Fun Fact: Something Wicked was originally developed as a romance. It lay dormant, while I focused on other projects. When I returned to it, I realized it had all the makings for a horror story with romantic elements. It is darker than I first intended but I am thrilled that this story is finally complete.
Find it here:
When Ashlyn Turner receives a cursed antique scrimshaw doll from her overbearing mother, she dismisses the ominous warnings as mere folklore. But after her fiancé suffers a horrific accident and her best friend’s behavior turns erratic, Ashlyn realizes the doll’s sinister power to punish betrayal. Enter Luca, a mysterious expert on cursed objects, who vows to destroy the doll before it claims more lives. As Ashlyn uncovers dark secrets among her loved ones, she must confront a chilling truth: the curse cannot be broken, and anyone could be next.
Excerpt:
Grant whistled as he drove from the grand hotel. Everything was going exactly as planned. Ashlyn might suspect his infidelity, but she was going through with the wedding. He hadn’t given her enough reason to call it off. He and Olivia had been careful. His long hours at the office were the perfect cover for his affair. Sweet little Ashlyn was so trusting.
He cruised down the long, winding driveway that led from the hotel parking lot. Too bad he couldn’t hang around and enjoy the lifestyle his newfound wealth could afford him. But he and Olivia would surely be found out if they stuck around. Even worse was that he had to go through with the marriage to a woman he didn’t love. A brief marriage. He comforted himself with the thought.
Ashlyn wouldn’t truly own her inheritance until marriage. Little did she know, the silly clause in her father’s will would be her undoing. He allowed a sneer to curve his lips. The family was so old-fashioned.
His headlights cut through the black night, and he accelerated hard, enjoying the excitement of speeding along the treacherous roads. An adrenaline rush-almost as thrilling as committing murder. He laughed, digging in his pocket for the flask of whiskey. Just as his fingers closed around it, something large and quick appeared in front of the Jaguar.
The flask flew from his hands, and he let out a scream, trying to swerve to keep from hitting the animal. Too late. The stag seemed to leap toward him, landing with a thud of grinding metal and shattering glass.
Antlers as wide as the car smashed through the windshield. Pain like he’d never known pierced his chest. He stared in horror at the antlers impaling him to the leather seat. The stag writhed its legs, attempting to break free. With each movement, excruciating, burning agony seared his lungs.
What the fuck?
He fumbled his phone from his pocket, his fingers barely working. Funny how his entire body was screaming with relentless pain, yet his fingers felt numb.
Finally, he punched in 911.
The operator’s words seemed to come from a distance. “911, please state your emergency.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, blood gurgled to the surface. Somewhere, deep inside his torture-wracked soul, someone or something seemed to whisper the words…All those who betray you will suffer.
About the Author:
Krysta Scott is the author of the novel, Shadow Dancer. Since publishing her first book through the Wild Rose Press, she has published two novellas in the Martini Club 4 series and eight novellas in the Friday the Thirteenth series. Something Wicked is the latest story in the series. When she is not writing, she can often be found watching Hallmark movies, true crime shows or reading a good thriller. She is a retired attorney who lives in Oklahoma with her husband and dog.
Please help me welcome today’s guest, Jill Arlene Culiner…
Please tell us a little about yourself. Where are you from? Where do you live now? Pets?
Hello Alicia. I was born in New York and raised in Toronto, but I was one of those kids who ran away from home at seventeen. I’ve lived in many countries—England, Turkey, Greece, Hungary, Germany, Holland—and now live in a 400-year-old former inn in a small village (population: 450) in the west of France. My wild garden is a classified wildlife protection area; therefore, my three rescue cats have to stay indoors (which they don’t mind at all). Even my huge rescue dog is a wuss who prefers staying inside and getting lots of hugs.
Where did you get the idea for Words for Patty Jo? Are your characters based on real people, or did they all come from your imagination?
Patty Jo’s story was a girl I went to school with. She was beautiful and gentle, but she had a terrible family. In order to escape, she made bad choices. Years later, I decided I had to write about her and give her a different life story. The same is true for David, the other main character in the book. I knew him well—he was the sort of idealistic person who believed that education and kindness would change the world. Of course, both Patty Jo and David are fictional characters, very different from the originals. Both are composites of many people I’ve met; their stories, although taken from real life, are those of others.
How did you come up with the title?
That was easy. In the beginning, Patty Jo is a shy, secretive girl who never answers a direct question and hates talking about herself. Years later, David, her former boyfriend, begins writing a short story about her, and he gives it the very appropriate title, Words for Patty Jo.
What genre have you never written that you’d like to write?-
I’ve written romances, mysteries and creative non-fiction travel books, but this is my first Women’s/General Fiction book. However, Words for Patty Jo can also slip into the Literary Fiction category because of the style, language, and theme.
How much of the book is realistic?
I would say pretty well all of it is realistic. I’ve told other people’s stories, singled out those who have been courageous enough to change their destiny.
Have you written any other books that are not published?
Many. They are sitting snug in my computer and getting dusty. Words for Patty Jo was one of those forgotten, pushed-aside manuscripts. I began it twenty years ago, then gave up and filed it away. Why? Because I had no idea what it was. Twelve years later, I looked at it again and began to see its possibilities. I completed a first draft, but still didn’t believe in it, so it went to sleep for a few more years.
Two years ago, I dusted it off, inspected it. By now, I was a more experienced, disciplined writer, and I finally understood how this story had to be written. After that, it became an obsession. I needed powerful images; I wanted beauty, and reality, and rebellious, wonderful characters. Therefore, I re-wrote every single chapter many times, went over and over the manuscript until each paragraph sang.
Do you have another occupation other than writer? If so, what is it and do you like it?
I am a social critical artist. I create satirical scenes of daily life in little boxes. I also draw caricatures. My house and my work can be seen here: https://www.jill-culiner.com
Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?
Patty Jo and David first meet in the late 1960s, but they don’t see each other again until forty years later. Thus, Words for Patty Jo is not strictly a romance. The main themes are social class, the search for identity, and personal courage.
Blurb:
A passion for books creates a lasting bond between teenage Patty Jo and David, but small-town prejudice and social differences doom their romance.
After a summer of reading and falling in love, David heads for university, foreign adventure, and a dazzling career; Patty Jo marries slick, over-confident Don Ried.
Yet plans can go horribly wrong. The victim of her violent husband, Patty Jo abandons her home and children to live on the streets of Toronto. David, a high-ranking executive in Paris, is dismayed by the superficiality of corporate success.
Forty years later, Patty Jo and David meet again. Both have defied society; both have fulfilled their dreams. And what if first love was the right one after all, and destiny has the last word?
Excerpt:
Together they cross Main, turn the corner. It’s hot on the back streets, away from the lake breeze. Stuffy hot. Tar oozes from sidewalk cracks; front yard sprinklers send out iridescent rainbow mists, dampen their legs as they pass, perfume the air with wet green. What he wants to do right now is run through those shimmery cascades, leap like a little kid because he’s sky high, walking a beautiful blonde home on a sunny summer afternoon.
Of course, at eighteen, if you walk down the road with a girl who makes you tingle, you can’t be childish, ruin everything by hopping around and cheering.
“Why do you have to go home?”
She raises tense, square shoulders. “Why? Because it’s four thirty. I have to be there by four thirty.”
Which isn’t much of an explanation. Perhaps she has a date. Perhaps she has a boyfriend, is waiting for the phone to ring.
“Because?” He holds his breath.
“Ma and Pa will raise hell if I’m not.”
That’s all? Except the sentence, the whispery voice, both beg answers. From the corner of his eye, he watches the way she moves. Likes it. An unusual stride, loose-hipped, swinging. Infinitely appealing. The tallish, slender frame, those jutting hip bones, the strong shoulders held back—all suggest a hidden force. As does the defiant way she carries her head.
“And where do you live?” she asks in an indifferent tone, one that belies the question mark. They are crossing over at Waverley where the houses get smaller: stucco framed by old cars and junk heaps, fronted by sagging porches with pitted paint.
“Riddle Lane,” he says, his answer as short as hers. He’s not proud of his address at the moment. True, he’s never really thought about the swanky house set into the trees with its separate servant’s wing, herb garden, three-car garage, the sandstone embellished by white ceramic bricks—all definite signs of luxury. Now, here on Waverley, he’s apologetic, almost ashamed.
For the first time, he wishes he, too, were on his way home at four o’clock, returning to one of these modest bungalows where parents are “Ma” and “Pa” and bicycles are propped against drooping fences, or plunked on cement driveways. It’s what? Homey? Relaxed? Or is he imagining a harmony that doesn’t exist?
Writer, social critical artist, and impenitent teller of tall tales, Jill (J. Arlene) Culiner has crossed much of Europe on foot, lived in a mud house on the Great Hungarian Plain, in a Bavarian castle, a Turkish cave dwelling, a haunted house on the English moors, and beside a Dutch canal. She now resides in a 400-year-old former inn in a French village of no interest where, much to local dismay, she protects spiders, snakes, and weeds. Observing people everywhere, she eavesdrops on all private conversations and delights in any nasty, funny, ridiculous, sad, romantic, or boastful story. And when she can’t uncover salacious gossip, she makes it up.
She has won the 2005 Tanenbaum Prize in Canadian Jewish History, the 2024 Canadian Jewish Literary Award for Memoir, and was shortlisted for the Foreward Magazine Prize and twice for the Page Turner Awards.
I will be sharing each story in the latest Friday the 13th series, and today I am featuring Diafthorá by Jon Minton…
Fun Fact:
Διαφθορά, or Diafthorá, the Greek word for “corrupted,” draws its inspiration from several sources. Frank E. Peretti’s ‘This Present Darkness’ informed the story’s depiction of spiritual warfare between angels and demons, while the central angel’s moral decay mirrors earthly corruption, inspired by the tyrannical and licentious nobleman of the opera ‘Don Giovanni.’ Much of the mythology comes from the Book of Enoch, an apocalyptic text that recounts the fall of angels who loved humans. Set during the Western Schism—a period when papal Italy and France struggled for religious dominance—the story reflects the inherent flaws of theocracy. I hope you enjoy the bloody tapestry woven from this historical and literary inspiration.
An angel falls not from rebellion, but from love. As jealousy turns sacred judgement into slaughter, a bishop must choose between heresy and hell.
Excerpt:
“Today we celebrate a holy union during turbulent and dividing times. May the Lord, who turned water into wine at Cana of Galilee, bless this union with everlasting love. As you share this cup, may your hearts become one—firm in faith, rich in mercy, and sealed in holy covenant.” He handed the cup to Palmina, who brought it to her chest but waited to drink—as rehearsed.
“Let this wine be the fruit of your house,” Sergio continued, “the sign of peace between your names, and a bond of gladness in sorrow and plenty alike. As Christ sanctified the feast with His presence, so now may He dwell among you, and let no bitterness rise in the cup you share. Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus.”
Palmina lifted the cup and drank before handing it to Gian, who finished the wine.
“May your love be steadfast as the vine clinging to the arbor, and may your house—”
Gian coughed. “Excuse me,” he whispered.
Sergio smiled. “May your house bear fruit in the eyes of men and angels alike. In the sight of these witnesses—”
The groom belched; a stench of sulfur rose between the three of them. Gian blushed.
One person in the audience failed to hold a chuckle, but covered it with a forced clearing of the throat.
Sergio hurried, trying to save additional embarrassment. “And under the blessing of the Holy Mother, do you, Palmina Turati, take Gian Visconti as your husband? To honor and obey as the Church honors and obeys the Holy Father?”
“I do.”
“And do you, Lord Gian Visconti, take this woman to be your wife? To have and to hold for eternity?”
“I do,” he said, voice strained, sweat pouring down his face, eyes bloodshot.
Sergio hoped it wasn’t contagious and cursed the man for going forward with the event if he was sick. A little embarrassment might be just the lesson he needs. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. Lord Visconti, you may kiss the bride.”
Palmina closed her eyes and stood still, waiting.
Gian leaned in, looking uneasy on his feet, and coughed, spitting blood and bile onto Palmina’s dress. Her eyes burst open in shock as he clutched at her.
His hose darkened as if he were pissing himself, but Sergio recognized the blood pooling at Gian’s feet.
About the Author:
Jon Minton is an American speculative fiction writer based in Oklahoma City. He is a software developer but has always been passionate about a great story. Find out more from jonminttonbooks.com
Friday the 13th might be unlucky…but if you like to read horror short stories, then it’s your lucky day! Another series of Friday the 13th Horror Stories releases today. Check them out…if you dare…
Please help me welcome today’s guest, Margot Johnson…
He can’t face another loss…and she won’t stay
Krista is a professional figure skater who performs on cruise ships, a world away from the prairie town of Blue Sky where she is maid of honor at her best friend’s wedding. The handsome best man, Tate, is a small-town guy, former hockey player, and single dad.
Why not accept his invitation to trade her glamorous life for a temporary coaching position in the middle of nowhere? After all she’s been through, she needs a fresh start. But soon, complications with the ice show, her newly adopted dog, and her inconvenient attraction to Tate send Krista spinning off balance faster than a flip jump.
Who knows what will happen by spring…if she lasts?
Excerpt:
“Do you like weddings?” Tate murmured after the rehearsal as he escorted her down the aisle toward the lobby.
She felt slightly awkward with her forearm tucked through the crook of his arm. “I do.” She almost laughed at her choice of words and glanced over to see if he noticed. His tanned face, blue jeans, and brown sweater made him look strong and outdoorsy. The dark shadow gracing his chin only added to his rugged appeal. He’d probably look even better in the suit he’d wear at the wedding service tomorrow.
But seriously, why did she choose the words I do at a wedding?
“Does that mean we’re married?”
He quirked an eyebrow in a charmingly irresistible way. Instantly, butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she wished she could bat them all away and return to her normal, in-control self. “I hope not.” She glanced over and laughed. The idea was so far-fetched it was funny.
“Whew.” With his free hand, he wiped his brow. “You scared me for a minute.”
“Aren’t you already married? You have two beautiful daughters.” She shouldn’t pry but couldn’t resist finding out more. Not that she was interested in a man right now.
“Nah.”
His voice sounded almost wistful and trailed off like he might have a story he didn’t want to share. She recognized the vague signs of weariness and disappointment she carried inside too. He must be divorced, and maybe he still felt the pain of the split.
“I’m a single dad. I take it you’re unattached too?” His statement was more of a question.
“Definitely. Happily. But I love other people’s weddings.” After what she’d been through with Zach’s continual barbs, she wouldn’t open her heart to another man for a very long time, if ever. How could she find the energy? Did she have the confidence? How could she trust she wouldn’t get hurt? Now, all she wanted…well, what did she want? She could use a break in her life, like intermission in a play, to regroup and find a new path. She needed a fresh start, plain and simple.
Margot Johnson writes feel-good stories about women who chase their dreams and find romance along the way.
She is the author of seven romances–the novels One Winter in Blue Sky, Some Other Way, Love Takes Flight, and Love Leads the Way and three novellas in the Merilee Tours series–Let it Snowball, Let it Melt and Let it Simmer. Her characters can’t possibly find their happy endings…or can they?
Before turning her focus to the fun writing life, Margot held leadership roles in human resources and communications. When not writing, she loves to connect with family and friends, volunteer with SK Writers’ Guild, and walk at least 10,000 steps a day (except when it’s minus 40 degrees outside!)
She lives with her husband in the Canadian prairies.
Please help me welcome today’s guest, Marisa Masterson. She is one of the authors in the Mystery on Lilac Lane cozy mystery series. I’ll be sharing additional books in the series in upcoming posts…
Limburger & Larceny by Marisa Masterson
Fun (and Smelly!) Fact: Domestic Limburger cheese is only produced in one town in Wisconsin. I used that fact to create the Limburger factory in my story.
As winter hangs on in northern Wisconsin, Julia Arnold arrives in Wisteria. She inherits the Clover Blossom Cheese Shop, a place that screams for renovation as well as for her very special brewed coffee. By day, customers come for the coffee and cheeses, while stranger things happen in the nighttime. From roaches to mice to late night intruders, why is someone attacking her business? And what’s the deal with the treasure supposedly buried in her basement?
EXCERPT
She wasted no time getting back on the road. This time, she headed north. Skirting the lake, she pushed the Le Sabre’s large engine. Perhaps speeding would catch her up with the man she wanted to see.
Really, everything she needed from him waited back at the farm. He would not have more Limburger or the accountant ledgers in his truck. Chasing him was ridiculous.
And yet, she had to know why he went to the town where Bingle’s pawn shop was located. Was he meeting the man? Perhaps he was conspiring with the shop owner, even though two people already had assured her that he would never do that.
If she could catch him in the act, even photograph him with Bingle, the chief might take her concerns more seriously. With that thought, her aching toes pushed harder on the gas pedal. She had to reach Deer Crick.
At the town limits, she slowed the car. No sense speeding in town. Nothing was worth hurting someone. She was not that type of driver.
Her gaze took in the line of taverns. It was not unusual to find several in a small town. Wisconsinites seemed to enjoy their beer. Beer, brats, and cheese—state favorites.
Where was Bingle’s shop? And then she spotted them. Two men stood near the tailgate of a black Ford pickup.
Alex glared at the man, Bingle. She recognized him from the website. The pawn shop owner scowled back at him, shaking his head. He held up a hand, palm out, while his head moved from side to side in denial.
Whatever Alex said next upset the man. He turned and stomped away, sending slush flying upward. Her partner allowed him to leave, his own arms crossed as he leaned on the truck.
The scene played out as she watched. When Bingle reached the door of his business, Julia gave a small screech. She forgot to photograph them together!
All she had were suspicions and her partner’s odd behavior. Well, she also was forewarned. Alex was involved somehow with Bingle. And Bingle wanted to hurt her business, or so she decided. That must be true since his employee was involved in the petty vandalism.
She knew without a doubt not to trust Alex Simmons. And why did her heart hurt when she realized that?
Marisa Masterson is the author of sixty-five books. She and her husband of thirty-seven years make their home in Saginaw, Michigan. They have two grown children and a precious granddaughter, Hunny, who keeps Grandma happy and busy.
She is a retired high school English teacher and oversaw a high school writing center in partnership with the local university. In addition, she is a National Writing Project fellow and a regular contributor to the Sweet Americana Sweethearts blog.
You will find Marisa hanging out in theSweet Wild West Reads group on Facebook. She invites you to join that group and get to know some of your favorite authors.
If you like this book, please take a few minutes to leave a rating today! Marisa appreciates it and you may help a reader find their next favorite book!
Please tell us a little about yourself, where are you from? Where do you live now? Family? Pets?
I was born and raised in a small town in Ohio, but I have lived in numerous other states during my adulthood: Virginia, Washington, Oklahoma, New York, Texas, Colorado, Florida, and now North Carolina. In addition, my husband and I lived on a sailboat and sailed around the eastern Caribbean for three years after we retired.
I have two sons by my first 20-year-long marriage, and I inherited two bonus sons and two bonus daughters with my second marriage. All the children were adults when we got married, but we were both graciously accepted into each other’s family. Unfortunately, my husband passed away in 2022, before What Might Have Been had been accepted for publication.
Where did you get the idea for What Might Have Been?
Actually, the title came to me after I had finished writing the book. It is a question asked by one of the protagonists toward the end of it. I wished afterwards I had done some research first. As it turns out, there are several books currently on the market with the same title, some fiction, some non-fiction.
Why did you choose this genre (is it something you’ve written in before)? Was there anything unusual, any anecdote about this book, the characters, title, process, etc, you’d like to share?
When I was a little girl, I was enthralled by stories of my paternal great-grandfather. He grew up on a Virginia plantation, and his family owned slaves. As the story goes, when he was five years old, he saw his father tie his black Mammy to a tree and beat her for some unknown offense. He said he loved his black Mammy as much as he loved his own mother and vowed then and there that if he could ever help the slaves, he would. And so, when the Civil War broke out, he joined the Union forces while his father and brothers fought for the South.
I had always wanted to write a novel that included this bit of family history, so that pretty much defined the genre I would be writing in. As it happened, I was never interested in history per se; I was a cram-and-flush kind of student, so that was going to make it difficult. However, when my career took me to Colorado, I became intrigued with the rich history of the area. Having grown up in Ohio, I had no idea the War had extended that far west, and I had never heard of the Indian uprisings taking place in the western region of the country at the very same time. I joined the Colorado Historical Society (now called History Colorado), and the plot for my novel spilled forth from the articles I read in their publications. This said, not being a history buff to begin with meant I had to do a lot of research even after I began writing.
Do you have another occupation, other than writer? If so, what is it and do you like it?
I had another occupation prior to retiring early to pursue my lifelong dream of writing a novel and having it published. I was a teacher. I began teaching math at the secondary level, went on to get an MBA with a finance emphasis, and ended up teaching finance to both undergraduate and graduate students at a few major universities. I really enjoyed both the students and the scheduling flexibility that career offered. I actually began writing What Might Have Beenwhile I was on the faculty at the University of Colorado at Denver. The problem was that major publishing companies were hiring me to review, edit, and write finance textbooks as an independent contractor, and that was money in the bank—which paid the bills!
What is your favorite quote?
“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” ~Albert Camus
I find that inspiring on so many levels.
What is the toughest criticism given to you as an author? What has been the best compliment?
When I submitted the first several pages of my manuscript to my publisher, The Wild Rose Press, the editor to whom it was assigned replied with a number of unexpected criticisms. One of my undergraduate majors was English, and I had taken two post-graduate creative writing courses, so I wasn’t expecting any grammatical-type issues. As it happens, she taught me more in her semi-rejection letter than I had learned in all those courses.
She told me I was going to bore my readers to death with my sentence atructure: subject/verb, subject/verb, subject/verb, etc. She also sent me a list of things to avoid, such as the unnecessary use of the word “that,” among other things. She said if I wanted to make the recommended changes to my entire document, I could resubmit those first several pages for her to reevaluate. Otherwise, she suggested I might go with another publisher or choose to self-publish.
I opted to make the edits, and I could see how much improvement even the most minor changes made. I resubmitted those first several pages, and the editor was extremely impressed. (The first word of her responding email was, “Wow!”) I was given the go-ahead to submit my entire manuscript, and the rest is history—or, to be more specific, a historical romance. 😊
It’s hard to choose between two of what I consider the best compliments. The vast majority of reviewers, both on and off Amazon, have said the book is hard to put down. Several others have told me it reminds them of a Hallmark movie.
Are your characters based off real people or did they all come entirely from your imagination?
The hero’s background is based on my great-grandfather’s story, but I have no knowledge of his personality, or even his appearance. Some of the characters have a certain physical trait, such as a lazy eye, similar to an actual person I met at some point in my life. Otherwise, they are based solely on my imagination.
What do your friends and family think of your writing?
I’m really amazed at how well-received this first novel has been! By the time I had edited and reedited it and reedited it, I wasn’t sure it was any good at all. Regardless, I had it in mind to be a “one and done,” but numerous friends and family members have told me I must write a sequel. I doubt they would go so far as to say that if they truly didn’t think it was good. And reviews from people I don’t know at all have been equally positive.
Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?
While the storyline takes place over 150 years ago, many of the problems the characters face are similar to the ones people face today, as are their ingrained biases. As she proceeds on her journey, Melissa discovers that good and bad cannot be defined by race, color, or gender and that her initial perception of something or someone isn’t always accurate. I would hope a lot of my readers recognize this.
How much of the book is realistic?
The majority of it. I took great pains to ensure that the details I provided were historically accurate. I even researched the etymology of some of the words and phrases my characters used to be certain they would have been used in 1864 in the western territories. (Did you know that the word “grocer” in 1864 referred to a drinking establishment?)
How did your interest in writing originate?
I’ve been writing almost my entire life. My older sister taught me to write my name in cursive before I turned five. Over the years, I have written poetry and short stories, but my lifelong dream was always to write a novel and have it published.
Who is your favorite author and what is it that really strikes you about their work?
Elizabeth Goudge. She’s not a household name, and I think most of her books are out of print now, but when I read The Child From The Sea, her historical romance about the secret wife of Charles II, I could almost smell the salty sea air. What a gift!
Thank you for joining me today…I enjoyed the interview. Now, please tell us about your book…
Two strangers fleeing their demons. One war-torn frontier that will change them forever.
Excerpt:
A full week had passed since Nat and Melissa were rescued. After loading Nat into a wagon, Alston, Watson Calhoune, and a couple of the calvary, including a medical doctor, accompanied them back to the fort. The remaining calvary attacked the Indian village, burning their teepees in much the same way as the Indians had burnt the wagons. Melissa had heard the soldiers boasting that they had caught the savages by surprise and that most of the braves had been with the village when they had attacked that night. Mrs. Avery had been killed by one of the Indians as she ran screaming toward the rescuers. Melissa wondered about the fate of the old squaw who had taken care of her and the younger woman who had ordered her brother to let Melissa go. Were the white men any kinder in their attack than the Indians had been? Had they spared the women and children? Somehow, she doubted it, and the words of the young Indian woman echoed in her ears. Perhaps all men were savages, regardless of their color, in the throes of battle. The whites were fighting to protect their own as they attempted to make their homes in this wild country. At the same time, the Indians were fighting to protect their lands from the white invasion. And things were hardly better back east where people purported to be more civilized. There, whites fought against whites, brothers and fathers against brothers and fathers. She had heard the rumors of plantations being burned and women raped by the Union soldiers. Horrors of what befell northern women when the rebels gained ground in a battle had not escaped her ears either. While Melissa did not believe in slavery and she had not quite understood it when she had heard her father talking about how the Southern states claimed they were fighting for something called “states’ rights,” she wondered if anything was worth all the bloodshed. Everything had seemed so simple less than a year ago. The North was right; the South was wrong. The whites were righteous in driving the savages from the land they had always inhabited; the savages were, after all, a dirty, inhuman bunch—closer to beasts, really. Such were the beliefs with which she grew up. But the young Indian woman had given her back her freedom, even if out of a sense of repayment for another good deed. Now nothing seemed so black and white anymore.
After spending 25 years in academia, teaching finance and authoring finance textbooks as an independent contractor for major publishing companies, Marianne retired early to devote more time to her lifelong dream: writing a novel and having it published. What Might Have Been, her debut novel, was inspired by the rich history of the Denver, Colorado, area she discovered while living there. She currently resides in western North Carolina and enjoys hearing from her readers. Connect with her through her website: https://marianneplunkert.wixsite.com/marianneplunkert-4.
You can also find her on the following social media sites:
Please help me welcome today’s guest, M. S. Spencer…
Thank you so much for having me today, Alicia! I’d like to introduce you to the setting of my latest mystery, which happens to be my hometown!
Railroad Ties: the Marmion Grove Murders, is the only one of my novels set in my home town and in the house I grew up in. Marmion Grove is modeled after a town near Washington DC. Founded in 1891 next to the B&O railroad line, it was developed as a getaway for DC dwellers during the hot and humid summers. Filled with hundred-year-old trees, including the majestic swamp magnolias, there are no sidewalks and no through streets. Fifty-four houses, including mine, are on the National Register of Historic Places. The town is peopled by a quirky assortment of academics, scientists, and eccentrics. Writing Railroad Ties reminded me of what a great place it was to live.
Another autobiographical detail is my heroine Sophie Childress’s involvement with the Vassar Book Sale. Now closed down, for forty years it was one of the largest and most successful used book sales in the country, raking in an average of $100,000 for scholarships. The sale lasted a week, but preparations, including book pricing, had to be done year-round. Sophie follows in my footsteps to learn rare book evaluation—which draws her into the mystery.
Blurb
When Sophie Childress discovers a letter written in 1920 by the witness to a murder, she enlists Noah Pennyman—owner of the house where it took place—to investigate. Who was the victim? What did the killer do with the body—not to mention a carpetbag full of money? Together they expose a complex web of family ties and lies that has persisted through four generations in the historic village of Marmion Grove. When two more corpses are unearthed, Noah and Sophie are faced with too many victims and not enough murderers.
390 pp; 89,900 words Ebook: $5.99; Print $22.99 Theme(s): Small Town, Mystery, Humorous/Comedy, Cozy Mystery
Excerpt: Sophie and Noah Meet
She parked at the curb, where a hedge of yellow forsythia marked the property line. The front lawn led up to a porch completely engulfed in a reticulated wisteria vine as thick and complex as fine lacework. Halfway up reared an ancient tree, its knobbed and serrated trunk perhaps five feet in diameter. The pendulous branches were the size of fully grown trees and were only kept from falling by a steel chain wrapped around them. Its broad leaves were gigantic. They must be almost two feet long!
As she sat gawking, a pleasant male voice said, “It’s a swamp magnolia. At least a hundred and fifty years old.”
Startled, she knocked her knee on the steering wheel. “Ouch!”
A young man came around the car and peered in her window. “Are you all right?”
She looked up into cornflower blue eyes partially obscured by a shrubbery of sandy hair. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just… I’ve never seen such big leaves before.”
“We used to use them as dinner plates, but they’re a bitch to wash.” He leaned in. “May I help you?”
She left off gazing at him and shook herself. “Oh. Oh, yes. Is this”—she checked Connie’s directions—“Peveril Hall?”
“It is indeed.”
“Do you live here? I’m supposed to collect a load of books for the Vassar Book Sale.”
“Ah. No. I mean, no, I don’t live here. Anymore. I used to. I grew up here, but I’ve been away a long time.”
“Then you can’t help me?”
“Huh? No! I mean, yes, I can help you. This is my house.”
“But you just said…”
He pointed to his left. “Head on up the driveway there. I’ll meet you out back.” And he loped off across the grass.
Okey doke. Sophie followed a lane along the side of the house to a gravel lot fronting a two-story garage. The backyard was dotted with small buildings. She got out and scanned the area. A small octagonal hut stood near a stately sycamore. Next to it crouched a one-room shanty with a chimney. That must be the servants’ quarters. She looked up at the garage. A huge hook painted green was attached to the wall just under the gable. “I wonder what that’s for.”
Just then the young man came around the corner of the house. “Hey there. I’m Noah, by the way. Noah Pennyman. My mother was the Vassar grad. And you are?”
She took a moment to admire his mobile, angular features. He seemed always on the verge of speaking…or maybe singing. The shock of blond hair fell negligently across his brow. When he shook her hand, a very masculine aroma of citrus and spice enveloped her. She suppressed the urge to inhale. “Sophie Childress. I’m from the—”
“Vassar Book Sale. So you said.” He reached out and flicked her hair. “Nice French braid. I never could figure out how it’s done. Come on inside.”
Librarian, anthropologist, research assistant, Congressional aide, speechwriter, nonprofit director—M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents and holds degrees in Anthropology, Middle East Studies, and Library Science. She has published eighteen mystery or romantic suspense novels, and divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.
The ghosts of the Pinedale High girls’ volleyball team have been trapped on campus for decades. When Ben Danvers arrives on campus, grieving the death of his twin sister, Beth, the past and present collide. Beth, now a ghost herself, vows to help the trapped players get their justice and recruits her brother’s help. During their investigation, the twins discover that even though it’s been more than forty years since the tragedy, the danger is still very much alive.
Please help me welcome today’s guest, Patrick R. Field…
Please tell us a little about yourself, where are you from? Where do you live now? Family? Pets?
I’m a retired Neuroscience professor that has become an author of paranormal horror romantasy in his third act of life. I am originally from Annapolis, Md and currently live in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband and our pets.
Anything you’d like to tell us about your book?
The Bedfordshire Warlock is my only historical novel, and the story is inspired by the American tragedy of the Salem Witch Trials. The Bedfordshire Warlock follows my novel writing formula of having LGBTQ+ protagonists and LGBTQ+ themes built into the narrative.
My intention for this book is three-fold: 1) What if there were actual witches in colonial Massachusetts during the Salem Trials hysteria?; 2) What if one of the warlocks executed, Elias Doever, was reincarnated 300 years later as a gay man, Dorian Leeves, in the AIDS-era of the early 1990’s?; and 3) What if Dorian had to make a choice between having boundless supernatural powers or the love of his life, Toby Blessing?
This novel required a tremendous amount of historical research as I wanted to capture the era of the Salem witch trials accurately. The novel is also semi-autobiographical as I was a gay graduate student like Dorian during the AIDs-activism era of the 1990s that spurred the modern LGBTQ+ rights movement.
Are there any tricks, habits or superstitions you have when creating a story?
I often create the story for each chapter of a novel while I am walking my dogs and then type the outline into my computer as soon as I am able. My website designer refers to it as “walking meditation.”
What books have you read that you wish you had written?
Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice and Horns by Joe Hill.
Do you collect anything?
I collect dolls of all types that have “speculative” origins: Native American Kachina dolls, voodoo poppets, horror-related Barbie and Ken dolls, puppets/marionettes…
What’s your favorite childhood book?
Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak
What do you want readers to come away with after they read your book?
Another source of the queer perspective in speculative literature that includes horror, paranormal romantasy, and thriller/suspense. A subgenre that’s increasing in visibility slowly but steadily in the marketplace.
What actors would you like in the main roles if your book were made into a movie?
For The Bedfordshire Warlock, I would like Jacob Elordi to play Dorian Leeves and Connor Storrie (of recent Heated Rivalry fame) to play Toby Blessing.
What is your favorite quote?
“Those who teach, must never cease to learn,” by Dano.
Are your characters based off real people or did they all come entirely from your imagination?
My characters are physical and mental amalgams of parts of myself, traits of people in my life, qualities that I admire in celebrities of all types (actors, scientists, politicians etc.) and fantastical elements.
What do your friends and family think of your writing?
They are astonished that after teaching anatomy and neuroscience for 25 years in higher education that I’m writing paranormal romantasy horror novels from a queer perspective. Completely opposite of what I had to publish while in academia.
Thank you, Patrick…I enjoyed getting to know you!
Excerpt:
The source of light is fire, torches held by arms forming a circle around a stone well. Next to the well, a large, simply designed wooden chair with wide armrests, a wide seat, and a long plank of wood attached to the seat. The plank rests upon a raised beam of wood secured onto a wooden platform with four wooden wheels.
A man in his mid-thirties, wearing filthy breeches, is bound by thick rope on a chair. The rope burns into the naked flesh of his arms and chest as he struggles to break free. His bare feet lie flat on the muddy ground; his toes writhe on the viscous red earth. Dark hair hangs to the nape of his neck, wet and dirty, rogue strands plastered across his forehead and face. Beneath the tendrils of dark hair, there is an attractive face, albeit bruised and brandished with lacerations. Deep cuts scar his short forehead, angular cheekbones, long thin nose, thin lips, and powerful jawline. Dark, piercing eyes focus on the crowd holding the torches. His powerful, well-defined chest transitions into strong sinewy arms; the contours of muscles accentuated by his exertion to break free from the chair. Lacerations on his chest produce small rivulets of blood, coursing over the mounds of muscle and through the narrow valley between his pectoral muscles. Streams of blood flowing from the open wounds of his legs cascade over his feet and onto the ground. He is silent as he bears the pain…
“On this day of the 31st of October, in the year of our Lord 1692, the people of the village of Bedfordshire of the Massachusetts colony hereby accuse Elias Doever of consorting with the Devil. I, Sir William Putnam, constable for the village of Bedfordshire, read the following accusation.
“Let it be known that Elias Doever is accused by the gentle and Christian town folk of Bedfordshire of supernatural acts. Levitation: as witnessed by Goody Mary Parris when she saw Elias Doever raise a broom over his head in his fields without laying his hands on the broomstick and then flying through the air when sitting upon it. Enchantment: as witnessed by Sir William Putnam, when Elias Doever made a man commit acts against his Christian nature, when he seduced John Putnam to perform unspeakable physical acts with him that were against God. Clairvoyance: as witnessed by James Corey when Elias Doever predicted that Goody Elizabeth Corey would give birth to a stillborn child with a monstrous deformity of the spine.
“As has been witnessed, he will be tested by this Christian tribunal to determine if his soul remains within his body. If he has traded his soul to the Devil for the powers of the Devil, he will float to the surface when he is placed into holy water, as he will not be able to endure the grace of our Lord and Savior. If he remains below the water, then his soul is still chaste, untouched by the Devil.”
After 25 years in higher education, Patrick R. Field traded in teaching and textbooks to pursue his passion of spine-chilling fiction writing. Holding a Ph.D. in Anatomical Sciences and Neuroscience, his experience informs his writing, a unique blend of scientific knowledge with supernatural storytelling.
Patrick’s novels are inspired by his favorite authors: Anne Rice, Edgar Allen Poe, and Joe Hill. Not surprisingly, Field enjoys bending and or blending the genres of paranormal fantasy, romantasy, mystery, and horror, with a dash of humor on the side. He also prides himself on the inclusion of LGBTQ+ protagonists in each of his novels to give each of these genres an underrepresented queer perspective.
Field’s first self-published novel, The Malevolent, released in 2021 under his pen name P.F. Roquelaure for academic reasons, was re-released in 2025 by The Wild Rose Press. His latter novels, Servant (2023) and The Bedfordshire Warlock (2024) also published by The Wild Rose Press, were written throughout the COVID-19 pandemic. Both Servant and The Bedfordshire Warlock were semi-finalists in the Kindle Book Review Best of Indie in the Horror/Suspense category in 2024, 2025, respectively. Up next, Bloodstone, a M/M romantasy set in the Outer Banks of North Carolina involving pirate lore and blood magic, and a short story The Strange Case of Edgar Delaney, a tale for cat lovers and paranormal fantasy.
Field is represented by the Virginia Kidd Literary Agency.
Author Alicia Dean 