Book Blitz: The Best Laid Plans by Judy Penz Sheluk

21 Stories of Mystery & Suspense

Mystery/Suspense Anthology

Publisher: Superior Shores Press

Date Published: June 18, 2019

Whether it’s at a subway station in Norway, a ski resort in Vermont, a McMansion in the suburbs, or a trendy art gallery in Toronto, the twenty-one authors represented in this superb collection of mystery and suspense interpret the overarching theme of “the best laid plans” in their own inimitable style. And like many best laid plans, they come with no guarantees.

Stories by Tom Barlow, Susan Daly, Lisa de Nikolits, P.A. De Voe, Peter DiChellis, Lesley A. Diehl, Mary Dutta, C.C. Guthrie, William Kamowski, V.S. Kemanis, Lisa Lieberman, Edward Lodi, Rosemary McCracken, LD Masterson, Edith Maxwell, Judy Penz Sheluk, KM Rockwood, Peggy Rothschild, Johanna Beate Stumpf, Vicki Weisfeld, and Chris Wheatley.

Heirloom by Tom Barlow

Me and my dimwitted brother, a cash withdrawn at gunpoint, make a midnight escape on ATVs through gnarly mountain trails chased by a blizzard. Lucky I’m too smart to fail.

Spirit River Dam by Susan Daly

Imogen doesn’t anticipate surprises at her trendy art gallery, until the day her ex walks in with an intriguing old painting. Is it a Fake? Or a Fortune?

Fire Drill by Lisa de Nikolits

You’ll never know my name, I’m not that important. But I’ll fight for what’s mine. So beware, world, because you’ve got no idea what I’m capable of.

Gambling Against Fate: From Judge Lu’s Ming Dynasty Case Files by P.A. De Voe

As the emperor’s representative in maintaining peace and order, I am challenged daily to ferret out criminals hiding among the innocent.

Callingdon Mountain by Peter DiChellis

I’m a private eye who spends his days investigating a baffling murder case the news media calls an “impossible” crime. The cops sure can’t solve the mystery. Can I?

Lunchbreak by Lesley A. Diehl

Spurred on by his buddy, Ben decides this is the day to shut up his nagging wife for good, but she thwarts his plans with some creative culinary intervention.

Festival Finale by Mary Dutta

My name is Charles Attlee, but of course you know my work. You don’t want to miss my killer book festival appearance.

A Sure Thing by C.C. Guthrie

The hit on an eighty year-old rancher seemed like a sure thing. I left the Buffalo snow behind for sixty-degree days in Oklahoma figuring, what could go wrong?

Last Thoughts by William Kamowski

Timothy, an empathetic techie, takes care of people online—for better or for worse—especially sad young women who need to script their final moments.

Sucker Punch by V.S. Kemanis

I’m Freddy, behind the butcher counter at Food Super. I’ll never look at the meat and bone saw in the same way after my “best friend” Zach roped me into his latest moneymaking scheme.

Better Dead Than Redhead by Lisa Lieberman

I’m Ashley Early. The best thing about being a primatologist? Chimps don’t find themselves accused of murdering their hair model. Unlike Alex, my twin sister.

Oubliette by Edward Lodi

Choose as your target a frail, elderly woman who lives alone, and what could possibly go wrong?

The Sweetheart Scamster by Rosemary McCracken

I’m Pat Tierney, a financial planner. The day my seventy four year-old client Trudy Sullivan said she had a new man in her life, I had questions to ask her.

Deadly Dinner by LD Masterson

I didn’t take this nursing home job to kill someone, I’m just looking for a way to score. But if it means helping some rich old biddy to her just reward…well, that’s okay, too.

The Stonecutter by Edith Maxwell

I’m Eleanor, a middle-aged librarian. A Portuguese stonecutter and I are in love, but it’s bittersweet and attempting to fix things could prove dangerous. I think I’ll try.

Plan D by Judy Penz Sheluk

My name’s Jenny and most of my days center around trying to think of inventive ways I can kill my lazy, job-losing husband, Ted—without getting caught.

Frozen Daiquiris by KM Rockwood  Penelope’s new McMansion doesn’t provide automatic entrée to the upper crust. Maybe if she hosts a society fundraiser in the new house, and everything goes according to plan…

The Cookie Crumbles by Peggy Rothschild

Angry with my mom and jealous of my talented older sister, I’m planning the perfect prank and hoping revenge is sweet.

Thank You For Your Cooperation by Johanna Beate Stumpf

Marsha watches people. As surveillance operator for the subway, this is her job. Lately, a new commuter has appeared on Marsha’s screens. And he’s going to change her life.

Who They Are Now by Vicki Weisfeld

Yolanda and Bill are Delray Beach, Florida, cops investigating the murder of a beloved sportscaster during the chaos of a Category 5 hurricane.

The True Cost of Liberty by Chris Wheatley

I am Gerald Worthington. Life consists of dealing antiques, dining at second-class restaurants, enduring tedious social engagements and wishing my wife’s new husband would drop dead.

About the Author

Editor Judy Penz Sheluk is the author of the Glass Dolphin Mystery and Marketville Mystery series. Her short stories can be found in several collections. Judy is also a member of Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, the Short Mystery Fiction Society, and Crime Writers of Canada, where she serves as Vice Chair on the Board of Directors. Find her at http://www.judypenzsheluk.com.

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Free Book Blitz: Murder in Palm Beach by Bob Brink

Murder Mystery 

Publisher: Precipice Press

The doorbell rings in the home of a prominent Palm Beach citizen, quickly followed by a shotgun blast that shatters a window, cracking the calm of a cool January night. Rodger Kriger falls to the floor, mortally wounded, leaving a wife and six children.

Murder in Palm Beach: The Homicide That Never Died is closely based on a sensational, real murder that happened in the posh ocean-side town in 1976. In the thin guise of fiction, the book contains shocking new information never before made public. Author Bob Brink, an award-winning journalist, was a newspaper reporter in the locale where the  assassination occurred. It made media headlines for 15 years.

An ambitious prosecutor pins the deed on Mitt Hecher, a hoodlum and karate expert. At Hecher’s trial, fellow jail inmates testify that he confessed. He is convicted and sentenced to the brutal and anarchic state prison at Raiford, where a stabbing a day and a killing a week are the “mean” average.

Judges repeatedly frustrate Hecher and several attorneys working without fees to get a new trial, as investigators pursue myriad scenarios. Meanwhile, his wife contracts a deadly disease.

Was Hecher innocent, and if so, who did it? Did the sons of a wealthy Cuban kill Kriger? Were the operators of a gambling enterprise out to get him? Was a love triangle the basis for the shooting? Did a vicious underworld figure do the bidding of a criminal gang? Was a prominent politician behind the slaying? Those are the questions seeking answers amid the exploration of issues of justice and power.

Murder in Palm Beach is the saga of a battle between a man whose swagger has sent him spiraling to the bottom and powerful, sinister forces determined to keep him there. It is a narrative of redemption wrapped in a mystery tale reeking with power, sex, and violence. It also contains a heart-rending love story.

 Excerpt

“Johnny Traynor?” “Who’s this?”

Palladin did not remember him sounding timorous. “An acquaintance from way back. Tom Palladin.”

“Oh, yes. I remember. Haven’t seen you around for a long time.”

“I had a little difficulty finding your new number. Finally got it from a friend of yours, Davey Ross.”

“Oh, yeah, I moved inland a few years ago.”

“You used to live near the Shore Club. I thought you liked hanging out there. Why would you want to leave the neighborhood?

“Well … to tell the truth, things got a little dicey.” “You talking about the Kriger murder?”

“Well … uh … yeah, sort of.”

“I’d like to get together with you and chat about that. I have some new information.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know if I have anything that will help you.”

“Where do you live?”

Traynor gave directions to a duplex apartment on the west side of West Palm Beach.

“How about two p.m. tomorrow?” Palladin asked.

“Yeah, that’s okay. I’m working on a guy’s car, and I’ve got plenty of time to finish it.”

“See you then.”

The neighborhood was seedy. Most of the houses were small, run-down, wood-frame structures. Early-model cars and trucks, the paint usually fading, occupied driveways, littered lawns, or sat on the street in front. Patches of dried grass sprinkled with pale green contrasted with splotches of bare, sandy earth, like the shabby clothes of a tramp with tatters that revealed his skin. Traynor’s duplex was the only property on the block that didn’t look slummy to Palladin: a white, concrete-block structure with sidewalks leading to two screen doors opening to wooden front doors. Prosaic, but the grass was mostly green, and the car in the driveway, only a few years old, looked well-cared-for.

He parked on the street and walked to the unit on the right.

Opening the screen door, he knocked.

It  struck  Palladin  like  a  light  flipped  on  in  a  dark   room.

Something was different about the man who opened the door. “Come  in,”  Traynor  said.  He  gestured  toward  an  armless,

cushiony chair. “Sit down. Want a beer? Or Coke? I mean, you want a Coca Cola?” Paladdin noticed he was unsteady.

“Thanks. Are you renting here?”

“No. I bought the duplex and rent out the other half. Gives me a little income.”

“Your place doesn’t look bad. Best one on the block.”

“I’ve gotta keep it up in order to rent it out. I rent it month-to- month and charge a big rate. A lot of my renters are people with criminal backgrounds like me who can’t find anyplace else. That’s why I bought this place. Nobody would rent to me.”

Palladin could see what had changed in the man. No longer exuding cocky self-confidence, he appeared timid, almost frightened. Sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette, his hand trembled. Then it hit Palladin. Coke. The quick clarification of the offer of Coca Cola. Traynor was a cocaine addict.

“Let me tell you why I called. I found out something from a couple of sources. I know who shot Rodger Kriger.”

Palladin saw Traynor blanch. He looked without seeing at Palladin, then raised the cigarette to his lips with a shaky hand and took his time inhaling. He turned his head to blow the smoke away from his guest.

“I think you know who it is, too.”

Traynor leaned forward to the glass-topped coffee table

and snuffed his cigarette out in a small plastic ash tray. He straightened and looked away from Palladin, who noticed his face was grave.

“If it gets out that I told you this, I’ll prob’ly get killed.” He turned to look at Palladin. “You understand? You have to agree not to publish this.”

Palladin said he wouldn’t publish Traynor’s name, but would use the information he provided to dig for details about the murder. Traynor said he was okay with that.

“I drove the getaway car.”

About the Author

Bob Brink is a journalist who worked with the Palm Beach Post, The Associated Press in Chicago, Milwaukee Journal, Tampa Tribune, Joliet Herald-News, and Palm Beach Media Group (magazines). His byline has been on thousands of news stories, features, and entertainment reviews.

He has been a freelance writer for several years, and is the author of several books. To promote his current novel, MURDER IN PALM BEACH: The Homicide That Never Died, he has a website, http://www.bobbrinkwriter.com. From the site, he blogs on three passions: grammar, alternative health care, and socio-political issues.

Brink’s first book, A TALE OF TWO CONTINENTS: Jetting Across the Globe to Have a Baby, is a short memoir that he ghost-wrote for a woman. Almost simultaneously, he authored BREAKING OUT, a coming-of-age novel about a troubled young man. Recently, he compiled a book of short stories titled THE WAY IT WAS: Short Stories and Tall Tales.

Brink has won numerous writing accolades and several awards, including three for Palm Beach Illustrated, which won the Best Written Magazine award from the Florida Magazine Association after he became copy chief and senior writer.

He was a reporter for the Palm Beach Post when the crime that MURDER IN PALM BEACH is based on occurred. It was an enormously sensational event that was featured six years later on a national TV show, and made newspaper headlines for 15 years. A karate expert went to prison for the deed, but many doubted his guilt. A newspaper reporter spent years investigating, and made shocking discoveries about the assassination and the person behind it.

Besides dabbling in short-story writing over the years, Brink immersed himself in learning to play the clarinet and tenor saxophone. He performed many years with an estimable, 65-piece community symphonic band, and played a few professional big band gigs. He relegated music to the back seat after embarking on writing novels. He is a fairly proficient ballroom dancer and a health enthusiast.

A product of Michigan and Iowa, Brink has a bachelor’s degree in English from Drake University in Des Moines and completed graduate journalism studies at the University of Iowa.

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Book Blitz: Brooklyn Bitters by Sally Saylor De Smet

Mystery

Publisher: BookBaby

Published: July 2019

You don’t get over killing your sister’s husband. Accident or not. When twenty-four-year-old Kate Hathaway graduated with honors from Emory University, she couldn’t wait to begin an exciting career in publishing. But one stupid mistake on a cold, rainy morning in Atlanta changed everything. Not only was Glen Lloyd Hastings her brother-in-law but he was also her best friend. Tormented by guilt, she vowed to do anything to make amends to Stacey—her provocative, pampered sister. The once-brilliant career woman settles into a life of loneliness and caring for her ailing mother. On a business trip to New York City, she meets an enticing, mysterious man who coaxes her out of solitude and into a fiery love affair. Not so fast. Stacey won’t allow it. The sisters become entangled in secrets, back-stabbing, and betrayal. Is it revenge or something far more sinister?

Praise for Sally Saylor De Smet:

“De Smet pens a chilling tale.”–Manhattan Book Review

“There is a natural flow of De Smet’s pen that allows the reader to be an active listener.”–Feathered Quill Book Awards.

“De Smet’s writing style is haunting and delicious.” –Reader’s Favorite.

Excerpt

An Excerpt from Chapter Four

Gunner

I slowly looked up to find a tall man with wavy brown hair, cobalt blue eyes, a mustache, and thick brows. His eyes had a hint of amusement, like he was waiting for me to say something. “Um…how do you know I don’t live here?”

“Well, young lady,” he said, flashing a wide grin. “This is a hotel.”

“Oh, yeah,” I replied with an awkward giggle.

“So, are you here for the writer’s conference?”

I tried not to gawk, but the man brought a lot of heat with him. “I work in publishing. I’m here from Atlanta. You?”

“Brooklyn. May I sit here?”

“S-Sure,” I said, glancing around to notice there were plenty of other seats. It only took one glance to catch the other women in the lounge ogling him. He was gorgeous — the red-carpet, leading-man brand of gorgeous. Think Tom Selleck. Robert Redford.

He held me in his stare. “Did I mention I wrote a book on how to discover a beautiful woman in a bar?”

I checked out his left hand — no wedding ring. No tan line either. “Is that why you’re here? To shop your book?”

He smiled and waggled his brows. “Passé. Don’t need it now. I’ve found the most exquisite woman here,” he said, motioning to my drink.

Heat raced through my body as I turned and discreetly dabbed my forehead with a napkin. The bartender set my fresh cocktail down along with something red for the stranger. “Bloody Mary?”

“Brooklyn Bitters,” he said, bringing the glass to his enticing lips. “Nothing like vermouth and Campari with a slice of orange. The only difference between a Manhattan and a Brooklyn Bitters is whiskey. Never understood why New Yorkers would elevate Canadian whiskey over sweet vermouth. You should try it.”

With his imposing size, muscular arms, and prominent jawline, he looked more like an Olympian than a dude from Brooklyn. “I’ll stick with mine. Thanks.”

“So,” he said. “Should I know your name?”

“I don’t know. Should you?”

The stranger leaned forward with his eyes on me. “Shouldn’t I know the name of the woman I might spend the rest of my life with?”

I nearly spewed my drink. “You’re hilarious! Keep working on that book. It’s loaded with clichés.”

“Now, you’re offending me,” he pretend-whined. “You’re not married, are you?”

I held up my left hand. “No, and you?”

“Engaged once, but it didn’t work out.” He extended his hand. “Gunner Baldwin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

We shook hands. “Katherine Hathaway…call me Kate.”

“Interesting you’re in publishing. My mom was a writer.”

“Oh? What does she write?”

For the first time since he sat down, he glanced off with a pained expression. “Did. My parents were killed in a plane crash when I was a teenager.”

“Your parents? I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. She wrote romance novels. Funny, here I am at a writing seminar. She used to take me to bookstores and the library. I still go once a week. Makes me feel closer to her. My mom would have loved this, mingling with fellow authors.”

“I’m sure,” I said, wishing I could think of something wise or comforting.

“Do you suppose this could be fate? How do I say this? I feel like we were meant to meet. Does that sound ridiculous?”

It did, although there were coincidences. His mother wrote romance novels and I did put that dress in the suitcase. Could this be destiny? “Well,” I answered, remembering my addiction to love stories. “I don’t know you.”

“Tell me, Kate,” he said, touching my hand. “Do you believe in destiny?”

I swallowed hard as an air bubble crept down my throat. The word destiny had been on my mind not one minute ago. “It’s possible…well, yes. Maybe.”

He swiveled and faced me with his hands on his knees. “Tell me about Kate Hathaway,” he said, motioning to the bartender to serve me a third cocktail.

He was the most breathtaking man I’d ever seen, but he was more. He had a way of caressing me without touching. The unfamiliar sensation both exhilarated and scared me. I took a long drink. “Not much to tell.”

He leaned closer.  “I feel a pull. Don’t you?”

His words sent shivers racing up and down my arms, hinting that my life might gain color and excitement. The feeling alarmed me; no way could I let my long absence from dating and addiction to romance novels derail my common sense. I straightened up and cleared my throat. “As I said, I don’t know you.”

He tilted his head back and moaned. “Oh, my God, you think I’m a stalker.”

“Are you?”

“Touché,” he replied, with a chuckle. “Not at all, but I am intrigued by you. Okay, how about this. What is your favorite music and what makes you laugh and cry?”

“Couldn’t you start with something simple like what’s your favorite hobby?” I pointed my finger in a “you first” gesture.

He cocked his head and grinned. “All right, you win. Standing in line at the DMV makes me cry, and Robin Williams makes me laugh. As far as music, I’m a rock n’ roll guy. Country too. If you lived in Brooklyn, I’d take you to La-Morz. Bob Dylan played there last week. What do you like?”

“Classical. Artists and poets inspired so much of the music.”

“Tchaikovsky?”

“You like classical music?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you think a guy who wears cowboy boots can’t appreciate classical music?”

“No, I didn’t mean…” I stopped and put my fingers to my lips. “Actually, I did.”

“That’s okay. Truth is, I couldn’t tell an opera from a symphony. I hear Amadeus is an interesting new musical. We should see it. Both of us appreciating music and all.”

I held the glass over my mouth to hide my smile. It seemed like we were on a first date instead of a chance encounter.

Gunner gestured for another Brooklyn Bitters. “What makes you cry?”

“Music. Every ballad I’ve ever heard makes me cry, but as far as classical, I would say Adagio in G Minor. My grandma used to play it at night. I always wondered what she was thinking about.”

“Don’t you mean who she was thinking about?”

“Ah,” I said. “My grandpa was alive, so maybe she was reminiscing about a long-lost love.”

He nodded as the bartender set down his cocktail. “Some loves get under your skin.”

“Like a bad rash?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s awfully cynical, Miss Hathaway.”

I laughed. “But true.”

He rested his head on one hand and smiled. “If we become a couple, what would our song be?”

I glanced over my shoulder and made a face. “Are you for real? You better slow down on those Brooklyn Bitters!”

“I’m only on my second. Let’s see,” he said, stroking his chin. “Do you like the Stones? ‘Wild Horses?'”

“Oh, I love that song.”

A mariachi band took the stage, tuning their instruments. One member announced something about Latin Night and the guests clapped and whistled. Gunner put his hand over mine, which made me look at him. “Let’s go with ‘Wild Horses’ then.”

I turned to hide the goofy grin on my face.

The band played an up-tempo song as couples got up to dance. The music was boisterous and the audience even louder. “Kate! It’s too noisy! Let’s go somewhere quiet! There’s a veranda on the ground floor!”

“Well, okay. For a little while!”

Gunner bent down to whisper in my ear. “One love, one heart, one destiny.”

“Shakespeare?”

He winked and held out his hand. “Bob Marley.”

We stood in the elevator with two young women with long blonde hair and svelte figures wearing short, slinky black dresses. They huddled together, eyeing Gunner, not trying to hide it even with me standing next to him. He either didn’t notice or was too polite to make eye contact. Their bold flirtation reminded me he was movie star gorgeous and could have his choice of women — so why me?

About the author:

Author of the award-winning thriller, Pages in the Wind, Sally Saylor De Smet lives in San Diego, California. The daughter of a Naval officer, she was the shy kid who stayed in her room a lot, channeling her sensitivity into stories and art. Her writing explores emotions through intrigue and mystery. Her storytelling skills have been recognized by the psychiatric community and educators for blending fiction and psychology into a compelling narrative.

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Review: Real Murders by Charlaine Harris

Real Murders by Charlaine Harris
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Librarian Aurora “Roe” Teagarden is an active member of the Real Murders Club in her small town of Lawrenceton, Georgia. Roe has prepared for the nights meeting and can’t wait to share with the group but the meeting goes awry when a body is discovered of one of the members. Her death is eerily similar to another infamous murder. With suspects a plenty, Roe finds herself tying to solve the case but will it be too late?

Fun read. I thought this was a good story, Roe was not what I was expecting though. She was a bit more plain then I expected. I thought the Murder Club was realistic especially with all the true crime shows out there. Would check out the next book.

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The Lotus Palace by Jeannie Lin

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Jeannie Lin

The Lotus Palace by Jeannie Lin

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Yue-ying lived life the way she was expected to, as a servant she does not take for granted what her Courtesan employer has done for her. Yue-ying makes a habit of studying the patrons who are trying to win her Courtesan’s favors, she pays attention to all of her surroundings in order to have knowledge in case it is ever needed.

When Bai Huang, a privileged playboy begins to pay Yue-ying attention, she quickly puts him in his place, after all they both have their stations in life and there are lines you do not cross. However, Bai doesn’t see it that way, he finds Yue-ying’s direct manner refreshing and when a murder of one of the Courtesan’s leads to an investigation, Bai joins forces with Yue-ying. Although Yue-ying plans to keep Bai at a comfortable distance, her heart becomes involved and when Bai offers to have her become his concubine, Yue-ying is torn on wanting a life with Bai and doing what is right for Bai.

Majestic, mysterious, and sensual story. I thought this was written with a richness that flows throughout the story. Yue-ying is a captivating heroine, she is not educated in one sense, but her intellect in observation is remarkable. Bai is initially a poofed up playboy who gets what he wants, but when Yue-ying calls him on it, his humility brings him back down to earth. There are layers to this story that magnify everything that happens between Yue-ying and Bai. High praise for Jeannie Lin and her ability to pen such a beautiful story.

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