Hi all...no ghost stories just yet, but I have one coming about bees and evil spirits in the pink room. Hang on for that.
Today I'm celebrating two professional reviews of my first novel in a new series: The Cotton Lee Penn Historical Novels.
The first appeared in Foreward Clarion Reviews.
Here's a quote:
With nary a mint julep or other southern cliché to be found, Gone on Sunday mixes the light touch of a cozy mystery, the terrible weight of history, a hint of romance, and the secrets of stifling summer to engrossing and highly entertaining effect. The result is a historical mystery combined with a modern one, satisfying on every level. -- Foreward Clarion Reviews
The second, and most surprising to me, appeared in Kirkus Reviews. Those guys can be so-o-o mean -- but they gave me a thumbs up. Here's a little of what they had to say:
The author does an
admirable job of tying the two eras and two crimes together. She deftly drops a
trail of crumbs from suspect to suspect, leading the reader down multiple paths
before revealing the surprising truth in a climax worth waiting for.…This
vibrant first installment of a detective series should leave readers looking
forward to more adventures with the engaging heroine. --Kirkus Reviews
For a writer, every book is a work of love -- until the next book comes along. But I am so pleased this mystery story has entertained readers and now -- a few critics.
I recently finished the first draft of the next book in this series, tentatively titled Premonition. Here's an excerpt:
Anselm tugged on his flannel shirt and held
his gun loosely at his waist, making his way through chiggers and ticks and the
underbrush where they thrived. A shot fired in the distance, followed by a
hollow echo and a scrambling noise in the brush. A male deer, antlers high into
the green, stopped some fifteen yards ahead. Anselm made eye contact. Deep in
the brown iris he saw a story unfold.
A small boy with dark hair and pink puffy
hands reached up, asking Anselm to take him. The hunter thought to lift the
child, but the figure grew to six feet and became a young man, holding a law
book in long curved fingers. Anselm drew back from the deer and grabbed his
satchel. The tall young man shouted at him.
“Daddy. Watch out!”
Another shot fired, striking Anselm through
the heart. The startled buck blinked, and then leapt high into the forest,
taking with him the young man and the law book. Anselm felt the sadness of the
young man’s going, as he did the sadness of his own passing.
