred men a little more honest.

But then, I’d never been married, so what did I know?

A figure moved from behind him into the shadow of the doorway.

“Come on, honey, step out into the light.” I held the camera to my eye. “One more step, so I can see your face.”

The woman obliged by leaning into the cold blue glow cast by the old style, energy inefficient streetlights, her cheeks stained red in the flash of the vacancy sign. I happily clicked away as the “office manager” wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. She clearly wore nothing but lingerie. She must assume no one else would be out this late on such a cold weeknight. Or maybe she enjoyed having people see her, a bit of an exhibitionist in the happy homewrecker. Whatever the cause, she had him in the perfect spot for the best pictures.

I loved it when guilty people made my job easy.

My photos might not be art, but they were gold in my book. No way the wife could believe this was anything other than what it looked like.

Several photos later, the husband extricated himself from the mistress and she ducked back into the room and closed the door. He walked briskly toward a shiny red Chevy Camaro. The guy owned a GM dealership and drove a new car every day. He lit a cigarette, which he puffed on for a few drags before he tossed it into the gutter. Not just a cheater, a litterer. The bastard. The cigarette stench backed his poker party story and covered the smell of another woman, killing two birds with one cancer-causing stone.

As soon as he pulled out onto the street, I stretched back up to full height, relieved to still feel my feet. I started up my ancient green Subaru Forrester, cranked my heater, and headed for home, relieved I didn’t have to wait around in the cold for the mistress to reappear. Whatever she did next wasn’t my concern. Having the two of them in the pictures together convinced me my work was done.

The hotel was located downtown—the blue-collar north end, not the high-priced, brick, historical south end, so I dropped down to Lakeway Drive, scooted under the freeway, and wound through the streets that curved around Bayview Cemetery. Traffic at ten o’clock on a midweek winter night was light, and I arrived at my little house by ten-thirty. I downloaded the photos from the hotel onto my computer, wrote up a final bill for my client, and went to bed content.

What could possibly go wrong with such an easy case?

***

Excerpt from One Dead, Two to Go by Elena Hartwell. Copyright 2024 by Elena Hartwell. Reproduced with permission from Elena Hartwell. All rights reserved.

 

 

Review:

5 stars!

Excitement abounds when the whole “Shoes” family gets involved! 

Three Strikes, You’re Dead is the third book in the excellent and fun Eddie Shoes Mysteries series by Elena Hartwell, and this time, Eddie’s entire family gets involved in a case with a misplaced body of a father murdered while searching for his missing daughter. As the main characters continue to sort out their relationships with each other, Eddie’s latest case puts everyone’s lives on the line. 

PI Eddie Shoes is at a good place in her business and developing relationships with her mother, Chava, and long-absent father, Eduardo, until, of course, her relaxing vacation with her mother at a beautiful western Washington resort turns out to be anything but. Away from Bellingham and out of Chance Parker’s orbit, she can also examine their status with a clearer head. Her tense flight through the national forest ahead of a wildfire is heart-stopping, and the continued guilt she harbors over her unsuccessful attempt to rescue an injured man is heart-wrenching. Eddie overthinks her actions and takes on responsibilities that aren’t necessarily hers in all her cases; she cares about people. 

When Eddie lands in the hospital, her father arrives to lend his support to both her and Chava. Eduardo has been such a mystery so far in the series, and while all his secrets aren’t revealed, readers get a much closer and more in-depth look. This man is smooth and proves to be a great asset to Eddie. While I love Eddie and Chava, I have become more and more partial to Eduardo. 

Injured herself, Eddie is still determined to find the body of the man who asked with his dying breath for her to find his missing daughter. When fire and law enforcement personnel fail to find his body, they begin to doubt the man ever even existed. Eddie’s investigation must focus first on trying to identify the guy and figuring out where his body went. 

The plot is complex, with Eddie having few clues in her possession as the dead man’s or his daughter’s identity. Making the rounds of nearby properties or likely places migrant workers might gather yields little, but you’ve got to start somewhere. The presence of a hunky firefighter, Jake, becomes an interesting distraction. I should have known better when all roads seemed to point in one direction, and I was surprised by the final outcome of both the investigation and Eddie’s contemplation of her future. I can’t wait for the next adventure in this series. 

I recommend THREE STRIKES, YOU’RE DEAD to mystery readers who enjoy a strong female protagonist and humor in their stories and fans of the previous books in the series.

*See my review of Book One in the series, One Dead, Two to Go, HERE.

**See my review of Book Two in the series, Two Heads Are Deader Than One, HERE.

Author Bio:

Elena Hartwell spent several years working in theater as a playwright, director, designer, and educator before turning her storytelling skills to fiction. Elena is also a senior editor with Allegory Editing, a developmental editing house, where she works one-on-one with writers to shape and polish manuscripts. If you’d like to work with Elena, visit www.allegoryediting.com.

Her favorite place to be is at Paradise, the property she and her hubby own south of Spokane, Washington. They live with their horses, Jasper, Radar, and Diggy, their dogs Polar and Wyatt, and their cats Coal Train and Cocoa. Elena holds a B.A. from the University of San Diego, a M.Ed. from the University of Washington, Tacoma, and a Ph.D. from the University of Georgia.

She also writes as Elena Taylor, to learn more visit www.ElenaTaylorAuthor.com

Catch Up With Elena Hartwell:
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