Tag Archive | giveaway

Valentine’s Day Scavenger Hunt

If you read this blog, then you love mysteries and solving them along with the various characters that are so brilliantly woven throughout the many books that I blog about.  Kathi Daley is hosting a Valentine’s Day Scavenger Hunt and someone has been murdered!  It is up to you, the readers, to solve the mystery this time.  And, the prizes are fantastic. 

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Find all the clues which will be listed on the Facebook pages listed above and figure out who the killer is, who the victim is, and which type of dance they were participating in when the murder occurred.

How does one survive this?  Well, Kathi has written a handy guide right here.  Make sure to read and study it before the dance.  It might be the only thing that keeps you alive…

One grand prize winner will receive a $50 Amazon gift card and 5 second place winners will receive their choice of Kathi Daley ebook.

The clues will be provided February 8 – 13 and the winner will be announced on February 14. The rules and links to the clues will be posted on my main author page on February 7 at https://www.facebook.com/kathidaleybooks/ 

Spotlight of We Wish You A Murderous Christmas by Vicki Delany

BTB Spotlight
We Wish You A Murderous Christmas
Vicki Delany

What a treat we have right before Halloween from Vicki Delany!  She has given a sneak peek of the first chapter of her November release of We Wish You A Murderous Christmas. Happy Holidays!

wewishyou_coverSpecial BTB Sneak Peak:
Chapter 1
Decisions decisions.
Did I want hearty traditional winter fare or something to remind me of summers at the lake?
Prime rib with roasted vegetables, or grilled salmon with rice pilaf?
“You have to make up your mind sometime, Merry.” Vicky handed the waitress her menu. “I’ll have the lamb shanks, please.”
“That sounds good,” I said. “Me too.”
“You always have what I have,” Vicky said.
“That’s because I can’t decide for myself.”
The waitress returned with a bottle of nice red wine and went through the ritual of opening and tasting. We were savoring the first sips when she came back, bearing an overflowing platter, and placed it on the table. Cartoucherie: a selection of cheeses and paper-thin slices of cured meats with an assortment of pickles and nuts served with hunks of freshly baked baguette.
“That looks delicious,” Vicky said, “but you have the wrong table. We didn’t order it.”
“Complements of the chef,” the waitress said with a grin.
“Nice.” I picked a tiny knife off the tray and sliced myself a sliver of creamy blue-veined cheese. “I heard they hired a new chef. My mom says the food’s improved dramatically. Is that why you wanted to try it? Wow, this is marvelous.” I let the deep sharp flavor linger in my mouth. My taste buds did a happy dance. Then I noticed the slight flush on my best friend’s face. “Oh,” I said. “I get it.”
Vicky Casey and I were at the Yuletide Inn for a special treat of a fancy dinner. It was a Tuesday night in mid-December, and both of us were rushed off our feet at work, but Vicky had convinced me (without much difficulty, I will confess) that we needed a break in the midst of the madness of the Christmas rush. I own a shop, Mrs. Claus’s Treasures, in Rudolph, New York, which we call America’s Christmas Town. Vicky’s the owner and chief baker of Victoria’s Bake Shoppe. It was her idea to have a special girls’ night out, to relieve some of the stress of the season. Judging by the high color of her cheeks, clashing dreadfully with the lock of purple hair falling across her forehead, Vicky had an ulterior motive.
“Evening ladies,” said the deep voice of the ulterior motive.
A man stood beside our table, dressed in a chef’s uniform of white jacket and gray striped pants. The logo of the Yuletide Inn was embroidered onto the jacket, with his name written in script beneath. Mark Grosse, Executive Chef.
Every woman in town was gossiping about this man. For once the gossip was understated. He was tall and lean, with dark hair cut short, enormous brown eyes specked with flakes of green, high cheekbones, and blindingly white teeth.
“Hi,” Vicky squeaked. “Thanks for this.”
“I hope you enjoy it.” He smiled at her.
“Very nice of you,” I said. I might as well not have bothered. Neither of them were paying the slightest bit of attention to me. Chef Mark was grinning at Vicky and she was grinning back.
“Oh, uh,” Vicky said, remembering her manners at last. “Mark, this is my friend Merry Wilkinson.”
He turned to me. His smile was dazzling. “So pleased to meet you, Merry. Are you a cook also?”
“I boil a mean pot of water,” I said.
“I’ve got to get back to the kitchen,” Mark said. “Nice meeting you, Merry. I hope you recognize the baguette, Vicky.”
“Sure do,” she said.
“Have a nice meal,” he said. “Don’t forget to save room for dessert. The gingerbread cake is fabulous.” He hurried away, back to the mysterious depths of a top-ranked restaurant kitchen.
I broke off a hunk of baguette and popped it into my mouth. Crunchy on the outside, soft and dense within. Delicious. “Yours?”
“Yup. As is the gingerbread cake.”
“Does he get all his desserts from you?”
“Just the bread mostly. As my gingerbread cake is a Rudolph specialty, he buys that from me too.”
I took a sip of wine. “Nice looking guy.”
“Is he?” she said, gulping down half a glass of her own. “I hadn’t noticed.”
I glanced around the dining room. It was full, and I knew Vicky only got a reservation because they had a cancellation for a table for two. Logs burned in the large open fireplace against one wall. Next to it a tall, fat, real Douglas fir was weighted down with decorations and trimmed with delicate white lights. The tables were covered in starched white linen tablecloths, and crystal and silver glimmered in the gentle light cast by a single votive candle. The glass candleholders were trimmed with a piece of freshly-cut holly. The room was full of light and laughter, warmth and wonderful scents, and that special something which was part of the season: Christmas magic. I settled back with a contented sigh.
“How’s business?” Vicky asked.
“Mad. Absolutely mad. As they say in show business, any publicity is good publicity. All the attention the town received when that journalist was killed has helped draw in the crowds. Once they found the killer and Rudolph’s reputation was cleared, anyway. I’m worried about running out of some of my stock before Christmas.”
“That’s a good worry,” Vicky said. “Better than being stuck with stuff you can’t move.”
We wiped the cartoucherie plate clean. When the waitress took away the empty platter she asked if we wanted another bottle. Vicky and I exchanged a question before saying, “Sure!” at the same time. The lamb shanks arrived and they were delicious, served with delicate potatoes, and grilled vegetables. We lingered over our meal for a long time, simply enjoying each other’s company and the welcome chance to relax.
I’ve had more of Vicky’s gingerbread cake than I can possibly remember, but I never get enough of it. I ordered that for dessert, and Vicky had the candy cane cheesecake. The gingerbread was served under a mountain of freshly whipped cream, and the cheesecake dotted with bits of crushed candy.
“My complements to the chef,” Vicky said as we rummaged for our credit cards.
The waitress was about fifty years old, but she giggled and blushed like a teenager talking about the captain of the football team. “Isn’t he wonderful? We’re so lucky to have him.”
Vicky pulled out her phone and called for a cab. Neither of us were in any state to drive.
Then, stuffed to the gills, more than a bit tipsy, my best friend and I staggered out the restaurant door into the hotel lobby.
The lobby of the Yuletide Inn was also beautifully decorated for the season. The huge tree was hung with an array of antique (or antique-looking) ornaments; wooden soldiers stood to attention in the deep stone windowsills; red stockings hung over the fireplace; terracotta pots overflowed with pink-flowered Christmas cactus and red and white poinsettia. Glass bowls of various sizes full of silver and gold balls sat on the large round table dominating the center of the room. A charming Christmas village, complete with snow on the roofs and lighted windows in the shops and houses, was arranged on a side table.
“Hey, look who’s here,” a baritone boomed.
“Hi Dad. Mom.” Even though I’d only seen them yesterday, we exchanged enthusiastic hugs and kisses. My parents greeted Vicky the same way, and we shook hands with the couple with my parents. Jack and Grace Olsen, owners of the Yuletide Inn.
“Are you going through for dinner?” I asked. “It’s late for you, isn’t it, Dad?”
“We’ve just finished,” he said, rubbing his round belly with a satisfied smile.
“I didn’t see you in the dining room.”
“We had a private room,” Mom said. “It pays to know the boss.” The two couples were close friends.
“Dinner was exceptional,” Vicky said, patting her own firm, flat stomach. “The new chef is simply fabulous.”
Grace and Jack beamed. “We’re hearing nothing but good reports,” Jack said. “And let me tell you that’s a relief, after the last guy.” The side of one lip twisted up in disapproval. Jack was, for his age, a good looking man with a strong square jaw and dancing blue eyes.
“We’re booked solid until New Year’s Day,” Grace added. “Some people have made next year’s reservations already.”
“Glad to hear it,” Dad said. “What’s good for the Yuletide is…”
“Good for Rudolph,” we chorused.
Dad said, “Ho, ho ho.” My dad was born on December 25th and named Noel. He has plump red cheeks, a round stomach, a long white beard, a mass of curly white hair, and bushy white eyebrows. Even when he’s not wearing the costume of red suit, black belt and boots, and pom-pom tipped hat Noel Wilkinson looks exactly like a storybook Santa Claus. And Santa he is, in our town at least. Tonight he was dressed in brown corduroy slacks (circa 1980) and a red sweater sporting a design of a reindeer with springs of holly entwined in his antlers and a big red woolen pom-pom for his nose. I noticed people walking through the lobby giving him sideways glances and their faces lighting up in smiles. It was late for small children to be around, but if they were Dad would always give them a wink and a hearty, “Ho, ho, ho.”
Vicky and I laughed and leaned against each other.
Always the more serious of the pair, my mother gave me a stern look. “You are not driving, I hope.”
“We’ve called a cab, Aline,” Vicky said.
“We can give you a lift,” Dad said. “We’re leaving now.”
“Thanks, Dad, but the cab’ll be here in a minute,” I said. “We’ll wait outside. Good night.”
We headed for the front doors as Jack Olsen said, “Did I ever tell you about the time I was in the navy, and Santa Claus visited the ship. We were in the Philippines, and he was the sorriest excuse…”
He broke off with a strangled cry. I heard a loud thump followed by a resounding crash. Grace screamed, my mom gasped, and Dad yelled, “Jack!

Berkley Prime Crime/Penguin Random House
Release date: November 1, 2016

About The Author:
Vicki Delany is one of Canada’s most prolific and varied crime writers. She is the author of twenty-three published crime novels, including standalone Gothic thrillers, the Constable Molly Smith series, and the Year Round Christmas Mysteries. Under the pen name of Eva Gates she is the national bestselling author of the Lighthouse Library cozy series.
Vicki lives and writes in Prince Edward County, Ontario. She is the past president of the Crime Writers of Canada.

Vicki’s Links:
Website: www.vickidelany.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/vicki.delany.1 and https://www.facebook.com/evagatesauthor/
Twitter: @vickidelany and @evagatesauthor

What’s next for Vicki:
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Look for Elementary, She Read, the first in Vicki’s new Sherlock Holmes Bookshop series, coming March 14 from Crooked Lane.

Giveaway:
A copy of We Wish You A Murderous Christmas, US only.
Click To Enter Giveaway

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Putting On The Witch by Joyce and Jim Lavene

Putting On The Witch by Joyce and Jim Lavene

A Personal Note:

This particular tour is bittersweet. Is that term overused? Maybe. Defined, it means “producing or expressing a mixture of pleasure and pain.” I was so excited to be able to read this amazing book and review it but I knew I would not be able to rattle on about it to either author for they had both passed on. And there we have that bitter and painful part.

When I first got into reading cozies, Joyce was the third author I came in contact with thanks again to my Canadian sister-friend, Karen. I got onto the Joyce and Jim page and quickly started conversing with Joyce on a daily basis. I honestly didn’t know a person could have so much passion for purple!  Her morning greetings were warm and welcoming, nothing like I was seeing on the rest of the Internet. What a breathe of fresh air. Then, I got to slowing know of her husband as well. They were both so unlike others I was used to chatting with.

The news of their separate passings-on was devastating, but I am just glad to have gotten the pleasure and privilege of knowing them; even if it was only virtually. What a legacy they leave behind not only in their writings, but also in their beautiful personalities. I will never forget them.

jo-potw3Review:

So, you’re a witch who’s been hidden in the mortal world who recently found out you were a witch and your dad was one of the most powerful and dark witches ever. He’s now standing in front of you and your mom, who happens to now be a ghost, is not happy. What an opening! Putting On The Witch grabbed me from the beginning with some crazy stuff thrown right in my face and I loved it.

Having read some of the other books of Joyce and Jim’s I was going out of my mind with the “easter eggs” they kept throwing in throughout the book. If you are a reader of theirs, it’s a fun little gift. I know I was all giddy when things were mentioned and certain people showed up from other books of theirs. I won’t ruin it though.

My thought about witches is that they can’t be killed like mortals, but apparently if the right person gets ahold of them, they can. All of this and more takes place when Molly, Elsie, Dorothy and a few surprise guests attend their newest coven member, Brian’s’ birthday bash at the Witches Ball.

The party is elaborate, the preparation is elaborate and the location is unsearchable. Someone had to work pretty hard to get into this party in order to take out one of the powerful members of the Grand Council of Witches.

I love the contrast in the rich and powerful witches and what I call the “normal” witches, or those who are making an honest living just like the non-magical people. You can see the power struggles amongst these two groups which have been going on for ages.

Brian is the center of the party since it is his birthday. Although he was raised wealthy, he doesn’t have the same need to please, have money or be noticed like his grandfather. He is drawn to Dorothy who never new about her magic until recently. They both have a lot in common and I think that is why they are drawn together. In a way, they are both just starting.

Many things were denied to Brian because it wasn’t “proper” and Dorothy had nothing since she was raised without magic due to being hidden from her father. I enjoy the interaction between these two and how although they came from two complete upbringings, they are so much alike and therefore help each other out.

The friendship between Molly, Elsie and Olivia is heartwarming. These “retired witches” as they had hoped to be are only becoming stronger. Their friendship and encouragement of each others differences are what keeps their friendships so amazing. Molly is embracing her true heritage, Elsie is becoming appreciative that it’s okay to love no matter what society says and Olivia is learning to work with what life has dealt her…death. Through the changes in life and death, these friends and life-long coven members are growing themselves into better witches every day.

Putting On The Witch is about acceptance, breaking down the barriers of stereotypes and learning to accept yourself for who you are and just going with it. How in the world can a fiction book do that? I find that the Lavenes always have a message hidden in their books and this one is no exception. We all go through life, unsure of what the future holds. Some of us are unsure of our past and most of us are unsure of our future. One thing is for sure though. If we can find a small group of faithful friends who help to encourage our best selves, we are unstoppable.

 About The Authors:

joyce-and-jimJoyce and Jim Lavene wrote award-winning, bestselling mystery fiction as themselves, J.J. Cook, and Ellie Grant. They had written and published more than 70 novels for Harlequin, Berkley, Amazon, and Gallery Books along with hundreds of non-fiction articles for national and regional publications. Joyce passed away October 20, 2015 and Jim passed on May 5, 2016. They are missed by family, friends and their many fans.

Giveaway:

 Putting On The Witch Great Escapes Tour Giveaway

 

Author Links:

 www.joyceandjimlavene.com

www.facebook.com/joyceandjimlavene

Please join these other bloggers as they celebrate Joyce and Jim the rest of October!

October 13 – Booth Talks Books

October 13 – The Cozy Mystery Journal

October 14 – Brooke Blogs

October 15 – Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews

October 16 – Bibliophile Reviews 

October 16 – Island Confidential

October 17 – LibriAmoriMiei

October 17 – MysteriesEtc

October 18 – Kathy Loves 2 Read

October 19 – ChristyMystery

October 20 – My Interdimensional Chaos

October 21 – Murder, Mystery & More…

October 22 – centraleast2

October 23 – Lori’s Reading Corner

October 24 – The Girl with Book Lungs

October 24 – Polished Nails and Puppy Dog Tales

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“Death of a Toy Soldier” Review, Interview and Giveaway!

Death of a Toy Soldier by Barbara Early

Review:
death4Excuse me while I run around like a kid in a toyshop writing this review for “Death of a Toy Soldier”. Oh wait; it takes place in an actual toyshop. Goodie, goodie for me. Finally, someone writes a book that I can relate to when it comes to my obsession with old toys, seeking them out and buying them. In this case, Liz McCall and her dad, Hank sell the toys at their amazing New York shop, Well Played. Fabulous name Barbara, fabulous!

Hank McCall is a retired police chief who has taken his hobby to the next level and opened a vintage toy shop and runs it with the help of his daughter Liz. All is well and good until a man who had visited the shop previously to check on the price of some super rare tin toys turns up dead in a pool of blood amongst the playful relics on the toy shop floor.

Hank is suffering amnesia from the night of the incident for an unknown reason and the McCalls are forced to try and put the pieces together to a puzzle that just gets weirder and weirder.   Hoping to get her father off the hook and back into the store he has put his heart and soul in to, Liz turns to friends and family in order to try and figure out who the mystery man was who ended up dead in their store. 

As if a game of Clue is in play, another man ends up dead who might be associated with the dead mystery man. The more they investigate, the more secrets are revealed about neighbors, friends and people they thought they knew. So, who did kill the man in the toy store with the dart. Yes, for sure a game of Clue is afoot.

The story did not stop the entire time. I was expecting a lull where I would lose interest and then have to force myself back into it because honestly, kids interrupt me while I am reading.   There was never a problem picking up where I left off because the characters weren’t flat. I felt like I knew Liz, Hank, Cathy, Jack, Peggy and those adorable sisters, Irene and Lenora.

I was able to jump right back in and the story just kept developing in new dimensions. Right when I thought I was going one way, Barbara took me somewhere else. I loved it! The killer threw me for a loop however. I had two people that I just knew did it. I kept thinking, “Oh Barbara, you made this too easy. You tried to throw me off, but I caught you.” Nope, I was so wrong. I didn’t see that one coming at all.

If there was one complaint I had, it was that I didn’t get to see inside the doll room. She kept describing Cathy, the other worker, peaking out and such but the reader doesn’t get to go in. Do you know what that does to a doll person Barbara? I wanna go in!

This series is exciting for me and I hope the second book comes out quickly after the release of this one. What a great set of characters, setting and descriptive writing. I was hooked. If you love toys, collecting old vintage memorabilia and love a good mystery go ahead and order this book. You need it in your life like I need another doll. And I DO need another doll by the way….

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Interview:

BTB-Do you or have you ever collected vintage toys?

BE-At one time, I had quite a collection: a huge assortment of Fisher Price with all the original wooden Little People, an early Mr. Potato Head, a virtual fortune in real wood Lincoln Logs, and a pretty good selection of Pez dispensers. Colorforms. Slinkies. View Master with a bunch of disks. You may have already figured out where I’m going with this. This was forty some years ago. Most of them were passed down to younger cousins or siblings or sold by my mother at garage sales.

But no, I wasn’t a collector before I started writing the series. And except for a few fun pieces and some small things I’m using to decorate my Christmas tree, I’m trying to keep my collection on Pinterest. But, like Liz McCall, I am an avid board gamer, and I do own some vintage board games. Some I’ve bought used and others I’ve just had for long enough that they’re actually worth something–which is kind of sad, because it makes me hesitant to play them. And that’s their value for me.

trainBut the fun part of the series is that you don’t have to be a collector or even an enthusiast to enjoy reading about the toys. They spark a lot of nostalgia. When we see pictures of, say, a Mrs. Beasley doll on Facebook, or a vintage Scooby Doo lunchbox we may have taken to school, those images inspire all kinds of feelings and memories. We all relate to toys. They were part of our childhood and are key parts of our formative memories.

BTB-How did you do research for “Death of a Toy Soldier”

BE-The idea for the series came from the town first. I’ve visited East Aurora (Yes, it’s a real place!) any number of times–it’s only a little over half an hour from my house. It’s such a quaint town, the kind you read about in cozy mysteries. It has brick-paved Main Street with every kind of store you might imagine in a cozy mystery: a quirky five-and-dime, a cupcake shop, a yarn shop, a vintage theater selling gourmet popcorn, a chocolate shop, and a variety of eateries, many with tables spilling out onto the sidewalk. There’s even an Amish furniture store. And yes, a toyshop. It carries a lot of classic toys, but it’s not a vintage toyshop.

But the whole town is truly darling. I supposed the normal reaction is to want to shop and sightsee. My first reaction was, what a great place for a murder!

So I really wanted to set a mystery there. When I searched the town’s history, I learned death5-copythat it has long been called Toy Town, because of the manufacture of toys in the area. Fisher Price (now part of Mattel) still remains, but there were once a number of different toy manufacturers clustered around the town. Sad are the things I just missed: there used to be a toy parade and a toy museum. Neither of those exist any longer. But since I write fiction, I reserve the right to resurrect them.

When I started digging around a little more, I discovered that, while vintage toyshops are a little rare, dealers and collectors do a bit of trade at vintage toy shows, and I found a few in my area. They’re starting to recognize me, even though I do more talking and picture taking (with their permission) than actual buying. But going to the shows always feels more like play than research.

BTB-What inspired the name of the book?

BE-I never get to keep my titles. I thought I was going to be able to this time. The working title was MURDER WELL PLAYED. In my mind, it was perfect. Vintage toys. Well Played. And every title could have “play” in it, in some form. And that’s the title it was subbed as. But the publisher who bought it wanted to change it. They wanted something more visual–which I understood, at least as soon as I got over my initial disappointment. It was my agent who actually came up with the title, which resonated with the publisher right away–and led to some changes in the story to accommodate it. I wasn’t initially sold–but I’ve learned to trust the instincts of those with experience in the industry. They were so right! And then they came up with that cover, which is absolutely fantastic. I love those eyes! So each book will likely feature an iconic type of toy.

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BTB-In the book, there is a lot about vintage games as they gather for a regular vintage game night in the toyshop.  What is your favorite board game?  Do you have a favorite piece you play, color, etc.?

BE-I have a lot of favorite board games, depending on my mood. Right now it’s a strategy game called Power Grid. I’m also fond of Pandemic, Ticket to Ride, and Settlers of Catan. Those three have apps that allow me to play against the computer, which is nice because I like to play far more often than I can find people to play with. I also picked up another fun one called Liebrary, where you’re given the title and brief synopsis of a real book, and then all the players have to come up with a first line. Those lines get shuffled together with the real first line, and then everybody has to guess which one is genuine. As a writer, it can be a lot of fun. Sometimes, though, it starts feeling like work.

As far as playing pieces, I tend to pick green, for some reason. And in Monopoly, yeah, I like the racecar. Boring, I know.

BTB- There is a lot about family and trust in this book.  Can you speak as to why this was such a heavy theme?  It’s unusual to have a father and daughter sleuth team.

BE-When we start thinking about the toys of our childhood, we tend to think of the circumstances of our childhood. And I wanted Liz’s childhood to be interesting. (The opposite is boring, and nobody wants that.) Giving her an alcoholic parent was an easy choice for me. I can write that with authenticity, sadly. The strong bond between Liz and her father was born from this shared adversity. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, but they’re very much there for each other now. They have each other’s backs and are more alike than either would probably care to admit.

Perhaps it’s because I never had a close relationship to a father, I tend to explore this idea in fiction. The close relationship between Hank and Liz is more similar to the one my husband and our daughter share. It’s very sweet and fun to watch.

BTB-I have to ask about the monkey in the book because every time I read about it, it vintage-monkeyseemed to represent something inside of Liz that she was dealing with psychologically.  Was the monkey used as a metaphor or am I over analyzing?  Was the monkey just a monkey?

BE-Sometime a monkey is just a monkey. I’ve always found them a little freaky. But like Liz, sometimes I can get a little nervous around toys with eyes. It comes from that one Twilight episode with a talking doll, and then a made-for-TV horror movie about a killer doll–that I was too young to watch at the time. I still have a low tolerance for horror, unless it’s something campy, like Sharknado.

But those early experiences gave me a bit of a doll phobia myself–nothing too severe–which I’ve given to Liz, because it’s a fun problem to have if you work with them every day.

BTB-So, I know we are just now getting a taste for this book, but anything you want to reveal about the next one?  Can we expect to go into the doll room….yes?  no?  Hahaha! I really wanna go in.

BE-Crooked Lane contracted three books, so I’m writing the second one now, which takes place at a model train and toy show. And model trains are such iconic toys. (Although there’s a lot of adults who would cringe at me calling them toys.) The working title which, given my track record (pun unintended) will probably change, is Strangers on a Toy Train. We’ll see. I’m thinking dolls for book three, although they’ve always been in the series. It’s not blatantly obvious, at risk of being too cutesy, but Liz McCall shares the same full name as an iconic paper doll, Betsy McCall. Her sister-in-law, Cathy, can be a bit chatty. There’s a potential love interest named Ken. And the author–just don’t call me Barbie. I HATE being called Barbie.

BTB- Thanks Barb for stopping by, chatting and letting us into your brain. You are quite fascinating and so is this little toyshop of yours.

About The Author:
barbara-early

Barbara Early authored the Bridal Bouquet Shop Mysteries (as Beverly Allen) and now writes the Vintage Toyshop Mysteries. She lives in Western New York.

Facebook Author Page : https://www.facebook.com/AuthorBarbaraEarly/
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/BarbEarly
Alter Ego Beverly Allen:  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorBeverlyAllen
Blog:  http://www.inkwellinspirations.com/

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Giveaway:

We didn’t get a chance to go into the doll room, but you have a chance to win somethingwaldapubdom from the doll room. May I introduce, Jillian! She is what us doll collectors call a Walda doll. She was sold back in the 70s and 80s as an antiqued (not antique) doll to look like the older porcelain dolls of yesteryear. They have glued on wig caps, painted facial features of rosebud lips and different colored eyes, painted black boots and usually come dressed in a prairie looking dresses with a hat and bloomers.

Her head, arms and legs are made of porcelain and her body is stuffed with cotton rags. No Walda looks like another so collectors look for these for their distinct personalities. We have one (of course) in our collection. She was given the name Courtney and she joined our family in the early spring while my daughter and I were out antiquing. My daughter fell in love with her so we brought her home immediately, no questions asked. For information on Walda dolls, click HERE.

I was so excited when Barbara sent a photo to me of her find. I then flooded her with my doll knowledge. Lucky you! Just click below to be entered to win you very own “Walda” doll named by Barbara. Jillian is excited to come live with you.  She is complete and in collector condition which is hard to find.  Most are missing their hats.  Good luck!

Win “Jillian” The Vintage Walda Doll!

(named after the assistant museum curator, Jillian Hatley, in “Death of a Toy Soldier”)

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Buy “Death Of A Toy Soldier”

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A Charming Voodoo Scavenger Hunt Tour

Welcome to BTB’s “A Charming Voodoo” Scavenger Hunt Tour Stop

 

About, “A Charming VooDoo”

Bubble. . . Bubble. . .
Whispering Falls is abuzz with the new housing development and new shopscharming-voodoo
popping up all over the magical village right before the annual All Hallow’s Eve celebration.

Cures and trouble. . .
June Heal’s intuition is on high alert and she just can’t shake that something bad is about to happen.

Magic stirs . . .
June finds Violet Draper standing over a dead body in the new pumpkin patch hours before it’s supposed to open for hayrides.

And trouble doubles . . .
Once again, June has to put her sleuthing skills to work and figure out who the real killer is before the new citizens pack up and move right back out of town.

 

Let’s go to the “A Charming VooDoo” Party.  After you……

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Oh Look, The Clue In The Brew…

CLICK for “A Charming VooDoo” Scavenger Hunt Giveaway Clue and you could win…

Print

 

 

Buy “A Charming VooDoo”

 

Remaining Tour Stops & Dates:

9/30~Community Book Stop
10/1~Yaritza Book Group Facebook
10/1~ Girl with Book Lungs
10/2~Bab’s Book Bistro
10/3~Melissa’s Mocha, Mysteries, and Meows
10/4~Tonya’s blog 
10/5~Mystery Reading Nook
10/6~Life with Arielle
10/6~ MJB Reviewers
10/6~ Granny Loves to Read
10/7~Polished Nails
10/7~ A Girl and her Ebooks
10/8~Cozy Up With Kathy
10/9~Brooke’s Blog
10/9~The Books The Thing
10/10~Books, Coffee, and My Dog
10/10~Bibliophile Reviews 
10/11~Books, Movies, Reviews Oh My!
10/12~Shelley’s Book Case
10/13~Killer Characters
10/14~Sharon Reads
10/15-White Pine Cozy Mystery
10/15~I wished I lived in a Library
10/16~Homeschool n’ stuff
10/17~Sleuth Cafe
10/18~Wilovebooks
10/18~Bookish Smart

About Tonya Kappes:
tonya-kappes-witchFor years, USA Today bestselling author Tonya Kappes has been publishing numerous mystery and romance titles with unprecedented success. She is famous not only for her hilarious plot lines and quirky characters, but her tremendous marketing efforts that have earned her thousands of followers and a devoted street team of fans.

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BTB Spotlight ON: Dandelion Dead

 

Dandelion Dead
Chrystle Fiedler

Excerpt:

dandelion-deadChapter OneI absolutely love edible plants, many of which are also my favorite natural remedies. But I don’t mean fruits and vegetables. I mean weeds that are usually perceived as a nuisance and something to be “rid of,” but are, in fact, packed with nutrients and have amazing healing powers. Take the much-maligned dandelion, for example. Believe it or not, it’s actually chock-full of good-for-you vitamins and minerals, including magnesium, vitamins C and E, iron, potassium, and calcium, and can be used to make everything from smoothies to salads. I’d been fascinated by edible plants ever since my late aunt Claire Hagen handed me her dog-eared copy of naturalist Euell Gibbons’s book Stalking the Wild Asparagus when I was fifteen years old. An instant hit when it was first published in 1962, it provided a blueprint that anyone could follow to find, gather, and prepare wild foods.

After giving me the book, Claire encouraged me to go along with her as she foraged for wild edibles in the fields and woods of the North Fork, on the East End of Long Island, New York. I was born out here, in Greenport, and Claire moved here after living in London for many years, where she worked as an editor for British Vogue. My passion for edible plants and natural remedies came from her, and twelve years later, I was just as fascinated.

For this reason I was out in the fields teaching a class in edible plants early Sunday morning in October, a week before Halloween. Fall was one of my favorite seasons and a prime time to be out in nature, identifying and foraging to my heart’s content. Fall was also the North Fork’s best-kept secret. Not only were the summer tourists gone, and the beaches and the woods empty, the weather was cool, with just a little nip of cold, signaling that winter was on its way, but not here just yet.

My latest project, a medicinal herb garden dedicated to Claire, opened last year and had turned out to be a smashing success. This despite my finding a dead body near the digitalis plants, on the opening day of the annual Maritime Festival. Fortunately, with the help of my boyfriend and ex-cop, Jackson Spade, and my ex-boyfriend, television writer-producer Simon Lewis, we brought the killer to justice. The garden became a popular place to visit, and I kept busy leading tours several times a day along with running the health food store I’d inherited from Claire, Nature’s Way Market & Café on Front Street.

Now, with the cooler weather, the garden had turned dormant, rejuvenating and regenerating itself for spring. So, in the off-season, I’d turned my attention to my workshops in Nature’s Way on how to benefit from edible plants, and other natural remedies, for health and wellness.

This morning we were foraging in the fields behind Jackson’s house and animal sanctuary, far from the road, and away from exhaust fumes and nasty chemicals that could contaminate any plants we picked. Each class participant had a copy of one of Claire’s most popular books, the Edible Planet, which featured twenty-five commonly used plants complete with color photographs.

The first rule of foraging was to be absolutely certain in plant identification, and the photos helped ensure this. While most plants were safe and helpful, poisonous plants also exist, and we wanted to avoid these. I led the group, which was made up of ten women of various ages, some local, some from New York, and few from a day trip from Connecticut across the Sound. Lily Bryan[SHB1] , twenty-five, my new assistant at Nature’s Way, was also here.
Lily had graduated from the New York Culinary Institute in June and hoped to open her own restaurant on the East End one day. Lily was intelligent, motivated, and a hard worker—much like her uncle, Wallace Bryan[SHB2] , my manager—and an enthusiastic student. I was glad to have her along today.

We continued to head East across the fields as the early-morning sunshine slanted through the trees at the north edge of Jackson’s property, and birds wheeled and chattered overhead. A few feet later, I spotted a cluster of yarrow, a plant with firm, compact lacy white flower clusters on top of long, elegant green leafy stems.

“This is good start,” I said as I got on my knees and examined it, and the group gathered around me.

“Yarrow is one of my favorite herbs, especially in the fall. You can make a lovely cup of tea with its leaves if you have a cold, and it’s also relaxing and a mild pain reliever. This was also one of my aunt’s favorite edibles, and there’s a section on it in the back of your book that will tell you more about it.” I paused as everyone found the section.

“There’s plenty of it here, but we never take more than we need,” I said. “But since we’ll be using the leaves, flowers, and stem, I’ll take this plant whole.” I used my spade to gently dig it up and handed it to Lily, who put it in the big blue bucket that she always carried when foraging.

“Now, at our next class, on Monday morning, I’ll show you how to use these to make tea and a yarrow, calendula, and oatmeal facial. So, we need to find calendula next. Let’s turn to that page in your book and start looking for it.”

The group eagerly began to search for calendula plants, which sported bright yellow and orange flowers. “Some people say that calendula glows like the sun,” I continued. “It’s a member of the daisy family, also known as English marigold. It’s one of my favorite edibles. We can use it in the facial, but it also adds taste and color to salads and other dishes.”

As we continued to head in an easterly direction, we moved beyond Jackson’s property to the parcel next door, and the Pure vineyard. I had permission to forage here as well, since the property belonged to Simon. Simon had purchased the winery a year ago, as an investment, with David Farmer, a talented winemaker who came from one of the first families of winemaking on the East End. Together they had turned the vineyard into an organic, sustainable winery using biodynamic methods and native yeast, powered only by wind and sun.

Today was important for Pure and all the vineyards on the East End—the first day of North Fork UnCorked!—a weeklong affair that featured wine tours, tastings, and events from Riverhead to Orient, sponsored by the Long Island Wine Council and Farm to Table magazine. Pure and other wineries were competing for the title of best North Fork vintage, and a cash prize of $200,000. The judging of individual wines produced by the vineyards would take place throughout the week, and the winner would be announced a week from today, at a gala ball at historic Southwold Hall.

Simon’s winery was the clear front-runner in the competition. Not only was his vineyard the first on the East End to grow and make organic wine, but his vineyard had already nabbed several top awards this year and had received a ton of positive press. Of course, the rival vineyards were jealous. But facts are facts, and David Farmer was now widely regarded as one of the up-and-coming winemakers out here and in the United States.

This afternoon, Simon was hosting a cocktail party and tasting for the editor of Farm to Table magazine at Pure and had asked Nature’s Way to cater it for him. So, along with teaching my class this morning, both Lily and I were on the lookout for tasty edible plants to add to the menu.

An hour later we’d discovered not only calendula, but chamomile and mint, and Lily had added few handfuls of dandelion greens for garnish. While she led the class back to Greenport and Nature’s Way, I headed over to see Simon in his office at Pure to discuss last-minute preparations for party.

 

Synopsis:

Business is blooming at Nature’s Way Market & Café, and shop owner, holistic doctor, and amateur sleuth, Willow McQuade has never been happier. Her new medicinal herb garden is a hit, and so is her new book, she’s in love with ex-cop and animal sanctuary founder Jackson Spade, and enjoying teaching seminars about edible plants and natural remedies.

But everything changes when Willow’s old boyfriend and TV producer, Simon Lewis, winemaker David Farmer, and his wife Ivy, ask her to cater a party at Pure, their new organic vineyard, to kick off North Fork’s Uncorked! week and the competition for Wine Lovers magazine’s $200,000 prize. Pure’s entry, Falling Leaves, is the favorite to win, and the wine flows freely until after Simon’s toast when smiles give way to looks of horror. Ivy’s twin sister, Amy has been murdered! Turns out, the poison that killed her was actually meant for David. But who wants him dead? A rival vintner? Or someone closer to home? This time the truth may be a bitter vintage to swallow.

About the Author:
CHRYSTLE FIEDLER is a freelance journalist specializing in natural remedies, alternative chrystlemedicine and holistic health and healing, and is the author of the Natural Remedies Mysteries series. Her many consumer magazine articles have appeared in USA Today’s Green Living, Natural Health, Remedy, Mother Earth Living, Spirituality & Health, and Prevention. She is also the author/co-author of seven non-fiction health titles including the Country Almanac of Home Remedies with herbalist Brigitte Mars, and The Compassionate Chick’s Guide to DIY Beauty with Vegan Beauty Review founder, Sunny Subramanian. Chrystle lives on the East End of Long Island, NY in a cozy cottage by the sea. Visit http://www.chrystlefiedlerwrites.com.

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Visit Chrystle:
Website link: www.chrystlefiedlerwrites.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/dandeliondeadbook/?fref=ts
Twitter: @ChrystleFiedler
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3360187.Chrystle_Fiedler
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/chrystle123/dandelion-dead-a-natural-remedies-mystery/

Dandelion Dead Giveaway

Click To Buy on Amazon

 

BTB Spotlight and Giveaway “The Hammett Hex” by Victoria Abbott

“The Hammett Hex” by Victoria Abbott

 

Excerpt:

 Squished into a cable car, hurtling down a steep hill, hammetthex-hi-resclinging to a rail with the wind rushing in your ears amid the clang and clatter of metal and the shrieks of fellow passengers might not be everybody’s idea of a romantic moment, but, strangely, it was working for me. Sure, my knuckles were white, but I was happy because I was wedged up against Tyler “Smiley” Dekker, the occasional man of my dreams. Plus the cable car we were riding gave us a view of San Francisco Bay. The half dozen-squealing school girls—black asymmetrical haircuts with the weird colored tips, the shredded jeans and the selfie sticks— couldn’t diminish the experience.

After all, you’re only young and pink-tipped once. One of them rolled her eyes at me.

I had also managed to tune out the puffy, bickering couple next to us. Who knew that you could sustain a twenty-minute dispute about the flavor of gelato? Chocolate hazelnut or nocciola? Obviously these two would never run out of things to fight about, and yet, they’d miraculously agreed to the same 49ers T-shirt.

We’d bumped into them before on the tourist walks in the area near Union Station. They always had plenty to argue with each other about.

The hulking guy right behind me was a bit harder to ignore. His large, pink, moon face was damp with sweat and his short-sleeved, blue-checked shirt strained at the buttons. He had clearly forgotten his deodorant this morning. Worse, he didn’t appear to comprehend the idea of personal space.

Smiley turned and flashed his grin. I loved that little gap between his front teeth and the way his blond hair blew in the wind. I loved that we were here in this romantic city. I loved that I could still make him blush.

Two silver-haired ladies wearing Birkenstock sandals and Tilley hats nudged each other and smiled at us in approval. I recognized them from our hotel. I’d noticed their bright toe nail polish in the line-up at the restaurant in the morning. Even though I was a bit jealous that they’d found seats on the cable car, I smiled back at them.

They each gave us a little wave they eased their way to the exit behind me.

All the world loves a lover, as they say. Loves a lover! Imagine that. Smiley and I had taken a few sharp detours in our relationship. It was still hard to believe that we were on a getaway alone without hot and cold running relatives and the persistent, gravelly voice of my employer, Vera Van Alst. Could a cop with ambitions to be a detective and a girl who was the first person in her family to go legit have a chance at happiness?

So far, it was looking good.

“Powell Street,” he mouthed. Smiley had a thing for Dashiell Hammett and Powell Street was important to him too. He mentioned the name every few minutes. He had also mentioned something to do with Sam Spade every few minutes on our cable car ride. As far as I could see, he’d watched The Maltese Falcon once too often as a child. It seemed that his grandfather was to blame. I knew all about fascinations with fictional characters and settings. So I got that. But I had just discovered this classic noir detective and I was reserving judgment about Hammett and his gang.

Today, Smiley was also busy taking pictures. I was equally busy hanging on to my gray fedora because of the bouncy ride and the stiff breeze. That fedora had been the perfect vintage find and just right for San Francisco. It was sort of inspired by Sam Spade, (see reserving judgement, above) but mainly I wore it because the foggy damp air turned my mid-length, dark hair into wild frizz. It was either the fedora or a brown paper bag.

It was our third trip on this particular line. We had three-day visitor passports and Smiley wanted us to get our twenty-bucks worth on every form of transportation.

Much of it had to doing with getting to know the city of Sam Spade. Smiley had a strong desire to visit Burrett Alley, off Stockton, where there was supposed to be a sign commemorating the shooting of Miles Archer in The Maltese Falcon. Pulp and Noir were not my thing and, to tell the truth, I’d been a bit surprised that Smiley was such an aficionado. I preferred the gentlemen of the Golden Age of Detection and of course, anything with Archie Goodwin in it. But if he wanted to see that memorial to a fictional murder, I was fine with it as long as I could keep my hat on.

Smiley had managed to turn full circle as we proceeded down the next block. There couldn’t be a building he hadn’t captured for posterity. There were plenty of shots of me too. That was fine as my hair was covered and I had lots to smile about.

“Seafood tonight?” he shouted, suddenly serious.

Well, how about that? I had something else to smile about. “We’re in the right city for it.”

My response was lost in the racket.

We shuddered to a stop again and people pushed onto the cable car. I tried not to get separated from Smiley as people squeezed their way into the car and a short, bullet-shaped man with crisply-gelled black hair attempted to shoulder his way between us. The cable car lurched forward. I steadied myself by grabbing Smiley’s belt with one hand. I held on to my hat with the other. “Sorry,” I said to the bullet-shaped man who seemed determined to take up more space.

I guess I’d been in the friendly, civil society of Harrison Falls, in upstate New York, for a bit too long. I wasn’t used to jockeying for position in confined spaces.

Bullet-man flashed me a bleak look and eased behind me. Good. Let him experience the big stinky guy first hand.

Smiley was pointing now, his enthusiastic words carried away on the wind. No question about it. He was adorable. And he wasn’t the first person to develop a fascination with Sam Spade or the Continental Op. I’d get my turn too. I couldn’t wait to get to Haight-Ashbury Street and its vintage stores.

As I reached for the airborne fedora, I felt something slam hard into my back, knocking the breath out of me. I lost hold of Smiley as I tumbled forward. When I managed to steady myself, a second sharp slam accelerated my fall. Panicked, I tried to grab at nearby passengers, but too little too late. With a roar of shouting voices behind me, I plunged, screaming wordlessly, from the lumbering cable car toward the pavement, my head set to meet Powell Street the hard way.

But I’m getting ahead of my story.

Let me start at the beginning.

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Giveaway:

Enter to win ANY paperback book in the “Book Collector Mystery” Series by Victoria Abbott. This contest is available worldwide! You can enter every day until the 26th!

the-christie-curse  Victoria Abbott Book Giveaway  the-wolfe-widow

*Facebook is not affiliated nor cares anything about this giveaway. So…ya.*

About the Author:

mj-and-vic-fedoraThat shadowy figure known as Victoria Abbott is a happy collaboration between the artist, photographer and short story author, Victoria Maffini, and her mother, Mary Jane Maffini, lapsed librarian and award-winning author of three mystery series and two dozen short stories.

Their contemporary and humorous book collector mysteries draw from the beloved authors of the golden age of detection. There is no extra charge for the crooked Irish uncles or the pug. The good news is that while they’ve written five books together, they haven’t killed each other. Yet.

In other good news, their fourth book collector mystery, The Marsh Madness, won the 2016 Bony Blithe award for ‘mysteries that make us smile’. They’re smiling because their fifth book collector mystery will be released on October 4th.

You can find more at: www.victoria-abbott.com   or www.maryjanemaffini.com

You can sign up for their e-newsletter (contests, book news, dog fashions, nonsense and recipes) through either website.

 

Other Fun Link Victoria Suggests

Buy On Amazon:

http://amzn.to/2cJpPSj

Websites:

www.victoria-abbott.com
www.maryjanemaffini.com

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/BookCollectorMysteries

https://www.facebook.com/maryjane.maffini

https://www.facebook.com/BookCollectorMysteries

The Hammett Hex Trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hg8lreWUOo4&feature=youtu.be

 

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 Cover art by Tony Mauro. 

The Book Collector Mystery Series is published by Berkley Prime Crime