Honeymoon with Death is released

The latest Second Sons Inquiry Agency Regency mystery series is out: Honeymoon with Death! This is the fifth book in the Regency mystery series and the third featuring Prudence Barnard and Knighton Gaunt. For those interested in Pru and Knighton, the previous two books were:
The Vital Principle
Dead Man's View

The books don't have to be read in order, but That is the "proper order" for those interested.

Since I'm snowed in at the moment and am suffering from writer's block with the book I'm currently writing, I figured now would be a good time to tell everyone about the book.

On their honeymoon trip through Europe, Prudence and Knighton Gaunt take a brief excursion to see the triple falls on the river Velino on their way to Rome, little knowing the chain of events this will precipitate.

The couple sends their own carriage and servants on to Rome to reserve rooms and joins a small group of travelers in a hired coach. Unfortunately, before the group reaches the triple cascade, their carriage breaks down on a remote road. A band of ruffians ambushes them, and their only safety seems to lie in a ramshackle, old inn reputed to be haunted.

The party of travelers spends one night only to discover one of their group dead the next morning. The body lies in a ravine near the area where they were attacked, casting suspicion on the bandits.

But why had the passenger returned to such a dangerous spot in the middle of the night, and why was the victim wearing another traveler’s cloak?

As Knighton and Pru investigate, they discover the other travelers were not all the strangers they seemed to be. Mistaken identity, revenge, envy, and frustrated love vie as motives, and Knighton is pushed to desperation when Pru disappears as well. He must use every ounce of logic and intelligence to find her—and identify the killer--before there is another death on the road to Rome.

Excerpt

In this excerpt, the carriage Pru, Knighton, and several other passengers are riding within suffers a terrifying accident on a treacherous mountain road. None of them realize that their difficulties are only the start of even more trouble.

A loud crack shuddered through the coach. The vehicle lurched to the right and then tilted abruptly. Pru would have fallen to the floor if she had not caught her husband’s strong, outstretched hand. Mrs. Ruberry was thrown forward and only the lieutenant’s outstretched hands kept her from landing in his lap.

Through the open windows next to Pru, a terrifying view of a mountainside scattered with sharp rocks, ravines, and dark pine trees slanted down toward a misty valley below. It was a dizzying and frightening sight as they teetered on the very edge of a long drop down to scattered boulders and rubble.

“I’m falling!” Miss Demaretti screamed as she cast a frightened glance out Pru’s window and threw her arms around Mrs. Ruberry. “We must escape, Violet, the carriage is slipping—I can feel us falling!”

“No one is going to fall,” Knighton said curtly as he fumbled with the carriage’s only door next to Pru.

When he opened it, the door swung out loosely over the abyss, showing only a narrow edge of the road immediately under the carriage. A bare six inches of ground lay between them and disaster.
Pru hooked her right arm through the window to keep from falling out and held on to Mrs. Ruberry’s shoulder with her left. “Is there any room to climb out?” Her voice sounded breathless, and she sucked in a sharp gasp when there was another crack.

Her breath caught in her throat. The carriage tilted alarmingly toward the ravine, top-heavy as it was with baggage. She could hear thumps and slithering from the roof as the two men who had been forced to rid atop due to the already overcrowded interior scrambled to hold on.

“Yes,” her husband grunted as he caught the edge of the door for support before leaning out a few inches. “There is just enough room if we are careful. You men, shift your weight toward the opposite side when I climb out. I will assist the ladies to exit first.” He glanced apologetically at Pru.

She nodded quickly, knowing what he needed from her. “I’ll help Miss Demaretti and Mrs. Ruberry and then follow them.”

Knighton depended upon her to keep her head and help the others. If only she felt as calm as he sounded. She turned her head away from the window, ignoring the pull of the terrifying ravine. Her weight, combined with that of the other men, would provide stabilization while Miss Demaretti and the somewhat portly Mrs. Ruberry scrambled out.

The carriage shook. Rocks cascaded down the mountainside, dislodged by the carriage. The coachman spoke sharply to the horses in an attempt to control the frightened animals. Every movement made the coach shudder and created another cascade of rubble.

Knighton as he climbed out and clung to the door and coach fender. The two other men quickly slid toward the opposite side as the conveyance trembled and groaned.

A few rocks from the verge rolled over the edge, clicking and rattling their way down the hill. The noise went on and on, and they all froze, listening with tense faces until the sounds of the tumbling stones faded away.

“Come, Miss Demaretti, you must go first.” Pru stretched her arm across the trembling body of Mrs. Ruberry to catch hold of Miss Demaretti’s wrist.

“Careful!” Mrs. Ruberry’s shrill voice cut through the tension, immobilizing the others in the coach.

“You’ll send us all down the mountain to our deaths!” She twisted as if to push her way past Pru’s arm, but when she caught her glance, the older woman thrust her hand against her charge’s back and literally pushed her toward the door.

“Excuse me, Miss,” Captain Marshall said apologetically as he braced Miss Demaretti with his hands around her waist and lifted her through the door. He held on to her until Knighton caught her and eased her around the rear of the coach to the road.

The conveyance swayed as the weight shifted, and another shower of stones bounced over the side.
In a state of panic, Mrs. Ruberry climbed past Pru, elbowing her aside and nearly kicking her in the face in her haste to follow the girl out. Knighton caught her and ignored her wild words as he swung her around the fender and pushed her onto the road next to Miss Demaretti.

Without the plump woman’s weight, the coach wallowed and lurched, sending more and more rocks down into the ravine. The narrow edge of the road crumbled under the broken wheel. The coach leaned further over the ravine. The horses, restive and terrified by the sounds, snorted and whinnied, jerking the conveyance even more, despite the driver’s attempts to calm them and keep the vehicle stable.

Pru squeezed her eyes shut. Despite her efforts to remain calm, her mind feverishly flashed terrifying images of the coach tilting over the edge. Tumbling and crashing against the rocks, they would be smashed into pieces and scattered over the scree at the base, like so many crushed porcelain dolls amidst the wooden debris of the coach. She clutched one of the leather straps as the conveyance shifted again.

*
If you are interested, here is the link for the book on Amazon, followed by my web page which has links to other sources for the book.
Honeymoon with Death on Amazon
Honeymoon with Death web page

Happy Reading!

The Illusion of Desire released!

The Illusion of Desire has been released!

I am very pleased to let everyone know that my latest mystery in the Second Sons Inquiry Agency series of Regency mysteries is finally available, at least if you have a Kindle or other ebook reader that can access Smashwords. I expect the paperback will follow soon, as well as distribution to BN.com for Nook readers and the iStore for Apple. It is always such a joy--and relief--to see a new book on the shelf.

The Illusion of Desire is the fourth book in the Second Sons Inquiry Agency series and features a new inquiry agent, Captain Nicholas Ainsley. I plan to write another Pru and Knighton book for the series this summer, which will be the fifth in the overall series and the third for Pru and Knighton. They are going to Europe for their honeymoon and unfortunately, run into a great deal of trouble on the way.

Here is the blurb and a small excerpt from The Illusion of Desire.

Blurb

The war with Napoleon may be long over, but Captain Nicholas Ainsley is still feeling the effects in his

maimed left arm and need for justice. In a stroke of luck, he gains employment as an inquiry agent for the famous Second Sons Inquiry Agency, but his first case is a troubling one. The Earl of Taunton is killed and Nicholas soon finds not one but far too many suspects. On the night the earl died, a pair of thieves broke in and stole the jewel-encrusted murder weapon. Some believe the thieves killed Taunton during the robbery, however Nicholas uncovers others with even stronger motives for wanting the earl dead. Taunton had a penchant for provoking jealousy and rage in those around him and hiding his more illicit activities behind a series of illusions including his relationship with his supposed mistress, Kathryn Whitethorn-Litton.

Kathryn had excellent reasons to trade respectability for a tenuous place in the earl’s household. She believes her father’s death at Taunton’s country estate years ago was not the natural one the earl claimed.

Was Taunton’s murder related to that far older mystery, or was his stabbing an act of desperation? The riddle tests Nicholas’ mettle and his willingness to rip away the veils of illusion surrounding the earl’s life to reveal the truth.

Excerpt

In this scene, Captain Ainsley is questioning Kathryn Whitethorn-Litton, the murdered man's supposed mistress. While Kathryn was not in the house when the earl was killed, she was on a mission that she dare not reveal to the Captain.

-----

Kathryn laughed. “Why should they? No. They will not, and I will not give you their names. Why are you questioning me?”

“Please, I beg your indulgence. Let me confirm, then, that the last time you claim to have seen Lord Taunton was last night at nine p.m.?” Captain Ainsley asked.

“Yes, of course. Ask Harry if you don’t wish to bother Lord Taunton. He can confirm that I have told you the truth. He and Taunton spend a great deal of time together. If you wish to know who spent the evening with Taunton, you must ask Harry.”

“I have spoken with Mr. Silsbury. He indicated he heard a woman speaking with Lord Taunton late—sometime after midnight, I believe.”

“He could have been requesting water for a bath.” She shrugged. “Did Harry say he heard me?”

“Yes. He indicated it was your voice.”

“How could he? I was not here at midnight.” She sighed and felt the stirrings of impatience. “If you are concerned about this matter, then you must ask Lord Taunton. He can surely tell you what you want to know and identify the woman he spoke to last night. Although I am quite sure he was simply asking a maid for some everyday item like a towel or fresh soap. It is not unheard of, you know.”

A few moments of silence followed this, and once again her confusion stirred. Why did he persist in asking her about Lord Taunton?

“You must realize, surely…” His words trailed off. He studied her, a speculative gleam in his brown eyes.

More and more, she had the feeling that she was unaware of something terrible. There was some fact she ought to be aware of and yet she was not. What had happened while she accompanied Mary Dudley? The sensation of missing a critical point grew almost unbearable. Her fingers twisted together in her lap, stiff and damp.

“Lord Taunton is no longer in a position to answer my questions.” Captain Ainsley leaned forward, his right hand gripping his knee. “He died last night.”

------

I hope you enjoyed the small snippet. If you are interested, here are the links for the book on Smashwords and Amazon:

Amazon:        http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IKY4BO4

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/411220

Thanks and have a great week!

How did they do that - Bread

Making Bread
If you're like me, you love making bread but it never seems to live up to your expectations. You follow the directions, knead it, and do everything right. It rises beautifully and looks great when you take it out of the oven. It tastes good, too, while it's warm. But by the next day, it seems to have gained a pound or two in weight and is hard and/or dry.

At least, that has been my experience until lately. I've been experimenting, though, to make my bread as moist and light on the inside and chewy or crusty on the outside like good bakery bread. And I've had a couple of breakthroughs that I wanted to share.

The first thing I was did was to buy some books on bread making. There are a lot of good books out there and the ones that particularly interested me were those about "no knead" bread. And in a fit of nostalgia around Christmas time, I also got some sourdough starter. Those two things are related in a very important way--just wait. :)

The "gist" of the information in the books that was different than most of the standard bread recipes we all follow from the bags of flour or general cookbooks was the use of a "starter." It can be called barm (as in some books) or starter or whatever you want to call it. As I read all the books, I realized it boiled down to creating a soupy mass that for all intents and purposes was a lot like sourdough starter. It is basically unbleached flour, water, and yeast (either the yeast you get at the store or in the case of sourdough, wild yeast) left to sit and bubble overnight.

That was one piece of the puzzle.

The second piece was using the dough hooks on my standard mixer to knead the bread. I had been kneading by hand because I love doing it. but that meant I ended up adding too much flour in my attempts to keep it from sticking to my work surface and my hands. By using the mixer to do the dirty work, I didn't need to add any more flour during kneading. (I could also use the time freed up by not manually kneading to clean up the kitchen.)

Once I added the use of a starter/barm plus my stand mixer to knead, all of a sudden I could make rolls as light as a dream and crispy-crusted artisan bread that was moist and delicious on the inside. The loaves shown above were from a standard sourdough bread recipe courtesy of Sir Arthur Flour company. The only thing I changed in the recipe was that I substituted 3/4 c. of wheat germ for 3/4 c. of flour.

The flavor is outstanding and what is interesting to me is that it tastes much closer to "bakery bread" than the standard bread recipes I've found on flour packages. There is much rich flavor with more depth, even if you don't use wheat germ.

Personally, I can't imagine baking bread anymore without either using a starter I create from commercially available yeast or from my sourdough starter (it will most likely be the sourdough starter). The difference in the quality of the bread is just amazing.

My next step will be to create a "pseudo bread oven" by cooking my bread in one of my cast iron dutch ovens.

One last thing to add before I move on to the status of my career as a writer: yesterday I had a doctor's appointment. I was sure she was going to yell at me about my triglycerides because I've been eating so much homemade bread lately. In fact, I baked two fruitcakes, two huge almond danish "wreaths" and lots of other stuff over the holidays. My triglycerides were DOWN. Yes, down. And I contribute that to two things: homemade bread and my habit of eating herring a few times a week. I'm becoming convinced that commercial bread is evil.

Writing
I've been working diligently on a new Second Sons Regency mystery called, "The Illusion of Desire." I had hoped to get it released early in 2014--I still have hopes of that--but it won't be in January. Maybe late February or early March.

In addition to editing that book, I've been writing a new paranormal suspense although a name is still up in the air. "Out of Time" or "Timeless" or something along those lines. I'm only on chapter three so far and it's much lighter in tone than your traditional suspense. Maybe without realizing it I'm creating a new "cozy suspense" genre.

When I finish writing that, I'll be working on the next Second Sons mystery featuring Pru and Knighton in "A Honeymoon with Death." The two are on their honeymoon when they run into trouble--and murder--in Europe. The previous Pru and Knighton, "The Dead Man's View" is doing pretty well so I'd like to get another book with the two sleuths written and published this year. Lots to do, lots to do.

Hope everyone is enjoying the start to a brand new year!

Another day, another recipe

Writing Life

As most of you already realize, there was a delay in the release of The Dead Man's View, the sequel to The Vital Principle, featuring Prudence Barnard and Knighton Gaunt. This time, it's not Pru is not searching to exonerate herself, she's trying to exonerate her dead cousin. She's convinced he did not kill himself and doesn't deserve to have his body beheaded and buried at the crossroads as a suicide. So she calls on her dear friend, Knighton Gaunt, to help her expose the murderer.

While the book's release is late (now set at the first week of October), I
hope it will be well worth the wait.

On to Yummy Stuff
Are any of you trying to reduce carbs? I know I am, simply because as I age, it is getting harder and harder for me to eat them without getting an upset stomach. Since I also have problems with legumes like soy and beans, it can sometimes be a challenge.

But, I've developed a relatively quick breakfast which gives me energy to tackle the morning and is filling enough to get me through to dinnertime with perhaps just a bit of smoked trout to make it past 2:00PM when I start to feel hungry.

I keep a bag of mixed veggies in the freezer and all I do is:
Microwave a cup of mixed veggies for about 4 minutes while I chop up about 1/4 c. of onion.
Saute the onion in olive oil until the veggies are "nuked" and then dump the veggies into the pan.

Take an egg (or two if you're really hungry, but there will probably be enough to share...) and scramble it and then add it to the pan. When it's done, turn off the heat and add about 1/2 c. of shredded cheddar cheese. Mix until the cheese is melted and then dump it out on your plate.

I love topping it with a few spoonfuls of salsa, too. Where's the picture, you ask? Well...it's not the most beautiful concoction on earth so you'll have to use your imagination. :)

Of course, you can really vary this. If I have brown rice or quinoa left over, I add that to the veggies in the pan and don't use any cheese and then sprinkle in some soy sauce. It makes a "quickie" fried rice that is delicious for breakfast.

However, that's really not the recipe I wanted to share today. We've pretty much given up beef (except for the occasional hamburger) and replaced it with venison. I find it more digestible and much more delicate in flavor with a lot less fat. The lack of fat, however, does mean it can be tough if you don't know how to cook it.

Here is a terrific recipe for venison, and if you prefer beef, I bet it would work for that, too! In fact, I think it would work for a lot of different meats and particularly those that are tough.

Roast Venison
 Clean up a venison roast to remove any silver skin or fat. Rub it with a bit of pepper. (I don't use salt, but if you do, you can also add about 1/4 tsp of salt and rub that in.)

Wrap the roast in bacon strips, making sure that all the meat is covered. (You'll remove the bacon to serve.)

Slip the bacon-wrapped roast into an oven bag and place in a shallow backing pan.

Pour red wine (we like Burgundy, but Bordeaux is good, too) into the bag so that it covers the meat until it is about 1/2 to 3/4 covered.

Add 2 bay leaves, 5 cloves (whole cloves), 4-6 black pepper corns, and 4-5 juniper berries.

Close the bag with the tie and cut 2 or 3 tiny holes into the bag on top to let it vent a bit.

Bake in a 350 degree oven for about 3 hours (or until the meat is very tender).

When the meat done...

Melt 3 TBSP butter in a pan. Add one minced onion and cook until the onion is golden. Add cleaned, cut up mushrooms (I use about 1 - 2 cups) and saute until the mushrooms are almost cooked (about 10 minutes).

Remove the meat from the oven and pour the contents of the bag through a strainer into the pan with the onions and mushrooms. Cook for 5 minutes. Mix a few tsp. of cornstarch into about 1/2 c. of red wine and add that to thicken the onion/mushroom sauce. It will take about 2 - 3 minutes over med/med-high heat.

Serve the meat with mashed potatoes and the sauce. A side salad goes very well with this to make a very easy and yet elegant dinner!

Bon appetite!

Writing Mindfully

It always surprises me how many lessons you learn at one job "translate" successfully to other areas of endeavor. And how often your parents really are right. :) Long, long ago (in a galaxy not that far away) my mother told me that it was important to set goals. All fine and well, but like a lot of other people, I found it hard to set goals when I didn't really know what I wanted or wanted to accomplish. So I sort of ignored that advice.

Then, as I got a "real job" (as opposed to my fiddling around with writing for one or two lifetimes) I was able to translate Mom's advice into something useful to me. I didn't set goals so much as figure out what I needed to accomplish. It sounds like a trivial difference, but it was an important difference to me. You see, "goals" felt like hard things that I probably couldn't accomplish while saying "this is just something I need to get done"  felt much more do-able.

And so life went on with some successes, some failures, and a lot of "what the heck am I doing" moments. Then, about 15 years ago, I seriously started writing again. I'd piddled with it off and on, but I finally realized that if I ever wanted to be a writer, then I needed to put on my big girl panties and get down to work.

My first few, aw heck, first FIVE manuscripts were a mess. I thought you could just write and your brain would work it all out and you'd create a masterpiece. Sure, I did some elementary plotting and kept track of character names and bios--all the usual stuff--but I didn't think too much about the whole thing. I just wrote. Which was fine as an exercise, but after a few more disastrous manuscripts, the metaphorical light bulb went off. I needed to decide what I wanted to get done.

That simple decision is what makes the difference between a manuscript that is, quite simply, a mess and one that is a real story fit for an audience. And it's not just figuring out the plot, although that is part of it.

Before I forget, let me digress for a moment and mention that I believe this is true whether you are a "plotter" or a "pantster." What are plotters and pantsters? Writers who either create meticulous outlines of their plots before they write (plotters) or writers who just sit down and...write by the seat of their pants (pantsters). I happen to be an unholy alliance of the two. I sort of plot but then halfway through, the characters have revolted, taken over the plot, and all bets are off.

Anyway, so what the heck do I really mean by "decide what needs to get done?"

You need to decide what you are writing. That sounds simple, but it's really not. Let's say you know in a broad way that you want to write mysteries. Okay, that's part of it. But you also have to decide if you want the story to be dark and gritty or light and humorous. Atmospheric or well, whatever the opposite of atmospheric might be. What feelings are you trying to dredge up out of the depths of the reader's psyche?

That goes for each scene, too. As you are writing, you need to keep an eye on what you are trying to do with that scene, and hopefully it will serve multiple purposes. Maybe you need to drop a specific clue for a mystery and you also need to reveal some critical aspect of your hero's personality and push the plot forward. Add a twist. Whatever.

For pantsters, the "does this serve my purpose?" evaluation may come later, but it's still critical. If you don't know what emotions you were trying to evoke or what the scene needed to accomplish as far as plot and characterization, then how do you know if the scene is successful? If you should keep it or cut it? Sadly, many of my scenes--usually the "best" ones in terms of snappy dialog--wind up terminated with extreme prejudice because they don't accomplish what they needed to in order to drive the story forward. It kills me to delete them, but...it is what it is.

Every element in a book: plot, characterization, dialog, setting, descriptions, etc, must be there for a reason for a story to be successful.

So that's my thought for today on writing. I'm still working on perfecting my craft--my reach always exceeds my grasp. Or to put it another way: a wise man is one who realizes that it is not what he knows that makes him wise, it is the recognition of how much he doesn't know that makes him wise. (I must be very, very wise at this point because I feel like I don't know anything.)

For the incurably curious

I'm working on the edits for my next contemporary cozy mystery and I hope to send it to my editor at Five Star soon. Maybe even by the end of August! I can't quite decide on a title, though. I am terrible with titles, but I'm thinking along the lines of "The Missing Body." Who knows. I just hope she likes it and Five Star is willing to pick it up.

Very soon (within the next few weeks, in fact) the next Pru and Knighton mystery will be out: The Dead

Man's View. My wonderfully talented cover artist is working on the cover and I can't wait to release it early in August. I've got another Pru and Knighton mystery up my sleeve, A Honeymoon with Death, where Pru is once more dragged into a mystery during her honeymoon in Europe with Knighton. Pru and Knighton are asked to debunk a haunting, only to stumble into murder instead. I can't wait to get to it, but I've already started another Second Sons Inquiry Agency mystery featuring a new inquiry agent, an embittered Napoleonic war veteran, who is requested to investigate the murder of an earl in The Illusion of Desire. I've gotten the first five chapters written and I hope to finish that during the winter.

Oh, and did I mention that I have a new cover for Pru and Knighton's first book, The Vital Principle? My cover artist (Amber Shah) did a great job and I'll be re-releasing that book with the new cover at the end of the month.

Finally, I'm trying something a little different and will probably have it published under a slightly different pen name as it is a contemporary crime/horror story about revenge. In fact, it's called Revenge. It's crime, black humor, and a bit of paranormal horror all rolled into one biting manuscript. Because it has some dark moments, I'm thinking it may be too dark for the traditional Amy Corwin fans, hence my thought that maybe another pseudonym may be in order. I used to be totally against multiple names for one author because I figured readers were smart enough to read the blurbs and know if the book was something they wanted to read or not, but then I realized the usefulness if you happen to write different genres. It makes it a lot easier for folks to know that if they buy an "Amy Corwin" there won't be a lot of explicit, well, stuff, in them, with the exception of my series of paranormal romances like A Fall of Silver which have a few love scenes.

I've got a lot more "on the burner" as far as writing and I hope that later this summer, the fruits of all my labors will finally be available.
Enjoy and Happy Reading!

Gardening and Writing

Gardening

Oops, someone forgot to pick the veggies for a while. Sigh. But I did manage to harvest almost 2 quarts of garlic (2 qts of cleaned garlic cloves, to be exact) and a whole BUNCH of zucchini. As you can see in the background, I ended up using a lot of it for pickles. Then I took some more and made flour-less zucchini muffins.

I'm very pleased with the pickles. We are trying to cut out sugar and this particular recipe has no sugar at all in it. It's a spicy pickle with hot pepper flakes and garlic and we've already eaten one jar. What makes it even better is that you don't have to go through that long hot water bath canning process. You clean the jars (fill with boiling water until ready to use), prepare the zucchini and while you're doing that, boil the vinegar with the spices for 5 minutes. Then fill the jars and pour in the boiling vinegar. Of course you have to store them in the refrigerator, but that's okay with us. I got the recipe from Eatsy at this link.

 For the zucchinis I did not use for pickles (I made 12 pints of pickles) I made zucchini bread with almond flour. Okay, actually, I turned this into zucchini muffins because we like them for breakfast.

I got the recipe for that from comfybelly.com at this link. Of course, I modified it just a wee bit to add a little more spice because we really like our spices, but the basic recipe was from comfybelly.

So, if you are overrun with zucchini or squash, you might look into making either pickles or bread. My sister likes to make zucchini cake, but as I mentioned, we are trying to cut down on sugar and gluten, so we're not doing the cake thing. However, if you make those muffins, they are like mini carrot cakes and are absolutely wonderful for breakfast with a dollop of cream cheese. In fact, I almost prefer them to most cakes at this point.

Writing

I've been working extra hard on my writing lately and for those who are interested, I'm still taking my net proceeds from The Vital Principle and donating them to the Red Cross for the tornado victims. I haven't earned as much as I would like (I'd at least like to give $500) but every little bit helps.

For my fans, the second Prudence Barnard/Knighton Gaunt mystery, The Dead Man's View, is in the final stages and should be out in August. Pru and Knighton were first introduced to readers in The Vital Principle, and I hope folks will enjoy their continuing adventures. In The Dead Man's View, Pru discovers she has a second cousin and goes to visit him, only to have him die within a week of her arrival. The coroner believes her cousin committed suicide, but Pru finds clues that lead her to believe otherwise and she writes to Knighton to gain his assistance in proving her cousin was murdered. 

The wonderful cover artist, Amber Shah, is working on the cover for The Dead Man's View and has even done a new one for The Vital Principle to give it a "make over." Here is a "proof" of the newly redesigned cover for The Vital Principle. It is not final yet, but it will give you an idea and show her wonderful work.

I'm torn at the moment between two of her designs for The Dead Man's View, but hopefully I'll have a new cover to show folks soon!

Next year, I hope there will be a third Pru and Knighton mystery as they are going to go on a trip to Europe and once more, they are going to stumble upon a dead body during their travels...

In the meantime, the Second Sons Inquiry Agency is getting a new detective and I'm writing chapter five even as we speak. It's tentatively called: The Illusion of Desire and like The Vital Principle, it deals with some difficult topics but there are dashes of black humor that I hope readers will enjoy.

For readers of my contemporary mystery, Whacked!, I'm editing a second manuscript (I don't have a title yet) in preparation to sending it to my editor at Five Star. The new one is also set in the small town of Peyton, NC, and features Kelly Harmony. Kelly is suspected of killing her roommate and then torching the apartment to cover up the crime and it doesn't help matters when she finds a stranger's dead body in her new home. This is the first of what will be several mysteries featuring the Harmony family in Peyton, so cross your fingers that my editor likes it.

On the novella front, I wrote a sweet Regency novella last spring and submitted it to my editor at Highland Press, as well as my first sweet Western romance novella. I hope she likes at least one of them and decides to include it in one of the upcoming Highland Press anthologies.

Finally, my paranormal romance, A Fall of Silver, is on sale for one more week at $.99 so if you are interested, you might want to jump on it now before it goes back to its normal price.

That's all the news and I hope to write another blog soon on the craft of writing, as well as keeping up better on my progress with the art of writing.

Enjoy the summer!

Sample Sunday: A Rose Before Dying

It's Sample Sunday and I'm offering an excerpt from my latest mystery, A Rose Before Dying. This is the second mystery in the Second Sons Inquiry Agency mystery series and although Mr. Knighton Gaunt, the founder of Second Sons, is involved, the main investigator is not an inquiry agent at all, it's an earl trying to exonerate his uncle.

It's 1821 and Sir Edward Marlowe has been accused of killing his ex-mistress, Lady Banks. His nephew, Charles Vance, Earl of Castlemoor, is convinced his uncle is innocent and decides to investigate. The killer has left a taunting note and a rose, indicating that another murder will soon take place. Charles has taken the rose to an expert in hopes of identifying it and preventing the tragedy.
-------  

The butler stared at the card and then intoned, “Lord Castlemoor, Miss Wellfleet.”


She wiped her hands on a towel resting on the table and faced him. A tan apron covered the front of her dress from neat collar to hem, and dark, rich earth liberally smeared it in long, sweeping streaks.

“I’m afraid we must disappoint him.” She stared at Charles, but her movements placed the lamp behind her and left her face in darkness. Her expression was hidden, but the light behind her set her hair on fire. The thick coils glowed deep, golden brown in a halo around her shadowed face.

“Are you sure Mr. Lee sent you? Here?” she asked.

“Yes, quite sure.” Charles had the uncomfortable feeling that Mr. Wellfleet was either gone from this house, or worse, from this world. “I take it Mr. Wellfleet is unavailable?”

“You might say that,” she said dryly. “He’s been rather unavailable for the past six months. My father, Mr. Wellfleet, is dead, my lord.”

“I’m sorry. However, I assure you Mr. Lee did send me. And I freely admit it may have been my fault to assume he sent me to speak to Mr. Wellfleet.” His voice slowed as he realized his hopes had faded along with the daylight. Mr. Lee had sent him on a fruitless mission to see a man who had died months ago.

Bitter anger gripped him, clogging his throat. He stared at the woman, unable to speak through his frustration. Someone would die—and soon—because he was unable to identify a single, ridiculous rose.

“Is this your daughter?” she asked, breaking the silence. Her lovely face remained impassive as she eyed the little girl.

“What? No—good heavens, no.”

“Then…who is she?”

“Her name is Rose.” He bit the words off, thinking furiously of a way to identify the next target. There had to be a way, even without knowing the true name of the rose.

“And did you bring her here for a reason, my lord?”

“Well, her name is Rose,” he replied absently.

Rosa collina, Lee had said. Someone named Collins? That had to be the answer.

“I see. So you thought you could plant her in the garden, perhaps? Next to the chrysanthemums?” She paused as if in thought. “Well, Mr. Gibson dug a new bed this morning. I suppose we can plant her there, assuming she will fit. What color are her blooms? I hope they aren’t too garish. I was planning a display of pale pinks and murray-purple in that particular spot. It’s too late to change now. I’ve already begun planting.”

He stared at her only to realize that despite her solemn expression, her hazel eyes glowed with laughter. She looked at the small girl clinging to him and smiled.

Rose stared back, her blue eyes wide before she nodded and said with firm resolution, “Pink.”

“You’re sure? You look rather like one of the mad Gallicas to me. Perhaps you’re a rich red streaked with a few patches of the palest-of-pale pink?”

The little girl shook her head vigorously before stepping over to Miss Wellfleet and taking her hand. “Pink. I’m pink.”

“Then I just may have the perfect bed for you.” Her wide mouth trembled with suppressed mirth. She glanced back to Charles. “Since it seems, despite all appearances and the company you keep, you aren’t quite mad after all.”

She clearly wasn’t convinced of his sanity, however.

He flushed. “I beg your pardon. But truly, I didn’t know where else to take her…”

“And just where are her parents? Her mother?”

“She’s an orphan.”

“That’s certainly convenient, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied stiffly.

She sighed and dipped a corner of the towel into a small, tin pitcher of water on the table. She washed a smudge of dirt from the girl’s cheek, revealing the soft, rosy skin. “Do you even know who her mother is? Or was?”

“Yes. She resides just a few blocks from here.” If she could joke about the situation, he could, too.

“Where?” she asked warily. “Oh, you mean St. Michael’s, I suppose.”

“Yes. At least, that’s what I understand.”

“The orphanage—”

“Workhouse. Would you really ask me to take her there?”

She studied him. “No, I suppose not. But you—”

“I can’t keep her.” He paused. “Can I?”

“It does look odd.” The speculative gleam in her eyes brought out their rich brown color. “And most improper. What I don’t quite understand is your concern for her. Why, out of all the dozens of children wandering the streets of London, did you choose her? Are you certain she’s not yours?”

“No. In truth, I never knew of her existence before today,” he replied honestly. “I just stumbled over her and brought her along.” He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “There’s no compelling logic or reason.”

“I see. However, I fear I must ask again, are you sure she’s not yours?”

“No. Truly. I never meet her until today.”

“That’s hardly convincing, is it?” She asked in her driest voice.

“I assure you, I don’t have a passel of…well, love children, wandering the streets of London.” He flushed with embarrassment. The hot color deepened when he realized she seemed just wayward enough to believe he was more embarrassed that he didn’t have a vast collection of by-blows, than he was by the suggestion he had only one.

Despite his best efforts to educate himself about females, they remained mysterious and largely incomprehensible at best.

This disadvantage struck him disagreeably.

“I couldn’t just leave her to starve.”

“This is most irregular, my lord. Any decent woman would flatly refuse to accept an orphan thrust upon her by a stranger—even one who is an earl.” She sighed. “However, I’m tired and perhaps not at my most sensible. So I suppose she can stay—”

“Thank you!” He leaned forward and almost gripped her hand. “I sincerely appreciate it.”

Miss Wellfleet folded the towel with restless hands. “May I ask if your sole reason for coming here was to divest yourself of Rose?”

“No—no, of course not.” He pulled out the small bundle containing the rose. He knew it was useless, her father, the rose expert, was dead. But he couldn’t stop a small spurt of hope. “I’d like to identify this rose. Do you recognize it?”

“I supposed you’re only asking me as a last resort. Because my father is no longer with us.” She held out a peremptory hand. “Let me see it.”

Her face was a smooth, expressionless mask. However, he detected traces of tired resignation at the implication that she could not be expected to have the depth of knowledge exhibited by a man.

When he placed the limp spray in her palm, she held it up to her nose and breathed in several times with closed eyes, cupping the flowers in her hands. Then she gave it a cursory examination before pulling the petals off of one flower.

“Stop!” He reached over to wrench it out of her hand. She turned her shoulder, blocking him. “What are you doing?”

“Counting the petals. Why?”

“You’re destroying it! How shall I identify it if you ruin it?”

She held it out. “Take it. Plant it, or allow me to root it. Or graft it. If it grows, you can ask your friend, Mr. Lee, to identify it in two or three years from the shape of the bush and bloom habit. Most men who grow roses agree that it takes at least one cycle of blooming to identify a rose with any assurance.”

“Two years!”

“Yes—if you want to be sure. And isn’t that why you wish to identify it? So you can purchase a specimen for your own garden?”

“Yes—but…”

“Yes?”

He gazed into her coolly discerning eyes and realized she was aware that he was not being open with her. But given Mr. Lee’s reaction, he could not bring himself to tell the complete truth. The rose wouldn’t last long enough to find another master gardener, assuming he could even locate one in London. “It’s…a wager. Silly, I know, but one of my friends said I couldn’t identify this rose.” The tips of his ears burned.

“I see.” Her eyes grew colder. “This is all a wager?” She glanced at Rose.

“No, of course not. Not Rose—she’s not part of it.”

Miss Wellfleet’s fingers pushed the petals into a line on the table and hovered over them. Thirteen petals, thin and wilting, spread in a tattered line. The slender spray was dying. The small, tight buds had already blackened and hung limply. His chest tightened with frustration.

Then with a theatrical gesture that suggested more defiance than scientific inquiry, she ripped apart the remaining flowers. She arranged the petals in three parallel lines, one for each flower. The roses didn’t all have the same number of petals. The first had thirteen petals. The next had eleven. The final rose had seventeen.

After examining what remained of the stalk, the yellow stamens, and leaves, she looked at him.

Although she didn’t precisely shrug, there was a quality in her expression that spoke of disdain when she said, “Rosa Collina fastigiata.”

“That’s it?” His tired disappointment reminded him of the lateness of the hour. Useless. He needn’t have come here at all. Lee had it right the first time.

“Well, yes. What were you expecting?”

“Something…more. A name…”

“That is a name.” Irritation sharpened her voice. “Or Flat-Flowered Hill Rose, if you prefer an English one.”

“You’re sure?”’

Her eyes hardened. “As sure as I can be from this small spray.” She flung the petals and twig onto the table. “No one can be absolutely sure without seeing the bush and knowing the growth habit and bloom cycles. Have you any idea how many roses there are?”

“I—”

“That’s why your friend made a clever wager—if wager it was. My lord. And if the true wager wasn’t bringing that girl, Rose, to a spinster plantsman.”

“No. Truly, I apologize. I sincerely appreciate the name. And Rose was an accidental meeting on my way. She was nearly killed in the road a few blocks from here. I couldn’t just leave her—for God’s sake—she’s just a child!”

“No, I don’t suppose you could,” she replied grudgingly. One of her slender hands rested on the girl’s lank hair. “It’s late. You have your name. I hope you win your wager.”

With a coolness he deserved but saddened him nonetheless, she gestured for him to leave. The butler, Mr. Abbott, waited just outside the French doors to the greenhouse. His silent presence ensured Miss Wellfleet had never been truly alone with Charles. Somehow, this reminded him of how attractive he found her, and he flushed when he caught Mr. Abbott’s curious gaze.

However, his embarrassment faded as he remembered his purpose.

A life could be saved if he interpreted Rosa Collina fastigiata properly.

How many people named Collins lived in London? Unless the clue rested with the English name, Flat-Flowered Hill Rose. Did this blossom point to a location instead of a person?

Time was slipping away.
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A Rose Before Dying is available at Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords.

My Latest Second Sons Mystery Is Finally Released

A Rose Before Dying is out!

This is it, my second book in the Second Sons mystery series is out! I’m exhausted but very, very pleased. Year ago, I came up with this concept of an inquiry agency manned by all those “spare” second sons who aren’t the heirs and are left with the clergy or military for careers. What if none of those alternatives appealed to them? What if they were willing to give up their social status and had an insatiable curiosity about their fellow human beings? A position as an inquiry agent might just be the ticket!

My first book, The Vital Principle, was finally released in February. That book introduced Knighton

Gaunt, the founder of Second Sons Inquiry Agency (Discreet Inquiries). He was featured in a previous book in the Archer family series, I Bid One American, but he gets a starring role in The Vital Principle.

In the new book, A Rose Before Dying, Charles Vance, the Earl of Castlemoor takes the lead with an assist from Mr. Gaunt. Charles is not an inquiry agent, but when his uncle is accused of murder, he steps in to find the person responsible for killing his uncle’s ex-paramour, Lady Banks, and leaving a rose behind with a taunting note.

A Rose Before Dying let me combine my research into the history of the rose with a classic British mystery and I’m deeply grateful to all the footwork done by rosarians including: Graham Stuart Thomas,

 David Austin, Peter Beales. Their books were invaluable, not to mention the gorgeous new English shrub roses David Austin is hybridizing these days. I have several of his roses in my garden and they are lovely as well as hardy. In fact, their books got me started on growing Old Garden roses and they are truly a delight.

The early years of the 19th century saw an explosion in exploration, with hundreds of new plants being discovered. Roses from China were brought to England and hybridization efforts began, since the China roses had one important difference: they bloomed all season rather than once a season, i.e. they were remontent. The development of the classic florist’s rose, the Hybrid Tea, is a direct result of hybridizing

 European roses with the China rose. Pretty exciting stuff! So I couldn’t resist casting a female character as a rosarian involved in the efforts to cross China and European roses.

In A Rose Before Dying, Vance must seek out a rosarian to help him identify roses the murderer has left as clues, and he finds Ariadne Wellfleet, a woman trying to live independently and pursue the

development of new rose hybrids. Unfortunately, the men in her life are bent on helping her to conform to the more standard feminine role as wife, despite her resistance. Her involvement in the murder investigation puts her—and the members of her household—directly in the murderer’s path.

It's a classic British mystery that I hope all mystery fans will enjoy!
Have a great weekend!