#NewRelease: Exposed by Rage by Sherrel Lee @SherrelLeeBooks

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter will be awarded a $15 Amazon or Barnes and Noble gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

He has a dead body. She has the seedy connections. To solve the crime they are forced to work together.

To keep her mother’s reputation from destroying her, Ashley Dix Gibson had to learn at an early age to persevere and tune out the lies, gossip, and the bullies. Detective Michael DeMarco has no desire to team up with a woman with ties to the underbelly of the porn industry but if he wants to solve his case, he has no other options. When Ashley and DeMarco combine their resources to find a brutal killer, sparks of distrust turn into the fires of passion.

Enjoy an excerpt:
Braden broke the silence first. “So the door to the bedroom was open just enough to allow you to take a peek? Nothing looked out of order?”

The silence got to him again.

“So you just walked in last night, went straight to bed,” he sneered. “Didn’t notice anything was wrong.”

“I didn’t pass her door. I didn’t have to. I told your partner the exact same thing thirty minutes ago.”

Braden gave a desperate, evil laugh. I wanted to punch the smirk off his face.

“I was tired. I had the key Jillie sent me. I know where my room is.” Cops are not my favorite people and this one was beginning to get on my nerves. I know the routine. I know they have to ask questions. I would be just as snide and disbelieving if I was the one doing the questioning.

“Braden,” DeMarco, his partner called from the hallway upstairs. “Leave her be. I need you to come up here and make sure Mathews doesn’t miss anything.” I glanced at Braden’s partner, approving his wide shoulders, narrow hips and the ripple of muscles that couldn’t be contained by the suit jacket. Too bad he was with the police, we could have danced dirty and had a few laughs.

Mathews must be the crime tech I’d seen coming in through the kitchen.

• Between Monday, March 2 and April 1, 2015 go to my campaign at:  https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/1VT4C9BS6157E
• Browse by Category or Search for Exposed by Rage.
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About the Author:

Wrangler of a fearsome Yorkiepoo named Rogue (Half Yorkie half Poodle weighing in at a hefty eight pounds). Obsession controlled writer with a passion for making up names and twisting myths.

Sherrel, as the daughter of an Emmy winning cameraman, learned early in life the dark secrets of creating all those incredible fantasy characters for the large and small screen.

Refusing to be crushed at the discovery the monsters, aliens, and Robby the Robot weren't real, Sherrel's imagination soared. She became a SELF-proclaimed voyeur of special-effects and expert at fictional character creation.

Website: http://sherrellee.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Sherrellee.valens
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/1E4qlDv
Twitter: @SherrelLeeBooks (Romantic Suspense) @gryphoenix (Urban Fantasy)

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Interview with Cristelle Comby for Danse Macabre @Cristelle

Cristelle Comby was born and raised in the French-speaking area of Switzerland, in Greater Geneva, where she still resides.
 
Thanks to her insatiable thirst for American and British action films and television dramas, her English is fluent.

She attributes to her origins her ever-peaceful nature and her undying love for chocolate. She has a passion for art, which also includes an interest in drawing and acting.

Danse Macabre is her third new-adult novel, and she’s hard at work on the next titles in the Neve & Egan series.

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1. At any given time do you work on only one story at a time and maybe plot out the next one or are there many ideas racing around your head?

I like to plan ahead. Although the books in the Neve & Egan cases series can be read as stand alone, there’s a larger story arc playing out. In such cases, I believe it’s important to know what’s coming next to make sure clues align. 

2. Is there a genre you haven't written in but would like to? Or wish you could write in?
I’d love to try some Urban Fantasy next. Make up a story with some wizards or something.

3. Do you add an element of romantic suspense in your stories?
It’s the one thing that seems to keep happening without me wanting it to. Thing is, I hate reading those stories with will-they-won’t-they situation that go on for ages, so I try to stay away from those clichés. But characters are at the center of each of my work, and relationships are what makes them evolve. So yes, there’s some romantic stuff happening here and there.

4. Say you have unlimited funds: What kind of writing office/cottage would you create for yourself?
I’d love to have a little house on a beach shore somewhere, on some tropical island. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a large modern kitchen, and a little garden with an ocean view where I could write in the shade. Maybe toss in a hammock while you’re at it.

5. If you could turn your novel into a TV show, which novel or series would you do? Where would it be set? Network TV (ABC, NBC, CBS), Cable (AMC, BBC, Lifetime) or Premium Cable (HBO, Showtime, Starz)?
I doubt there’s enough room for nudity or violence in the Neve & Egan cases to qualify for Cable, so I’d go with a channel like ABC or CBS. They make some good crime drama.

6. Finally, tell us about your latest release!

Well, Danse Macabre is the third installment in my Private Investigators series, the Neve & Egan cases.

PI Alexandra Neve and Ashford Egan are hired to find a missing Prima Ballerina who’s vanished from her home in East London. Local police is also on the case, but there seems to be no clues as to what happened to the missing girl and overtime is frowned upon. Will Neve & Egan be able to score leads where the police cannot?

 

Excerpt:

 

I take a better look at the dancer facing us. He looks… fragile more than shy. He has bags under his eyes, his nails show the traces of nervous biting, and his clothes are ill-fitting. Lack of sleep, tension, weight loss. What is going on in Marc Jules’ life? What is he trying to hide from us? ‘That’s not all, is it?’ I lean forward, look at him square on. ‘There’s something you’re not telling us. It’s plain to see.’

The young man shrinks in on himself even more. ‘No… no, nothing. I told you everything I know. I have no idea where Isabella is. I swear.’ A thought strikes me, and I try another angle. ‘She obviously means something to you.’

The man’s eyes shift to the side as he focuses all of his attention on the half-empty lemonade glass sitting on the table. Gotcha!

‘You like her, yet you refuse to help us; it doesn’t make sense,’ I continue. ‘What would Isabella say if she could see you now?’

‘I don’t know anything,’ Marc protests with fervour.

‘Really?’

‘I’d tell you if I knew. I like her, she’s my friend. I want to find her too.’

‘Then stop lying to us,’ Egan says. ‘What are you not telling us?’ 

‘If what you’re saying is the truth, you would do well to stop keeping things from us. You’re slowing us down, Marc; you’re wasting our time,’ I continue, relentless. I can feel we’re close to breaking him, so very close. ‘Do you know how valuable time is, in a situation like this? Time is everything. Every second we’re wasting on you is taking us further away from Isabella.’

‘You’re letting her down, right now.’ Egan adds. ‘Maybe you’re not her friend after all.’

‘No — she’s my friend. I swear.’ Marc rushes the words out, tears welling up in his eyes.

 ‘She’s helped me when no one else would. I owe her so much.’

My eyebrows rise up at the words and I cock my head to the side, my expression expectant.

Marc bites down hard on his lip the second he finishes his sentence. He didn’t mean to reveal this much to us, but it’s too late now. The cat’s out of the bag. I soften my tone now that I’ve got what I wanted. ‘What do you mean, Marc? How did she help you?’

‘I don’t… she just…’ He stops himself, crosses his arms over his chest. ‘It’s nothing to do with any of this.’

‘Let us be the judges of that,’ Egan says. ‘If Isabella was involved, it could be relevant.’

‘It’ll stay between us,’ I promise. ‘We’re not the police, Marc. Whatever it is, no one else needs to know.’

The young man lets out a long breath as he uncrosses his arms. Defeated, he lets his hands hang limp in his lap.

Signed copy of book titled Danse Macabre during the tour.

 

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#BookBlast For Love of Livvy by J.M. Griffin @mycozymystery

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding winner's choice of an eBook from Lachesis Publishing to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please click the banner to see a list of other stops on the tour.

NOTE: THIS BOOK IS AVAILABLE FREE EVERYWHERE IT'S SOLD! Why not pick up your copy today?

After her favorite aunt is found dead and an alarming box is mysteriously left on the doorstep of her aunt’s house now legally hers, Lavinia Esposito wants explanations. But, having cleared the package of explosives, the local cops are dumbounded by the precious stones which came without an explanation, just an address─her Aunt Livvy’s. Frustrated by the cops’ refusal to share their theories, criminal justice instructor Lavinia Esposito, a.k.a. Vinnie, takes investigation matters into her own hands. Vinnie is soon dragged into situations beyond her control, finding herself in hot water with the law, the crooks, and her Italian father. Willing to put her life at risk to find out what really happened to her beloved Aunt Livvy, and why jewels would be addressed to her aunt, Vinnie plunges ahead with her usual tenacity, bravery, and keen wits to solve and survive this mystery.

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Now enjoy an excerpt:

In the living room, I paced while awaiting the arrival of the state police. Within minutes a sleek, grey Crown Victoria pulled up to the curb out front and a tall, lean trooper got out. Broad shouldered and well built, he walked with assurance and a certain amount of swagger.

I stepped into the open door entry and watched him saunter through the front gate onto the walkway. He stared at the package and then at me.

“Did you call about this box, ma’am?” Keen hazel green eyes traveled over my face and down my body.

Craggy features, sculpted from granite, faced me and I felt my blood run hot as the breath caught in my throat. What was this about? I gazed at him admiring the neat package wrapped in the trim uniform.

“I did. Bill MacNert from the fire station thought it would be a good idea since it was mysteriously left on the doorstep. He checked to see if it was ticking, but it isn’t.”

“Are you Lavinia Ciano?” The trooper’s glance strayed from the name on the wrapper to me as his eyes showed a glint of humor and his mouth twitched.

Could that humor be over the name? I wondered, as I said, “No, my name is Esposito. Livvy was my aunt.”

Our eyes held and my heart pounded. I licked my parched lips and then glanced away.

An oversized van idled up behind the patrol car and the trooper glanced back. Two men stepped from the vehicle dressed in heavy gear and acknowledged him.

He turned to the lead man, mumbled a few words and then stared at me again. If this was an action film, I would have expected Bruce Willis to jump out of the truck announcing he was about to kick someone’s ass.

This wasn’t an action film, but a real life situation instead. The two guys angled through the front gate and hitched their gear as they hauled a peculiar looking lidded barrel toward the front door. By this time, a few neighbors had taken notice of the activities. Several people straggled along the sidewalk across the street to watch.

You’d think it was a freakin’ sideshow. I smiled and waved. Nobody responded, they just continued to gawk. A little excitement for them on an otherwise dull Sunday, I guessed. The trooper stood aside and watched the crowd, but said nothing.

The overdressed bomb guys corralled the box between them. With delicate finesse they lifted and stowed it into the metal container, loaded it into the truck and drove off. I stared in disbelief. Hell, I wanted to know what was in the package. I had a right to know, didn’t I?

J. M. Griffin is a student of the human condition, wielding the written craft to stimulate the imagination much like she wields her paint brush. The pages are a blank canvas on which J.M. draws vivid characters. J.M. is the author of the popular Vinnie Esposito mystery series featuring the sexy sleuth Vinnie Esposito and the engaging Deadly Bakery mystery series featuring the sassy baker/sleuth Melina Cameron. J.M. lives in rural Rhode Island, a state she considers colorful and interesting.

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#CoverReveal: An Intimate Murder by @SVerdickCase

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions to show off the cover for AN INTIMATE MURDER by Stacy Verdick Case.

Stacy will award a signed ARC of An Intimate Murder (US only) to THREE randomly drawn winners via the rafflecopter at the end of this post.

Check out this awesome cover!

Now find out about the book:

A Catherine O'Brien Mystery.

When Jonathan and Susan Luther are murdered in their home, St. Paul homicide detective Catherine O'Brien and her partner Louise discover this isn't the first time the Luther family has been visited by tragedy. Is it a case of bad family luck or is there something more?

Here's an excerpt!

“Way to go, O’Brien.” Bob Shackelford leaned over my shoulder and tapped the newspaper. “Front page. I think that’s a first for you. Usually your tirades are limited to interoffice email. You’re really stepping up in the world.”

“Thanks, Shackelford. Say, you oughta have that growth looked at.”

“What growth.”

I pointed to his head. “Oh, never mind, it’s your face.”

“Haw, haw, O’Brien. Very childish”

He was right but it was the best I could manage on limited coffee.

He lifted the paper from my desk and unfolded it in mid-air. “At least the story appears on the bottom half of the front page. Hardly anyone looks at the bottom half.”

The headline read, Saint Paul Police Defensive Over Botched Investigation. Under the headline was a photo of me in front of Pam Hind’s house. The photographer had snapped the photo while I was speaking. My lips curled back from my teeth and I was pointing into the crowd. I looked like KC when he sees the neighbor’s cat on our porch.

Shackelford tweaked the edge of the paper. “It took me a whole ten seconds to skim down far enough to see this article.”

I snatched the paper from his hands and began to read.

Officer Catherine O’Brien, a seven-year veteran of the Saint Paul Police Department, gave an impromptu press conference outside the house of Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Luther who were murdered inside their Saint Paul area home Tuesday morning.

Officer O’Brien, stumbled drunkenly down the sidewalk, scolded the media, and referred to the press as “vultures” after attempts to question the officer about the path of the homicide investigation. This outburst is just the latest in what has become a pattern of denial and hostility by the Saint Paul Police Department and crime lab when questions regarding investigative procedures arise.

Stacy Verdick Case was born in Willmar, Minnesota. After a brief stint as a military brat, where she lived in Fort Sill Oklahoma and Fort Campbell, Kentucky, her family moved back to Minnesota.

Stacy has written all her life earning a High School Writer Award and a Daphne Du Mauier Award for excellence in Mainstream Mystery/Suspense.

Stacy currently lives in a suburb of St. Paul with her husband of twenty-years, her five-year-old daughter, and their two cats.

An Intimate Murder is the third book in the Catherine O’Brien series.

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Stacy will award a signed ARC of An Intimate Murder (US only) to THREE randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour.a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tour for The Eyes Die Last by @TeriLRiggs

Teri Riggs was destined to be a writer.  As a small girl she didn’t read bedtime stories, she made up her own.  Who needed Little Red Riding Hood or The Three Little Pigs when there were so many great tales bouncing around in her head?  When she grew up and became a mother to three little girls, she continued the tradition of making up bedtime stories.  On the occasions she chose to tell conventional fairytales, Teri usually gave them a bit of tweaking here and there or added a new ending.  Her girls loved it.

After her daughters had the nerve to actually grow up and leave home, Teri discovered she had a passion for writing and jumped right in.  It came as no surprise she chose to write mysteries and happily-ever-after’s since that’s the genres she loves to read.

Teri lives in Marietta, Georgia with her husband, one of her daughters and two dogs that seem to think they rule the world.  And some days Teri thinks maybe they do.

Teri still frequently tells herself stories as she falls asleep.  The only difference now is she wakes up the next morning and turns her bedtime stories into books.

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Blurb:

The Las Vegas Mayoral race is heating up, and the incumbent doesn’t have a prayer. Wealthy real estate speculator Nick Campenelli, who wants to legalize prostitution in Clark County, and former pastor Louis St. Louis, running on a 'clean-up-Vegas-by-getting-rid-of-the-whores' platform, are the front runners.

They’re also front runners on the suspect list for a string of murders. Kennedy O’Brien, four-year detective with cop blood running in her veins, and her partner Wilder “Wild Thing” James, a veteran, are determined to find the man who’s murdering prostitutes who work the wrong side of the street, and they don’t care how important or politically active he is.

The killer is a man with a mission. He stalks the women before he kills them, leaving a “BEFORE” photo on their bodies, and sending an “AFTER” shot to the local news hound. Ed Hershey, an aging newscaster with just the right amount of grey in his hair, is determined to turn this story into a network gig, and his interference, along with the LVTVS legal team, are making Kennedy and Wilder look bad. Campenelli’s good looks and charm, and St. Louis’ vitriolic hatred of prostitutes are muddying the waters too, and now the killer seems to have taken a liking to Kennedy.

So the big question remains. Can she get him before he gets her?

Where to Buy: Amazon

Excerpt:

Leaving the downtown area, Wilder and Kennedy drove past the now defunct Pioneer Club with the ever smiling, famous Vegas Vic sign sitting high on its perch.  At one time, the forty-foot-tall neon cowboy had greeted visitors with a waving arm and a moving cigarette that blew smoke rings.

“Kenny, check out Vegas Vic.  He’s winking at you.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Wilder?  It’s a damn sign.”

“I’m just screwing around.  You really need to lighten up some.”

Kennedy refused to respond.

“When I talked to Sparky and Lenny, they said you were still at Metro when they came in this morning.”

“And your point is?”

“You should have gone home and gotten some rest. Like a normal person.”

“I did go home.  I slept and I showered.  I am a normal person.”  One that has a few issues, but hey, who doesn’t?

“Did you update your home murder board and spend hours studying it?”

She cringed.  Her partner knew her too well.  “I may have looked it over once or twice.  But, I didn’t spend hours on it, not that it’s any of your business.”

“You need to have a life outside the job.  Hell, even Vegas Vic has a girlfriend and he’s a damn neon sign.  When’s the last time you even had a date?”

She looked out the window at the neon cowboy, then at the neon cowgirl sign on top of the Glitter Gulch topless club, and back at Wilder.

“Vegas Vicky?  Give me a break, here.”

 “Oh yeah, Vegas Vicky.  What a neon babe.”  His voice deepened, almost to a whisper.  Then Wilder had the balls to wink at her.  “I dig her cowgirl boots.”

“You’re sick, Wilder.”

He glanced sideways at her.

“Keep your eyes on the road.”  She hadn’t meant to snap.

“What are you so sour about, Kenny?”  He laughed.  “You just realizing a freaking neon babe has a boyfriend and you don’t?”

She couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at her mouth and had to look away before he saw.  “Wilder, this conversation is so over.”

“Look on the bright side.”  She faced him again, just in time to see his wicked

smile.

“There’s a bright side?”

“Oh, yeah.”  He winked at her.  “At least you don’t have to worry about some other neon babe shining your guy’s bulbs.”

“Like I said, Wilder, you’re one sick puppy.” 

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