Fiona Ingram's Blog

 

 

Henry and his sister,Meredith, can hardly wait for Grandma to arrive for a visit. But what shouldthey expect? Among the children's diverse friends and their grandmothers whobake, create art, and speak Spanish, will Grandma be able to share somethingunique and fun with the kids? Henry's fears are alleviated when, not long afterarrival, they flutter like butterflies, slither like snakes, and enjoy otherchallenges of stretching their muscles and calming their minds. This is norun-of-the-mill grandma, and when it’s time for goodbye, the kids know this wasthe BEST grandma visit ever.

CelebratingGrandma Yogini & My Favorite Post Yoga Snacks

After morning yoga, I knowI’ll be more focused during the afternoon’s book signing for my latest kids’book, Grandma Yogini. But first, I head to the kitchen to prepare some snacks.I make sure to drink plenty of water. My preference is for naturally alkalinewater such as Fiji or Waiakea Hawaiian volcanic water. But as long as yourehydrate, drink what you like or works for your budget. Some people prefercoconut water, a drink that’s growing in popularity and a good choice forreplenishing electrolytes lost during exercise.

Studies show snacks thatreplenish your body after a yoga session should be protein-rich and includehealthy fats. Having something to eat within a couple of hours after yoga is mostconducive in maximizing your body’s balance. Usually, I’ll eat a lightlysweetened vanilla Greek yogurt with dried fruit mixed in. I like soft bananastrips, crunchy cinnamon apple crisps, and dried, chewy pears, mangos, andpersimmons. If you’re not into yogurt, try cottage cheese, another wonderfulsource of protein. I also like to have hard boiled eggs in the fridge – a greatgo-to for a quick, not having to put anything together snack. And proteinsmoothies are super yummy! My choice is a peanut butter blend. 

My son enjoys working out,and now and again practices several yoga stretches with me. His favorite post-work-outsnack is hummus. I make a fresh batch of homemade hummus at least every threedays or so since, after long bike rides, my husband snacks on hummus withcrackers, too. Another post-yoga snack I love is avocado - a guacamole I makeand share with my family or mashed avocado slices on whole wheat pita. Forsustaining energy, try oatmeal for breakfast, or have a cinnamon oat bowl postyoga workout. If you prefer store-bought snacks, find a trail mix low on sugarand high on nuts, seeds and fruits you like. Ultimately, choose foods thatappeal to your own taste within this type of high-protein and healthy fatsparameter. And happy snacking!

 

About the Author

 

Raven Howell is anaward-winning children’s book author. She works as a writer, journalist,columnist, poet, and publishing advisor. Raven's work is featured in magazinesincluding Story Monsters Ink, Ladybug, Highlights for Children, HumptyDumpty, and The School Magazine. Herbooks have won several awards, including Excellence in Children's Literature,Creative Child Magazine's Best Children's Book, Mom's Choice Award, and the NYCBig Book Award. She writes preschool storybooks for educational publishersworldwide. Raven enjoys library and school visits and has been practicing yogafor over four decades. 

You can find heronline at:

https://www.ravenhowell.com

https://twitter.com/atpearthkeeper

https://www.instagram.com/atpearthkeeper/

https://www.facebook.com/raven.howell.75/

https://www.facebook.com/RavenHowellAuthorandPoetPage/

https://www.pinterest.com/pickward

https://www.linkedin.com/in/raven-howell-5a813015b/

https://www.tiktok.com/@ravenhowell22

https://bsky.app/profile/ravenhowell.bsky.social

 

If I were a gamblingwoman, I’d bet my right leg that at one time or another you’ve lost yourself inan emotional or spiritual jungle, where your mental understory is tangled, and yourinner landscape, dank. It’s a dim, internal swamp shaped by illness or accident,lies or misunderstandings. By selfishness, fear, grief, or death. It’s awilderness we’ll all experience, if we live long enough. Wilderness throughwhich we must choose our paths. Characters in my contemporary novels grapplewith conflict like this in nature’s “thin places,” where the seen and the unseenworlds overlap. Like us, those characters must choose how they’ll navigatepersonal darkness. If they’re listening, nature can be a wise guide through thatwilderness of heart.

 

Three examples from mynovels for you:

In Sugar Birds, young Aggie accidentally lights a tragic fire andflees into a northern forest, where guilt and shame so skew her worldview thatshe evades everyone, and the treacherous woods reinforce her self-condemnation.But when nature’s protection and healing at last reach her psyche, love andforgiveness bring her home. In this scene, Aggie realizes that creatures she’dconsidered vile may actually have saved her.

The itching subsided. Weak with shockand hunger, she crumpled onto the forest floor and inspected her injury in thegrowing light. A few white wigglers still squirmed inside the cut. From fly eggs, she remembered.Grimacing, she extracted the creatures one-by-one and flicked them to theground.

Maggotseat dead things.

Maybe death had been closer than shethought . . .

She forced herself to study the wound.The angry swelling along the sides of the cut had shrunk and paled. Red streaksshooting out from the gash had retreated, and a clear serum now wept from thewound, instead of that nasty green pus.

Waita minute . . .

The maggots had eaten away herinfection. Without them . . . she shuddered, as the ground she counted onshifted, and her thinking took a turn.  

In Leaning on Air, ornithologistCelia—bereft over the loss of her premature child—leaves her autistichusband Burnaby and holes up near a remote, wild prairie. As the prairie and ared-tailed hawk recover from wildfire, Celia realizes that she and her marriagecan heal, too. Here she explains the insight to Burnaby.

She snapped her fingers. “Quick asthat, the fire was about more than the land. It was an embodiment of all thedestruction in my whole life—a flashback reel of the trauma with Mother, thelosses of people I loved, the hopes that never materialized. A grand finale ofcarbon fibers, up in fumes. Though I was in no physical danger, I felt like mydays were over, right then and there, and I was as close to giving up on livingas I ever have been.”

She continued before he could shape areply . . .

“That little redtail started hoppingdown the creekbank in my direction, off-balance from a tail of kebab sticks inher pincushion rump. Her entire world, and her ability to navigate it, had justbeen destroyed, but she was still trying to fly with everything in her. Shedidn’t seem frightened at all. Just . . . determined.”

Celia’s hands went to her head, herfingers a skullcap.  “Right then I felt asurge in me of something from beyond myself—nothing I had manufactured ortalked myself into. I was confused for a minute. I couldn’t understand why Ifelt happy while this ruined, stub-tailed little buzzard was stumbling aroundin a charcoal dust bath. Then I realized it wasn’t happiness I was feeling. Itwas hope . . .”

Whatthe River Keeps tells parallel stories about thedemolition of generational strongholds. Reclusive biologist Hildy Nybo,mentally imprisoned and confused by a wilderness of lies, takes a job near herchildhood home, where she joins a team of scientists working the Elwha River astwo century-old dams fall. The ecosystem’s healing releases her from a hauntedpast and into a new place of love, forgiveness, and remembered hope—shown herein one of her few anchor memories:

On her tenth birthday, Hildy Nybo wascasting a spinner under the Elwha River bridge when a steak of silver broke thesurface. She whistled softly and pointed as the fish flicked its tail anddisappeared into the pool’s shaded depths.

Upstream, her father glanced, thenthreaded a night crawler onto a hook’s shank. “I saw him.” He raised his brow,aimed the hook toward the river like a dare.

The fingertips working Hildy’s reelstalled, and she eyed the water, rapt. “They hush me, Daddy. Every fish I see.”

“I noticed,” he said. “Why, you think?”

She gazed into the water, considering.“It’s like . . . like if I’m talking, I’ll miss their music. It’s like they’reall little banjos, and somebody’s strumming happiness on ‘em.”

She didn’t notice her dad approachuntil he palmed her blonde head. Then he lifted his chin toward the forestedfoothills rimming their family’s fishing resort, where the river enteredsapphire Lake Aldwell. “Could be you’re hearing his riffs.”

“Whoseriffs?”

“Your Banjo-Strummer. The Fish-Maker.Same, same.” Dad shrugged, then thrust the tip of his rod toward his work-shoplike a band conductor’s baton. “The music’s in heartwood and burls for me, butmaybe you’ll hear him best through fish.”

Hildy bobbed her line to her dad’swords, sending concentric circles from the thin filament into the current.Would she? She’d love nothing more.

In all three books,nature offers a path through wilderness— to love and forgiveness, restorationand healing. To hope. It can do the same forus.

 

Reclusive biologist HildyNybo returns to her childhood home on Washington’s Elwha River, where sheuntangles her mysterious past. Hildy Nybo is a successful biologist, her studyof the Pacific Northwest’s wild fish both a passion and a career. But behindher professional brilliance, Hildy’s reclusive private life reflects achildhood fraught with uncertainty. Haunted by the confusion of her earlyyears, she now records her life in detailed diaries and clings tomemory-prompting keepsakes. Then her mother’s health fails, and Hildyaccepts a job near her childhood home, joining a team of scientists who willhelp restore her beloved Elwha River after two century-old damsfall. There Hildy settles into a cabin on her family’s rusticresort—a place she both loves and dreads, for reasons she can’t fullyexplain. 

When a local artistrents an adjacent cabin for her pottery studio, Hildy resists the intrusion—untilintriguing Luke Rimmer arrives to help with the cabin’s renovation. Now a fewyears beyond a tragedy that brought him to his knees, Luke recognizes a kindredsoul in Hildy. As he earns her trust, they uncover her mysterious history, and Hildydares to wonder if she can banish her shadows—and follow her river’s course to freedom.

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/What-River-Keeps-Cheryl-Bostrom/dp/1496481585/ref

About theAuthor

A keen student of thenatural world and the workings of the human heart, Pacific Northwest author CherylGrey Bostrom captures the mystery and wonder of both in her lyrical, rivetingfiction. Her novels Sugar Birds (Christy finalist, Amazon bestseller, and Bookof the Year) and Leaning on Air have won more than two dozen industry honors,among which are CT’s Fiction Award of Merit and American Fiction, Reader’sFavorite, Carol, Nautilus, Best Book, Foreword Indies, and International BookAwards. An avid birder and nature photographer, Cheryl lives in ruralWashington State with her husband and three irrepressible Gordon setters.

You can follow the authorat:

Website: https://CherylBostrom.com

Birds in the Hand (blog): https://cherylgreybostrom.substack.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/cgbostrom/and https://www.facebook.com/cherylgreybostrom/

IG: @cherylgreybostrom  https://www.instagram.com/cherylgreybostrom/

The Thursday Murder Club is based on abook by Richard Osman. Four retirees at the rather sumptuous Cooper’s Chase retirementhome entertain themselves by technically solving cold case murders, as the eponymousThursday Murder Club, until a real murder happens in their village. The murder ofthe property owner threatens their home as the property reverts to aco-developer. This nasty piece of work is intent on pulling down the wonderfulold building and developing luxury apartments. Until he ends up dead too and itis discovered there is a third owner… The plot thickens. The police, while not exactlyinept, find themselves obliged to accept the help of these enterprising OAPs,since they seem to know more than the police do. There are shoals of redherrings, loads of cosy murder tropes, and a wonderful script with top acting. Itis a must-watch.

Fittingly, the movie arrived on my entertainmentchannel on Thursday, and I was eager to watch. Let’s talk about the setting. Theretirement home boggles the mind. The only retirement homes I have ever seenare bland, okayish, not very deluxe outfits, but I am sure more luxurious onesdo exist. The interior of Cooper’s Chase is positively palatial. It is like agiant Highclere on Laura Ashley steroids. Very English, lots of riotouslypatterned wallpaper, lots of ornaments, fireplaces, bookshelves, antiques, theworks. The building itself is Englefield House in Berkshire, with some rooms ‘dressed’for the filming, although the place is so gorgeous I have no idea what theywould need to do. The adorable village with charming old buildings was filmedin the real-life village of Aldbury.

With top actors one can hardly gowrong and I am sure that this was a doddle for director Chris Columbus. HelenMirren is Elizabeth, a sharp, driven, intelligent woman who one suspects workedfor MI6. She did. Ron, who was a union leader, is played by Pierce Brosnan in abluff, hearty manner. Ron is very sad that his son has ended up on TV entertainmentlike Dancing on Ice after an injury ended his stellar sporting career. I feltthis casting was the only one that jarred. Brosnan is a good actor who is gamefor any part, but it did not work for me. Sir Ben Kingsley offers a lovely,detailed portrait of retired psychiatrist Ibrahim Arif. I just loved watchinghis expressions and gestures. He is a fine actor. Celia Imrie plays Joyce Meadowcroft,a retired nurse who is invited to join the club because she was a nurse andwould know about blood and wounds. I’ve seen this actress play saucier,naughtier roles, so I was surprised she went for this simple part of a not veryspecial person who is a dab hand at baking the most delicious cakes. However,watch for the scene where the sketching group are portraying a semi-nude male modelof glorious proportions. In the film, the model is draped. In Joyce’s sketch,he is not….

The police. Not quite the KeystoneCops but Daniel Mays always bring an aura of hilarious and chaotic disarray tohis policeman characters. Please watch The Magpie Murders…. In this movie, Maysis DCI Chris Hudson, rumpled, often confused, loves cake, and defers to hisjunior, the very competent PC Donna de Freitas ably played by Naomi Ackie. The remainingcharacters are well cast. The second property owner is played with maniacalnastiness and intensity by David Tennant. He is so awful (in a good way) that Iwas relieved to see him drop dead. Literally. A special mention must go toJonathan Pryce as Stephen Best, Elizabeth’s husband, who is teetering on theverge of dementia with good days and bad days. What a beautiful, finely tunedperformance. This proves the adage that there are no small parts…

I was captivated and transported intothe fictional world of Fairhaven. Maybe it’s because the actors are such professionalsthat they made it seem easy. There are some hilarious scenes. Old people can bevery funny. Old people are not the walking dead. They have life and vigour andlikes and needs, just as they did when younger. It is a real eye-opener onsenior citizens. A big plus for me is the total lack of wokery. I am so fed upwith the UK production houses forcing an artificially conceived idea of demographicsdown an audience’s throat. Maybe the author got his way? The cast was honestly representativeof British society. No men in dresses too, always a relief. No pink hair, nonose rings, and no one spouting on about feeling ‘fearful and unsafe’ etc. Ican only imagine what Elizabeth would say to that. I’ve read several reviewsthat sneered at various aspects of this production, and they get it wrong. Thismovie is not pretending to be anything more than a cosy murder mystery withwonderful, relatable, realistic characters that anyone would just love. I will certainlybe watching it again. And maybe even again…. Turn off your phone, make a cuppa,open a packet of biscuits and settle in for some serious sleuthing.

 

 

Being the firstfemale Navy SEAL is no easy job, but someone's got to dismantle the patriarchy.Rachel Ryker, call sign ‘Skylark,’ can outrun and outgun just about anybody,and with her second in command, Christopher Williams, by her side, she’spractically unstoppable. Christopher would follow Rachel to hell and back… ormaybe just to the Middle East. When a top-secret malware code is stolen fromthe CIA, Rachel and Christopher lead their SEAL team through the Middle East inan attempt to recover it. They both have their own reasons for fighting, but asthe team gets closer to finding the stolen malware, Rachel discovers that theman they're looking for may be closer to her than she thinks. Will Rachel’sobsession with completing their mission override her common sense and cause herto lose sight of what is really important- keeping women and children safe fromthe oppressive patriarchy they are all living in? With secrets, pride, and astrict no-fraternization policy keeping them apart, falling in love would meansacrificing everything Rachel and Christopher have worked for. But when Rachelgets injured in combat, everything changes. Now Rachel will have to choose:does her devotion to the Navy outweigh her love for Christopher? Purchase acopy of Skylark on Amazon, Barnes & Noble,or Bookshop.org. You can also addthis to your GoodReads reading list.

Is a Funding Campaign for Your Novel the Right Choice?

 

Whensomeone first suggested crowdfunding as a way to finance my novel, Skylark, Ithought “Oh, this looks easy!” It’s . . . not. Crowdfunding can be a lucrativeway to bring in cash, but it’s not for the faint of heart. Most authors who aresuccessful at crowdfunding have an established audience. If you don’t, then youneed to have very supportive friends and family. This isn’t the sort of thingwhere you simply post your project on a crowdfunding platform and passivelywait. Selecting which platform you want to use is a project in and of itself.Then you need to create your page. I’m not the most technically skilled personso arguing with Canva and Adobe trying to get my images to be the correct sizewas a chore. I finally had someone help me.

Evenbefore your project is posted, you need to market! Social media, emailnewsletter, however you launch and market your book, you need to do that foryour crowdfunding campaign, too. The kicker is everyone knows what a book is.Not everyone knows what crowdfunding is. So, you need to educate your audienceabout the process then continuously remind them to pledge. At one point towardsthe end of my campaign, I was on the phone with friends and family who had saidthey would pledge walking them through what buttons to click.

You needto set an achievable goal because most platforms don’t give you any moneyunless you reach your initial goal. This is a tricky balance though, because ifyou can’t actually fund your project, but people have pledged, you’ll have torefund their money. I was fortunate enough to have saved money so that I couldfund the printing and shipping of my books by myself. So, I used crowdfundingmore as a way to do pre-sales and get some of the money up front. I set my goalat $500 and managed to raise just over $1500 which I put towards printing 1000special edition copies of my debut novel, Skylark.

Mymain tips to be successful:

1.      Have an established audience or a solidgroup of people who you know for a fact will pledge.

2.     Spread the word far and wide and remindpeople constantly about what you are doing. This project may be the mostimportant thing to you, but it’s not the most important thing to anyone else,unfortunately.

3.     Give yourself enough time. Don’t rushbuilding your project page and give your campaign enough time that you won’t bestressed trying to get everyone you know to pledge.

4.     Really work out your math in advance.What is a reasonable, attainable goal? How much do you actually need to fundyour project? (Don’t forget about shipping costs)! And consider how you’ll fundthe project if you don’t bring in enough to fund the entire thing.

5.     Have fun!

 

About the Author

Megan Michelle writesdark romance for the fearless women who are ready to reclaim their power andconfront the shadows of their past. Her stories blend the raw emotions ofmilitary life, the strength of feminism, and the passion of forbidden love, allwhile guiding readers on a journey of self-discovery and healing. Through darkromance, she explores the complexity of love, power, and identity. Her storiesinvite you to dive deep into the hearts of women who don’t just survive—theythrive, reclaiming their power and rewriting their stories on their own terms.

  

A Pulse-Pounding Thriller Filled with Menace, Betrayal, and a Race Against Time…

 

A terrifying gift. A government cover-up. And a past that won’t stay buried. Elouise thought she had left the past behind. After a tragic accident, she woke with chilling ability to see glimpses of people’s pasts and futures. She’s spent years trying to live a normal life. But when a powerful senator pulls her into a high-stakes game of deception and control, she realizes her gift is no longer a secret—it’s a weapon. And he intends to use it.

She must make an impossible choice: play his deadly game or risk everything to expose the truth. Danger closes in. Now, Elouise is running for her life, hunted by those who will do anything to silence her. Who can she trust? The boyfriend who swore to protect her? Or the man who wants to own her gift—at any cost?

A Glimpse Too Far is a pulse-pounding thriller filled with menace, betrayal, and a race against time. Will the truth be uncovered before it’s too late? To order your copy, visit Amazon and BookBaby.

Book Excerpt

The warmth of the car’s heater wrapped around Elouise as she gazed out the window, watching the snow clouds gather like thick cotton above. Her blond curls bounced with excitement as she tugged at her velvet dress, ensuring it was smooth and perfect for the performance. This was her moment—the Christmas musical, her solo.

Beside her, Crystal, her mom, adjusted her scarf and smiled, noticing the twinkle in Elouise’s bright blue eyes. “Are you ready, Sweetheart?”

“More than ready!” Elouise grinned, her smile wide and full of joy. The eight-year-old’s energy was contagious, even pulling a small chuckle from her dad, Edward, as he carefully parked the car in front of the school.

“Let’s get inside before we freeze,” Edward said, huddling close to the family as they stepped into the sharp wind that whipped around them. They hurried toward the gymnasium, hunching their shoulders against the cold. Christmas carols could already be heard drifting through the entrance doors, filled with the warmth of families gathering, waiting for the performance to begin.

Inside, the air was alive with holiday spirit. Elouise’s heart raced as the lights dimmed and the music began to play. She stood backstage, her hands clasped, waiting for her cue. When it came, she stepped into the spotlight, her curls bobbing with every movement.

Her voice rang out clear and strong, each note perfect. The audience was mesmerized. Elouise had that rare ability to bring a room to a standstill with the purity of her sound. She sang her solo flawlessly. When she finished, the applause was thunderous. Elouise beamed, her eyes shining as she took her bow.

Afterward, as they left the gym, fat snowflakes swirled down from the sky, transforming their world into a winter wonderland. Edward gently guided Crystal and Elouise to the car, his arms around them as they squeezed together. The drive home was tense. The roads were slick with fresh snow, and the wipers worked overtime to clear the windshield. Edward kept a firm grip on the wheel, navigating cautiously around the bends. Elouise sat in the back, still humming the songs from the musical, her voice soft as the snow that continued to fall heavily around them.

Suddenly, headlights pierced the snowy darkness. From around the bend, an oncoming car swerved out of control. Everything happened in a blur: metal scraping, tires screeching, and the world flipping upside down. The car rolled once or twice before coming to a crushing halt.

Sirens filled the air as firemen and paramedics swarmed the scene, pulling them from the wreckage. Elouise lay motionless, her eyes closed, her curls tangled and limp. The paramedics worked frantically as they loaded her into the ambulance. On the way to the hospital, her heart stopped.

– Excerpted from A Glimpse Too Far by Karen Charles, BookBaby, 2025. Reprinted with permission. 

A Glimpse Too Far: The Backstory

I spent most of 2020working social media for two state senate campaigns. Politics is always fraught,but with COVID looming large, casting a shadow over everything we did, it wasan especially hard year. Tensions and tempers were high, and being on socialmedia, I had a front row seat to hatred-inspired trollish comments and messagesthat are the hallmark of online political discourse. Fueled by algorithms thatsegment us into echo chambers, we don’t talk to each other. We just try toscore points.

At theend of that year, weary of social distancing and deeply saddened by all thehatred, I sat down to write a novel. I’ve written novels before, of course, butthis time I wanted to make myself feel better. After staring at a blank cursorfor a few minutes, I typed out three words: Write something happy. I gave Joyher name before I gave her a plot. 

It’s hardto write a book that is tonally different from how you’re feeling. I recognizedthat early on, and I shifted my goal slightly to the idea of writing somethinghopeful. The key hope I wanted to develop? The idea that two verydifferent beings can work together for a common purpose. That even when theydisagree with one another, they listen and gift the other a simple benefit ofthe doubt: good intentions. 

The ideathat they would share the same body popped into my head almost immediately, andnot quite out of nowhere. I’ve long been fascinated by stories of body sharing,uncommon though they may be. In fact, the biggest challenge I had early on isthe simple truth that most of these stories involve aliens, and I wanted towrite fantasy (although the line between these genres is fuzzy, as I willshortly demonstrate). I spun through notions of ghosts and spirits and quicklydismissed them as being tonally off. I wanted to write something more hopefulthan dark, so this isn’t a ghost story, even if Joy briefly thinks it is inChapter 1 (as she tries to figure out what’s happening to her). 

I can’tremember the moment when writing about the Fae occurred to me. It wasn’t anobvious choice because Fae don’t normally possess people, but I had run intointerpretations of Fae as aliens before, an interpretation that brought mefull-circle back to my initial inclination. I did mention that the line betweenfantasy and science fiction is fuzzy, right? I even make this observationexplicit in a brief getting-to-know-you exchange in Chapter 17:

“So …you’re an alien?” Joy asked. “That’s what you got out of my story?”

“I’mcurious about your powers and how they work. I thought it was magic, but ifyou’re an alien, then maybe not?”

“What’sthe difference?” 

Once thenotion of Fae as aliens clicked into place, the world sort of exploded in mymind. They’re not corporeal, they’re beings of energy, of light and sound, andtheir magic works through sound, through the Songs of the Fae. They can possesspeople … and animals and plants (although plant possession doesn’t come up inthe book) … and some of them do this regularly. Some of them live in the realworld, human lifetime after human lifetime, and some of them absolutely refuseto do so. This is the big rift between them. And where would incorporeal Faehang out? Probably not somewhere where humans tend to live, so I put them onthe frozen continent of Antarctica. An insight that, in a flash, had mereconnecting my interpretation with the traditional notion of the Winter andSummer Courts.

This wasa fun story to write. At its heart are two damaged souls, one powerful butunable to trust, one trusting and in need of claiming power. Together, theywork magic. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyedwriting it!

About the Author

Karen Charles is the author of Freeman Earns a Bike, a children’s book, and two thrillers based on true stories. Fateful Connections takes place in the aftermath of 9/11, and Blazing Upheaval takes place during the Rodney King riots in Los Angeles and the Northridge earthquake. She has two businesses: a global company that trains international teachers to teach American English, and an Airbnb on a beautiful bay in Washington State, where she resides with her husband. Her latest book is the psychological thriller, A Glimpse Too Far.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ www.weaveofsuspense.com  

X ➜  http://www.x.com/karenra24229683 

Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/karen.rabe.7/ 

Sponsored By:

 

This is not just the story of a wounded warrior finally coming home to search for the love, and the world he abandoned twenty years before. It is also the story of a man who is seeking forgiveness and a way to ease the pain caused by every bad decision he’d ever made…

 

When they met in the fourth grade, it was love at first sight for Mitchell Brody and Jessica Ramirez. He was the freckle-faced kid who stood up for her honor when he silenced the class bully who’d been teasing her because of her accent. She was the new kid whose family moved to San Juan Island, Washington, from San Juan, Puerto Rico, and whom Mitch had thought was the most beautiful girl in the world.

She was his salvation from a strict upbringing. He was her knight in shining armor who had always looked out for her. Through the many years of porch-swinging, cotton-candied summer nights, autumn harvest festivals, and hand-in-hand walks planning for the ideal life together, they were inseparable…until 9/11, when the real world interrupted their Rockwell-esque small town life, and Mitch had joined the Marine Corps.

This is not just the story of a wounded warrior finally coming home to search for the love, and the world he abandoned twenty years before. It is also the story of a man who is seeking forgiveness and a way to ease the pain caused by every bad decision he’d ever made. It’s the story of a woman who, with strength and determination, rose up from the ashes of a shattered dream; but who never gave up hope that her one true love would return to her. As she once told an old friend: “Even before we met all those years ago, we were destined to be together in this life, and we will be together again, because even today we’re connected in a way that’s very special, and he needs to know about it before one of us leaves this earth.”

Like Driftwood on the Salish Sea is available at Amazon.

Book Excerpt

Jess gently and methodically caressed the fly rod and sent her hand-tied lure through the air with confidence and grace. Back and forth it sailed with effortless rhythm, as if it were a weightless feather being carried on a breeze. It was as if she had been a world-renowned conductor leading a philharmonic as the gentle sounds of woodwinds and strings flowed through her ear buds, no different than the crystal-clear water of the river as it flowed over a path that for time immemorial had been orchestrated by all that had come before it. Over the years she had mastered the art, not so much for the sport of teasing a steelhead or a rainbow trout onto the end of her line, but rather from the repetition of returning to the same little spot on the Clearwater, her favorite refuge. This was the very place where Mitch had introduced her to the melodic seduction of his most private collection of music. It was a playlist he had long guarded, a playlist that betrayed the commanding presence of his large muscular frame, his athletic prowess, and the simple way he had always looked at life.
Having first brought Jess to this place a month after the September 11th attacks, Mitch had arranged the weekend getaway after he had been presented with a no- win dare from his father to be as patriotic as Alex. When she’d learned of his enlistment, it had caught her off- guard. When he’d said basic training was twenty-four hundred miles away at Parris Island, she’d been speechless. But when he’d told her he was leaving in less than ten days, she’d struggled to catch her breath. As far as she had been concerned, South Carolina might as well have been another planet somewhere far beyond the stars that blanketed the black velvet nights of this pristine wilderness.
She had been overcome with emotion during that trip to the Clearwater River in Idaho. The crispness of the morning mountain air, mixed with the sounds of the crackling campfire and the rushing water just a few feet from their tent, had been a confluence of ingredients no master chef could have ever conceived. Jess had enjoyed every second of the experience until the sting of the news he was leaving was more numbing than the water itself. And while they both lost interest in the river’s offerings, the hours spent on the drive home were filled with tears, promises of fidelity, never-ending love, and a long life together tending to the small farm of their dreams. It was a dream they had carefully crafted during long secluded walks when even the innocent world of San Juan Island disappeared, and time seemed as if it would stop long enough for all the pieces to float seamlessly into place. Again, she drew back and set the custom-tied fly to flight and followed its arc before it kissed the water’s surface. In her mind, the only thing that ever landed more softly or with equal intent was the brush of Mitch’s lips across the back of her neck on those long summer evenings when counting fireflies had sparked dreams of the perfect life together.
Over the years, the river had become the special place where Jess could escape the pressures of the successful life she had carefully carved. Just being there enabled her to decompress, and to relive the weekend where she had surrendered to her long-suppressed desires, seducing the love of her life while simultaneously absolving him of any responsibility for having complied, albeit with little resistance. During their high school years there had been plenty of times he had taken her just short of that point of no return. And while his conscience would inevitably get the better of him, she had always hoped he would have forgotten that he was a gentleman. What she hadn’t realized at the time, was that their dreams and those promises would never come to fruition. What she could never let go of, however, was her need to make the yearly return to this place to resurrect that moment, as if continuing to do so would somehow or in some way ease her pain by keeping the possibility of that unfulfilled fantasy alive.
As she cast her line once more, she looked past the riverbank toward her tent, hoping as always that she could be transported back to the time when Mitch emerges from the warmth of their sleeping bag to watch how prolific she had become at his favorite recreational pastime. And just as she fell a little deeper into the warmth of his smile and his embrace, just as she placed her head against the memory of his chest and felt his heart beating strong and fast, she was abruptly pulled back to reality when her rod jerked with equal intensity, nearly being pulled from her hands just as the line snapped. 

– Excerpted from Driftwood on the Salish Sea by Richard Levine, KDP, 2025. Reprinted with permission. 

About the Author 

Richard I Levine is a native New Yorker raised in the shadows of Yankee Stadium. After dabbling in several occupations and a one-year coast-to-coast wanderlust trip, This one-time auxiliary police officer, volunteer fireman, bartender, and store manager returned to school to become a chiropractor. A twenty-five-year cancer survivor, he’s a strong advocate for the natural healing arts. In 2006 he wrote, produced, and was on-air personality of The Dr. Rich Levine Show on Seattle’s KKNW 1150AM and after a twenty-five-year chiropractic practice in Bellevue, Washington, he closed up shop at the end of 2016 and moved to Oahu to pursue a dream of acting and being on Hawaii 5-O. While briefly working as a ghostwriter/community liaison for a Honolulu City Councilmember, a Hawaii State Senator, and volunteering as an advisory board member of USVETS Barbers Point, he appeared as a background actor in over twenty-seven 5-Os, Magnum P.I.s, NCIS-Hawaii, and several Hallmark movies. In 2020, he had a co-star role in the third season episode of Magnum PI called “Easy Money.” While he no longer lives in Hawaii, he says he will always cherish and be grateful for those seven years and all the wonderful people he’s met. His 5th novel, To Catch the Setting Sun, was inspired by his time in Hawaii. Like Driftwood on the Salish Sea is Levine’s first foray into the romance genre.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ http://www.docrichlevine.com  

X ➜ https://www.twitter.com/Your_In8_Power 

Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/RichardLevineAuthor/ 

Instagram ➜ https://www.instagram.com/rilevinedc

Cold Case Detective Katie Scott promises a mother's dying wish to find her missing daughter…

 

She hears footsteps approaching, thenthe clunk of a heavy lock. Her body is numb in the cold but she stands,determined to fight. A blinding light overpowers her, and the world goes black… When Detective Katie Scott finds awoman dying in the car garage, blood pooling around her, she reaches her just in time to hear her utter the words: find my daughter. Katie doesn’t waste a second gathering her team and pulling the case file for the missing child, Anna Braxton, a teen with sparkling blue-eyes and an even brighter future. Staring at the blank investigation board, Katie won’t rest until she fulfillsAnna’s mother’s dying wish.

Searching the Braxton’s impeccablefamily home, Katie finds Anna’s journal, filled with teenage secrets.Buried among the pages, she thinks she finds a lead—a strange manreached out to Anna, just days before she went missing… But the case takes a terrifying turnwhen Anna’s best friend also vanishes. Hours later, a girl’s body isfound in the embers of a house fire, her yellow satin dressdevastatingly beautiful amongst the ashes. Is it Anna, her best friend,or another girl? One thing is certain: a monster hasthe close-knit community of Pine Valley in a chokehold, and Katie mustget one step ahead of the killer before any more precious young livesare taken. But at what cost? Find My Daughter is available at Amazon.

Book Excerpt

PROLOGUE

Darkness shrouded the old cellar, causing a continuous chill to trickle down her spine. The dirt floor felt cold against her bare feet and her hands were dry as she rubbed them together. She could smell the musty remnants of what had been stored there in the past and the earthiness of being underground. The four walls seemed to be old stone or brick and they crumbled beneath her fingernails as she tried to claw her way out—but to no avail. Her exhaustion ultimately took over and she sat still, alone with her overwhelming fears. She had been left isolated and abandoned—in the pitch-black.

She hadn’t heard the man in hours, or maybe it was days—she wasn’t sure. In her bones, she knew this time he wasn’t coming back. The plastic-bottled water and peanut butter sandwiches were almost gone; her mouth was constantly dry. Her memory seemed to play tricks on her. How long had it been since she’d gone to the casting call for young aspiring models? She hadn’t told anyone where she was going, not her mom or even her best friend. She’d wanted to wait until she got the job to tell them the great news. It had been exciting; she dreamed of being a model and actress.

Her hands touched the dress she had been given to model—a yellow silk sheath wrap that made her feel beautiful, grown-up, as if she was finally someone who mattered.

She didn’t know how many times she had crawled up the wooden stairs to the small opening into the cellar, checking to see if he had left it open. But it was always the same—bolted shut. She had memorized each stair, which ones were sturdy, which were creaky and unstable. There were nine steps in total.

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t remember how she got there or what the house looked like. Even if she had a cell phone, she wouldn’t have been able to describe where she was—or even what town she was in. She felt a million miles away from home.

But she wasn’t giving up. Though weakened from lack of proper food, she dropped to her knees once again and crawled slowly toward the stairs. Her knees were bruised and scraped from the dozens of times she had attempted to escape—hoping that each time would be successful and she would be free.

As she paused at the first stair, feeling the familiar outlines in the darkness, she used her hands to steady her ascent; each time a stair ahead. Her knee pressed against the first stair, then the second, and the third. The creaks and groans were a disturbing symphony that reminded her of her situation: she was a prisoner in an empty basement and no one was coming back for her.

She stopped halfway to the top; her breathing quickening; feeling lightheaded. Her stomach grumbled. Her hope dwindled. Each time she’d gathered the strength to go up the stairs, it had turned out to be disheartening. She was never going to be free again. How stupid and selfish she had been, thinking she would become a model. She wondered if any of the other girls ended up like this. Or was she the only one whose fate was sealed?

Looking up toward the opening, she thought she heard footsteps. Yes, she had heard something. They were faint, but steady. He was coming. She froze. Her knees and hands were almost numb—her fingers hurt. Should she go back down or keep going?

What did she have to lose?

The footsteps were getting closer. They sounded like a pair of work boots hitting old hardwood floors. There was a strange echo to the movement, which was now above her. She could hear the creaks of the uneven planks; a mismatched harmony.

The distinct jingle of keys, then the rattle of a heavy lock.

She was going to stand her ground and push past the man to make her escape. It was all she had.

She could barely breathe.

The heavy creak of hinges.

Her body numb. She tried to stand up, ready to fight.

The doorway opened a crack at first, then wider, and finally pushed all the way open.

The blinding light overpowered her. Trying to escape it, she fell backward, flailing her arms in an attempt to catch her balance. She couldn’t focus on anything. She felt every step hit her back and ribs as she tumbled down to the dirt basement. Her head struck the floor. She lost her breath and closed her eyes.

– Excerpted from Find My Daughter by Jennifer Chase, Bookouture, 2025. Reprinted with permission. 

About the Author 

Jennifer Chase is a multiaward-winning and USA Today Best Selling crime fiction author, as wellas a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor degree inpolice forensics and a master’s degree in criminology & criminaljustice. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity aboutthe criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violentpsychopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in everystory she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serialcrime and criminal profiling.  

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ https://authorjenniferchase.com/  

X ➜ https://x.com/jchasenovelist  

Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenniferChase  

Instagram ➜ https://www.instagram.com/jenchaseauthor/  

Goodreads ➜ www.goodreads.com/author/show/2780337.Jennifer_Chase

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Readers new to the Windflower mysteries and those returning will experience the joys of a close-knit community that thrives on the simpler things in life…

 

As Winston Windflower, his policecolleagues and their families gather in Marystown, Newfoundland, tocelebrate those being promoted up the RCMP ranks, a sophisticated heistby international mobsters and local biker gangs unfolds in multiplecities and towns throughout the province, robbing banks and businessesof hundreds of thousands of dollars. The Mounties soon realize more than money is being lost.

In this, the sixteenth novel in theSgt. Windflower Mystery series, author Mike Martin continues to craftintrigue in the cultural and geographical setting unique to Newfoundland and Labrador. Readers new to the Windflower mysteries and thosereturning will experience the joys of a close-knit community thatthrives on the simpler things in life: por’ cakes, a lighthouse inserious need of a facelift, TV movie nights and the warmth ofget-togethers with family and friends. Friends are Forever is available at Amazon.

Book Excerpt

Sergeant Winston Windflower couldn’t be happier for his friend and colleague Eddie Tizzard. On Windflower’s recommendation and with the approval of the big boss, Superintendent Ron Quigley, Tizzard was being promoted to sergeant in the Mounties, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. But in terms of being proud, Windflower might have to stand in line because in the crowd that was gathered at RCMP Headquarters in Marystown, Newfoundland, were Tizzard’s partner, Carrie Evanchuk, and his dad, Richard Tizzard. Both were beaming from ear to ear as they juggled Eddie and Carrie’s two children in their arms.

Carrie had the easier task as little Sophie had been fed and was now snoozing in milk heaven. Hughie, on the other hand, would try and make a break for it every now and then, so Richard had to hang on tightly. He finally gave in and handed the little boy over to his Aunt Brenda, who was sitting farther back in the audience with the rest of Tizzard’s extended family.

Eddie looked down over the assembled RCMP officers and his family and smiled when he saw Hughie trying to get up closer towards him. He could also hear Hughie yelling “Daddy, Daddy” whenever the little boy got pulled back into the crowd. He smiled again as his superintendent called him to the podium and asked him to take off his corporal’s uniform jacket. Ron Quigley then handed him his new jacket with three chevrons pointing down and a crown on top on the right sleeve of his dress uniform, the RCMP’s famous red serge.

There were no speeches. That wasn’t the RCMP’s style. So, the two men shook hands, and Tizzard walked back to his place to thunderous applause from his fellow officers and family. Next on the agenda was the promotion of Windflower’s assistant in Grand Bank, Constable Samira Gupta, to corporal. This time Windflower did the honours, and Gupta exchanged her old uniform for one with two chevrons pointing down that indicated her new rank. She didn’t have any family in the crowd but was very popular with the troops, given the nice round of applause that she also received.

Some of those were special cheers from Windflower’s wife, Sheila Hillier, and his daughters, Stella and Amelia Louise, who had come over from Grand Bank for the occasion. All three loved Sam Gupta. They loved Eddie Tizzard, too. But they all had also made a strong connection with Windflower’s new sidekick and now brand new corporal.

There was a small reception afterwards with coffee and a large cake with the RCMP insignia on it. Both girls had a large piece of cake while Windflower and Sheila visited with Richard Tizzard and Carrie. It was a great celebration day for the Force, as the members called it, and there was plenty of good cheer all around.

But while the Mounties and their families were celebrating, something far more sinister was happening a short distance from the hotel where they were eating their cake.

A group of men had ambushed an armoured truck, and two of them had managed to somehow get inside and now had both armed guards hostage. They ordered the guards to undress, took them to another vehicle, a large panel van, and shoved them inside. As someone else drove them off, the first two men stripped and put on the security guards’ uniforms.

As the reception continued at the hotel, the fake security guards resumed the route that the real guards had been on and made stops at a number of local businesses before making one last visit to the bank in the shopping mall. They looked like the real deal as they walked into the branch. But instead of making their usual stop at one of the tellers, they asked to speak to the manager. A few minutes later the manager was left tied and muffled in the safe, and the false security officers walked out through the bank’s main doors with bags of loot from their efforts.

By the time the alarms were sounded and the bank manager released from the safe, the robbers were long gone. Gone from the bank and gone from Marystown. The real security guards were found out on the highway where they had walked to after being dumped in a deserted area. The day after, when the police started looking for suspects, they were not only off the Burin Peninsula, but they were waiting for a flight at the airport in Gander to take them completely out of the province. Of course, none of that would be known for days as the investigation into the boldest crime in Marystown history began.

– Excerpted from Friends Are Forever by Mike Martin, Ottawa Press and Publishing, 2025. Reprinted with permission. 

About the Author 

Mike Martin was born in St. John’s, NL on the east coast of Canada and now lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario. He is a long-time freelance writer and his articles and essays haveappeared in newspapers, magazines and online across Canada as well as in the United States and New Zealand. He is the award-winning author of thebest-selling Sgt. Windflower Mystery series, set in beautiful GrandBank. There are now 16 books in this light mystery series with thepublication of Friends are Forever. A Tangled Web was shortlisted in 2017 for the best light mystery of the year, and Darkest Before the Dawn won the 2019 Bony Blithe Light Mystery Award. All That Glitters was shortlisted for the LOLA 2024 Must Read Book of the year award. Some Sgt. Windflower Mysteries are now available as audiobooks and the latest Darkest Before the Dawn was released as an audiobook in 2024. All audiobooks are available from Audible in Canada and around the world. Mike is Past Chair of the Board ofCrime Writers of Canada, a national organization promoting Canadiancrime and mystery writers and a member of the Newfoundland Writers’Guild and Capital Crime Writers.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜  https://sgtwindflowermysteries.com/ 

Twitter ➜ https://www.x.com/mike54martin 

Facebook ➜  https://www.facebook.com/TheWalkerOnTheCapeReviewsAndMore

Four former jurors, once at odds, unexpectedly join forces to track down a serial killer.

 

By Kate DamonPages: 275Format: Paperback, eBookGenre: Cozy Mystery

The verdict is in; a famed athlete isheaded for prison. The jurors have done their job and are free to goback to their lives. But after being sequestered for four months, lifeas some knew it no longer exists.

HAROLD ASHMAN’s house is almostdestroyed by a careless driver. Exotic dancer, CEECEE LAINE, discoversthat her boyfriend is two-timing her, and she no longer has a job. Actor ALEX MANNING learns his career is down the tubes, and 72-year-old,HELEN RYDER, discovers her family is plotting to put her in an old folks home.

Then things take a turn for the worse. When former jurors start dropping like flies, CeeCee, Helen, Harold and Alex are convinced there’s a killer on the loose. Now the feudingfoursome must find him before he kills them—or before they save him thetrouble by killing each other.

Jury Duty is Murder is available at Amazon.

Here’s what readers are saying about Jury Duty is Murder!

I was having a bad day, and this book was enough to lift any cloud. Ilaughed out loud, I was sad with them, and I was surprised by the plottwists even in the epilogue. Great ending. Perfect for fans of Murder in the Building and Man on the Inside. I hope there will be more withthese characters.

— AV_therearenobadbooks

Kate Damon’s Jury Duty Murder is a fun, fast paced, riddled with humorwho-dun-it, told through the eyes of four ordinary, yet distinct folkswho are so incredibly relatable, you’ll feel like you know them as soonas they are introduced. Thank you, Kate, for giving us this curl up inyour favorite chair and read straight through adventure!

–Barbara Newhart

 Book Excerpt

The ringing telephone woke me up. Without opening my eyes, I felt around until I touched the nightstand and finally, my phone. “Hello.”

“Wake up.”

I groaned. “Alex, what do you want?”

“I need you to wake up.”

I forced myself to sit up. The clock on the radio said it was after ten. “This better be important.”

“Something is terribly wrong,” Alex said. “It’s the thirtieth and nobody’s dead.”

“Hallelujah.” I hung up and dived back into my pillow. The phone rang again, and I groaned. Only Alex would think that no dead bodies meant something was

wrong.

I rolled over and grabbed the phone. “Now what?”

“No one’s dead.”

– Excerpted from Jury Duty is Murder by Kate Damon, Wild Rose Press, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

 

 

Book Trailer

Giveaway

Kate Damon is giving away one $25 Amazon Gift Card!

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By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive a $25 Amazon Gift Card.This giveaway starts May 5 and ends July 31.Winner will be contacted via email on July 31.Winner has 48 hours to reply.

Good luck everyone!

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About the Author

When Kate Damon is not writing, sheand her husband enjoy RVing, spending time with family and friends,raising Monarch butterflies, and playing a wicked game of bridge.

Writing as Margaret Brownley, she haspublished more than 40 novels and is a New York Times bestsellingauthor. Known for her memorable characters and humor, she is a two-timeRomance Writers of America Rita finalist.

Not counting the book she wrote in sixth grade, and the puzzle of the missing socks, this is her first mystery.

Website ➜ http://margaret-brownley.com/

Twitter ➜ https://www.x.com/katejuryduty

Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/MargaretBrownleyAuthor/ and https://www.facebook.com/p/Kate-Damon-61565155275435/

Instagram ➜ https://www.instagram.com/katedamonbooks

BookBub ➜ https://www.bookbub.com/authors/kate-damon

Goodreads ➜ https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4072660.Kate_Damon and https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/163681.Margaret_Brownley

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