Ever Mind the Rule of Three Mystic Academy Book 1 by Samaire Wynne Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #MysticAcademy @samairew @samairewynne

A Wytch & Magical Cat Urban Fantasy

"This is the story of a girl and her cat." 

Ever Mind the Rule of Three

Mystic Academy Book 1

by Samaire Wynne

Genre

 Urban Fantasy

 ★★★★★★★
Deep in the house lies a box, hidden where no human

 would find it. Inside the box lies an object of such

 immense power it refuses to be ignored even one more

 day...
★★★★★★★

Tabitha Murphy is no stranger to tragedy. After losing both parents as an infant, she's being raised by her aunt and a very special cat.

Although she's descended from a long line of wytches, Tabitha has shown no sign of any powers whatsoever. Without magic, she won't be allowed to attend the school where her aunt teaches. In fact, with no better options, Tabitha plans to attend UCLA in the fall and live a mundane life.

During an afternoon out with friends after their last day of high school, she halfheartedly shares french fries and milkshakes at the local malt shoppe and agrees to go to a carnival in town later that afternoon.

That’s when something happens that shocks her to her core. Something that will change the course of her life forever.

⚡ ⚡ ⚡ ⚡ ⚡ ⚡ ⚡

Ever Mind the Rule of Three is a 120,000 word urban fantasy story suitable for all ages.
No AI was used to write this book or create its cover.

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Samaire Wynne grew up in a lot of different places, and now happily resides on the East Coast of America, laboring away at writing stories every day. 

She is an animal lover with far too many pets, yet she still muses how she’d like to add even more. 

A lover of all things night and gothic, she also loves to read and reread her favorite books. 

Owned by a cat named Tyrion, she can be found haunting the shadows and mists that hang low over the hills of southern Virginia.

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#UrbanFantasy #Fantasybooks #yaparanormalbooks #Paranormal #Supernatural #Academybooks #books #readers #reading #booklovers #booktok #bookbuzz #bookboost #BookPromo #AuthorPromo  #BookBlogger #Bookstagram #bookish #bookclub #MustRead #Writersofinstagram #AmReading #BookTour #Giveaway #writingcommunity #readerscommunity 

Chapter One of Ever Mind the Rule of Three

With my birthday coming up next month, and no magic in sight, I had resigned myself to attending a mundane college. I idly wondered if I really felt comfortable attending UCLA, so far from the town I’d grown up in.

Salem, Massachusetts was an old town—very old, in fact. A current of custom and habit underlay the everyday lives of the mundane who lived here. I could trace my descent from a long line of wytches, going back more than four hundred years.

But, as my aunt reminded me every time I got to worrying so much that I paced the front sitting room of our three-story house, only about a quarter of the women in the family ever showed promise in the magical arts. Aunt Matilda had, of course. She’d first sparked magic when she was eleven, she’d told me. 

“I lit the cat on fire, accidentally, of course,” she’d explained. “I’d run in from the twilight mist one October day, and Grimalkin had been napping in the window, and had just stretched and then jumped to the hallway, and we collided. I slid right into him and tumbled head over heels.”

“Then what happened?” I asked, chin in hands, leaning forward over the now-empty dinner plates. I’d heard the story many times and reveled in it every time. I loved my aunt with a passion. Huh. Hero-worshipped her, would be a more apt description.

“And then I grabbed my hat, which had fallen off, and got to my feet. I’d brushed my hair back — even then it was too long and unruly to manage without help, and placed my hat back on my head,” said Aunt Matilda.

I held my breath. I knew what was coming next.

She glanced down at me, one side of her mouth quirked in a smile. “And as I stood up, I stretched my hand out to pet Grimalkin. A spark flew from my fingertip and arced to his tail and lit the tip on fire.”

I’d shrieked with laughter, arching my back in glee.

“And you’d been eleven?” I asked, grinning

“Just barely,” she’d said. “Eleven and a week, at most. My birthday is October third, as you know, child.”

I laughed out loud in delight, picturing the cat’s tail with a flame at the end.

“I never forgave her,” a haughty voice came from the window. Grimalkin was washing his paw with great concentration, his digits curled as his tongue swept up from his elbow.

“Oh, you love me,” said Aunt Matilda, standing up and sweeping the beloved cat into her arms. “You know you do.” She planted a kiss on the top of the cat’s head.

The cat curled against his mistress fondly, purring. “Maybe,” he mumbled. “On Tuesdays.”

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The Diva Goes Overboard (A Domestic Diva Mystery) by Krista Davis Book Tour!

The Diva Goes Overboard (A Domestic Diva Mystery) by Krista Davis

 

The Diva Goes Overboard (A Domestic Diva Mystery) 

Cozy Mystery 

17th in Series 

Setting - Old Town Alexandria, Virginia 

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Kensington Cozies (May 21, 2024) 

Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 336 pages

ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1496743423

ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1496743428 

Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CHHN5D3Q 

For once, event planner Sophie Winston finds herself a guest at a lavish engagement party, but things go horrifyingly awry when the groom-to-be is fatally poisoned . . .

In Old Town Alexandria’s unlikeliest match, Natasha Smith’s free-spirited mother, Wanda, is engaged to notoriously pompous antiques dealer, Orson Chatsworth—leaving Natasha to plan the entire wedding, beginning with an elaborate engagement party. 

For the extravagant affair, Natasha splurges on trendy food boards created by rising social media star, Stella St. James. The sumptuous boards go way beyond basic cheese and crackers, as Stella dazzles guests with picture-worthy butter boards, dessert boards, and even doughnut boards. Just as Natasha planned, the food is to die for—until someone actually does.

When the groom collapses, it seems as if a heart attack is to blame. Then guests discover Orson was poisoned, and suddenly Stella’s bespoke boards look a lot less appealing. But with an event this big, the spread of suspects is sure to be impressive. 

Could Orson’s killer be a jilted ex-lover? A money hungry relative? A bitter former business partner? When even Sophie is not above suspicion, she knows it’s time to get on board and scrape together an investigation of her own . . . before murder becomes the town’s next trend.

Includes delicious recipes, fabulous decorating tips, and easy entertaining hacks!

Book Excerpt

Dear Sophie, 

My seventy-five-year-old father is getting married! The bride and groom have been married before to other people and have adult children and grandchildren. They’re planning a huge wedding and the bride will wear white. I think this is in poor taste and they should quietly tie the knot at the courthouse in a civil ceremony by themselves. 

What do you think? Tied in Knots in Loveland, Ohio Dear Tied in Knots, A wedding is one of life’s biggest and most lovely events. If the bride and groom want a big wedding with all the traditions that accompany nuptials, I think they should do it and celebrate in any way that makes them happy. 

There are no age limits on joy. Sophie On Sunday evening, when other people were settling in and getting ready to start a new workweek, I walked my mixed breed hound, Daisy, to relax after finishing up a busy week. 

An unpleasant waft of smoke reached me. Most likely from a fire pit in someone’s backyard, I supposed. As an event planner, I often worked when others didn’t. I had just finished a major convention for the Federation of Pharmacists. 

They had been lovely to work with and their exhibits had been fascinating. It had been a major convention and I was ready for some downtime. The sun had set in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia, but the temperature was perfect for sleeveless attire. 

The balmy air made me feel summery and carefree. Porch lights and front door lights gleamed on Federal style homes, many of which had been built in the 1800s. Now and then I caught a glimpse of lights strung over a backyard and the sound of laughter. We had no destination in mind. 

Mostly, I needed to stretch and relax, and Daisy needed to get outside and sniff the world. We ambled along until I saw a blaze. In the seconds that it took me to realize that it arose inside a car, it quadrupled in size. I reached for my phone and called 911. 

“A car is on fire!” I gave the operator the name of the street and the closest cross street. “Hurry! The flames have moved from the front seat to the back.” I felt completely helpless. There wasn’t a thing I could do about it. Although we were a good distance away, Daisy leaned against my legs as if it scared her, too. Sirens sounded louder than normal in the quiet night. 

They passed us and clanged to a stop. In minutes, firefighters had the fire under control. One of the firemen recognized me and strode over. “I hear you called in the fire?” 

“Yes. It was small and then whoosh, it grew so fast!” He nodded. “Yeah, car fires will do that. Did you see anyone get out of the car?” 

“No!” His question worried me. “I hope there wasn’t anyone inside.” “We don’t think so. We’ll open the trunk and have a look as soon as it cools off.” 

I shuddered to even imagine that possibility. I thanked him for responding so quickly and said good night.  

About Krista Davis

New York Times Bestselling author Krista Davis writes the Domestic Diva Mysteries, the Paws & Claws Mysteries, and The Pen & Ink Mysteries. Krista lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia with two dogs, two cats, and a hidden stash of chocolate. 

When she’s not writing, she loves to entertain her family and friends who complain when she tests her recipes on them. But she notices that they keep coming back for more.

  Website 

www.KristaDavis.com

Instagram 

www.instagram.com/kristadavisauthor 

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GoodReads 

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1555579.Krista_Davis 

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https://www.pinterest.com/KristaDavisAuthor/

 

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twitter.com/kristadavis 

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May 15 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

May 16 – Celticlady’s Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

May 16 – Sarah Can’t Stop Reading – REVIEW  

May 17 – Baroness Book Trove – REVIEW

May 17 – Maureen’s Musings – SPOTLIGHT

May 18 – FUONLYKNEW – RECIPE

May 19 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW

May 19 – StoreyBook Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

May 20 – Literary Gold – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

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Friends for Life by Liz Murphy Blog Tour!

Friends for Life

Kate, Rose and Pascalle are thrown together because they share one experience – they have each lost their husbands. Shocked and bewildered, all three try to work out what it means to be suddenly alone with no partner, no security and their entire future wiped out.

If that wasn’t enough, they are also faced with family conflict, elderly parents, and a support network that turns out to be sadly lacking. And for each woman, secrets from the past threaten to derail their attempts to move on.

*On the surface, Kate’s husband Jason was fun-loving and generous. Only she knows differently. In the months after his death, her attempts to rid her life of the things that trigger bad memories are also driving her son away. By keeping Jason’s secret is she in danger of losing her son as well?

*Rose and Richard were soul mates. Married straight out of university, they shared a career, a business and a love of the good life. Childless, they lived only for each other, or so Rose thought. That all changed the night Richard was killed in a car crash.

*Once spirited, vibrant and flamboyantly French, Pascalle is now a grey shadow of herself. Her husband Trevor’s death has left her so emotionally paralysed, she can’t accept that he’s gone. Then her daughter offers her a chance to create a new life for herself. But will past secrets emerge to hinder her decision?

We follow Kate and Rose through their first year without their husbands. As their friendship with Pascalle grows they encourage each other to be brave, to take control of their lives, and to begin to heal. They draw on past mistakes to help each other build new relationships with their families. And by trusting each other, they realise that true friendship can point the way to a new future.

Extract from Friends for Life by Liz Murphy for Celticlady’s Reviews

Kate, Rose and Pascalle have recently met at a drinks party where they were reluctant guests. All three have been struggling to cope with the deaths of their husbands, and each sees in the other women who understand exactly what they’re going through. They’ve arranged to meet again at a café to chat more. Pascalle, who’s been unable to move on from the death of her husband Trevor four years ago, has just had a dream where he tells her it’s time for her to let him go…

Pascalle had been sitting quietly listening to Kate and Rose, and when they finished she took a deep breath and lifted her head as though she’d made a difficult decision. ‘Can I tell you ladies about a dream I had? I haven’t shared this with a soul.’

  Rose and Kate both nodded at the same time. ‘Of course, say anything you like,’ encouraged Rose.  

  Pascalle began the story of her dream and ended with Trevor’s line: ‘You have to let go of the past to move into the future.’ 

  Tears shone in all their eyes, and Kate spoke first, squeezing Pascalle’s hand. ‘There it is, your message, your sign. Trevor’s giving you his blessing to move on.’

  ‘Yes, and in my heart I know you’re right,’ agreed Pascalle. ‘But you see I don’t want to live without him.’

  ‘We none of us want to live without our husbands,’ Kate agreed. ‘But what a waste it is if we don’t. Two lives lost rather than one.’

  ‘If it hadn’t been for Mum I’m not sure what state I’d be in,’ Rose confessed. 

  ‘How lovely that you still have your mother around,’ said Pascalle.

  ‘In a way yes, but her mind has deteriorated so much now that she doesn’t often recognise me. That’s really hard to accept. Shortly after Richard was killed it did cross my mind that there was no point in me living on. We have no children, I have no brothers or sisters. He was my everything. Then one day when I was at my lowest, I looked at my mother and she had such trust in her eyes, and I realised that I couldn’t leave her, no matter how hard it is to stay with her. So, here I still am, just getting on with it, on my own.’

  Listening to Rose, Kate was struck by how in love with her husband she appeared to have been, and yet if the gossip at the tennis club was true, that love wasn’t returned. But then she conceded, you can never tell the state of a marriage from the outside. I mean, take her and Jason, no-one looking in would have guessed what was really going on there, not even their children who still had no idea about their dad. 

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Pascalle who’d sat bolt upright as though suddenly struck by an idea and was saying, ‘Ladies, I know how you can help me. Justine has been nagging me for weeks to join a yoga class here at the library. I don’t want to go on my own. But if you two would come with me…’ She ended the sentence with a smile.

  Kate and Rose looked at each other.  ‘I’ve never done yoga before in my life,’ Rose said. ‘What about you Kate?’

  ‘Not yoga, but I’ve done a bit of pilates, and I play tennis and swim, so I have a decent level of fitness. Anyway, how hard can it be? Pascalle, I’m in.’

  Rose laughed. ‘In that case I’d better be in too. When is it, what time does it start?’

  Kate spotted a notice on the café wall. ‘Looks like it’s 9am on a Friday morning. I’ll have to rearrange my work diary for that morning, but I can do it.’

  Pascalle, who’d bitten into a piece of her cake, choked when she heard the time. ‘Oh no, sorry ladies, I didn’t realise it was quite so early. Are you sure you don’t mind?’

  Kate and Rose laughed simultaneously. ‘I’ll let you know after the first one,’ Kate giggled. ‘I’ll Google the website and see if there are any spaces in the class.’ After a couple of seconds she found the relevant page. ‘It’s not on for the next few weeks because of Christmas, but there are spaces for the first Friday after New Year. I’m booking us on.’

  ‘I guess there’s no backing out now,’ said Rose wryly as she checked her watch and started to gather her handbag and jacket. ‘I’m so sorry ladies, I should be getting back to my mother.’ She stopped and looked at both women.  ‘I’m so glad we’ve met. I’ve tried loads of bereavement groups but none of them has helped as much as meeting you. Speaking to you, has made me feel as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.’

  ‘This has been a real pleasure,’ said Pasacalle, ‘But I’d better head off too. Now I can hardly wait for our first yoga lesson!’

  As they hugged goodbye, Kate felt a lightness in her that she hadn’t known for the last three months, and if she was honest, for a whole lot longer than that.

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Originally from Scotland, Liz Murphy moved to London in the mid 1980s as a features writer on Woman’s Own and since then has worked on some of the biggest weekly and monthly magazines in the country including Good Housekeeping, House Beautiful, TVTimes and Sky The Magazine, where she held senior editorial positions. Liz is also a qualified mat and reformer Pilates teacher.

The sudden death of her husband, Steve, prompted her to reassess her priorities, following which she left magazines and now focuses her time on teaching Pilates, playing tennis, working at tennis tournaments, singing in a choir and sitting on the governing body of a federation of three primary schools. She has two grown-up daughters.

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Liz Murphy writer

Until the Real Thing Comes Along by Chris Simon New Release! @ninestarpress

 

Title:  Until the Real Thing Comes Along

Author: Chris Simon

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/14/2024

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 101200

Genre: Historical, Romance, historical, family-drama, gay, 1920s, 1930s, in the closet, docker, fire, Brighton, football match

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It’s 1932 and middle-class Malcolm lives with his mother in Highgate. Though confident and capable at work, he is tormented by “beastly inclinations”—a strong attraction to young men. 

One drunken evening at Charlie Brown’s pub in Limehouse he meets Alfie, a working-class docker—and the most beautiful young man Malcolm has ever seen. Alfie is friendly, kind and changes everything by making Malcolm’s inclinations seem considerably less beastly—but in 1930s London, this can surely have no future. Alfie is younger, apparently “normal”, and from the Isle of Dogs, far from Malcolm’s cosy world of quiet privilege.

Nevertheless, Malcolm launches himself into Alfie’s world of rough pubs, a dance club, and even a football match. Resigned to a platonic friendship, he is thrilled to find that Alfie has other ideas. But by offering him something he hadn’t even dared wish for, fate may have called his bluff and he fears his own naivety and sexual inexperience will see him squander this unexpected shot at happiness. 

After some excruciating but sound advice from a more worldly friend, the relationship becomes sexual, and more emotional, but remains an unsuitable attachment that cannot last forever.

When Alfie is nearly killed in a fire at the docks, and war planes on maneuvers growl over the Docklands skies, both are reminded that life is too short to worry about “forever”. During a police raid on an illicit West End club, Alfie’s heroism saves Malcolm from ruin, convincing him that whatever the future holds, this boy loves him now. 

The disapproval of families and friends, a hostile society, Malcolm’s insecurity, and Alfie’s belief that he’ll eventually get married because “that’s what young men do” cannot thwart a love that grows in unpromising ground and endures no matter what is thrown at it.

Until the Real Thing Comes Along

Chris Simon © 2024

All Rights Reserved

Grubby Angels

August 1922

This was wealth. This was power. This was the world in which Malcolm Trevelyan must make his mark.

A line of black cranes dipped and swung over the cobbled north quay of the Western Dock, as they lowered crates and barrels towards the waiting men below. Once landed, the goods were loaded onto handcarts and spirited away into the transit sheds nearby. The noise of the crane winches and the shouts of men drowned out any words of explanation from the guide escorting the small group of six trainee import clerks of which Malcolm was a part.

Beyond the transit sheds stood ancient brick warehouses, bulging with cigars and raw tobacco, grain, fragrant spices, ivory, and ostrich feathers. He breathed in the aromas of the nation’s store cupboard, awed by the sheer scale of the warehouses and by the range of goods he saw in them. Beneath their feet lay a labyrinth of cool vaults packed with puncheons and hogsheads of port, brandy, and wines. The London Docks were an organised chaos and just about the most exciting thing that sixteen-year-old Malcolm had ever seen.

But it wasn’t just the goods. Out on the quayside an even greater impression was made on him by the flat-capped, waistcoated dockers, concentration straining their features, skin glowing with their exertion. They worked in gangs, intimidating clutches of masculinity, strong and foul-mouthed. Most were middle-aged, weather-beaten, worn and scarred, but there was a handful of younger men among them. They were cocky lads—a different breed from any Malcolm had seen before and he was drawn to them. Strong, lithe, and energetic, they laughed and joked together with an easy familiarity he envied.

The dockers paid little heed to the gaggle of pale-skinned trainee clerks observing them. They would spare them attention only if the party looked like they were getting in the way, at which point a youngster would be sent to shoo them off, as though they were scavenging gulls circling over a consignment of raw sugar.

As the visitors weaved tentatively through the busy crowd, a sudden violent hailstorm lashed down on the quayside. Everyone ran for what shelter they could find, apart from the crane drivers, who watched the scurrying smugly from their cabins. Malcolm found shelter in the narrow covered doorway into a warehouse. It was padlocked and he had to share the brick arch with two young dockers and endure the bittersweet sensation of having them pressed up against him. Having their hard bodies and the smell of their sweat so close would no doubt have repelled some people. Not Malcolm. The sweat was fresh, the result of honest toil. And the bodies—well.

The young lads were deferential to him, in case he was someone important, toning down their profanities and allowing him as much space as they were able to. In adjusting his stance to try to give Malcolm more room, one of them yelped as a hailstone the size of a quail’s egg struck his bare arm. His face, close to Malcolm’s, blushed engagingly and he laughed.

“Ow! That bleedin’ hurt!”

“Don’t be such a jessie,” jeered his mate. “Wotcher stick yer arm out for anyway, yer fathead.”

“I was trying to give this gentleman a bit more room, weren’t I? Yer don’t want ’ailstones getting on yer nice duds, do yer, guvnor?”

Malcolm smiled weakly but was unable to utter a single word, let alone form a sentence. This lad of around his own age had called him “guvnor” just because he was wearing a suit, yet he was the tongue-tied one.

The hail lashed down for five minutes before stopping abruptly, allowing the young dockers to return to their labours.

As the clerks filed back out of the dock gates chattering about what they’d seen, Malcolm was disconsolate, because his desperate longing had undermined the excitement he’d felt at having seen the Port of London working at close quarters for the first time. He was no longer incarcerated in boarding school. There were plenty of girls for him to look at, in the streets and in the typing pool at work, but nothing had changed. Boys still preoccupied him and none more than these working-class lads. They were so different from him and the boys he’d known at school—and nowhere was safe, because the streets of London teemed with them. He wouldn’t even know whether the two young dockers would have been considered handsome or not. Their faces had yet to have years of hard labour etched upon them, they’d yet to sustain scars or lose teeth, their complexions were unravaged by the drink to which they would probably turn for comfort. Their youth and vitality, their common clothes and flat caps, the hair cut short at the napes of their necks and their choirboy faces tormented him still.

He could tell himself his inclinations would shift towards women in due course, but he knew it wasn’t true. In a week or two, he would have forgotten about these two particular lads, but there were legions of grubby angels dressed as thugs to fill him with a burning longing for… Well, he wasn’t quite sure for what.

What could he do about it?

The answer was obvious. He must put all his energy into his work and see how far it would take him. It was his duty to achieve wealth and power to ensure his mother would live the rest of her days in comfort, and above all, he mustn’t allow himself to indulge in any behaviour that would bring disgrace down upon her. He must not merely put aside his unnatural feelings but bury them absolutely and forever.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Chris Simon is the youngest son of a headteacher and was born and brought up in North Wales. He attended college in Liverpool and Manchester studying Geography and English and returned to Wales to work at a holiday camp, doing everything from chalet allocations to scrubbing grill pans in the off season. He did this over three summers before moving to London to join the civil service, starting in North London benefit offices and ending with the Department for Transport in Westminster.

As well as football and music, Chris has a great love of social history, particularly that of London. After visiting the capital at the age of twelve his desire to live there became the first certainty of his life. He settled in Walthamstow in East London and is a keen supporter of Manchester City and, of course, Wales. It had always been his intention to write a novel whenever he found the time—and now he has.

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Most Eligible Killer Daria White Book Tour! #XpressoTours @XpressoTours⁣ ⁣⁣#MostEligibleKiller #dariawhite

 

Most Eligible Killer

Daria White

Publication date

 June 4th 2024

Genres

 Adult, Cozy Mystery, Mystery

Love, lies, and a lethal reunion.

In the heart of Edenville, Texas, Bianca Wallace’s life is blooming—her business is thriving and her romance with Detective Lamar Sims is heating up. But when her high school crush, Eddie Talbert, becomes the prime suspect in a murder case at her mother’s matchmaking event inspired by ‘The Bachelor,’ her world spirals into chaos.

Reluctantly drawn back into Eddie’s life, Bianca must sift through past feelings and present dangers, as Lamar races to solve the crime. Torn between her blossoming love and a past flame, Bianca’s loyalties are tested—does she trust her heart or the evidence stacking up against Eddie?

As secrets surface, Bianca realizes she might be closer to the killer than she ever imagined. Will her quest for truth be her last?

Dive into Most Eligible Killer to discover if Bianca’s pursuit of justice will salvage her future or sever her deepest ties forever.

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Daria has lived in Texas for most of her life. She never liked reading as a kid. In fact, she almost hated it. However, as she grew up that all changed. Though she received her degree in healthcare management, Daria kept her writing as a hobby. She meant it to be private and her own way of expressing herself. It never crossed her mind to publish until she was in college. So, she took a chance and self published. It worked! Starting off as a sweet romance writer first, Daria branched out in 2020 with books in cozy mystery and Christian fiction. She even has nonfiction titles in the works, reflecting her Christian faith and work in ministry.

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Escape Routes by Marsh Rose Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #LiesAndLoveinAlaska #MarshRose

It’s 1985 and pampered psychotherapist Lauren Olive loses her job, the love of her life to his hairdresser and is forced to move to a backwoods bungalow as a drug couselor in a rural jail.

Escape Routes

by Marsh Rose

Genre 

Historical Women’s Fiction

It’s 1985 and psychotherapist Lauren Olive, a pampered Baby Boomer in the California wine country, has never owned a bank account, lived without a man, or seen the dark side of life. But after she loses her job, and then the love of her life abandons her for his hairdresser, she’s forced to move to a decrepit bungalow in the backwoods and accept work as a drug counselor in a rural jail.

At her new job, the inmates view her wide-eyed naivete with hilarity and her hardened coworkers resent her middle-class roots. Worse, the bungalow seems poised to collapse around her. If Lauren is going to survive financially, avoid going back to live with her parents, and regain normality, she’ll need to leave her little-girl ways behind. But success doesn’t come without struggle. Surrounded by her crusty landlord, the jail’s seasoned deputies, skeptical inmates and a new love interest, Lauren must confront challenges she never could have imagined in her comfortable city life.

Escape Routes is a tale of maturity under duress. It speaks to the emerging audience of readers who want stories of growth and accomplishment by strong women in compelling situations. Although it is a work of fiction, it offers a glimpse into rural American criminal justice during the 1980s, a time when addiction treatment for inmates was in its formative years. Its narrative captures genuine lifestyles, concerns, speech, and behavior without demonizing, demeaning, or glamorizing the characters on either side of the bars.

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Lies and Love in Alaska

by Marsh Rose

Genre

Women’s Fiction, Romance 

To stop the meddling of her matchmaker friends, divorcee Annalee fakes an affair with an Alaskan bush pilot whose profile she has seen in a magazine about bachelors in that rugged environment. The plan backfires when he appears in her small California town and lures her to his remote cabin with stories about the magnetic pull of the Last Frontier and the promise of lasting love.

In ways she never imagined, she finds herself falling for both the pilot and Alaska in spite of the bears, blizzards, peculiar neighbors, pyromaniac ex-girlfriend, stack of love letters hidden in a pantry and evident truth to what they say about single men in Alaska: the odds are good, but the goods are odd. Before Annalee can sever her ties in California and move north, a shocking telephone call from an unknown woman rocks her world and catapults her into a whole new way of life.

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LIES AND LOVE IN ALASKA

 

PART ONE

 

CALIFORNIA, 1989

 

Chapter 1

 

The Odds Are Good

It was the day after Christmas. Annalee Perkins leaned on her counter and listened to the rain pinging into a galvanized bucket in the next aisle. She dreaded the coming hours. Only Valentine’s Day was as demoralizing as the holiday season at Home And Garden Land. Around her, fellow H.A.G.L. workers drifted in, hung their sodden rain gear and began to prepare for the long day ahead.

The intercom roared to life. Feedback sliced along the cinder block walls, then Annalee heard the voice of her boss Marvin. “Stupefied,” he thundered. “Five letters, sixty-three down, third letter Z.” Marvin began each day with the morning paper’s crossword and he seldom finished it alone. There was a moment of silence, then a reply boomed from the bookkeeper’s microphone.

“Dazed.”

Annalee sighed.  Her knees ached and she felt older than her 40 years. Reluctantly she shifted her gaze to the window. Outside in the rain, ten women had formed a line at the door. Their clothing, from muddy blue jeans to elegant pants suits, represented the wide range of incomes in the rural northern California wine country. But their faces wore nearly identical expressions of dismay. Each woman carried an object—a bathroom scale, a hose attachment or a set of crescent wrenches, some with festive wrapping paper still attached. When H.A.G.L.’s hangar-like doors opened, they would stride to Annalee’s counter and imply that she, maven of the complaints department, was somehow to blame because their husbands or lovers had shopped for Christmas gifts at the hardware store when they should have been at the jeweler’s. Then Annalee would spend the day issuing return receipts, doling out refunds, pleading for stock boys and occasionally reassuring a crestfallen customer that the customer was indeed worth more, so much more than this offensive dashboard cover and matching automotive cup holder and trash receptacle.

“Men,” Annalee murmured. “They can not accomplish even the most simple requirement of love. A gift.” She congratulated herself. Never again would she find a brightly-wrapped garbage disposal brush under the tree. And while she would pass Valentine’s Day alone, she would not open another box with a bow to find a selection of AA, AAA and D batteries.

She reached for a shop broom and turned to her immediate chore, sweeping up the evidence of mice. H.A.G.L. was damp and drafty to the loyal but long-suffering staff, but for all other species its accommodations were a luxury relative to wintering in the muddy field outside. So with the freezing December rains came a parade of insects, amphibians, birds, bats and rodents to join the swarms of customers.

Someone called her name. She looked up to see her friend Ivy, The Duchess Of Kitchenware, with her faux tiara anchored in her hair by a rubber band under her chin.  "Got something for you," she called.  "Meet me in the staff lounge for lunch."  She waved what appeared to be a magazine. Knowing Ivy, it would be something in the realm of dating, being single, or women her age finding love. Or at least sex. 

Annalee sighed again. 

Marsh Rose is a freelance writer, psychotherapist and college educator. Her short stories have appeared in a variety of publications including Cosmopolitan Magazine, the San Francisco Chronicle, Carve Magazine, Hippocampus Magazine, and New Millennium Writings where she took first prize for creative nonfiction in 2018. This is her second novel. She lives in the north San Francisco Bay Area with her greyhound, Adin.

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