Monday, October 31, 2016

Weekly Book Reads (Oct 31)

 Weekly Book Reads

Weekly Book Reads is a weekly Monday Meme that is hosted by Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews:

Post the books read last week and books you plan on finishing this week.

Read Last Week:

1.  Good Fast Eats - Amy Flanigan
2.  Cat Got Your Diamonds - Julie Chase
3.  The Unsaid - Aaron Baylock
4.  Stalking Jack the Ripper - Kerri Maniscalco

Weekly Book Reading:

1.  The Darkest Journey - Heather Graham
2.  Liar's Key - Carla Neggers

Favorite Halloween Anime, Manga, Movies and Videogames Suggestions


Black Butler
Vampire Knight
Vampire Knight Guilty


Black Butler
Vampire Knight


Dracula Rising (1993)
The Evil Dead (1981)
Evil Dead II (1987)
Fright Night 1 and 2 (1985 and 1987)
Howling VI: The Freaks (1991)
Jack Be Nimble (1993)
Night of the Creeps (1986)
Sometimes They Come Back Again (1996)
To Die For: Dracula: The Love Story (1989)

PC Games

Gabriel Knight 1: Sins of the Fathers
Gabriel Knight 2: The Beast Within
Gabriel Knight 3: Blood of the Sacred, Blood of the Damned
Phantasmagoria 2: A Puzzle of Flesh
Quest for Glory: Shadows of Darkness


Clock Tower Series
Fatal Frame Series
Haunting Ground
Resident Evil Series
Rule of Rose
Silent Hill Series
Obscure Series
The Evil Within
Until Dawn

Happy Halloween!


Happy Halloween Everyone!

Aaron Blaylock's The Unsaid Blog Tour with a Spotlight and Review


I am so excited to have Aaron Blaylock here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight and Review.

Thanks Aaron and Cedar Fort Publishing and Media for allowing me to join The Unsaid Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Aaron!

About the Book

Maggie’s job as a heavenly curator of unspoken thoughts is pretty straightforward — for the most part. When Eric, her beholden, shows interest in the new girl at work, Maggie can’t help ignoring the rules to understand the wonders of mortality and love. But meddling in mortal affairs has consequences that Maggie couldn’t have ever imagined.

About the Author

Author of “The Land of Look Behind.” Born and raised in Arizona, Aaron is proud to call the desert home. He came of age in the suburbs of Sacramento, California, and as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Jamaica, where he fell in love with the people and their culture, but he has always been drawn back to the Valley of the Sun. Aaron worked as a freelance sports reporter for The Arizona Republic for nearly 10 years, combining his love of writing and sports. When not working, writing, or serving at church, Aaron volunteers as a soccer and baseball coach for his children and enjoys chasing a small white ball around a golf course.

My Review:

Sorry everyone, I'm not feeling very well so will post a review when I'm feeling better, thanks!


Please follow the rest of the tour here, thanks:

Sunday, October 30, 2016

Library Haul 2016 (Oct 31 - Nov 5)

Library Haul

Here's the list of books/manga/manhwa/yaoi manga I picked up this week at the library:


1.   Darkest Journey - Heather Graham
2.   Liar's Key - Carla Neggers
3.   Insidious - Catherine Coulter
4.   Debt to Pay - Robert B. Parker
5.   A Most Curious Case of Murder - Elizabeth Kane Buzzelli

Saturday, October 29, 2016

Rebecca Adler's The Good, the Bad and the Guacamole Blog Tour with a Spotlight and Excerpt


I am so excited to have Rebecca Adler here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight and Excerpt.

Thanks Rebecca and Great Escape Tours for allowing me to join The Good, The Bad and the Guacamole  Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Rebecca!

The Good, the Bad and the Guacamole
(A Taste of Texas Mystery)

Cozy Mystery
2nd in Series
Berkley (November 1, 2016)
Mass Market Paperback: 304 pages
ISBN-13: 978-0425275948
E-Book ASIN: B01BK0SQ72


Tex-Mex waitress and part-time reporter Josie Callahan is about to serve up some Lone Star justice in this spicy Taste of Texas Mystery from the author of Here Today, Gone Tamale.

Tourists are pouring into the town of Broken Boot for the annual Homestead Days Music Festival. Opening the celebration at Two Boots dance hall is smooth-talking country singer Jeff Clark, the ex-boyfriend of Josie’s best friend, Patti Perez. When the charming Clark woos Patti onstage in an attempt to rekindle some sparks with his old flame, Josie fears her friend will end up as just one more notch on the singer’s guitar strap.

To impress her editor at the Broken Boot Bugle, Josie and her Chihuahua, Lenny, pursue the singer to Patti’s house, hoping for an interview. Instead, they discover Clark facedown in a bowl of guacamole with a bloodied guitar at his side. With Patti suddenly a murder suspect, Josie must use her reporter skills to find out who had a chip on their shoulder — before the killer double dips.



Chapter 1

“Ride ’em cowgirl!”

Diablo lurched, twirled a half turn, bucked his rider, and reeled the opposite way.

“Shut your mouth before I jump off this contraption and belt you one across the kisser,” hollered Patti Perez, her jet-black hair flying in all directions.

We might not be real cowgirls, but living in far West Texas meant we could play the part when the occasion warranted. And there was no better time to talk like characters from an old Western than when riding the mechanical bull at Two Boots on the first night of Broken Boot’s Homestead Days Music Festival.

Patti is the sole proprietor of the Feed and Supply, the only Goth princess in our town of three thousand–plus, and my best friend. With dark-lined eyes wide open, she rode that bull as if she planned to ride it all the way to the weekly livestock show in San Angelo.

Without warning, Diablo shuddered to a halt, causing Patti to slide from the saddle to her feet in the blink of an eye. The crowd near the padded arena burst into applause with a few appreciative whoops from the menfolk. I joined in, though I couldn’t miss the fact she’d barely escaped hitting the mat face-first.

“Come along, Grace,” I said, raising my voice above the wail of an electric guitar. “You don’t want to show up the band.” The festival’s first act was in full swing.

“Just you wait,” she muttered. “You’re up next.”

Ever since a murderous restaurateur tried to put bullet holes in the two of us, Patti and I had forged an unbreakable bond. Tonight, like every other Thursday night, we vented our frustrations with the vagaries of small-town life on the back of Diablo at my family’s dance hall.

“Tall, blond, and handsome at two o’clock.” I gestured with my thumb to a fence post–thin dude in a pioneer costume, sporting a droopy mustache and a scruffy goatee.

When she laughed, the piercings up and down her ears jingled. “Maybe at two o’clock in the morning.” We sat at our elevated table and immediately dove for the basket of buffalo wings, which had arrived during our excursion to the bull riding [GN1] arena. After our brush with eternity, a strange thing happened. Patti, my not-in-the-least-bit-romantic friend, began longing for a mate. And not just a mate. A husband.

Our weekly excursion to Two Boots was my way of helping her beat the small-town dating blues. In our postage-sized town on the Chihuahuan Desert, if you brought all of the eligible men together in one place, half of them would be older than Methuselah and the other half would look as if they crawled out from under a rock.

I backed away from the wings and wiped my fingers. “When does this Jeff Clark play?” If tonight’s headliner would get his boots onstage, I would avoid giving the enthusiastic tourists the added thrill of watching me tossed through the air onto the seat of my britches.

I was looking forward to meeting Jeff Clark. He and Patti dated for a spell while I was living in Austin, pursuing my big-city journalism career—that unfortunately entailed writing obituaries and classified ads. As much as I wanted to see him face-to-face, I didn’t think the hand of fate had orchestrated his appearance in our Homestead Days Music Festival as much as Patti had. Uncle Eddie simply made some calls, negotiated a price, and wham-bam, we had a band.

This new and, frankly, a bit desperate Goth Girl made me nervous.

She frowned and checked the time on her phone. “His set should start in fifteen minutes, if this hillbilly would ever get off the stage.” With two fingers, she began to pull pieces of straw from her bottle-black hair.

I ignored her remark. Ty Honeycutt was many things, but one thing the fine-looking country singer was not was a hillbilly. Was he a redneck? His neck was so red you could stop traffic with it. But, friends, Texans aren’t hillbillies. After the death of his aunt Dixie, stories of his wild antics faded away. He’d loved her more than his own mother, and I sympathized with his loss. If anything should happen to Aunt Linda, a chunk of my heart would shrivel into dust.

“Is that your way of saying that Ty’s songwriting talent doesn’t hold a candle to your own?”

“Go on,” she said with a disparaging wave of her hand. But when she tipped her head back to take another swig from her longneck, she wore a secretive smile.

I laughed. “I can’t wait until Tuesday. The audience is going to go crazy for your songs.” In a few days, Patti would join a group of hand-selected amateur singer-songwriters in the final concert of the festival. Social media and word of mouth had done their bit in promoting the performers, and the singer-songwriter contest. We were crossing our fingers that talent scouts and record labels from across the state would attend. If nothing else, the five-hundred-dollar cash prize would be a welcome pat on the back.

Still, Patti’s sudden interest in her old beau made my stomach roil. “It’s not too late to slip out the back,” I said. Only last summer she warned me away from serious relationships with professional musicians. With a curl of her lip, she pointed out you could flirt with them, but keeping them faithful was another matter—unless you planned to tie them to your fence post. Intoxicated by my plans, her comments fell to the ground unheeded like grains of rice after a wedding. How was I to know my musician fiancé would abandon me at the altar for the Great Barrier Reef? I sighed.

Her chin rose. “You can leave if you want, but what do I have to lose by giving Jeff another chance?”

“Your dignity, pride, and sense of self-worth.” I touched her hand. “Remember how devastated you were after you caught him cheating the last time?” Why my intelligent, fiercely independent friend didn’t realize he might be planning to add another notch to his guitar strap was a mystery to me.

A funny look crossed her face. She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket. “It’s him,” she gushed. “He says he can’t wait to see me.”

“Just…be careful.”

She patted my hand. “I will, don’t worry.”

I found it impossible not to imagine all the negative things that could possibly go wrong as I trailed along behind her. She maneuvered her way through the crowd of locals in long calico dresses and tourists in straw hats and suspenders, around a couple dancing the two-step, and over a woman kneeling on the wooden floor to recover the contents of her pioneer reticule[RC2] [GN3] . I tried to tell Patti I didn’t want to go backstage to meet Clark, but Ty’s tenor thundering from the speakers made it impossible.

She halted at a door near the kitchen marked by a short, beefy security guard and a sign that read:


You ain’t in the band!

As she prepared to knock, a blonde with zebra-like highlights, dressed in a cutoff T-shirt, Daisy Dukes, and cowboy boots came giggling out the door. “Bye, Hank.” She gave us the once over, sneered, and walked away whooping with laughter.

The security guard eyed her with a vacant, beatific smile as if the sashaying girl had lobotomized him with her hips.

A deep furrow appeared across my friend’s forehead as she watched her go. Without warning, Patti spun toward[PE4] the door and grabbed the handle.

The security guard pounced, forcing his body between Patti and the door. “Can’t you read?” he growled, like a bulldog guarding a pile of week-old steak bones.

“Just a minute,” I said, straightening to my full five feet, four inches. “Not only does my family own this place, but Jeff also sent Patti a text message to join him backstage.”

Hank crossed his arms across his rent-a-cop work shirt. “I don’t care if he asked her to marry him. No one goes through the door thirty minutes before showtime.”

“What about that . . .” Patti hesitated. “Lady?”

“She went inside an hour ago.” This time a cruel grin spread across his face. Blocking our entry was the highlight of his day, bless his pea-picking heart. “Not to mention, she’s got to more offer. Goth and boring aren’t on the menu for tonight, girls.”

My temper flared so fast my ears started to burn.

“Hey, Josie.”

I glanced over my shoulder to discover that Vince Schreiner, our regular weekend bouncer, had joined our little party.

He swaggered over in a Davy Crockett costume complete with coonskin hat, a ready-to-rumble grin across his face. “What’s going on, gals?”

Before I could step away, he gave me a one-armed hug, drowning me in the scent of Old Spice and cigar smoke.

The security guard jabbed the handwritten sign with a pudgy finger. “They forgot how to read.”

Vince dropped his arm from my shoulder. “Don’t you worry about these gals.” Flexing his muscles like a Friday-night wrestler, he gave the other guard a curt nod. “Go take your dinner break. I’m your relief.”

“Says who?”

“Says my boss—this young lady’s uncle—who happens to be writing your paycheck.”

After a quick glance at his wristwatch, the security guard nodded. “In case you weren’t briefed, no one goes in the dressing room this close to performance.” He studied me as if I were a stinkbug on the bottom of his shoe. “No matter who they say their uncle might be.”

“Got it.” Vince stepped closer until the guard moved out from in front of the door. “Now git. Your break’s already started.”

For a few seconds, the security guard merely clenched and unclenched his jaw, staring at each one of us in turn. Good sense or hunger finally seeped into his brain and he stomped off toward the kitchen.

“Who died and left him in charge?” Patti, always serene and unflappable, adjusted the collar of her blouse, fidgeted with the leather bands on her wrists, and then began running her fingers through the ends of her hair as if we’d walked inside from a Texas windstorm.

“That would be Jeff Clark’s agent. Under his contract, we’re required to provide additional security.”

Vince flexed his muscles and turned to look at me with his good eye. “Don’t know why. I got it handled.” My childhood friend lost the vision in his left eye to a piece of shrapnel while fighting in Iraq.

“How do I look?”

I placed a hand on Patti’s arm. “You’re just as beautiful as you were before that blond bimbo walked out of Jeff’s dressing room.”

“You bet your butt I am.”

I grabbed both her arms and gently shook her. “Girl, you got this.”

“Whoever he is,” Vince cracked his knuckles, “if he hurts you, I’ll break his face.”

Patti laughed, stepped out of my grasp, and threw back her shoulders. “Bring on the pain.”

“Wait a sec.” Holding us back with his outstretched hand, Vince eased open the door.

Angry voices assaulted the air. “Take it back, Clark!”

“You better check yourself, son. Who do you think got you this gig?”

“That doesn’t mean,” a man grunted, as if in the midst of a struggle, “you can take what you want.”

“It’s mine . . . for the . . . taking.” A groaning sound emanated through the door, as if heavy bodies locked in a game of tug-a-war slid across the floor, bumping into furniture on their way.

“Not this time.”

Before Vince could open the door, something large and heavy crashed to the floor. “Everything all right in there?” the bouncer called through the opening.

I shot a glance at Patti and found her gaze riveted to the door and her hands fisted as if preparing to join the fray.

Suddenly the door banged open and a redheaded man in a black leather vest and matching pants growled, “Get out of the way.” We jumped back as he swung toward Vince and raised his arm high like a bear ready to maul.

“Whoa there, Cochise,” Vince said, jumping back before the other man could make contact. After a tense moment and a glare at the three of us, the man in black stomped off toward the bar.

Patti’s brow furrowed. “Who was—?”

Another man, this one in a white hat and a matching, muscle-hugging tee, lunged through the door. He looked every bit the country-music star. Wavy chestnut hair that curled softly along his neck and around his ears. Incandescent blue eyes. A stance both strong and laid back like he was born to embrace the guitar and sing songs of love to adoring women everywhere. No wonder Patti wanted to give him a second chance. Or third or fourth.

He stopped short at the sight of us, but his hostile gaze pursued the other man as he disappeared into the crowd.

“Can’t y’all read?” He slapped his hand on the door, ripping the sign so that it hung precariously from one corner. “I’m not signing T-shirts or cowboy hats or bandannas[GN5] —nothing. Not until after the show, so beat it.”

“Jeff?” My friend swallowed and pasted on a bright smile, which looked a little funny, as her everyday expression was something between solemn and funereal.

His transformation was awe-inspiring[GN6] . First, the deep furrows across his forehead changed into solid lines; then his hard, down-turned mouth relaxed; and finally the bite and brawl in his eyes cleared into something bright and shiny. “I thought you’d decided to wait until after the show.” He smiled at my friend as if she were the best dark lager, tastiest apple pie, and smokiest beef brisket all rolled into one.

I hoped that look was genuine because Patti deserved someone who truly cared for her. She’d seen enough hurt in the past few years to last until she was gray. But my stomach filled with dread, signaling a warning that he wasn’t to be trusted.

Ignoring my nauseous reaction, I turned my attention to the room behind him. “Everything okay in there?” I nodded toward the dressing room. I didn’t care if he was country singer Jeff Clark or the governor of Texas. He would pay for any damage caused by their testosterone-laden tussle.

His smile dimmed for a brief moment, and I caught the calculation behind his charm. Dang it. I didn’t want my gut reaction toward him to be correct.

“Jeff, this is my good friend Josie Callahan.” Patti placed her hand on his arm. “Her family owns this place.”

His expression morphed into one of delight. “What a pleasure, ma’am. Can’t tell you how great it is to be playing Two Boots after all these years on the Texas circuit.”

I couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t answered my question about the state of the dressing room.

“Watch out,” the Two Boots bouncer interjected. “Next thing you know the sun’ll melt your cell phone right through your windshield.”

We chuckled. “This is Vince,” I said. “He keeps things from getting too rowdy around here.”

With a nod, Jeff shook his hand. “Howdy.”

“Head doorman and bouncer,” Vince added. Both men’s biceps bulged as the handshake turned into a test of their virility.

Jeff grinned as he disengaged from Vince’s strong grip. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind if I find someone in need of bouncing.” His eyes locked with Patti’s until his gaze lowered briefly, caressing her body from the butterfly tattoo at her ear to the black combat boots on her feet.

From the look on Patti’s face, I could see she’d cast caution to the wind.

I gave myself a mental shake and let go of my worries. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, if only for the sake of my friend’s happiness. After all, I was jaded from my own disastrous relationship. The truth: my BS meter was kaput.

A young man wearing a Jeff Clark Summer Tour tee and tattered jeans hurried over from the direction of the kitchen. “Jeff, where you been?” He ignored the rest of us. “Less than five minutes, man.”

“Right.” Jeff transformed from lover to businessman in the flutter of an eyelash. “See you soon, sugar.” He kissed Patti’s cheek and whispered something that made her blue eyes dance.

“Three minutes.” The roadie shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Jeff managed to grace each of us with his oh so sincere smile. “Enjoy the show,” he said, and hurried off already in earnest conversation with his roadie.

We maneuvered our way back to our table, but after fifteen minutes there was still no sign of the charming Jeff or his band onstage. “I hope my eardrums are still intact after this,” I said, as we waited at our table.

Ty Honeycutt and his band of local musicians were currently playing his boot-stomping, electric-guitar-wailing blend of country rock for a standing-room-only crowd. Though they’d greeted his opening number with enthusiastic applause and his guitar solos with cheers, it was obvious by the disappointed sighs at the beginning of each subsequent song he wasn’t whom the crowd had paid to see. I hoped he didn’t notice the crowd’s lack of enthusiasm for his music.

“Is this a sellout?” Patti made a sweeping gesture. “And is it legal?” With a glance of dismay, she drank a healthy swig of beer.

“It’s an answer to Uncle Eddie’s prayers.” We needed the additional revenue to cover the night’s elevated expenses.

“Huh.” She shook her head at my conservative turn of phrase. “You better pray no one has the fire marshal on speed dial.”

I lifted my cider. “Here’s to paying our debts, expanding our business, and more tourists than we can shake a stick at.”

Her pinched lips relaxed and broke into a grin. “Amen, sister.”

Due to the success of our Wild Wild West Festival and the popularity of the late Dixie Honeycutt’s jewelry designs, Broken Boot was now a slightly bigger blip on the radar. Tourists not only passed through town on their way to Big Bend National Park; they also stopped for lunch and, more and more, stayed the night at the Cogburn Hotel and the Rifleman RV Park.

Nearly giddy with the chance to finally make money and pay his bills, Uncle Eddie searched until he found an up-and-comer for the Homestead Days Music Festival that would draw a bigger crowd. That man was Jeff Clark.

“Good night, Broken Boot,” Ty yelled from the stage with a whoop and a screech of his electric guitar. The crowd applauded with more enthusiasm now that the main event was finally within their sights.

Suddenly Jeff Clark and his band stormed the stage to whoops, hollers, and thunderous applause. From the audience, the singer looked handsome and dangerous. Tattoos decorated his well-formed biceps, trailing down to his wrists. Funny, I hadn’t noticed those earlier. Had he donned tattoo sleeves? With a whiskey-smooth baritone he greeted the crowd, earning another round of enthusiastic cheers.

I joined in, cheering and applauding like a true believer. I pushed aside my own disappointments and clung to hope. As he began his set, he made eye contact with the front row of fans, mostly women, and tipped his hat. They screamed in response like a crowd of eighth-grade girls at a boy-band [GN7] concert. If anyone else besides my fiercely intelligent friend had decided to make a play for this country girl’s fantasy, I’d have chalked it up to temporary insanity and told them to get back on their medication. I sighed. This wasn’t about me. It was about Patti finding happiness.

I caught her watching him with laser-beam intensity, the corners of her mouth lifted in a huge smile of anticipation.

And, sure enough, within seconds, the sexy musician’s gaze abandoned the front row of adoring fans to lock eyes with Patti. Again, he tipped his hat and widened his million-dollar smile. Heads turned to find the recipient of his attention, but none landed on my companion. It was too hard for them to believe he had eyes for a Goth princess.

“Looks like he’s making his move.”

“You bet your sweet Aunt Fanny he is.” She swigged the final sip of her beer, slammed the glass to the table, and wiped her mouth with her thumb.

From the stage, Clark gave Patti a come-hither wave of his hand, and the ladies in the crowd went wild as if his invitation was meant for them.

Goth Girl jumped from her stool. “Here goes nothing.”

“Be careful,” I hollered as she headed toward the stage and disappeared into the crowd.

[GN1]STET. Please leave the original ‘bull riding’ with no hyphen. This is the way it is written on several professional cowboy rodeo sites.

[RC2]AU: This seems like a bit of an old-fashioned term. Is it popular in this area of the country?

[GN3]STET. This is part of the pioneer costume.

[PE4]“toward” is the first spelling, which was used in Gone Tamale. I’ve changed all instances.

[GN5]STET. Please leave as ‘bandanas’ – in the style guide for the first book with this spelling.

[GN6]STET. Prefer the more common usage of awe-inspiring, with the hyphen. The word ‘awe’ does not modify his transformation without the addition of ‘inspiring.’ Therefore, it needs a hyphen.

[GN7]STET. Going with NBC News and Grammar Girl on this one. No hyphen, please.

About The Author

Rebecca Adler grew up on the sugar beaches of the Florida Gulf Coast. Drawn to the Big Apple by the sweet smell of wishful thinking, she studied acting on Broadway until a dark-eyed cowboy flung her over his saddle and hightailed it to the Southwest.

Prior to writing women’s fiction, Gina always found a way to add a touch of the dramatic to her life: dinner theatre in Mississippi, can-can club in Florida, and playing a giant Furskin in the New York Toy Fair, plus the occasional play and musical.

She’s currently content to pour her melodramatic tendencies into writing her Taste of Texas culinary mystery series. Set in far West Texas, her humorous stories are filled with delicious suspense and scrumptious Tex-Mex recipes. Her alter ego, Gina Lee Nelson, writes sweet contemporary romances with a sweet, Southern-fried flavor.

Author Links



Twitter: @CozyTxMysteries


Purchase Links

Amazon Barnes and Noble

KOBO Apple

Please follow the rest of the tour here, thanks:

Maggie Toussaint's Doggone It Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt, Guest Post and Giveaway


I am so excited to have Ellen Byron here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight and Giveaway.

Thanks Ellen and Great Escape Tours for allowing me to join your Body on the Bayou Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Ellen!

Guest Post

Methods of death in mystery fiction

By Maggie Toussaint

Killing off victims in mystery fiction isn’t as easy as you think. Shoot ’em is my default M.O. For most people, death follows getting shot in the heart or the head. Those are nearly always fatal wounds.

Right… But wait. If authors kill off all their victims by shooting them, readers think poorly of said authors. They think we’re gun freaks or something.

That’s not good.

Just as it’s not good to have all victims of one gender and all killers of another gender. Readers like variety. Writing mystery fiction isn’t as simple as wash-rinse-repeat.

Further, in cozy mysteries like my Dreamwalker series, the violence needs to happen off-screen. In other words, I research a means of death, learn enough about it to sound like an expert, and then keep 95 percent of that knowledge out of the book. Bummer.

On the bright side, I have talked to some interesting “experts” and I have fascinating books on my bookshelf. When my book on poisons arrived, my husband’s face turned white as an oyster shell. He held up the book, with the cover facing me, and said, “Should I be worried?” [Sidebar note: Family members often take a dim view of this kind of research.]

After reassuring him that I had no intention of killing him, I dove into the book on poisons. I knew from my days as a toxicologist that just about anything, even water, can be a poison depending on the dose. (In a previous book, I poisoned someone by giving them something in their coffee which reacted fatally with her prescription medication.)

So, how do I want to kill thee (on paper)? Let me count the ways… I’ve already mentioned shooting. That’s easy to explain because many suspects have access to weapons. But I have poisoned someone in a book. I’ve had several victims die from knife wounds. Recently I branched out and coshed someone on the head with a shovel. I’ve had a couple of victims who were drowned, a hit-and-run with an auto, an arsonist who killed with fire, a couple of drug overdoses. So far I haven’t killed anyone with a spider, snake, shark, or alligator, though I’ve used those elements to ramp up tension. I also haven’t asphyxiated anyone, either manually or with car exhaust. But I haven’t ruled them out for future books, or any other methods I might have overlooked.

For Doggone It, book 3 in a paranormal series, I chose the eerie setting of a haunted house that was being used as a movie backdrop. I also have the experience of seeing what happens when a film crew descends on a town. It’s a little strange and at times very over the top. Therefore, having someone be shot and killed would be too ordinary for this mystery.

In my opinion, people (and book characters) are a mixture of good and bad. The people who conform to societal norms are generally considered “good” people, while the individuals who operate outside of what is considered good and “right” are considered “bad.” Doggone It uses an unusual means of death for the victims, one that fuels my sleuth to get justice for them. She needs all her resources in this world and the next to catch this killer.

For fun, comment below on something that’s unique about you, and be sure to enter the drawing.

BIO. Southern author Maggie Toussaint writes mystery, suspense, and dystopian fiction. Her work won the Silver Falchion Award for best mystery, the Readers’ Choice Award, and the EPIC Award. She’s published fifteen novels as well as several short stories and novellas. The next book in her paranormal mystery series, Doggone It, releases October 2016. Maggie serves on the board for Southeast Mystery Writers of America and Low Country Sisters In Crime. Visit her at


Doggone It (A Dreamwalker Mystery)
Genre – Paranormal Cozy Mystery
Series: A Dreamwalker Mystery (Book 3)
Hardcover – 292 pages
Publisher: Five Star Publishing (October 19, 2016)
ISBN-13: 978-1432832315 


Dreamwalker Baxley Powell can’t remember the last time she had such a crappy weekend. A twilight encounter with a ghost dog left her numb and disoriented, her dreamwalker abilities are wiped out, and the sheriff just summoned her to a double homicide.

With no access to the spirit world, Baxley bluffs her way through the crime scene where a movie star’s assistant and a charter boat captain were strung up and bled dry. In a haunted house, no less. Figuring out who killed these people will be a real challenge without her ability to speak to the dead.

Just when Baxley thinks her powers are returning, her dreamwalks malfunction. With the sheriff pushing her to solve the case quickly, Baxley teams up with a dognapping medium to boost her powers.

Suspects include the captain’s good-for-nothing brother, the assistant’s replacement, and, of course, his stalker. All of Sinclair County is on edge, and the media circus isn’t helping. At stake are the movie’s funding, the sheriff’s job, and Baxley’s senses.

Can Baxley safeguard her abilities and solve the case before the killer strikes again?

Haunted houses, lost pirate treasure, conniving in-laws, supernatural baddies, and a determined ghost dog test amateur sleuth Baxley Powell’s mettle in Book Three of Toussaint’s Dreamwalker Series.

About The Author

Formerly a contract scientist for the U.S. Army and a freelance reporter, mystery and suspense author Maggie Toussaint has thirteen published books. Her recent mystery releases include Gone and Done It, Bubba Done It, Death, Island Style, and Dime If I Know. Her latest mystery, Doggone It, is Book Three in her dreamwalker series about a psychic sleuth.

Maggie won the Silver Falchion Award for Best Cozy/Traditional Mystery. Additionally, she won a National Readers’ Choice Award and an EPIC Award for Best Romantic Suspense. She was twice nominated for the Georgia Author of the Year Award and finaled in the Beacon and the Readers’ Crown Contest.

Maggie lives in coastal Georgia, where secrets, heritage, and ancient oaks cast long shadows. Visit her at

Maggie’s Links

Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Goodreads | LinkedIn | Pinterest | Booklover’s Bench |

Amazon Author Central | Website


I stared at my best friend, alarmed. “We’re going in the haunted house? Count me out. I didn’t sign on for breaking and entering. I can’t do that. I’ll lose my job as a police consultant.”

Charlotte shone her light on the weathered façade of June’s Folly. “No breaking required, Baxley. The front door is open.”

I added my beam to hers. Sure enough, the paneled door with the centrally located doorknob gaped on its hinges. “Dang. You’re right. Still, this place belongs to someone. We don’t have the right to stroll inside. We’ll be trespassing.”

“Just a peek inside. If the ghost is here, it should repel us at the door, or so goes the legend. Speaking of ghosts, is anyone talking to you? Maybe shaking some chains or speaking in French?”

“All I’m hearing is a desperate reporter.” Cautiously, I touched the banister to see if it was secure. It was. I used the railing for support as I carefully trod the rotten, squeaking steps. Drifts of thickened air stirred my hair and sighed through the pines. Charlotte halted. “You hear that?”

Her voice sounded too high. “The wind?”

“Chains clanking. And a sad, mournful song in another language.”

“Truly?” I heard nothing of the sort. Was Charlotte’s imagination getting away from her? Was there a ghost?

Charlotte sank to the porch decking, her gear clunking as she landed heavily on her rear. “I, uh, need a minute.”

“Okay.” I sat on the top step beside her. Other than feeling dread and a shiver against the elements, I seemed normal with no sign of sensory overload. I marveled that I was still functioning. A little maturity and a little extrasensory training and I had a whole new perspective on this place.

“Don’t you feel it?” My friend’s teeth chattered. “I’m freezing.”

I estimated it was nearly eighty degrees and humid enough for spiders to dance on the air. Puzzled, I touched Charlotte’s arm. Her skin felt cold to the touch. Ordinarily, Charlotte would be griping about the heat and the humidity. Something was crossing her wires.

“Look at you! Working those earlier ghost sites must have unleashed a latent talent.” I gazed at her with frank admiration. “You’re the ghost detector tonight, Char. I’m not picking up anything.”

“Are you looking?”

She had me there. “Nope. I don’t want to have to call my father to come get me again. That would be embarrassing.”

“I thought you were doing this to prove yourself as a full-fledged dreamwalker.”

“My main thought is that you have your answer to the ghost question. Chains and mournful singing support the drowned slave legend. Time to go home.”

“There’s more to this, I know it,” she insisted. “Help me prove it. You can handle whatever it is I’m feeling. I haven’t passed out or anything.”

Like that would reassure me. But there was a certain logic to her claim. I was being a wimp by keeping my senses and my body shielded.

Charlotte had called me out. Worse, she was right. Just because I never heard ghosts before was no reason not to listen for this one.

My talents and my shielding abilities were much more finely tuned now. I’d been talking to the dead for months. I didn’t have to let childhood fears dictate my actions. And, the sooner I gave Charlotte what she wanted, the sooner we could go home.

With that, I closed my eyes and opened my senses to the night. Immediately, I plunged into a freezing fog bank.

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Ellen Byron's Body on the Bayou Blog Tour with a Spotlight and Giveaway


I am so excited to have Ellen Byron here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight and Giveaway.

Thanks Ellen and Great Escape Tours for allowing me to join your Body on the Bayou Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Ellen! 

Body on the Bayou by Ellen Bryon
2 in Series
Genre – Cozy Mystery
Series: A Cajun Country Mystery (Book 2)
Hardcover: 320 pages
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books (September 13, 2016)
ISBN-13: 978-1629537689
E-Book – ASIN: B01H082DPY


The Crozats feared that past murders at Crozat Plantation B&B might spell the death of their beloved estate, but they’ve managed to survive the scandal. Now there’s a très bigger story in Pelican, Louisiana: the upcoming nuptials between Maggie Crozat’s nemesis, Police Chief Rufus Durand, and her co-worker, Vanessa Fleer.

When everyone else refuses the job of being Vanessa’s Maid of Honor, Maggie reluctantly takes up the title and finds herself tasked with a long list of duties–the most important of which is entertaining Vanessa’s cousin, Ginger Fleer-Starke. But just days before the wedding, Ginger’s lifeless body is found on the bayou and the Pelican PD, as well as the Crozats, have another murder mystery on their hands.

There’s a gumbo-potful of suspects, including an ex-Marine with PTSD, an annoying local newspaper reporter, and Vanessa’s own sparkplug of a mother. But when it looks like the investigation is zeroing in on Vanessa as the prime suspect, Maggie reluctantly adds keeping the bride-to-be out of jail to her list of Maid of Honor responsibilities in Body on the Bayou.

About The Author 

Ellen’s debut novel, PLANTATION SHUDDERS: A Cajun Country Mystery, has been nominated for an Agatha Best First Novel award, a Lefty for Best Humorous Mystery, and a Daphne Award for Best Mainstream Mystery. The second Cajun Country Mystery, BODY ON THE BAYOU, will be available in September 2016. Ellen’s TV credits include Wings and Just Shoot Me; she’s written over 200 magazine articles; her published plays include the award-winning Graceland and Asleep on the Wind. Ellen Byron is a native New Yorker who lives in Los Angeles and attributes her fascination with Louisiana to her college years at New Orleans’ Tulane University.






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Friday, October 28, 2016

Anime Overview: Kubikiri Cycle: Aoiro Savant to Zaregototsukai

The story revolves around the protagonist "I" and the murders and mysteries he encounters. He tries in vain to stay out of the story, but instead he always gets dragged into the center of everything. Even though it seems that he contributes a lot, he always finds out that whatever he did was meaningless in the end.

Thursday, October 27, 2016

Stephanie Burkhart's The Wolf's Torment Blog Tour with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway


I am so excited to have Stephanie Burkhart here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway.

Thanks Stephanie and Goddess Fish Promotions for allowing me to join The Wolf's Torment Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Stephanie!

The Wolf’s Torment
by Stephanie Burkhart


It's 1865 and Moldavia is a country nestled against the shores of the Black Sea. Lady Theresa travels from Austria to this country that's haunted by tales of vampires and werewolves. She's going to marry the Crown Prince, but she harbors her own unspoken secrets.

Prince Mihai has just returned to Moldavia to discover he's a witch. He's intent on being a good husband and modernizing his country, but he must find a balance with his supernatural heritage. His best friend, Viktor, accompanies Mihai and marries Mihai's sister. In an unfortunate twist of fate, a werewolf bites Viktor.

Viktor's transformation threatens everyone around him, including his wife's safety and Mihai's happiness, but he's especially dangerous when he's near Theresa. Can Mihai save his family from Viktor's lies and deceptions?


Tybeski nodded and walked out. Now alone, Mihai escorted Sonia to the sofa and sat

down next to her. Viktor stood behind the leather-bound chair adjacent to the sofa, bracing his hands on the headrest, keeping a certain distance between them.

"Sonia, tell me what happened."

"Viktor is a werewolf."

"What? Impossible!" Mihai got to his feet, a wave of nervous apprehension threading through him.

"It is possible, Mihai. A wolf named Bane bit me on our honeymoon. I have transformed," Viktor said quietly.

Mihai lunged at his friend, grabbing the right lapel of his frock jacket. His nostrils were distended with shock, coupled with fear. For him. For Sonia. For Moldavia.

"How could you? You were armed!"

"Mihai, no, don't harm him. He tried to fight them, but they overpowered him." Sonia got to her feet and clenched her fists against his chest. "You have to help him -- you're a witch, after all. You have to teach me to help him."

Mihai took a step back, his body as tight as a bowstring. Yes, he was a witch, but he had no idea what to do. He was no teacher.

"I must go to Mulfaltar the next full moon and meet with my maker's pack," said Viktor.

Mihai slowly ran his gaze over Viktor. Sonia was right. His eyes were no longer soft and kind, but hard and edged.

"Are you a danger to Sonia?" 

AUTHOR Bio and Links

Stephanie Burkhart is a 911 dispatcher for LAPD. She was born and raised in Manchester, New Hampshire. She served 11 years in the US Army and currently calls Castaic, California her home. Stephanie was married in Denmark in 1991 and has two young sons. She adores chocolate and is addicted to coffee. She writes paranormal, contemporary, and steampunk romance and has two children's books published with 4RV Publishing.








Buy Links for The Wolf's Torment






Stephanie will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. 

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Wednesday Wish List

Please list the books/manga/manhwa/yaoi manga from your wishlist that you are hoping to add to your shelves in a comment, thanks.

Photojournalist Siobhan Walsh has been searching for two sisters who disappeared two years ago in Mexico, so when she receives a call from a priest in Texas about an abandoned baby holding a locket with her name, she calls her friends in the FBI for help. The infant obviously belongs to one of the sisters, but how did she end up in Texas? And why did she abandon her newborn?

Lucy Kincaid and her mentor, Supervisory Special Agent Noah Armstrong, track the missing girls and uncover a human-trafficking organization that leads to a seedy underworld in which nothing is as it seems. The bad guys seem to stay two steps ahead of them, leaving behind a trail of dead bodies and Lucy with more questions than answers.

Meanwhile Lucy’s fiance Sean Rogan has a crisis of his own. An old girlfriend returns with shocking news: not only does Sean have a son, but Jesse and his step-father have disappeared. The last thing Sean wants to do is leave Lucy when she’s investigating a horrific case, but his son is in grave danger. Torn between an impossible choice, he makes a decision that has far-reaching consequences for Sean, Lucy, and everything they hold dear.

Danger is heating up

When Carly Reese’s beloved fashion boutique catches fire, she sees her dreams go up in smoke. The good news is that Carly was saved from the flames by a barking dog nearby. She soon discovers the heroic pooch is a trained K-9 who’s guarding his unconscious partner a gorgeous firefighter who ends up in Carly’s arms.

Noah Glover and his K-9 are a fearless duo, and Noah has clearly met his match with the brave, beautiful Carly. Soon they team up to track down the arsonist behind the blast – a psychotic criminal who’s intent on framing Noah. Meanwhile, the sparks between Noah and and Carly could ignite a five-alarm fire. Should they smother their feelings in the name of justice or fan the flames of passion? Find out in Explosive Forces!

Better than going out for Mexican food! Mexican food - by which most of us mean Tex-Mex - is a favourite from Los Angeles to New York and everywhere in between. And the heart of great Tex-Mex cooking comes from home kitchens along the Rio Grande. In The Enchilada Queen Cookbook, Sylvia Casares gives you the best of the best, including tricks and simple techniques to turn any dish from appetizing to amazing. You'll learn howto make her Holy Trinity spice paste; why you should use certain key shortcuts, such as chicken bouillon, in some dishes; and how to do her tortilla-changing Texas Two-Step marinating technique. And after you've picked your favourites from her 14 key sauces, you'll make unbelievable food for a family or a crowd, including - Cheese Enchiladas with Chili Gravy - Shrimp Enchiladas with Salsa Veracruzano - Stewed Chicken Breast Enchiladas with Salsa Mole and the Enchilada Queen is an expert in more than just enchiladas. Here you'll find appetizers, sides, breakfasts and desserts, such as - Guacamole and Picamole - La Fonda Tortilla Soup - Huevos Rancheros - Tamales with a variety of fillings - Sopapillas, Polvorones and Bunuelos The Perfect Margarita's here too, and so much more. In The Enchilada Queen Cookbook, you'll get kitchen wisdom from a lifetime of learning recipes from madres and abuelas who make food specific to their border towns on the Rio Grande. You'll also get a resource for hundreds of family dinners!

Chef Wolfgang Hanau's My Travel Adventures and Secret Recipes Blog Tour with a Spotlight and Giveaway

 I am so excited to have Chef Wolfgang Hanau here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight and Giveaway.

Thanks Chef Wolfgang Hanauand Pump Up your Book Promotions for allowing me to join the My Travel Adventures and Secret Recipes Blog Tour!

Please take it away, Chef Wolfgang Hanauand!

Title: My Travel Adventures and Secret Recipes
Author: Chef Wolfgang Hanau
Publisher: iUniverse
Genre: Cooking
Format: Ebook/Paperback

Chef Wolfgang Hanau, born and educated in Eastern Europe, learned to love good cooking from an early age, so it was only natural that he’d go on to become a world-renowned chef.

What isn’t so natural, however, is his willingness to share the secret recipes he’s learned over a decades-long career at some of the world’s most exclusive restaurants, luxury hotels, and resorts.

In this memoir/recipe book, he revels in dishes with a French flair, Bavarian specialties from Munich’s Oktoberfest, Switzerland’s renowned international cuisine, and dishes from the many great places he’s practiced his craft.

You’ll laugh and smile as he enjoys camelback rides in the Sahara desert, cruises on luxury ocean liners, and meets celebrities at culinary destinations that offer sun, fun, and escapes from the ordinary.

Along the way, he shares recipes that will impress your relatives and friends, including German Warm Potato Salad, the Allenstein BBQ Recipe, Bearnaise Sauce, Rainforest Acai Berry Cookies, Amstel Light Portobello Gorgonzola Burger, Golden Apple Cheddar Pancakes, Apple Jam-Filled Cookies, and Apricot-Glazed Mushrooms over Mixed Baby Greens.

There’s an exciting story and a tasty dish for everyone in this book of secret recipes and travel adventures.

Meet the Author

Chef Wolfgang Hanau, a native of Bavaria, graduated with a bachelor’s degree in culinary arts from the Culinary Institute in Munich. He has worked in Switzerland, Paris, and London and has practiced his craft at many popular hotels and resorts. He lives with his wife, Diana, in West Palm Beach, Florida.


Chef Wolfgang is giving away a $25 Gift Card!

Terms & Conditions: 

By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.

One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive one $25 Gift Certificate to the e-retailer of your choice

This giveaway begins October 24 and ends on November 4.

Winners will be contacted via email on November 5.

Winner has 48 hours to reply.

Good luck everyone!


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Tuesday, October 25, 2016

SMP Romance and Swerve Blog Tour with a Spotlight and Guest Post


I am so excited to all the SMP Romance Authors here at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews with a Spotlight and Guest Post.

Thanks to all the authors and St. Martin's Press/MacMillian for allowing me to join your SMP Romance and Swerve Blog Tour!

Please take it away, everyone! 

Favorite Holiday Food 

Ruth Logan Herne

We've got a great eggnog pie recipe, it's positively decadent! Here's the link to our cooking with the authors website "The Yankee Belle Cafe". pie

Donna Alward

Savory or sweet? There's a Chocolate Chip Cheeseball recipe I got from Debbie Macomber's site that I've modified that I love (plus: cookies!), and for savory, I make sausage-stuffed mushrooms that are easy and so tasty!

Laura Trentham

Broccoli Salad

My go-to potluck I make it every holiday. Basically whenever I can get away with it, because it is SO good.

2 bunches of broccoli, chopped
1/2 lbs cooked bacon, crumbled (I use the pouches of bacon bit to avoid the mess of cooking bacon)
1/2 med red onion, diced
1/2 cup golden or brown raisins
1/4 cup sunflower seeds
1/2 cup Mozzarella cheese, grated
1 cup Mayo (Duke's, of course:)
2T white vinegar
1/4-1/2 cup white sugar

Mix together broccoli, onion, raisins, sunflower seeds. In a small bowl, whisk together mayo, vinegar, and sugar and pour over salad. Mix gently. Chill for several hours or overnight to blend flavors. (This isn't mandatory, but does improve the taste). Just before serving, add bacon and cheese.

Nancy Naigle

I did these videos last year while watching the Hallmark Movie~THE NOTE. Kelsey Browning and I co-author a fun southern cozy series called The Granny Series. There is a clip of her and then one of me in each of these fine uncut - unedited raw videos. The recipe for FaLaLa-LaLa-La Bon Bons is available as a PDF on my website I also have two recipe cards printed up for cookies from my book, CHRISTMAS JOY. I can send those to you if you'd like! I'll be posting them on my website as a free download after the book releases.

Margaret Brownley

Our Christmas dinner is five star dining at its best. That's because my son-in-law is an executive chef and he treats us every year to prime rib with all the trimmings. I never ask for recipes because then I might be tempted to try them.

Tara Wyatt

My mom's shortbread. Hands down. It tastes like Christmas and home the way nothing else does.

Opal Carew

Turkey (dark meat) and stuffing. Mmm. Unfortunately, now that I’m following the Paleo diet, making a stuffing I can eat is a challenge! 

Emily March

I find a new favorite every year in the recipe exchange cookbook I put together from recipes sent in by my readers. Watch my Facebook page or join my mailing list for info on how to get your copy!

Melissa Cutler

My grandmother makes the best fruit cake from scratch, and that's no joke. I would share the recipe, but when I make it, it never turns out like Grandma's, because she must put some secret ingredients in hers.

Mandy Baxter

My all time favorite holiday food is stuffing at Thanksgiving. Carbs be damned! 
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