Romantic & Paranormal Mysteries for 99 cents.


It’s another round of GREAT DEALS. Today and tomorrow grab some paranormal mysteries for just 99 cents.

murder-3My book, A Rainy Day Murder, features Hetty Fox, a spunky, aging widow along with the ghost of her college sweetheart, who has attached himself to Hetty whether she wants him there or not.  Toss in a corpse or two, and Hetty indeed has her hands full.

To get your hands on one of more of these great books go here:


What’s Melanie Up To?

Melanie Hart and friend, Ginger Black, are chasing another killer in As the Crowe Dies. In  this book the murderer has struck at the  high school. Father catches word of the death when police put out radio calls for help. Maybe, with dear old dad sending her off to the chase, this time he won’t pull Melanie off the news story.

But Melanie faces even stiffer challenges as there is a new reporter in town. Dirk Weir has moved here from Chicago. He says he’s come to live nearer his daughter. But all Melanie sees is a competitor, the likes of which she’s never faced before.

Meanwhile the killer keeps playing his murderous games, and Melanie and Ginger have their hands full trying to catch up.


Read the First Chapter from the Next Book

For those who have asked about the status of the next Melanie Hart Mystery, here’s the scoop. It’s well underway. The book is called Murder on the Slopes. I’m having a blast telling this story. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it.

This post contains the First Chapter. I offer it with the warning that the piece is subject to revisions. Feel free to offer your comments on the story, the writing, whatever.


“I thought you made our reservation at least a week ago.” Ginger Black snapped. Her face was thunderous. The toe of her right shoe tapped out an irritated beat.

“But I did,” I protested.

Ginger and I stood before the front desk at the Cherry Hill Ski Lodge. We were on a getaway weekend, seeking to recover from our most recent round of murder and mayhem.

“So if you made the reservation,” Ginger complained, “why is this dear fellow saying he can’t find one?”

“I don’t know. It must be a glitch of some sort.” I only wished Ginger would keep her voice down. This was an upscale resort. Glancing around me at the well tailored people passing by, the British stiff upper lip seemed more the norm here.

The man behind the desk glanced over at me. “I can call around. See if there are any rooms to be had.”

I stared at him, sizing the man up. His name tag identified him as Troy Draper. He stood about six foot two, and he looked as though he’d been born to fly down a ski slope. But for now, he simply offered us a sympathetic smile.

“But I have reservations here,” I complained. I’d splurged on this trip. It was my thank you gift to Ginger for saving my life. Not two weeks ago I’d been under attack by a crazed killer. Only Ginger’s quick thinking had saved my hide. For her sake, I wanted this weekend to be perfect. I could hardly believe my plans had been so frustratingly derailed.

“I’m sorry,” Draper said, “but if you made a reservation, it’s not showing up on our computer.”  He reached for the telephone beside his right elbow. “Tell you what, I’ll make a few calls. The problem is, see, we’re so close to Valentine’s Day, the whole town may be booked up. But if there’s a free bed to be had anyplace in town, don’t worry, I’ll find it.”

That would be all well and good if our weekend weren’t special, but since it was, I wanted to stay here. I stiffened my spine and demanded to speak with the manager. I feared Ginger would grouse for two years if we got shunted off to some noname motel on the outskirts of town.

Draper returned his attention to me.  “Umm… our General Manager Mr. Conan is on duty. Would you like to speak to him?”

“I’d appreciate that, yes,” I said, trying hard to squeeze the venom out of my voice. After all, this probably wasn’t Draper’s fault. The responsibility was more likely due to some poor, overworked creature, who’d failed to key our reservation into the computer. Glitches happened. But they also should be freely admitted and fixed.

Draper pushed a button on the house phone. Soon another tall, good looking man joined our threesome. This one was about ten years older than Draper. And there was also a subtle suggestion in the way he held himself as he gazed at us that told me he enjoyed being in charge.

“I’m Kurt Conan, General Manager around here. How may I help you?” He was a broad man with a smooth voice, a chiseled chin, and a cold hand.

“I’m Melanie Hart.” I outlined our problem and pointed out that I’d been a satisfied guest here many times — which was an outrageous lie. But I knew repeat customers often scored perks with management-type folks. At that moment, I’d have lied to St. Peter if I thought it would get me a room here.

“Yes, well….” Conan straightened his tie, and in his eagerness practically hip checked his assistant out of the way. He started clicking computer keys.  “Ah…” he said a short time later, “you are in luck. We have a couple who are going to check out today, but not until late this afternoon. It’s not our usual arrangement, but they’re good customers.” He smiled at me sweetly.

“Anyway,” Conan continued, “their room should become available around six tonight. We can store your bags in the office until the room opens up. How does that sound?”

I nearly kissed the man until Ginger’s voice rose  up from beside me.

“Just where am I supposed to change?” she demanded. “I certainly don’t intend to head  out onto the slopes dressed like this.” She glanced down at her stylish slacks and sweater and jacket.

“No, of course not.” Conan laughed nervously. Ah… how about using the employee restroom to dress?  I can assure you complete privacy for as long as you like. Would that do?”

“I guess it will have to,” Ginger replied with a huff. She hated giving up on a righteous head of anger.

“And of course,” Conan added, “we’ll comp the first night of your stay as an apology for your inconvenience.”

“Thank you,” I said. Just because my father owned the small newspaper I worked for, didn’t mean I was flush with money.

Ginger merely grunted.




Tales from the Dark Side of Love giveaway

Valentine receives a rosary from the Virgin, by David Teniers III

It’s February, that month when the groundhog sticks his nose out of his hole and discovers love is in the air. (Well, maybe that’s not exactly how it works, but I think you get my drift.) Anyway, this year there’s even more reason to celebrate our escape from January’s frigid embrace. That’s because this February brings with it the Tales from the Dark Side of Love giveaway, offering readers a chance to win free books, or Amazon gift certificates, or a Kindle Fire HD.

The event has been organized by romantic suspense author, Bianca Sloane. And the idea for the giveaway tracks back, of course, to the presence of Valentine’s Day halfway though the month. But while many of us when we think Valentine’s Day picture chubby cupids with bows and arrows or red paper hearts with lace, the day’s origin actually stems back to the life an early Christian saint.

But poor St. Valentine. Apparently no one’s quite certain if he was one man or was perhaps a composite of two different people. For this reason Valentine’s name was dropped from the Catholic calendar of saints when revised in 1969. But his memory still lives on and he is lists among the saints allowed to be locally venerated. And for the less church oriented of us, he’s gained even wider recognition for his alleged support of love and loving couples. And our thoughts of love and hearts and flowers care little about his status as an officially sanctioned saint.

And the group of writers participating in the Tales from the Dark Side of Love giveaway aren’t looking at love quite so simply, either. We’re out to present to you the flip side of hearts and flowers.

To learn more about our perspectives and the prizes available to you, the reader, be sure to visit Bianca Sloane’s blog where you can enter the contest and possibly win one of those many, amazing prizes!

Three ways to win:

  • Tweet about the giveaway/promotion using the hashtag #DARKSIDEOFLOVE with a link back to

  • Leave a comment on blog posts with email address. No email address means no entry.

  • Email Bianca Sloane at with the subject line “Dark Side of Love.”