The Departed cover
Building Character, On Writing

Meet Helen Anne Carter of The Departed

J.V. Baptie is the next author to participate in what I call the Building Character series on this website. I invite authors to write about one of the characters crucial to their novel. J.V., a fellow Crooked Cat Books author, chose Helen Anne Carter, who appears in her new novel, The Departed, as well as her first, The Forgotten. (I read The Forgotten and highly recommend it to fans of UK crime mysteries.)

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I like this about Helen — “Helen never gives up, she cares about her cases and the people around her.” We sure need more people like that. Here, I’ll let J.V. tell you all about her.

Who is your character?

A main protagonist in both my novel is Helen Anne Carter. She features very heavily in my first novel, The Forgotten.

What does he/she look like?

Helen likes to keep fit by jogging.  So she is slim but likes to have a box of Cadburys milk tray occasional and a glass of red wine. She had brown eyes and short brown to just above her shoulders. Often described as a bit of a tomboy as a child but she sometimes she likes to dress up and wear some mascara when the occasional calls for it.

What is your character’s back story?

Helen is a police officer, just like her late father. She studied psychology at college.  She’s not afraid to stand up for herself and speak the truth. (That gets her into trouble sometimes.)

What is your character’s role in your novel?

Helen never gives up, she cares about her cases and the people around her. She wants to get justice for victims, despite her own anxieties and the fact that it might put her in danger.

A brief synopsis

One secret will tear a family apart. 2008.

A body is found in a car boot following an accident, and Detective Inspector John Morrison is under pressure to identify the killer. Was it someone who had murdered before, several decades ago? Or is it a copycat killing?

Meanwhile, Trish, John’s ex-girlfriend, had been working hard to forget the past – until she finds new evidence about her aunt Moira’s disappearance nearly two decades earlier.

Did Detective Inspector Helen Carter miss something in the initial investigation in 1978, and could she live with the consequences if she had?

The past and present intertwine in this gripping case of murders and missing persons.

 

From The Departed

This is a snippet from the second novel that Helen features in, The Departed.  (This scene is about the case she investigates.)

‘Is it a good idea?’

‘I don’t know.’ Moira McKenzie shrugged and pulled away. She rubbed the condensation from her glass as a classical record spun on the turntable. Most of the sound was being drowned out by the heavy rain that pounded off the windows. She swallowed hard to push back the words that wanted to spill from her. ‘I think Reggie suspects,’ she finally said. ‘I’m sure he does.’ She could feel the familiar burn at the back of her eyes. Reggie’s words echoed in her ears.Worthless. No one would ever want you. Mutton dressed as lamb. Pathetic. Each one like a punch to the stomach.

‘He can’t.’

‘It’s in his eyes.’ She paused to think. ‘The way he looks at me. It’s hard to explain.’ She shivered thinking about his moods and how quick they could change.

‘A man like Reggie.’ He grimaced. ‘He would do something if he really suspected. No,’ he reached out and squeezed her hand, ‘that’s just the guilt talking. You’re just feeling guilty because you’re finally happy.’

Moira shrugged and looked at the chandelier that hung above them. She never imagined herself in a lovely house like this, with big bay windows and garden, on the other side of Edinburgh.

‘I can’t do this.’ She put her glass down on the coffee table. ‘I need to go home.’

‘Don’t.’ He looked at her wide-eyed. ‘I don’t understand—’

She dragged the heel of her hand down her face. ‘We’re both married. This will end badly.’ Moira stood up and grabbed her jacket from the coat stand. ‘What happens when your wife is back from her mother’s?’ Her eyes pleading with his, willing him to say the words that she wanted to hear. Say something to stop her going home. She swallowed back the painful lump in her throat. ‘When your wife gets back, I’ll be forgotten about.’

He lowered the volume on the record player and stared at her. ‘That’s not true. I just don’t want to tell her about us until she gets better. It would knock her back… We’ve been through all this.’

‘Do you even think she’ll get better?’ Moira asked, leaning forward. ‘You didn’t think so before.’

He shook his head slowly and stepped towards her, arms outstretched. ‘Don’t be like that. I can’t just walk away from her now.’

‘I should leave.’

His cool fingers brushed against her hand. ‘Will I drop you home, then?’ He frowned. ‘We can meet for dinner next week. We could go to Aperitif again?’

She looked away from him. What was she thinking, a good-looking, educated man – what the hell would he see in her? This was like a dream and all dreams end when you wake up to reality. She nodded and slipped her mac on. ‘Drop me home.’ She kept her gaze on the red carpet and blinked back tears; not wanting to look at the wedding photographs that adorned the mantelpiece and the pictures of his wife that always seemed to be staring at her.

‘If that’s what you really want.’ He picked up his keys from the coffee table. ‘I wish you would stay, though.’

Moira twisted the wedding band on her finger. ‘I can’t. I should be home waiting for Reggie.’

‘After all the things you’ve told me he’s done to you? All the bruises I’ve seen?’

‘I’m married. What else am I meant to do?’

‘Do as I say. Let me protect you.’

‘He’ll never let me leave.’

‘Then let me help.’ He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

‘No,’ she pulled away. ‘You can’t. Take me home.’

Moira got out the car a few streets away from the house, despite his protests that it wasn’t safe. Reggie was right, anyway. She sobbed. No one would want her. She reached into her pocket for her tissues and dabbed at the mascara that trailed down her face. Reggie would probably still be at the pub, so there would be enough time to get cleaned up before he got home. He was always there on a Friday night before he’d come home pissed and overly friendly. It was the only time that he would be nice to her. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her body. Rain seeped through her trousers and trickled down her spine. She sniffled and look over her shoulder. She was enclosed by council flats on both sides of the street; only a few lights were on and the lampposts flickered. The sudden screaming howl of a fox filled the silence and she whipped around but couldn’t see anything. She walked faster towards home. Her stomach twitched when she looked up at her flat and saw the bathroom light on.

Moira closed the front door softly. The sound of rushing water and banging pipes trailed from the bathroom. The door was ajar. She saw Reggie hunched over the sink scrubbing at his arms with a pink towel. Strange, as she couldn’t remember them having any pink towels. The sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to just underneath his elbows and his brown hair flopped over his forehead. She stood at the gap in the doorway. The sink was stained red, it was only then Moira realised that it wasn’t a pink towel. It was a bloodstained towel! His head snapped towards her. Moira gasped and stumbled backwards.

‘Why are you back? I thought your mother was sick,’ he snarled.

‘Are you hurt?’ Moira mustered, feeling the bile rise in her throat, as the metallic smell drifted up her nostrils. There was something about the sight of blood that just made her want heave.

Reggie shook his head. ‘It’s just a cut.’

‘How?’

‘You dinnae want to know,’ he spat and threw a towel at her. ‘Wash this.’

‘Reggie,’ she sobbed. ‘You promised.’

‘Someone jumped me when I left the pub.’

‘Where are you bleeding from? You need to go to the hospital. Have you called the police?’

‘Am I on Mastermind?’ He clenched his jaw. ‘Just dae as you’re telt before I lose my rag.’

After she had cleaned the bathroom, Moira peeled her jacket from her shoulders and slumped down into the armchair. Reggie had cleaned himself up and gone to bed. She closed her eyes and heard the soft mumbles of his snores. How could he sleep after what she had just cleaned up? She couldn’t follow him to bed, that was for sure. She climbed up from the seat and grabbed a half-empty can of Tartan from the dresser. She downed the warm lager in one gulp, and her eyes fell to the Evening News that lay next to it.

Picture House Murder Solved.

They don’t solve the ones that matter, though, do they?

She needed another drink. Crushing the can in her hand, she stood up and staggered through to the kitchen. Her temples throbbed, and even though the blood was gone, she could still smell it, taste it, every time she swallowed. She envied Reggie. The way he never had trouble sleeping, never seemed to have trouble forcing any of the horrible things from his mind. Her only escape was a drink. She picked up another one of Reggie’s Tartans from the worktop and sat down, glancing at a couple of books she got from the library which were lying on the centre of the table.

Reggie cleared his throat behind her. She had her back to him but could imagine the look on his face if she’d woken him up. From the corner of her eye, she could see him take a step forward.

‘What are you doing up?’ he asked.

‘I… couldn’t sleep.’

He placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s no’ good for you.’

‘I’ll go in a minute.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I shouldn’t have been so…’

Moira straightened. ‘It’s fine.’

He grimaced as he sat down opposite her and rubbed his side.

Moira glanced at him. He looked like he was thinking of what to say next. She made a move to stand but he stopped her.

‘Wait.’ He put his hand over hers. ‘Let’s start again. I got into a fight because I was so upset about your affair.’

‘I’m not—’

‘Don’t. I saw you.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Nothing – if everything stops.’ He reached into his dressing gown pocket and pulled out a little gold chain with a cross. ‘I got you this.’

Moira made no move to take the thin necklace. She wasn’t even religious, nor was Reggie. They’d only got married because she’d fallen pregnant, and it was the done thing.

‘Everything that happened tonight is your fault. I wouldn’t have got into that fight otherwise. I wouldn’t have been so angry…’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re always sorry. Ah’ve had enough of this.’ He stood up and walked over to the window, keeping his back to her. ‘I try so hard to make you happy. Given you everything.’

She saw the peeling wallpaper, along with the space in the kitchen where the washing machine used to be. ‘I made a mistake, Reggie. It won’t happen again.’

‘Why have you always got tae annoy me, Moira?’ Reggie picked up the photo of their son on the windowsill, brushing dust off the silver frame with his thumb. ‘We had everything then, eh?’ He put the photo back.

‘I miss him too, Reggie. Not a day goes by—’

‘Nah!’ He scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. ‘It doesnae matter now, does it? He’s dead, nothing’s going to change that.’

He turned to face her and looked her up and down, a sneer curling his top lip.

‘Reggie, please. Let’s just have a quiet night.’

Reggie scoffed and grabbed one of her books from the table. He flung it against the wall where it landed with a thud in the sink. Smiling, he picked up the glass of wine from the worktop and emptied it onto her lap.

‘Sorry, Reggie. I didn’t mean it.’ The wine seeped through her denim skirt and soaked her legs. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she sobbed.

Reggie had his hand braced to slap her.

‘I’m sorry, Reggie. I’m clumsy.’ She shook and swallowed back tears. ‘I’ve been drinking too much. I didn’t mean to make you angry. I’ll stop and do anything you want. Just don’t…’

‘Ah ken,’ he snarled and knelt in front of her, putting his hand on her shoulder on top of the bruise, ‘you just know how to wind me up. You’re trying to play games with me.’

She bit down on her lip. Ready for the familiar sting.

‘You’re always daeing ma heid in.’ He squeezed her shoulder as he stood back up. Her eyes were shiny from tears.

The dog in the flat below was barking wildly.

‘Do you want me to get you a drink, Reggie?’

‘A drink? That’s your answer to bloody everything’ He shook his head and rubbed a hand through his perm of black hair. ‘You ken I dinnae like you drinking, but you do it anyway.’

‘It was just an idea, Reggie.’

‘You always have to have an idea, don’t you? You cannae have a bloody good one, though, can you?’ he spat.

‘I’m sorry.’ Moira clambered up and moved towards the sink. He followed her. She put the glass in the basin and ran the dishcloth under the tap to clean her skirt. The maroon stain wouldn’t budge.

‘I didnae mean to say that you dinnae have good ideas. It’s just been bad at work. The production’s no’ where it’s needed, and now we’ve lost another contract.’

She nodded and dabbed her skirt. ‘But you’ve lost contracts before and we’ve got by. The company has always got by. Indestructible – that’s what you said. We always get by somehow. We can ask my mum and dad for some money to tide us over.’

‘Why? What hiv you been saying to them?’

‘Nothing.’ Moira shuddered.

‘You better keep it that way.’ He stabbed a finger into the small of her back. ‘I’ll find the money fae somewhere. We’re no’ doing that again, I ken you dinnae understand all of this but it’s different this time. It really is.’

JV Baptie on social media

http://getbook.at/TheForgotten

Website@ http://www.jvbaptie.com

Twitter: @jvbaptie

Facebook: @authorjvbaptie

 

 

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Redneck's Revenge

Getting It Down on Paper

Today I received a copy of the paperback for Redneck’s Revenge, the second in my Isabel Long series. As my friends in the UK would say, I am chuffed. Yes, I am pro-eBook. It’s a great way to find a new read or a new author without investing a lot of money. But there’s something special about seeing something you thought up finally on paper.

For Kindle fans, Redneck’s Revenge is ready for pre-order. Click now and it will pop into your device Sept. 26.

But those who prefer paperback can go to the head of the line and order today. Plunk down $10.99 via a credit card. Voila! It will arrive in the mail in days. Here is the link: http://mybook.to/rednecksrevenge

Books start with an idea. In my case, it was: I’m going to write a mystery with a woman protagonist that’s set in a rural area.

The other day I found a notebook with a page of notes about the book. The protagonist’s name is Isabel from the start. She loses her job managing a newspaper. Her husband walks out on her and takes half their money out of the bank on an icy day. Her mother moves in with her. Isabel gets a job at a local bar, where an old coot approaches her about his daughter who disappeared a long time ago.

That was in September 2016. I worked on Chasing the Case (not the original title) during the winter of 2017, when I lived in New Mexico, and finished it in the spring. The story changed. Isabel’s husband isn’t a cad. I bumped him off instead. Isabel does work part-time in a bar, but her first case turns out to be her first big story as a rookie reporter — the disappearance of a woman 28 years earlier. Her 92-year-old mother becomes her Watson.

I enjoyed writing Chasing the Case so much, I wrote a sequel — Redneck’s Revenge — while moving to rural Western Massachusetts, where this mystery is set.

Redneck’s Revenge is my latest book published by Crooked Cat Books, which took a chance on the series late last year.

I knew my copy of Redneck’s Revenge was arriving via the U.S. Post Office today, so I dashed out of the house when I heard the mail truck stop at our box. I tore open the envelope.

Those who have read the first — and thank you — will find many of the same characters make it into the second. Of course, there’s Isabel and her mother. Look for Jack, the Old Farts in the back room, and a woman that Isabel nicknamed the Floozy, who is one of the links to her next case. Then there’s a whole bunch of new characters since this murder mystery takes place in another fictional hilltown in Western Mass.

If you haven’t, you might want to check out Chasing the Case: http://mybook.to/chasingthecase

Here’s a brief synopsis of Redneck’s Revenge:

Isabel Long is in a funk months after solving her first case. Her relationship with the Rooster Bar’s owner is over. Then the cops say she must work for a licensed P.I. before working solo.

Encouraged by her Watson — her 92-year-old mother — Isabel snaps out of it by hooking up with a P.I. and finding a new case.

The official ruling is Chet Waters, an ornery so-and-so, was passed out when his house caught fire. His daughter, who inherited the junkyard, believes he was murdered. Topping the list of suspects are dangerous drug-dealing brothers, a rival junkyard owner, and an ex-husband.

Could the man’s death simply be a case of redneck’s revenge? Isabel is about to find out.

Intrigued? I hope you are enough to want to read it.

EMAIL NOTIFICATION: Hey, if you want an email nod every time I post something on this website, you can sign up here: https://www.joanlivingston.net/email-updates/

ABOUT THE PHOTO ABOVE: Yup, that’s me holding my new book.

 

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Lizzie Chantree. Author photo small
6Ws, Author Interview

6Ws with Author Lizzie Chantree

Lizzie Chantree is the next Crooked Cat Books author to be featured in this 6Ws series. The timing of this post is great since her next romance novel, If You Love Me I’m Yours, has a July 9 launch.

She says her characters are “fun, sometimes feisty and often flawed, but they all have an adventure along the way… ” That was certainly true of herIYLMIY book cover small previous novel, Ninja School Mum.

Here are Lizzie’s responses to my 6Ws — who, what, when, where, how, and why. (How does end with a W.)

Who is author Lizzie Chantree?

Hello everyone. I am a romance writer who writes about strong women with zany business ideas. I am also a creative mentor and an inventor.

What does she write?

I write contemporary romance books with a splash of humour. I was once told by a happy reader that she was laughing so hard at one of my storylines that she almost dropped her baby. I hope that was a compliment! My books are often set in the countryside in the UK, where there is so much beauty to discover. My main characters are fun, sometimes feisty and often flawed, but they all have an adventure along the way and I hope my readers enjoy the journey.

When did she begin writing?

I began writing when my youngest daughter was two. She was unwell for several years and writing helped me to find a way through the darkness. I found a job that makes my soul happy and my daughter proudly tells everyone she helped me discover my career.

How does she write?

I write quickly and by hand in A4 notebooks. I then transcribe this onto my computer. It is time consuming, but I find it really creative to put pen to paper. I usually write down a rough idea of my stories, then I work out chapter guides. Next I begin to write. I’m not much of a planner and tend to go for it and see what happens. This is exciting because I feel like I’m reading the story as I’m writing it.

Where does she write?

My favourite place to write is by the sea or somewhere with a great view. If there is tea or coffee and cake nearby, then I am in a state of bliss! I also have a studio where I type up all of my manuscripts and play around with new marketing ideas. I have a bubblegum drawer where I store bubblegum to eat while I’m writing. Don’t tell my children, they haven’t discovered it yet!

Why does she write?

I write books in the hope that they will make others smile. Writing helped me to reach for the sunshine and my books are about loving yourself for who you are, not for who you think you should be. I hope my readers snuggle up with my books and enjoy a relaxing read while spending some time on themselves.

Blurb for If You Love Me, I’m Yours

Maud didn’t mind being boring, not really. She had a sensible job, clothes, and love life… if you counted an overbearing ex who had thanked her, rolled over and was snoring before she even realised he’d begun! She could tolerate not fulfilling her dreams, if her parents would pay her one compliment about the only thing she was passionate about in life: her art.

Dot should have fit in with her flamboyant and slightly eccentric family of talented artists, but somehow, she was an anomaly who couldn’t paint. She tried hard to be part of their world by becoming an art agent extraordinaire, but she dreamed of finding her own voice.

Dot’s brother Nate, a smoulderingly sexy and famous artist, was adored by everyone. His creative talent left them in awe of his ability to capture such passion on canvas. Women worshipped him, and even Dot’s friend Maud flushed and bumped into things when he walked into a room, but a tragic event in his past had left him emotionally and physically scarred, and reluctant to face the world again.

Someone was leaving exquisite little paintings on park benches, with a tag saying, ‘If you love me, I’m yours’. The art was so fresh and cutting-edge, that it generated a media frenzy and a scramble to discover where the mystery artist could be hiding. The revelation of who the prodigious artist was interlinked Maud, Dot and Nate’s lives forever, but their worlds came crashing down.

Were bonds of friendship, love and loyalty strong enough to withstand fame, success and scandal?

Buy Links:

viewbook.at/IfYouLoveMe-ImYours

Other works:

Ninja School Mum: viewBook.at/NinjaSchoolMum

Babe Driven: myBook.to/LizziesBooks

Love’s Child: viewBook.at/Amazon-LovesChild

Finding Gina: viewBook.at/Amazon-FindingGina

Lizzie Chantree on social media:

Website: www.lizziechantree.com

Author page: viewAuthor.at/LizzieChantree

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Lizzie_Chantree

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lizzie.chantree.3

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lizzie_chantree/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/LizzieChantree/pins/

 

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Purgatory Cover
Opening scene, Writing

Opening Scene: Purgatory Hotel

Anne-Marie Ormsby, the author of Purgatory Hotel, is the next author to be featured in the Opening Scene series. Yes, the first scene is supposed to grab readers. Anne-Marie puts it this way: “For me it was important to set the scene, what would it feel like to wake up in a frightening, dangerous place with no memory and no way of knowing how to get to somewhere safe.”

Here, Anne-Marie, a Crooked Cat Books author, shares an excerpt and her inspiration for the opener Purgatory Hotel.

First the excerpt:

 “She was about to die and she knew it, as though there was always an awareness that this was how the end felt. In that moment fear left her, and it was like when a gust of wind came and went, the stillness that followed.

Before everything stopped, her life passed before her in a random barrage of images that arrived like photographs slipping past her eyes.”

Now the inspiration:

The story begins at the end of a life, the end of Dakota Crow’s life.

And we begin with the last images that flash through her mind as she is dying – her mother, her father, her sister, and the man she was in love with.

For me, in writing this scene I was trying to think of things that I loved, things I might me 2017see in my own last moments, ‘autumn rain falling on the garden,’ was actually a memory of my own. I remember being a teenager and when it would rain I would sit beside the open back door, breathing in the scent of the wet garden and writing poems. I recall the more beautiful things even if they were insignificant to anyone else.

Dying is the loneliest thing we will ever do – no matter what happens we all know we are going to die – but what matters is what we would remember as beautiful about our lives, what memories would make our passing peaceful and happy – what things would we be most grateful for in the end, whose face would see us through that final moment?

Shortly after this she wakes up, the last images she saw in life, the wet forest, switch places with a new environment – a dirty, decaying Victorian Hotel. She finds herself in a lobby, other unfriendly faces peering at her, instantly feeling unwelcome and lost. But she knows she is dead, she just doesn’t know how or why. And for her this will be the greatest test – reliving her forgotten life in order to remember her crimes and her death in order to repent.

I chose to throw the reader in at the deep end – straight into Purgatory because I wanted the reader’s experience to mirror Dakota’s own. She has no memory of what she has done or what this awful new place is – so the reader learns along with her, travels down the rabbit hole and into the darkness with her.

For me it was important to set the scene, what would it feel like to wake up in a frightening, dangerous place with no memory and no way of knowing how to get to somewhere safe. The sad truth for Dakota is that one thing is certain – there’s one thing she can never change. She’s dead and nothing will bring her back to life.

HOW TO GET YOUR COPY:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Purgatory-Hotel-Anne-Marie-Ormsby/dp/1977649521/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1518610216&sr=8-1&keywords=purgatory+hotel

ANNE-MARIE ORMSBY ON SOCIAL MEDIA

Good reads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36329433-purgatory-hotel

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/annemarieormsby78/?hc_ref=PAGES_TIMELINE

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AOrmsbyAuthor

Blog: https://pirateburlesque.wordpress.com/

Website: https://www.annemarieormsby.com/

 

 

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Chasing the Case

Paperback Writer

This week my publishers sent me the full cover for the paperback version of my new mystery, Chasing the Case. That’s it above. And I will say unabashedly that I love it.

Laurence Patterson, co-publisher of Crooked Cat Books, emailed me the final design Wednesday. In about a week or so, I will have the book in my hands after it arrives by mail.

At that point I will officially be a paperback writer. (Yeah, yeah, I will post a photo.)

In this digital age, eBooks are huge. I understand why. They are affordable and accessible. Buy one and it will appear on your Kindle, computer or whatever in a minute. It’s also a good way to try out a new author.

And my understanding is that most sales are via eBooks these days.

Ah, traditionalist that I can sometimes be, there is still something about holding a book I wrote.

I’m reminded, of course, of The Beatles’ song Paperback Writer, which was largely written by Paul McCartney. Admittedly, it’s not one of the Fab Four’s best songs, but the message hits home for me and I am sure other authors who are trying hard to make it in the publishing world.

As a refresher: In the song, a wannabe author begs a publisher to take a look at his book — “a dirty story of a dirty man . . .” Yeah, he really begs.

Ha, the guy is totally delusional to think the publisher could possibly make a million dollars off the book.

And I have to laugh when he brags that it has a thousand pages and he could write more. (Man, he needs an editor.)

Of course, way back then, wannabe authors typed up a query letter and mailed it with a self-addressed, stamped envelope along with the entire manuscript or a sample. Maybe they received a form letter or a personal reply. Nowadays query letters get emailed and except for the rare occasion, don’t hear anything back.

Yes, I can relate.

And I am also grateful to Laurence and Steph Patterson of Crooked Cat Books for taking me on.

But back to the cover — I love the mood it sets for my mystery, the first in the Isabel Long series. Using black, gray, and red is dramatic and the image captures a key scene in the book.

On the back is a short synopsis I wrote plus an endorsement from thriller author Craig Dirgo: “Take a trip to the land of pot roast, and murder. I did, and I liked what I read.” (You can find other endorsements inside and on Amazon.)

Craig’s words made me smile and I hope it wins over readers. After all, that’s what covers are for.

Chasing the Case will be formally released May 18 with a big to-do on Facebook. I will post info about that, but there will be a lively discussion and contests. Want me to use your name as one of the characters in the second sequel I am currently writing? That’s one of the prizes.

Here is the link to pre-order your copy of Chasing the Case:  http://mybook.to/chasingthecase

I say: why wait? And thank you if you pre-order.

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