A Quilt Shop Arrest?

It’s a pleasure to welcome author Chrys Fey to Thoughts in Progress today to talk about her recent release, 30 SECONDS BEFORE, and an intriguing tidbit.

First, Chrys is going to explain about the arrest. Aren’t you a tad curious? Welcome, Chrys.

Years ago, my mom worked in a quilt shop. I heard many stories about women coming to look for fabric, and they took this task seriously. They would get angry if a bolt of fabric they wanted was sold out. Each year, the shop ordered fabric a year in advance. This fabric had to be ordered then because, like the fashion industry, they worked ahead, and once the fabric stopped being manufactured, it was gone for good. Quilters wouldn’t be able to get it again. The shop where my mom worked was the best and closest one for miles. People drove from out of town and out of state. A few times, women came from other countries!

When I write, I like to sneak in special little tidbits from my own life. So, things my mom told me about her job made their way into my stories. In 30 Seconds Before, when Blake recalls moments from his job as a police officer, one of them is a funny incident in a quilt shop.

Check it out:

TEASER:

Blake never minded patrolling. It allowed him to view the city he loved, the city he vowed to protect. He didn’t even mind getting called to sort out silly disputes or to put a scare into shoplifting teens. Once he had to arrest a man walking around naked with a red foam nose, a clown wig on his head, and a bottle of vodka in his hand.

Another time, he had to pull apart two old biddies fighting over a bolt of fabric in a quilt shop. Apparently, the fabric they wanted was no longer being manufactured, and the bolt they each held onto was the last one in the shop. At least the crazy calls made him laugh later. The other calls, the worst calls, gave him nightmares.

Title: 30 Seconds Before

Prequel to 30 Seconds

Genre: Mainstream Thriller

Page Count: 60 (novella)

BLURB:

Blake Herro is a cop in the Cleveland Police Force. Ever since he was a child he wanted to do right by the city he loved by cleaning up the streets and protecting its citizens. Red, a notorious mobster, has other plans.

On a bitter December night, ten police officers are drawn into a trap and killed by Red’s followers. Blake wants to bring down the Mob to avenge his fallen brothers and to prevent other cops from being murdered. Except the only way he can do that is by infiltrating the Mob.

Every minute he’s with these mobsters he’s in danger. Around every corner lies the threat of coming face to face with a gun. Will he make it out of the Mob alive or will he be their next victim?

BOOK LINKS:

Amazon US / Amazon UK /  Amazon CA

Nook / Kobo / The Wild Rose Press

Goodreads

30 SECONDS, the story that follows 30 SECONDS BEFORE, is on sale for 99 Cents. Get it at this discount so you can read the entire story from start to finish!

SALE LINKS:

Amazon / The Wild Rose Press / NOOK / KOBO

Chrys, thanks for joining us today. I enjoy learning that bits of elements in a story actually came from a real-life event even if they have been changed a bit.

Now for those who aren’t familiar with Chrys, here’s a bit of background on her.

Author Chrys Fey

Chrys Fey is the author of the Disaster Crimes Series (Hurricane Crimes and Seismic Crimes), as well as these releases from The Wild Rose Press: 30 Seconds, Ghost of Death, and Witch of Death. She is an administrator for the Insecure Writer's Support Group and heads their monthly newsletter.

Chrys lives in Florida and is always on the lookout for hurricanes. She has four adopted cats who keep her entertained with their antics, and three nephews who keep her entertained with their antics. You can connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and through her blog, Write with Fey. She loves to get to know her readers!

AUTHOR LINKS:

Website / Blog / Facebook / Twitter

Thanks so much for stopping by today during Chrys’ visit. Do you enjoy knowing real incidents are included in stories you read? Do you like the fact that some elements are based on real-life experience?

The Highwayman by Craig Johnson

◊ THE HIGHWAYMAN by Craig Johnson

◊ Series: Longmire

◊ Hardcover: 208 pages

◊ Genre: Western, Mystery, Suspense

◊ Publisher: Viking (May 17, 2016)

◊ Language: English

◊ ISBN-10: 0735220891

◊ ISBN-13: 978-0735220898

SYNOPSIS:

          Sheriff Walt Longmire and Henry Standing Bear embark on their latest adventure in this novella set in the world of Craig Johnson’s New York Times bestselling Longmire series—the basis for the hit drama Longmire, now on Netflix
 
         When Wyoming highway patrolman Rosey Wayman is transferred to the beautiful and imposing landscape of the Wind River Canyon, an area the troopers refer to as no-man's-land because of the lack of radio communication, she starts receiving “officer needs assistance” calls. The problem? They're coming from Bobby Womack, a legendary Arapaho patrolman who met a fiery death in the canyon almost a half-century ago. With an investigation that spans this world and the next, Sheriff Walt Longmire and Henry Standing Bear take on a case that pits them against a legend: The Highwayman.

Sometimes seeing is believing and sometimes it’s still hard to believe what you see.

So seems the case in author Craig Johnson’s latest Longmire story, THE HIGHWAYMAN. The author once again uses the spirit world to bring a story full circle. Johnson makes the unexplainable appear plausible.

Being a novella, the story is short and easily read in an afternoon. The pace is quick threaded with action and suspense. The secondary characters add depth to the story. Meanwhile, the bond between Walt and Henry is reinforced by their actions.

This is a wonderful tale in the Longmire tradition. Johnson knows how to blend Native American traditions/customs with modern times and law enforcement procedures for a smooth flowing story. Through detailed descriptions and an eye for detail, Johnson places the reader in the middle of the scene as the story unfolds around you.

This is a fascinating tale that will have you reflecting on it long after you close the book.

The Highwayman by Craig Johnson, A Longmire Story (Novella), Viking, @2016, ISBN: 978-0735220898, Hardcover, 208 Pages 

FTC Full Disclosure – A copy of this book was sent to me by the publisher in hopes I would review it. However, receiving the complimentary copy did not influence my review. The thoughts are completely my own and given honestly and freely.

Thanks so much for stopping by. Are you a fan of the Longmore books and/or series? Which do you prefer and why?

Author Christi Barth Talks About The Opposite of Right

*This post contains affiliate links.

I’m delighted to welcome author Christi Barth back to Thoughts in Progress. Christi joins us to talk about her rock star romance novella, The Opposite of Right, book 1 in her Bad Decisions trilogy that’s available today.

Christi has graciously answered some questions for me, but first here’s a brief synopsis of THE OPPOSITE OF RIGHT. I’m also sharing my thoughts on this fascinating read.

      Kylie Stafford has spent her whole life doing exactly what’s expected. The right major, the right sorority, the right guys, just like her mother and her sister before her. But when everything falls apart for her, Kylie wonders if doing everything right has been utterly wrong. There’s only one way to find out.
      She decides to try making all the wrong choices for three months. Hit on a tattoo-covered rock musician? Check. Go back to his dressing room for a hot hook-up against the wall? Gulp. Drop everything to be a roadie for him to binge on more of the best sex of her life? Maybe. Start falling for him despite her better judgment? Um….yeah. Figure out why doing everything that seems wrong feels so darn right?

My thoughts ……….

The characters in Author Christi Barth’s appear to be complete opposites but find they are very much alike. Their traits and faults will have readers relating and pulling for them. They are well-developed and likable.

The setting sizzles much like the chemistry between the main characters. Readers are quickly pulled in and find themselves immersed in the actions of the characters. The story flow at a good pace, smoothly and with heart-pounding romance.

This is a quick read that will leave you smiling and taking a different look at how you perceive your choices. THE OPPOSITE OF RIGHT is romance, passion, self-awakening and insight rolled into an entertaining steamy novella you won’t put down until the very end.

The Opposite of Right by Christi Barth, Bad Decisions trilogy Book #1, Amazon Digital Services, @2015, ASIN: BO14VR2YEW, 3770KB, 86 Pages 

FTC Full Disclosure – A copy of this book was sent to me by the author in hopes I would review it. However, receiving the complimentary copy did not influence my review. The thoughts are completely my own and given honestly and freely.

Now, join me in giving a warm TIP welcome to Christi as she answers some questions. Welcome, Christi.

MASON - Did the idea of THE OPPOSITE OF RIGHT come first or the ideal of the Bad Decisions Trilogy?
 
Christi:
Both? Simultaneously, almost? I was attempting to be strategic - rock star romance is popular right now. My friends thought it'd be a good fit for my voice, so they urged me to write a rock star series. But there was zero story idea attached to that bullet point on the business plan. So in the same day, I tried to think of what makes rock stars so hot, and I kept circling back to the appeal of a Bad Boy. How was I supposed to make a bad boy the right guy? And that's when the idea for The Opposite of Right hit me.

Mason - What is the hardest part of creating a story for you - the setting, characters, dialogue or something else?
 
Christi:
Oh, I love wallowing in setting and dialogue. The only place I get hung up is when it comes to conflict. With my stories being set right here and now, there really aren't any serious obstacles to a woman being with the man she loves. Contemporary romance conflict is tough.

Mason - Who designed the cover of THE OPPOSITE OF RIGHT and did you have any input in the decision?
 
Christi:
It is my favorite cover EVER! Pickyme did the cover and I've already lined her up to do the rest of the trilogy. And it is all her brilliance, because here is what I told her (besides the blurb): I would love a series logo. Don’t know if making Bad Decisions into a concert ticket would work? I’m very, very bad at this. I would like it to be scorchingly hot. I feel like I really need ½ naked male abs to make it fly off the shelf.

Mason - What is a typical writing day like for you?
 
Christi:
I have a day job, so a typical writing day entails me working all day, going to the gym, cooking dinner, maybe watching an hour of TV with my hubby, I start writing about 9 p.m. and go until I freak out about how late it is around midnight and run for bed.

Mason - What one question do you wish readers would as, but no one never does?
 
Christi:
I have two books that have sequels semi-plotted but unwritten. I'd love for readers to ask me what happens next and if I'll be writing the sequels! (They weren't sold as part of a series, so this is me just falling in love with my characters and wanting to stretch things out.)

Mason - What new projects are you currently working on?

Christi:
I’m working on book two in the Bad Decisions trilogy, The Reverse of Perfection, which release in May. But I’m beyond excited for the launch of my Naked Men series with Loveswept, kicking off in March with Risking It All. It centers around five men who survived a high school tragedy, how it made them into the men they are today, and of course, the women who complete them

Christi, thanks for joining us today and sharing this insight on how your story came about. The book cover is very catchy.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Author Christi Barth, Amy Jones Photography

Christi Barth earned a Master’s degree in vocal performance and embarked upon a career on the stage.

A love of romance then drew her to wedding planning. Ultimately she succumbed to her lifelong love of books and now writes contemporary romance.

Christi is President of the Maryland Romance Writers and lives in Maryland with her husband.

For more on Christi and her writing visit her website and blog, as well as connect with her on Pinterest, Twitter, Goodreads, Amazon Author Page, and Facebook.

Thanks so much for stopping by today during Christi’s visit. Are you a fan of novellas? Have you ever dreamed about being a rock star or being with a rock star?

Author Dan Maurer: Snow Day On Tour

I’m delighted to be a part of author Dan Maurer’s Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour for his novella release, SNOW DAY: A Novella.

As part of the tour, I was fortunately to be able to review the book as an audio. I’m sharing my thoughts on the book, an excerpt to entice your reading taste buds even more, and a bit about the author. First my review.

SNOW DAY by Dan Maurer

SNOW DAY is one of those stories that transports you back in time to a simpler world. But one that was just as menacing as now.

Narrator Allwyn Baskin does a fine job of bringing the characters to life. His pleasant voice draws you in and holds your attention until the end. The steady rhyme of his voice intensifies when the action escalates. 

Author Dan Maurer has created a cast of realistic characters that will have you laughing and cringing. The characters are well-developed and reminiscent of youngsters from our youth. Their antics and bantering is plausible. 

The adventure of a group of youngsters on a typical snow day from school becomes anything but typical. Danger first comes in the form of ‘catching a ride’ as they glide along behind cars unknown to the drivers. From there the adventure takes an even more sinister and deadly turn. 

For 10-year-old Bill Stone, snow days will never be the same as he tries to make his way back home running from a madman bent on catching him first. 

SNOW DAY is set in 1975 during an idyllic time when we believed we were safe. This chilling tale puts that time into a whole day perspective. SNOW DAY can be read around the camp fire in summer and will be strongly remembered when the flakes of winter snow are falling.

Snow Day by Dan Maurer, Performed by Allwyn Baskin, Black Rapids Audio, @2013, ASIN: B00CHXW7HM, Unabridged, Digital Download, Listening Time: 3 Hours 5 Minutes

FTC Full Disclosure - This audio book was sent to me by the author as part of his virtual book tour in hopes I would review it. However, receiving the complimentary copy did not influence my review.
 
AN EXCERPT:
Now here’s an excerpt to entice you a bit more.

Prologue
January, 1975 

     Tap…tap, clang… Tap…tap, clang…
     ”Hello?”
     My voice was cautious as I called into the darkness. It wasn’t my house and I had no business being down in that cellar. By the look of the boards on the windows upstairs, and the weeds that strangled the front yard, it hadn’t been anyone’s house for a long time. But still, even at ten, I knew in my bones that I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.
     One of the windows was busted at the corner, and the cold wind whipped and whistled at the breach. Outside, a loose metal trash can rolled and rattled and knocked about with each new gust. It made a soft, distant sound.
     Tap…tap, clang… Tap…tap, clang…
     The only light was an old Coleman lantern that I found there. It lay at my feet, the mantle fading and sputtering. Beyond the meager glow that lit no more than my boot-tops, it gave me the terrifying certainty that someone was here, or close by, and would soon —
     Was that a sound? I held my breath and listened carefully, trying hard to dismiss the pounding pulse that thrummed in my ears. Was that a shuffling sound, maybe feet moving and scraping across loose dirt?
      “Hello…? Anyone here…?”
     I squinted hard but it was useless. The darkness was unyielding and oddly thick with the smell of freshly turned earth. Someone had been digging down here.
     Tap…tap, clang… Tap…tap, clang…
     Running into the house to hide from the police was my only option. The place should have been empty, long abandoned. But it wasn’t, and I knew now that I had to get out. I turned to leave, to run; and then I heard it, a word from the darkness. It was whispered and pitiful and — it was my name. Someone in the darkness called my name.
     ”B-Billy?”
     ”Who’s there?” I called out.
     ”I…I…didn’t d-do nothing wr-wrong, Billy.”
     Both the voice and its stutter were familiar. Just hearing it made my guts twist.
     Tap…tap, clang… Tap…tap, clang…
     I snatched up the lantern at my feet, recalled my scout training, and worked the pump to pressurize the kerosene. The lantern’s mantle hissed a bit, burned a little brighter, and pushed back the darkness.
     ”Holy shit…”
     The light washed over a young boy. Like me, he was just ten, and I knew his name.
     ”…Tommy?”
     It came out like a question, but it wasn’t. Tommy Schneider lived next door to me and was part of our snowball fight just a few hours before.
     When the light touched him, Tommy flinched and turned his shoulder, as if anticipating a blow. He shivered and folded his arms across his chest, hands tucked in his armpits. He paced and shuffled his feet in a small circle, as if his bladder was painfully full, and he whined and muttered; half to himself, half to me.
      “It w-wasn’t m-my fault, Billy. I…I just w-wanted to play.” His eyes were swollen and red, and the tears ran streaks through the dirt on his freckled face.
     Tap…tap, clang… Tap…tap, clang…
      “Tommy, what the hell are you doing down here?”
     ”I..I…I’m sorry, b-but I d-didn’t do nothing wrong, Billy. I’m s-sorry.”
     He kept his hands tucked under his armpits, but motioned with his chin. And that’s when I saw it, just a few feet from where I stood.
     Naked and half buried in a pile of loose earth lay the dead body of a boy that appeared to be our own age.
     ”Jesus Christ…what the hell, Tommy.”
     ”No….” His whining grew and fresh tears were coming.
     ”What the hell did you do?”
     ”Nooo…” he whined more and covered his ears. “I didn’t do nothing wrong.”
     Frantic now, I held out the fading lantern, quickly looking around. We were still alone. The scene before me was unfathomable.
     In the half-shadows of the cellar where the lantern struggled to reach, there was a pile of fresh, moist earth and broken shards of concrete. I saw some tools – a sledgehammer and a shovel, and I think a pickax, too. A few brown sacks of cement mix were piled against the wall. And there was a large hole; a gaping wound in the cellar floor that reached beneath the foundation of the house, a hole that led down into a place where the lantern’s light could not touch. Nearby, a stray boot lay in the dirt, just beyond it a gym sock, and another lay close by my feet. A faded, wadded up pair of jeans was perched at the edge of the hole.
     Tap…tap, clang… Tap…tap, clang…
     I shivered, despite my layers of clothing and new winter coat. Tommy was freezing. He wore only jeans and a t-shirt pulled over a long-sleeved sweatshirt. His breath, like mine, fogged in the January air, and his jaw waggled helplessly from his shivering.
      “Who’s that?” I asked, pointing to the body.
     At first, Tommy’s eyes followed my finger, but then he just moaned and cried some more, and turned away.
     I couldn’t tell if the boy on the ground was from our immediate neighborhood, or my school, or Boy Scout troop, or baseball team. It was difficult to discern much about him at all. He lay on his belly in a pile of dirt, and the loose earth covering his face and parts of his torso were, it seemed, tossed on him carelessly by whoever dug the hole. The backs of his pale white thighs glowed in the lantern’s light. The only stitch of clothing left on him was a pair of white Fruit of the Loom jockeys tangled around one ankle.
     I picked up one of the gym socks from the ground, pinched it into a ball and held it with the tips of my fingers. Kneeling beside the dead boy’s head, I held the lantern close with one hand and used the sock to brush the dirt from his face with the other. Like a fossil being unearthed by an archeologist, the truth came slowly. As the seconds passed, the light and each stroke of my hand brought broken, bloodied and indecipherable features into sharp focus. But the crushed and jellied eyeball put me over the edge.
     I jerked back from the body.
     “Oh, God! Tommy, what — ”
     My stomach lurched.
     I dropped the lantern and fell backward onto the ground. Turning and scrambling away on hands and knees, I found a corner and began to wretch. My back arched and my body convulsed uncontrollably. It was the Coney Island Cyclone all over again, but this time nothing came up, only thin strands of bile dripped from my mouth and down my lips.
     In time, the convulsions faded. I finally rolled over and just sat there, looking at Tommy, wiping the spittle from my lips with the back of a shaky hand. My head throbbed and my mind was fuzzy. No words would come.
     The wind howled through the broken cellar window again. Outside, the passing cars made a distant shushing sound as they crept along Woodlawn Avenue, tires rolling through the snow and slush. My heaving, stinking breath clouded in the cold air, and Tommy just cried.
     Clang, clang… Clang, clang…
     I was ten years old and had just seen my very first real dead body – still and soulless, and battered beyond recognition – lying on the floor of a cold, dark cellar of an abandoned house. What the hell did I get myself into?
     Clang, clang… Clang, clang…
     Staggering to my feet, I picked up the lantern and held it out.
     ”Tommy… who did this?” My throat was dry and pained.
     Just as the words passed my lips, something in my mind and in my ears opened up – popped open, really, like in the cabin of an airliner during descent. That sound.
     Clang, clang… Clang, clang…
     It was different. It was continuous. It wasn’t the rattling trash can anymore. The sound came from a distance but it was there, and it was distinctive. I knew exactly who was standing impatiently, hip cocked and jaw set, banging on the lip of a dinner bell with her soup ladle.
     Clang, clang… Clang, clang…
     Tommy looked at me. He heard it too and knew what it meant.
     ”Your Ma’s calling, Billy.”
     ”Who, Tommy?”
     ”I…I…didn’t d-do nothing wr-wrong, Billy,” Tommy whined. “I just w-wanted to play.”
     ”Tommy…”
     ”It was ol’ George,” he finally said. “He did it. Stay away from ol’ George.” And then he started to cry again, whimpering. “I just wanted to play,” he mumbled through the tears. ‘ …just wanted to play…”
     Clang, clang… Clang, clang…Clang, clang

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Dan Maurer is an independent author, publisher, theater producer,

director, and digital marketer. He is also a proud member of International Thriller Writers, Inc. and the Horror Writers Association. Throughout his career in publishing and marketing, he has been involved in the publication of bestselling titles such as John Grisham’s The Firm, Richard Price’s Clockers, and Jim Lovell and Jeffrey Kluger’s Lost Moon, which became the film Apollo 13. 

As a digital marker, he has supported popular publishing brands including Curious George, Peterson Field Guides, and The Polar Express. He has also developed marketing strategies for many corporations, including Citizen, Dun & Bradstreet, RCN and Bristol-Myers Squibb. Dan is a member of an acclaimed New Jersey-based theater company and has won awards for his producing, directing and sound design. 

He lives with his wife and their daughter in Robbinsville, New Jersey.

For more about Dan and his writing, visit his website and find him on Facebook and Twitter.

Thanks for stopping by today. Do you enjoy snow days when you can escape from work to play? Do you have fond memories of snow days from your youth?