KINDLE UNLIMITED SPOTLIGHT - PNR - BLIND SPOT by Jo Richardson

Blind Spot

by Jo Richardson

Date of Publication: December 15th 2020

Cover Artist: Jada D’Lee Designs

Genre: Paranormal Romance, 

Suspense, Mystery

ISBN: 9798686197770

Number of pages: 498

Tagline:  How do you stay out of someone’s life when it flashes before your eyes on a daily basis? 

BLURB

Sydney Fallon has spent her entire life seeing things before they happen. 

Tucker Chase is no exception. He’s not looking for any new friends when he rolls into town. He's not looking for anything but a way to escape his past. 

But how do you stay out of someone's life when you see it flashing before your eyes on a daily basis?

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Excerpt

At water’s edge, I try to let the cool evening breeze wash away my anxieties. I barely hear myself or understand myself as I say the words I’m asked to repeat.

Two words, for sure, I know by heart.

By my heart.

"I do."

You may now kiss your bride.

There’s a lingering kiss, a wandering hand. He’s as needy as I am and I smile against his lips for letting himself feel it.

Clapping and cheering, teasing and laughter erupt all around us as we turn and face the world together. The scattered faces of all our friends are a blur, but I can tell they’re happy to take part in the ceremony.

Happy for us.

A declaration of matrimony is made, then we’re hurrying through the small crowd.

People toss rice; they blow bubbles.

The rest of it, I hardly remember.

The dance.

The kiss.

The cake.

It’s all in fast forward. 

I hope someone’s getting it on video.

The car ride at the end of the night is as swift as it’s not even happening. 

I watch landscapes speed by, clouds swirl.

My mind wanders.

Three words bring me back to him.

"You're mine now." His voice is low and vulnerable, rough and sultry.

I always was.

A soft glow shimmers from a window as we pull up to our new home and I shiver from anticipation.

He whisks me into his arms. He carries me across the threshold. He gazes at me with nothing but adoration.

His smile is disarming. His lips even more so as they travel along my jaw, underneath the soft curls that dangle against the back of my neck, then finally, near the upward tilted corners of my mouth.

He’s everywhere.

Soft fabrics fill the bedroom. Against the windows, on the floor, in our bed. Deep purples and reds. Sheer curtains ripple from the breeze like they’re reaching out to me.

Candles flicker and dance. Their scents romanticize the mood, as though it needs any help.

"I want you,” he murmurs.

You have me. Forever.

Clothes are gone in an instant. He hovers over me, trailing soft, tender, needy kisses. He follows a map of some sort to my lips.

The backs of his fingers graze my skin. Along the dip between my breasts, then my belly, between my legs, stopping when I squirm and giggle.

Wrinkles crease at the edges of his eyes as he grins down at me. My heart wants to burst.

Oh, the intensity in that smile.

I know him.

Better than he knows himself.

"I'll always protect you,” he promises.

I believe him.

His fingers trace. They tease. They dip. They do things I’ve never known fingers can do.

I gasp from the overwhelming bliss of it all.

"So good," he whispers in my ear. The stubble from his beard scratches lightly against my cheek.

I agree. “So good.”

Soft, desperate hums raise flesh along my shoulders, down my back. Experienced hands guide my body, leaving me breathless underneath him.

"I will always love you."

I'll hold you to that.

He presses himself against me, and I meet him, hungry for more.

Then I beg him to stay.

He answers like he always does.

"I can't."

Not again.

The beginnings of loss prick at the corners of my eyes. I hold on to him for dear life. I can’t stifle the sounds that escape me as his strong arms surround me, making promises I know better than to hold true.

Colors fade.

Soft touches subside.

Scents diminish.

And then he's gone.

xxx

 

My eyes flutter open. I wipe away the tears.

My thighs tighten and I throb between them as consciousness creeps back.

I breathe in and out. I roll to my side. I sigh as morning glints through the trees.

I try to recall details, but it’s useless.

I can never quite make out his face, only the sound of his voice. What I imagine it sounds like, anyway. Just thinking about it now makes me shiver underneath the covers.

It’s been haunting me for weeks.

Every time, he sweeps me off my feet. Every time, he loves me. Every time, he leaves me.

“Ugh.”

"Sydney!" Even from down the stairs and out the door, I can hear my grandmother calling me, as clear as if she’s in my room.

I force myself out of the warmth of my bed with a stretch and a yawn. No need to check the time. Gran is my alarm clock.

I peer down at her from my window and watch her for a moment. She’s always told me to listen to my subconscious, to try and hear what it’s telling me, but honestly, even I have to laugh as I think about it.

What can a reoccurring sex scene be trying to tell me other than, “you really need to get laid”?

She catches me spying down at her, and Gran summons me in her typical way. Two fingers placed strategically inside her lips, then a whistle that’s louder than those old air raid sirens from back in the fifties.

I roll my eyes but smile. I wave to her to let her know I'll be down soon to help with breakfast. Then I push the imaginary stranger out of my thoughts and head for the shower, feeling silly.

After all, it was just a dream.

Author Info

A FanAddict of worlds inside big screens, small screens, and books.

A superhero geek who grew up in Maryland with four siblings, three parents and an endless number of cousins within the vicinity – but it was too cold up North for this thin blooded girl. Today, Jo lives in Florida with her two girls and a husband who shares her same sense of humor and basic take on life as they know it.

Sometimes, she even creates her own worlds.

Dabbling in both contemporary and the paranormal, Jo writes stories with mystery, suspense, humor, action, romance, and anything else she can think up.

Website: http://jowrites.weebly.com/

Newsletter: https://bit.ly/2TF3JFj

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jo.richardson95/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/joficfreak

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Jo-Richardson/e/B00GIOCXSY

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7377022.J_R_Richardson

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KINDLE UNLIMITED SPOTLIGHT - COZY MYSTERY - THE DICKENS & CHRISTIE MYSTERIES by Kathy Manos Penn

Whiskers, Wreaths & Murder

A Dickens & Christie Mystery, #3

by Kathy Manos Penn

Genre: Cozy Mystery

If it were up to her, they’d be singing carols and baking cookies.

Instead, they’re stockings-deep in a murder investigation…

Leta Parker is looking forward to her first holiday season in the Cotswolds. Prepping for the town’s tree-lighting ceremony, the village is enraged when the new American earl announces plans to develop his family’s estate into a resort. And when the brash successor is found dead in a ditch, it’s obvious this car crash was no accident.

Determined to unwrap the truth behind the tragedy, Leta enlists the help of the Little Old Ladies Detective Agency and her talking dog and cat. But with everyone in the charming hamlet a suspect, it’ll be tough to discover who’s not on Father Christmas’s naughty list.

Will Leta and friends deliver the gift of justice?

Whiskers, Wreaths & Murder is the third book in the delightful Dickens & Christie cozy mystery series. If you like clever senior women, deep friendships, and animals of the talking variety, then you’ll love Kathy Manos Penn’s yuletide whodunit.

Buy Whiskers, Wreaths & Murder for a holiday homicide today!

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Pumpkins, Paws and Murder

A Dickens & Christie Mystery, #2

The Fall Fête isn’t very festive when an illusionist is discovered dead. 

Can an expat and her talking pets crash the killer’s party?

Retirement in the Cotswolds has given Leta Parker a new lease on life. Growing close to her small-town pals, the former corporate trainer is thrilled to help them put on the village’s annual autumn celebration. But the punch goes sour when a friend’s estranged magician husband is found murdered.

With the newly widowed woman the prime suspect, Leta leaps into action with spunky friends and her talking dog and cat to clear her name. But when they trace the lecherous victim to England’s picturesque southern coast, they discover a long list of past lovers who’d be happy to see the sleight-of-wandering-hands womanizer permanently disappeared.

Can Leta expose the truth, or will this investigation be her final trick?

Pumpkins, Paws & Murder is the second book in the lighthearted Dickens & Christie cozy mystery series. If you like compelling characters, talkative four-legged friends, and journeys full of action and humor, then you’ll love Kathy Manos Penn’s playful tale.

Buy Pumpkins, Paws & Murder for a grand illusion of danger today!

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Bells, Tails & Murder

A Dickens & Christie Mystery, #1

She crossed an ocean to start her life over. 

Can she nab a killer before her quaint village becomes a graveyard?

Recently widowed Leta Parker desperately needs a change of scenery. Pursuing her lifelong dream of retiring to the Cotswolds, she leaves her soulless corporate hustle in Atlanta and moves to England with her talking dog and cat companions—Dickens and Christie. But she’s barely begun making new friends when she stumbles across her housekeeper’s body …

With several villagers pegged for the crime, Leta teams up with a retired English teacher and her sharp-as-a-tack octogenarian mother to track the killer before the trail goes cold. As the not-so-friendly local policewoman elbows them out and scandalous rumors plague the tight-knit community, it’s left to the ladies and their pets to sleuth for the truth.

Can Leta, Dickens, and Christie sniff out the culprit before the cute little town loses more than its charm?

Bells, Tails & Murder is the delightful first book in the Dickens & Christie cozy mystery series. If you like spunky literary women, amusing animal sidekicks, and inviting cultural backdrops, then you’ll love Kathy Manos Penn’s engaging page-turner.

Buy Bells, Tails & Murder to see the fur fly today!

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A Dickens & Christie Mystery Box Set

Books I, II & III

If you like clever senior women, deep friendships, and amusing animal sidekicks, you’ll love this cozy mystery series.

When tragedy rocks her world, Leta Parker hops across the pond to mend her soul. Will a murder in her tranquil hamlet upend her plans . . . or can she catch the killer and still be home for tea? 

Dive into the first three books in the delightful Dickens & Christie mystery series. Do you like compelling characters, cultural backdrops, and talkative four-legged friends? Then you won’t want to miss these clever whodunits.

Get the box set on Amazon!

**Coming Soon!**

Collectors, Cats & Murder

A Dickens & Christie Mystery, #4

Pre-Order Now!

Picture me sitting serenely at my desk surrounded by my four-legged office assistants. The dog warms my feet, and the cat provides the purr-fict background music. I sip hot tea, sift through handwritten notes, and place fingers on the keyboard as thoughts take shape. Such is the joy of writing.

As a child, I took a book everywhere—to family dinners, to doctor’s offices, and of course to bed. Years later, a newspaper article inspired me to put pen to paper and submit my thoughts—my words—to the editor. Before I knew it, I was writing weekly columns and blogs. Then came a book co-written with my dog. (What? Doesn’t everyone do that?)

Now I’m living a dream I never knew I had—writing cozy animal mysteries featuring a dog and cat who talk to their owner. If a dog can write a book, surely animals can communicate. Naturally, my office assistants help with the dialogue. And, yes, they are angling to be listed as co-authors.

By the way, if you can’t find me, I’m traveling in the UK doing research for my next mystery—don’t judge.

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RECENT RELEASE w/EXCERPT - MYSTERY - CHARLESTON BUZZ KILL (Nick Janzek Charleston Mysteries, #2) by Tom Turner

Charleston Buzz Kill

(Nick Janzek Charleston Mysteries, #2)

by Tom Turner

Publication date: December 1st 2019

Genres: Adult, Mystery

BLURB
When one of the stars of the boozy, risqué reality show, Charleston Buzz, takes a bullet to the head in mid-tryst, homicide cops Nick Janzek and Delvin Rhett swing into action. Within twenty-four hours they have five suspects…problem is all of them have solid alibis.

Meanwhile, across town, is that a clandestine brothel being run by the fat cats of Charleston?

And what’s with all those college girls hanging out there?

As new partners Janzek and Rhett stumble along looking for a break, it becomes clear that some of Charleston’s most prominent citizens are up to their eyeballs in it all.

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—

EXCERPT:

Vermelle LeGare had one of the oldest, most prominent surnames in Charleston. Fact is, the nicest street in Charleston was LeGare Street—pronounced Le-gree, as in Simon. Close seconds being Tradd and Church Streets.
Vermelle, though, was black and poor, a fifth-generation cleaning lady. Her husband, Willie, had just dropped her off at the corner of Broad and Church—a ten-minute walk to the house on Stoll’s Alley where Vermelle was working that day. Willie’d dropped her there because he had a big roofing job that day and didn’t want to be late. Vermelle didn’t point out to Willie that his being on time would make her late for Mr. David.
Mr. David was David Wayne Marion, a rich, handsome fifty- year-old man. Vermelle knew just how rich he was because his net worth had been published in an article in the Post & Courier when he took an ill-fated run at becoming governor. Seventy-five million, mostly in real estate, she recalled.
After he lost in his bid to become governor, Mr. David veered off in a whole different direction and—of all crazy things—ended up becoming the star of a TV reality show. He had money, looks, and success, so fame was all that was left. But Vermelle had seen the show and… well, she intended to keep her opinion to herself.
She walked down Church Street and marveled once again at the beautiful houses on the street shaded by live oak trees with their wide, majestic canopies. Her favorite was a four-story brick Georgian with a dark mahogany door and antique glass fanlight above it. The house had graceful pediments above the windows and a perfectly proportioned wall to its right. On the second floor was a classic piazza where she imagined the husband and wife sipped their sloe-gin fizzes as soon as the clock struck five. Maybe earlier.
On the next block, she passed the garage door of an elegant Federalist-style house and chuckled to herself at the angry red letters stenciled onto its garage: Do not block driveway. Violators will be persecuted to the full extent of the law.
Did that mean hanged, she wondered, or merely tarred-and- feathered? And wasn’t it… prosecuted? White people didn’t make mistakes like that… did they?
Her favorite wall in Charleston was on the next block. Its surface was dirty concrete with patches of green lichen making it look a thousand years old. The highlight of the wall was the most intricately detailed wrought iron gate she had ever seen. She wondered if it had been crafted by Philip Simmons, a blacksmith by trade and a black man by birth whose work, she had heard, had ended up in the Smithsonian Museum.
Then she passed the decrepit house with a severe lean to one side, that always caught her attention. It was a stately colonial with imposing columns but was run-down and neglected. Like the owner couldn’t afford to keep it up. She had heard Mr. David on the phone once making fun of a woman who was, “house-rich and check book poor” and wondered if this was her place. Mr. David went on about how the woman was from an old Charleston family but had been spotted using food stamps on the down low at the local Harris Teeter food market.
Vermelle turned left on Stolls Alley and walked over the bumpy, broken-brick pavement. The roads were in far better shape up on Nunan Street—in the heart of the ’hood—where she lived in her two-bedroom freedman’s cottage. She had observed how the well-to-do south of Broad Street folks leaned toward the old, worn, distressed look. She had heard the word ‘quaint’ used a lot but just couldn’t see it.
At number 5 Stoll’s Alley, she rang the bell and waited.
David Marion’s Greek Revival featured grey stucco over brick— the brick peeking through in several places. Vermelle had heard how at one point in history brick had lost favor with the rich folk so they had simply stuccoed over it. As she fumbled for her key, she looked over at the bulky two-inch-thick shutters with cut-outs of palmetto trees and the flickering gas lanterns that David Marion kept on at all time.
After a minute or so, she knocked and waited. Nothing.
She knocked again.
Nothing.
Out of options, she tried the doorknob. To her surprise, it opened.That was odd. She pushed it open and stuck her head in.“Mr. David, it’s me, Vermelle.”
She walked into the hallway, the rare herring-bone heart-of-pine floor at her feet. “Mr. David,” she said again a little louder, “it’s Vermelle.”
She walked into the living room recently decorated by Madeline Littleworth Mortimer herself. “Mr. David?”
She figured he must have hurried off to shoot a scene for his dopey TV show and had forgotten to lock the house. It had happened before. She went down the hallway to his bedroom to get the sheets, towels, and his dirty clothes; the first thing she always did. The bedroom door was open, and she went in.
And there, sprawled atop the 1000-count Egyptian sheets of his king-size bed, lay David Wayne Marion buck naked and with a bullet hole in his forehead .
First, Vermelle screamed, scaring the hell out of Mr. David’s Labrador retriever, napping at the side of the bed. Then she called the cops.
Finally, she fled the house and headed straight to the AME Church up on Calhoun. All she could do now was pray for the soul of poor Mr. David.

Author Info
A native New Englander, Tom Turner dropped out of college and ran a Vermont bar...into the ground. After limping back to college to get his diploma, Tom became an advertising copywriter, first in Boston then New York. After ten years of post-Mad Men life, he made a radical change and got a job in commercial real estate. Not long after that he ended up in Palm Beach, buying, renovating and selling houses along with collecting raw material for his novels. On the side, he wrote Palm Beach Nasty, its sequel, Palm Beach Poison, and a screenplay called Blood Red Sea. While at a wedding a few years later, he fell for the charm of Charleston, South Carolina, and moved there. Recently, wandering Tom moved again. This time, just down the road to Skidaway Island, outside of Savannah, where he's writing a novel about passion and murder among his neighbors.

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RECENT RELEASE w/EXCERPT - LGBTQ+ MYSTERY - TALLOWWOOD by N.R. Walker

Tallowwood

by N.R. Walker 

Publication date: September 25th 2019

Genres: Adult, LGBTQ+, Mystery, Romance

Cold cases, murder, lies, and an unimaginable truth.


BLURB
Sydney detective August Shaw has spent the last decade of work solving cold cases. Since the death of his boyfriend eight years ago, August works alone, lives alone, is alone — and that’s exactly how he likes it. His work is his entire life, and he’s convinced a string of unsolved cold-case suicides are linked to what could be Australia’s worst ever serial killer. Problem is, no one believes him.

Senior Constable Jacob Porter loves his life in the small town of Tallowwood in the middle of the rainforests in northern New South Wales. He runs summer camps for the local Indigenous kids, plays rugby with his mates, has a close family, and he’s the local LGBTQIA+ Liaison and the Indigenous Liaison Officer.

When human remains are found in the camping grounds at Tallowwood Reserve, Jake’s new case turns out to be linked to August’s cold cases, and Jake agrees they’re not suicides at all. With Jacob now firmly in August’s corner, they face one hurdle after another, even when more remains are found, they still can’t seem to gain ground.

But when the body of a fellow police officer turns up under the same MO, it can’t be ignored anymore. August and Jake must trace the untraceable before the killer takes his next victim or before he stops one of them, permanently.

Goodreads

Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

(August and Jacob have just been given the identity of a man who was found deceased. They’re about to inform the family)
Two hours later, they sat in the car in a quiet suburban street in Cronulla. They had a name, the case file, and the address of the parents and were about to drop a bombshell on the guy’s family.
Tristan Kurtz was twenty-six years old when he was reported missing by his mother, when he never arrived home in Sydney from an LGBTQIA+ music festival in Byron Bay. He’d reportedly hitchhiked from Byron Bay to Coffs Harbour, having travelled with local residents who he’d met at the festival, and had given him a lift. The missing person’s report had said Kurtz was dropped off in the main street, and had waved them off. He was later seen on CCTV footage walking toward the highway, at 8:11pm.
He never arrived at his parents’ house, he never contacted them to say his plans had changed, which was out of character for him. His parents had called everyone he knew—friends, workmates, old boyfriends—to no avail, and twenty-four hours later he was reported as a missing person.
Well, he wasn’t missing anymore.
He was only twenty-six. A kid, August thought, with his whole life in front of him. A life stolen, stripped away, and thrown away like garbage.
August stared at the house and sighed. He was spread too thin, he was stretched as far as his skin would allow. Another murder, another gay man slaughtered for no other reason than pure bigotry and disregard for human life. “I hate this. I hate everything about it.”
Jacob was quiet for so long, August looked over at him. “Yeah, me too,” he said flatly. He was reading through Tristan’s file. He finally closed the folder and met August’s gaze. “We need to find this bastard.”
“We do.”
“We need to see his parents and tell them.” Jacob looked over at the house and frowned. “Fuck, I hate this part.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Neither of them made a move to get out of the car. “Is it better to know?” Jacob asked quietly. “Is it better to find out what happened, for closure? Or is it worse, because when you don’t know you still have hope?”
August was pretty sure it was supposed to be a rhetorical question, but it was one he knew the answer to. “It’s better to know. In the long run.” He cleared his throat. “Hope can break your heart every day for years, and living with false hope is hell on earth.”
Jacob stared at him, and August wondered if he’d said too much. But Jacob nodded and unclipped his seatbelt. “Then we shouldn’t wait another minute.”
August got out of the car and together they walked up to the front door and rang the bell. They’d called ahead, so they were expected, but when a tall, middle-aged man opened the door to greet them, Jacob took off his hat and with that single gesture, the man nodded and began to cry.
Hope was a cruel and brutal thing.

Author Info
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way. 

She is many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words. 

She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love. 

She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.
She’s been writing ever since…

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