From Amazon: Flora and Reggie are back in this fifth instalment of the Baker’s Rise Mysteries series, with more shocks and surprises, and of course more of the community spirit and charm that make these books so popular! Turning her attention to the manor house, Flora has some big decisions to make concerning The Rise, though not before she hosts the annual pastry competition. The onset of spring encourages her to hire a new gardener to bring the grounds back to their former glory. Unfortunately for Reggie, the new arrival also enjoys being the centre of attention, particularly where the village ladies are concerned, and ruffles more than a few feathers! With a wedding to organise, and the bookshop and tearoom keeping her busy, Flora feels pulled in too many directions. Everything is going well for a change though – so why is she waiting for the other choux to drop? Packed with twists and turns, colourful characters and more than a sprinkle of romance, this new mystery will certainly leave you hungry for more! Note from the author: Since the same quirky cast of characters feature in each instalment of the Baker’s Rise Mysteries, the books are best enjoyed when read in order!

My Review: This is a nice murder mystery story that will have you trying to figure out who did the worst deed as you read about the villagers of Baker’s Rise. I was able to figure out the culprit this time, and love abounded along with one person rather seriously ill for a time. The story makes you laugh out loud with Reggie’s antics and his new phrases he has learned. Five stars.

Book Title: The Missionary

Author: Rowena Kinread

Publication Date: 28th April 2021

Publisher: Pegasus Elliot Mackenzie Publishers

Page Length: 357 Pages

Genre: Historical Fiction

Twitter Handles: @RowenaKinread @maryanneyarde

Instagram Handles: @rowenakinread @coffeepotbookclub

Hashtags: #HistoricalFiction #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub

Tour Schedule Page: https://maryanneyarde.blogspot.com/2022/03/blog-tour-missionary-by-rowena-kinread.html

Book Title and Author Name:

The Missionary

By Rowena Kinread

(Blurb)

Patricius, a young man of Britannia, is taken from his home and family when Gaelic pirates attack his village. On his arrival in Ireland, he is sold as a slave to the cruel underking of the Dalriada tribe in the north. Six years later, Patricius manages to escape. His journey takes him through France to Ravenna in Italy. His subsequent plans to return to Britannia are side-tracked when he finds himself accompanying several monks to the island monastery on Lerinus. His devotion to his faith, honed during his captivity, grows as he studies with the monks. Haunted by visions of the Gaels begging him to return to Ireland and share the word of God with them, Patricius gains support from Rome and his friends to return to the land of his captivity. His arrival is bitterly opposed by the druids, who have held power over the Irish kings for many years, and he and his companions must combat the druids to succeed in their God-given mission.

Trigger Warnings:

Sex, violence, swearing

Buy Links:

Available on #KindleUnlimited.

Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/bwKZLZ

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Missionary-Rowena-Kinread-ebook/dp/B094C7HNJG

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Missionary-Rowena-Kinread-ebook/dp/B094C7HNJG

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Missionary-Rowena-Kinread-ebook/dp/B094C7HNJG

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/Missionary-Rowena-Kinread-ebook/dp/B094C7HNJG

Waterstones: https://www.waterstones.com/book/the-missionary/rowena-kinread/9781800160262

Book Depository: https://www.bookdepository.com/The-Missionary-Rowena-Kinread/9781800160262

Excerpt 4 from “The Missionary” by Rowena Kinread

 “How much further is it?” Patricius asked. Huge black clouds of mosquitos were swarming low around his head. He swept them away with his arm, but they were persistent, and returned immediately, trying to suck his blood. His companions were irritable, squabbling over meaningless things. Angelo walked on ahead, clapping his hands continually in front of his face to disperse the mosquitos. A fallen tree lay next to the road.

“I cannot go one step further,” Patricius declared, plumping down on the stem.

“Me neither.” Fabio collapsed next to him.

“Me neither.” Salvatore flopped down. The stem cracked and Salvatore fell backwards into a dark pond of murky water surrounded by reeds. Patricius, startled by the cracking noise, screamed. Fabio, startled by Patricius’ scream, screamed also. Aldo, seeing Salvatore floundering with his arms and feet, put his hands on his thighs and doubled up laughing. Angelo alone stayed calm. He grabbed a fallen branch and pushed it towards Salvatore to help him out. Salvatore snatched the branch and emerged from the pond with effort.

“That wasn’t funny.” He went straight to Aldo, fists raised.

“Whoa, slow down!” The companions, engrossed in the interlude had failed to notice a farmer, on a horse- drawn cart, approaching. The horse’s hooves clattered to a stop.

“Hello there, are you all right? You look soaking. No surprise in this weather. Where are you going?”

“Ravenna.”

“Ravenna, that’s nearly a hundred miles away! My farm is just two miles down the road. If you like I can give you a lift there, and you can rest in my barn overnight. It’s not a palace, but it’s dry.”

“That’s very kind of you. We could do with a rest, and to get dry.”

“Not at all, it’s Christmas soon; time to spread some goodwill.”

The companions clambered onto the farmer’s cart and the hounds ran alongside. They soon arrived at the farm and were shown into the barn.

“I don’t suppose you have anything to eat or drink for us?” Salvatore asked.

The farmer eyed them up shrewdly and said, “Well, if you have a few coppers, I might be able to persuade my Missus to rustle something up for you.”

“Of course.” Salvatore withdrew his money pouch from his tunic and gave the farmer some coppers. His hands were so cold that some silver coins clattered to the stone floor. He picked them up quickly and put them back into his pouch. The farmer turned the coppers over in his hand and left, saying he’d be back shortly.

Patricius made himself comfortable in the straw and took his shoes off to rub his feet. His companions also sat down, and the dogs lay down and licked their paws. Half an hour later the farmer returned with bread, ham and a flask of wine. The men ate and all but Patricius drank the wine.

“Don’t you want any?”

“No thanks, I’ll stick to water. I’ve got a headache.”

“Well, you’re not missing anything. It tastes like vinegar.”

Soon they all fell into a deep slumber. One of the hounds rested its snout on Patricius’ thigh. He awoke to it giving a deep, rumbling growl. Immediately on alert, Patricius opened his eyes, but it was dark and hard to recognise anything. He whispered “hush” to the dog and held its snout closed whilst he tried to determine shapes. There! Someone was searching their belongings. Patricius let the dog go and ordered “Wolf!” The dog, normally good-natured but trained to attack wolves, leapt onto the person, barking. It grabbed the person’s lower arm in its snout and dug its fangs deep into the skin.

“Aargh, let go!” The man hit the dog with his free hand and tried to kick it. The dog let the bloody arm go and bit into the man’s leg. “Aargh, get this crazy beast off me!”

Patricius recognised the farmer’s voice. “Let go of everything in your hands first!”

The farmer dropped a bag to the floor and coins rattled out.

“That’s your Christmas goodwill, is it? Get out of here!”

The farmer raised his arm, dripping with blood and looked at the vicious bite in his leg. “You’ll regret this!” he threatened, limping hurriedly from the barn. Patricius ran over to his companions, still sleeping soundly. He shook them.

“Quick, get up! We must go as soon as possible before the farmer returns with more people.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, never mind, I’ll explain later, just do as I tell you. Hurry up!”

Head over heels they all ran outside, out of the farmyard and onto the road. There was thick fog everywhere, swallowing them up in obscurity. They hurried along the road as Patricius explained to them what had happened.

“That scoundrel,” Salvatore swore, withdrawing his sword. “Just let him come, I’ll show him what I think of him!”

“No, no violence please! If he comes, he won’t be alone. But look! Our Lord has sent us fog. If we hear them coming, we just need to depart from the road. We’ll be invisible in this.” Patricius tried to calm Salvatore.

“Humph.” Salvatore returned his sword to its sheath and held his head in both hands. “My head is turning like a cartwheel; I thought that wine tasted strange.”

They plodded on in silence. After a while Aldo said, “Wait a minute.” He went to one side and vomited. “That’s better now.” Soon Angelo too had to throw up. Salvatore and Fabio were groaning.

“Let us walk away from the road and rest a little.”

They sat down behind some bushes and drank some water. They were completely engulfed in fog. A few minutes later Angelo put his finger to his lips. They leant forward and strained to listen. In the distance the muffled sounds of horses’ hooves on the road reached them. Patricius trembled and held onto a dog. The others all held the dogs’ snouts closed. They held their breath as the sound of hooves came nearer and then passed them and continued down the road.

Author Bio:

Rowena Kinread grew up in Ripon, Yorkshire. After leaving school she started working for Lufthansa in Stuttgart. There she met her future husband whom she married in Ripon. After raising 3 children, she began working as a secretary in a private physiotherapy practice. At the same time, she started writing non-fiction books and magazine articles. Retirement finally brought the financial security to start writing full length fiction. A keen interest in history and her own family ancestry inspired her debut novel “The Missionary”, the dramatic story about the life of St. Patrick.  A second book “The Scots of Dalriada” will be published this year. Ms. Kinread says that she welcomed retirement and all its wonderful opportunities to launch a third career.

Social Media Links:

Website: rowena-kinread.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RowenaKinread

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rowena.strittmatter

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/rowena-kinread-6b054b228/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rowenakinread/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/rowena-kinread

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com.au/Rowena-Kinread/e/B09JXTK626

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21379391.Rowena_Kinread

Book Title: Strung

Author: ⟅R̫o̮s̫k͚e̫ (Roske)

Publication Date: 22nd February 2022

Publisher: Conceptual Chronicler of Time

Page Length: 422 Pages

Genre: Literary, Historical Science-Fantasy Romance

Twitter Handles: @RoskeChronicler @maryanneyarde

Instagram Handles: @RoskeChronicler @coffeepotbookclub

Hashtags: #HistoricalFantasy #roskechronicler #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub

Tour Schedule Page: https://maryanneyarde.blogspot.com/2022/03/blog-tour-strung-by-roske.html

Book Title and Author Name

Strung

By ⟅R̫o̮s̫k͚e̫

(Blurb)

Few in the world of Iodesh believe the Faye are more than legend—until an unwanted suitor captures one as Lady Lysbeth Haywood’s bride price.

Presented with the Faye, Lysbeth is torn between her excitement to learn more about the legendary people, her dread at the possibility of a forced engagement, and her battle of attrition with Avon society.

It’s worth the struggle, for as layers of the Faye’s extraordinary mysteries are peeled away, their revelations—and Lysbeth’s own role in them—reach farther than she ever thought possible.

Trigger Warnings:

Mild self-harm, off-screen abuse, and brief on-screen violence.

OVERTURE: Adagio

(aka Chapter 1 | Waiting for the Faye’s Arrival)

Lysbeth pretends to admire the prospect of her morning room’s corner view. Before her, Lindenholt’s stately drive empties into an imposing stone court from the north—framed by a handsome stable block to the east and an identical kitchen block to the west. It’s a grand sight, and she’d be enjoying it, were her mind not previously engaged.

Four others litter the room behind her, conversing intermittently as the minutes stream long. Elane reads on a couch. Gina and Marium, bored Ladies from surrounding Houses, needlepoint on the couch opposite. Lysbeth’s brother, Isaac, leans against a corner table, radiating scorn over the potential imposition of a Faye.

The last fortnight had been an exercise in speculation. Lysbeth agreed with her brother and cousin that Dorsit’s claims were unlikely, but she couldn’t help leaving a crack in the door. The Faye had been the centerpiece of her childhood daydreams, and now the shade of the girl she’d once been won’t allow her the comfort of hopelessness.

She runs her fingers along the lace curtain as her eyes glaze. The agony of waiting increases the closer she draws to waiting’s end. Her thoughts meander, entertaining fanciful outcomes for the day, until movement far along Lindenholt’s drive pulls them forward and into focus. Two triangles of fog appear on the pane under her nose as she leans in. Forthcoming forms clear: a rider’s progress on the path is continually thwarted by the fierce opposition of the horse he strings behind.

“Someone’s come with a bit of trouble,” she says, misting words on the glass.

The Ladies rise and join her.

Gina sways. “Surely that’s not the Faye?”

“An interesting ponderance, Gina.” Elane flicks cagey, hazel eyes to her cousin. “Horse? Or Faye?”

“Finnigarian Faye are said to shapeshift into horses, you know,” Marium offers as the rider drags the horse to the stable block.

Lysbeth grins. “The Finnigar refer to Faye as Nykur^[1], but unless Nykur prefer the stable, I believe we’ve just acquired a horse.” Spying a stable boy’s sprint towards Lindenholt’s servant’s entrance, she stays at the window as the Ladies trundle back to their seats. Soon there’s a knock at her door. “Come!”

Ani enters and walks briskly across the room. “Message for you, My Lady.”

“Thank you.” Lysbeth takes the folded parchment from her maid’s outstretched hand. Dorsit’s seal sits on the reverse. Her thumb breaks the wax—the rest of her fingers wait for Ani’s exit to unfold the note. She reads aloud:

Dearest Lady Lysbeth,

I write to assure you my efforts have been fruitful, indeed, and to warn you—most seriously—of the being’s shocking attire. Whatever qualities these creatures possess, modesty is not among them. Please accept the fine horse accompanying this letter as an additional token of my esteem on this historic day. You are unlikely to find its equal in power or beauty.

You may expect us before sunset,

Dorsit

The room absorbs the Earl’s words—further confirmation of his claims.

Lysbeth takes a deep breath to quell the gnawing in her chest. “He sounds earnest, but it simply doesn’t seem real,” she says, turning to place the letter on her writing desk. “He’s correct, though. The occasion would be historic. Are we expected to inform Sovereign Henri and the peerage? Few could call with the Kingswa—“

“Being saddled with its living expenses is enough,” Isaac interrupts. “I won’t risk its introduction to royalty until it’s proven itself civil company. Nor will I abide the expense of hosting gawking nobles until I’m certain it will be of some use to us.” He tugs his jacket sharply. “And it had better be of some use since it’s to be lain on our doorstep.”

Women on the couches exchange a meaningful glance; the woman at the desk eyes her brother. There’s an Avon adage concerning the worldviews of people: Some cats see only laps, some see only dogs, some see only water, and some see only mice. Isaac belongs to a fifth worldview: one that sees four ways to skin cats—pointless creatures whose lives might finally find meaning in his amusement as he collects a new coat. Having learned long ago to curate her battles with the Marquess, Lysbeth nods in his direction.

Buy Links:

Available on #KindleUnlimited.

Universal Link: http://getbook.at/Strung

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09T3NLGT6

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09T3NLGT6

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B09T3NLGT6

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B09T3NLGT6

Author Bio:

⟅R̫o̮s̫k͚e̫ is Strung’s diegetic author and illustrator. Its real-world counterpart began building the world of Strung at age 12 to disassociate from budding bisexuality and physical disabilities—and eventually traded adversity’s escapism for inspiration.

Social Media Links:

Website: http://RoskeChronicler.com

Twitter: http://Twitter.com/RoskeChronicler

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/R%CC%ABo%CC%AEs%CC%ABk%CD%9Ae%CC%AB-Strung-104216285549770/

 Instagram: http://Instagram.com/RoskeChronicler

BookBub: http://Bookbub.com/profile/Roske

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/roske

Goodreads: http://Goodreads.com/RoskeChronicler

---

^[1] Shapeshifting water spirits often taking the form of horses or dragons.

Book Title: The Alcoholic Mercenary

Author: Phil Hughes

Publication Date: 30th April 2022

Genre: Historical Crime

Twitter Handles: @Phil_Hughes_Nov @maryanneyarde

Instagram Handles: @ p_l_hughes @coffeepotbookclub

Hashtags: #HistoricalFiction #Crime #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub

Tour Schedule Page: https://maryanneyarde.blogspot.com/2021/12/blog-tour-alcoholic-mercenary-by-phil.html

The Alcoholic Mercenary

By Phil Hughes

Blurb

They said, “See Naples and then die!”

Rachel had thought it was to do with the natural beauty of the place. A misconception she soon lost after climbing down from the C130 troop carrier. The suspicious death of her predecessor, followed by the murder of a sailor, and an enforced liaison with a chauvinistic and probably corrupt cop saw to that.

“See Naples and then die!”

Some said the saying was anonymous. Some attributed it to Goethe. Still, others said it was Lord Byron, or maybe Keats. When the young brother of a mercenary hitman became her main suspect, Rachel leant towards Keats. Didn’t the poet die here? Somewhere near, for sure. Probably coined the phrase on his deathbed.

And then, the cherry on the top of her ice cream soda, she could smell grappa on the breath of the mercenary when she interviewed him. The only thing worse than a violent man: a violent man who drinks.

The only thing worse than a violent man who drinks: a violent man who drinks and considers himself Rachel’s enemy.

Capri, Italy

The thrill of the sea spray, the wind, the bouncing and jostling of the Zodiac always excited Beni. He could think of nothing he would prefer at three in the morning. Not so his navigator, Stefano, wobbling in the front, armed with the compass, who kept waving and shouting directions when the boat veered, pushed off course by an unforgiving sea. Beni could imagine Stefano’s free hand gripping the rope so tightly his knuckle bones would be shining in the moonlight.

When they reached the open sea, and the shadow of the Sorrento coast hid Capri, the waves tried to knock Stefano out of the boat. Beni screamed at the thrill, and Stefano screamed at him to slow down. Tough on Stefano, though, because Beni had the wheel. And what a wheel. What speed. Someone told him how many knots the Zodiac could do. With no idea what knots were, he still knew that if he pulled the throttle back to the stop, he would be doing more than thirty klicks an hour, which, at sea, was a fantastic and scary feeling.

Stefano started to wave his red dimmed torch, just visible in the predawn black, when a beam of light lanced from a point at sea where no land could be. Beni eased back on the throttle and grinned. The freighter. As soon as they had slowed enough to be gently rocking in the waves, he lifted his halogen torch and flashed a response. It was a game. Scortese had told him the Guardia could do nothing. They were outside Italian waters. The threat would be when they were returning.

Beni didn’t think there was much threat, even then. This was his fourth trip, and he’d seen nothing of the sbirri or the Guardia. It was as if they didn’t care. They had billions of lire’s worth of hi-tech boats resting idly in the port of Miseno. Sure, he’d listened to those engines booming across the bay. Anyone who lived around Baia had heard them. They shook buildings and made teeth rattle. Beni had never seen an interceptor, but he’d felt one often enough.

It didn’t take long to load the crates into the Zodiac. The men hanging out of a loading door in the ship’s hull held their peace. Beni knew they only spoke Russian and supposed they didn’t care if the AKs went to the correct buyer because they’d get their money either way. Ten minutes and he was again feeling the thrill of pure power. The boat’s bow lifted out of the waves like some monstrous creature from the deep, one of the spooky black and white ones from the American films he’d snuck in to see.

They’d made it into the gap between Capri and the coast when Stefano once more started to wave his torch frantically like he was trying to swat some elusive mosquito. Beni eased off the throttle and let the Zodiac come to a rest, swaying gently in the wash, the outboard quietly chugging and spitting sea spray.

‘What’s up?’

‘Can’t you hear it?’ Stefano asked, stress evident in his tone. Beni could imagine his frown, invisible in the red glow, mouth and eyes nothing but black.

Cupping his ear, he listened. Finally, he could hear a muted roar over the chugging of their engine.

‘What’s that?’ he asked.

‘That’s the Guardia interceptor. They’re coming for us.’

‘How do they know we’re here?’

‘I dunno. Radar, maybe,’ Stefano replied.

‘What are we going to do?’ Beni asked.

‘We’ll have to run for it. Hope they miss us.’

‘Are they likely to?’

‘No idea. Only one way to find out.’ Stefano’s tone was a sure indication of what he thought their chances might be. Beni knew if the light had been enough, he would see Stefano’s face etched with panic lines.

‘So, let’s find out then,’ he said.

They found out quickly.

As they raced out from their cover, someone flicked a switch, and the interceptor glared at them with a halogen beam, which made daylight appear wherever it touched. Tall explosions of water in front of the Zodiac were accompanied by the dub-dub-dub of heavy machine gunfire and a mechanical voice ordering them to heave to. They couldn’t argue with the twin guns mounted to the front of the boat, which would tear the Zodiac into plastic strips while churning Stefano and Beni into shark bait. Beni turned the engine off and waited calmly.

He had nothing to fear.

Before long, a Zodiac like theirs appeared in the light thrown by the interceptor. It was smaller, and Beni guessed it had been launched off the other vessel. There were Guardia in it, pointing guns at them.

‘Get your hands up.’

He could see Stefano shaking. Neither of them had been arrested before, but Beni knew he would not spend more than a single night in custody because Beni made sure to give his tame sbirro the odd scrap of information. His insurance policy. He never told the cop anything of importance, just gossip, but the man was about as bright as a beachball and took it all as though it was Christmas.

Less than ten minutes later, they were pulling themselves up the boarding ladder into the Guardia’s boat. The boat impressed Beni. He couldn’t ignore the beauty of its hard lines and massive engines, throbbing right into his guts, making his teeth ache. Jumping onto the deck, he found a man standing there wearing chinos and a summer jacket. The man had his arms crossed and was grinning.

‘Where’s your uniform?’ Beni asked before he could stop himself.

‘Not Guardia. I’m a detective. Serious Crimes in Pozzuoli. Just observing here.’

‘What? Like watching the boat crew? That’s a bit creepy, isn’t it?’

‘What’s your name, guaglio?’ the man asked, his accent causing Beni to frown. Most cops he dealt with were not from around Napoli. In fact, they tended to be from north of Rome – way north of Rome.

‘You a local?’

‘Baia born and bred. Why’d you ask?’

‘No reason. Curiosity.’

‘So, what’s your name, kid?’

‘Beni Di Cuma.’

The cop smiled and nodded, making like he was on Beni’s side. The idiot thought Beni would be swayed by his false friendship because they were paisan. He didn’t need any buddies in the cops. He had his sbirro in Pozzuoli, who worked for the Secret Service. His wannabe handler. The one who would have the power to keep him out of La Casa. Beni would be eating lunch in Pescatore’s come midday.

‘This’ll warm you up,’ the sbirro offered his hipflask. Beni took a swig before handing it to Stefano.

‘Who’d you work for, Beni? My guess is the Scortese crew.’

Beni shrugged and turned to look at the silhouette of Capri, quickly receding as they headed into port. He thought the cop knew well enough. He thought they all knew. Did they not talk to each other? He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. All the different types of cops Naples had, and they all thought they were better than the others. The Gatti Neri, the Guardia, the sbirri, all thought the others should bow to them. Never mind the Secret Service, who – chosen by God himself – bowed to no one.

Buy Links:

Available on #KindleUnlimited

Universal Amazon Link: https://books2read.com/u/mlAvpZ

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B09V8XSP76

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09V8XSP76

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B09V8XSP76

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/gp/product/B09V8XSP76

Author Bio:

Although educated in Classical Studies, Phil is the author of several historical crime novels. Having spent many years living in the Mafia infested hinterlands of Naples, Phil bases his novels on his experiences while living there. Much of what he includes in his stories is based on real events witnessed first-hand.

Having retired from writing and editing technical documentation for a living, Phil now lives in Wexford with his partner and their border terriers, Ruby, Maisy, and the new addition Ted. He writes full time and where better to do it than in the Sunny South East of Ireland.

Social Media Links:

Website: www.philhughespublishing.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Phil_Hughes_Nov

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PerchedCrowPress

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/phil-hughes-26aa5b1b/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p_l_hughes/?hl=en

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Phil-Hughes/e/B01LXH4EGL

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/198016.Phil_Hughes

From Amazon: It would be recalcitrant and wayward for anyone to claim to be scholarly and well-read in today’s world if they lack familiarity with the tenets and principles of the bible. The divinely inspired book that was handed over to mankind is an eyewitness account of historical events of inconceivable and unimaginable nature which are beyond the realm of reason.“Fresh Start-off: The Great Themes of Scripture” is the first and one of a kind that has meticulously and minutely studied, sifted, and dissected the bible teachings and is a remarkable piece of writing that contains a message as its very core that is relevant to your everyday life and provides clear teachings of God, life, nature of humankind, our heart desires, fate and destiny, the value and worth of everyone and the goodness of the glory of God. All said and done, Jesus is the only religious leader who conquered death and rose from the dead. All the rest are dead and buried. Moses is dead, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob are all dead. Buddha is dead, Mohammed died and will not come back again and even Muslims adulate and hold Jesus in awe as a truly Holy and an Extraordinary Prophet. This page-turner is not only for those walking newly in Christ, but is also for the battle-scarred Christians who want to gain new insights, arouse, evoke and even seek to reassess their knowledge of Jesus Christ after reading it.

My Review: Is God in your life? Have you read the Bible? If you have read the Bible, did you understand what you read? One good way is to cross-reference what you read. Another good way is to buy a book such as this one, then read the words and what is being said and explained within these pages. If you’re not with Him, then you are against Him. God was, is, and will always be. This book enables one to understand scripture and one’s self. Looking within, is a great start on your path in life. Stay true. I’m with God, are you? Five stars.

From Amazon: THE MADWOMAN OF PREACHER’S COVE tells the story of Lucy Addams, a woman who was horribly disfigured in a fire that claimed the lives of her husband and children. After the tragic loss of her beauty, her voice, and her family, Lucy became an artistic genius, sculpting lifelike dolls—replicas of the children of Preacher’s Cove. Lucy, and her workshop, are hidden in the back of the local resort—a hotel and restaurant complex owned and operated by her sister, Libby. Following a series of deaths by lightning strike in Preacher’s Cove, a handsome investigative reporter arrives to solve the mystery of the coincidental accidents. Lucy and Libby find themselves facing yet another enemy. As keepers of an ancient treasure—a secret that binds them—they alone know why the deaths have occurred, and more importantly, how to stop them. With the eventual help of Libby and Lucy, the reporter finds a sacred place in the woods called The Hallows—where Druids once roamed, and where his answers are deeply buried. After months of investigating, the death toll rising, a bit of romance, and otherwordly harbingers of Lucy’s dolls, the mystery of Preacher’s Cove begins to unravel.

My Review: Do you like old folklore about Druids and women who are so angelic with curling red hair and porcelain skin? Rare beauty each? Dashing men coming to the rescue, healing venomous bites with green energy summoned from within? Thunder and lightning? Snakes? Well, I don’t care for snakes at all but this is a book anyone who loves old folklore and romance mixed in should read. Five stars!

Book Title: The Lake Pagoda

Author: Ann Bennett

Publication Date: 26th April 2022

Publisher: Andaman Press

Page Length: 310 Pages

Genre: Women’s Historical Fiction

Twitter Handles: @annbennett71 @maryanneyarde

Instagram Handles: @coffeepotbookclub

Hashtags: #HistoricalFiction #HistoricalWomensFiction #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub

Tour Schedule Page: https://maryanneyarde.blogspot.com/2022/04/blog-tour-lake-pagoda-by-ann-bennett.html

Book Title and Author Name:

The Lake Pagoda

By Ann Bennett

(Blurb)

Indochina 1945: Arielle, who is half-French, half-Vietnamese, is working as a secretary for the French colonial government when the Japanese storm Hanoi. Although her Asian blood spares her from imprisonment, she is forced to work for the occupiers. The Viet Minh threaten to reveal dark secrets from her past if she won’t pass them information from her new masters.

Drawn ever deeper into the rebels’ dangerous world, will Arielle ever escape the torment of her past? Or will she find love amidst the turmoil of war?

A novel of love, loss, war, and survival against all odds.

Trigger Warnings:

Violence

Chapter 1

Paris, November 1946

Arielle pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders and stepped out of the entrance to the apartment building and onto the broad pavement of Boulevard St Germaine. An icy wind whipped around her, driving up from the River Seine, funnelled by the tall buildings. She shivered and gritted her teeth against the weather. It was so alien to her, this biting cold air that chilled you to the marrow of your bones. In her native Hanoi, the temperature, even in the cooler months, was always comfortable and she was so used to the sultry heat of that city that this Paris winter was a cruel shock.

Even so, she needed to get out. She couldn’t stay inside the stuffy, cramped apartment a moment longer, and while her father was sleeping it was difficult to do anything in that tiny space without disturbing him. So, each morning she left the building to tramp the streets of this alien city, exploring the alleys of the Latin Quarter, the cobbled lanes and churches of the île de la Cité, the boulevards and gardens of the Eighth Arondissement. And as she walked, she watched the stylish Parisians going about their business, dashing to and fro in fashionable clothes, getting out of taxis, riding on trams, pouring down the steps of the metro. She was trying to understand her new home, to find her place in it, to find some meaningful connection with this great, intimidating city. And there was something else she was searching for too.

Now, as she braced herself against the wind and started walking along the boulevard away from the apartment, she glanced guiltily back up at the windows on the third floor. She always worried when she left Papa alone. What if he were to wake up and call out for her? What if he had one of his coughing fits? But he always encouraged her to go. ‘Go on, explore while I’m resting. You need to get to know the place. You can’t stay cooped up with a sick old man all day. I’ll be fine on my own.’ But still she worried.

She carried on down the road, making for the market in Rue Mouffetard. Cars and buses crawled past belting out fumes. Through the lines of slow-moving traffic wove bicycles and pony traps, army jeeps too. It felt so bleak here and so dull after the vibrant colours of Hanoi; the plane trees that lined the pavements had lost their leaves, their branches stark against the tall, pale buildings, and the sky between them was an ominous slate grey.

She walked past a couple of bus stops without pausing. She’d never yet got on a bus in Paris; she had no idea how they worked and was afraid of drawing attention to herself, even though she told herself it was perfectly safe here to do so. Years of having to keep a low profile in Hanoi had made her fearful of attention from anyone. Not that she need worry here in Paris, people barely noticed her. She could walk in the midst of a crowd as if she didn’t exist. And if anyone’s eyes did happen to light on her, seeing her dark skin and black hair they would quickly flick away, for she was half Vietnamese and it was as if she were invisible to them; a nobody.

Buy Links:

Available on #KindleUnlimited.

Universal Link: http://mybook.to/lakepagoda

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09WWYZ9RM

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09WWYZ9RM

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B09WWYZ9RM

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B09WWYZ9RM

Author Bio:

Ann Bennett was born in Pury End, a small village in Northamptonshire, UK and now lives in Surrey. Her first book, A Daughter’s Quest, originally published as Bamboo Heart, was inspired by her father’s experience as a prisoner of war on the Thai-Burma Railway. The Planter’s Wife (originally Bamboo Island) a Daughter’s Promise and The Homecoming, (formerly Bamboo Road), The Tea Panter’s Club and The Amulet are also about the war in South East Asia, all six making up the Echoes of Empire Collection.

Ann is also author of The Runaway Sisters ,The Orphan House, and The Child Without a Home, published by Bookouture.

The Lake Pavilion and The Lake Palace are both set in British India in the 1930s and 40s. Her latest book, The Lake Pagoda, set in French Indochina in the 30s and 40s, will be published in April 2022.

Ann is married with three grown up sons and a granddaughter and works as a lawyer. For more details please visit http://www.bambooheart.co.uk

Social Media Links:

Website: www.bambooheart.co.uk

Twitter: https://twitter.com/annbennett71

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annbennettauthor

Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ann-bennett

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Ann-Bennett/e/B00D21SJ7A

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1951323.Ann_Bennett

Book Title: The Professor’s Lady

Series: The Thompsons of Locust Street, Book 3

Author: Holly Bush

Genre: Historical Romance Gilded Age

Twitter Handles: @hollybushbooks @maryanneyarde

Instagram Handles: @hollybushbooks @coffeepotbookclub

Hashtags: #HistoricalRomance #gildedage #americanhistoricalromance #philadelphia #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub

Tour Schedule Page: https://maryanneyarde.blogspot.com/2022/02/blog-tour-professors-lady-thompsons-of.html

Book Title and Author Name:

The Professor’s Lady

(The Thompsons of Locust Street, Book 3)

By Holly Bush

(Blurb)

Meet the Thompsons of Locust Street, an unconventional family taking Philadelphia high society by storm…

1870 Kirsty Thompson is determined to begin her own business bringing beloved Scottish fabrics and yarns to Philadelphia but first she must meet the men and women who weave the plaids and spin the wool. How will she ever escape her protective older siblings and sail to Scotland?

Albert Watson is a medical doctor focusing on research, especially that of Joseph Lister and his sterilization techniques. He speaks at universities in America and in England while visiting his London relatives. As he prepares to sail for just such an engagement, Kirsty Thompson boards his ship to beg him to take her with him. What’s a gentleman to do? Albert cancels his trip across the ocean to escort Miss Thompson back to Philadelphia and finds there is danger afoot for her and her family.

Soon he comes to realize there is also danger for his heart, even for a man who rarely pulls his nose from a medical journal. He finds himself unable to put Miss Kirsty Thompson out of his thoughts, where they belonged, because certainly a beautiful, ambitious, and charming young woman could have no interest in him. Or could she?

(Excerpt)

Kirsty turned as he did toward the doors leading to the inside hallways after glancing longingly at the dock, now getting smaller as they moved from shore. He seated her at a table once they were in the dining room, signaled a waiter, and nodded at her to order. She opened her drawstring bag to see what amount of money she had left after paying for the trolley that day. She was suddenly panicked when she realized she’d have to find a way to travel to Philadelphia from New York when this infernal boat stopped, and she’d need money to do it.

“Nothing for me, thank you,” she said to the waiter.

“I’ll have coffee and this assortment of cheese and olives listed on your menu,” he said. “The lady will have tea. Thank you.”

She leaned forward. “I don’t have enough money to pay for it. Surely they’ll give me a glass of water.”

“Miss T-Thompson, I will take care of the b-bill. Please don’t worry.” He raised his hand as if he was calling to the waiter again.

But a young—very young—red-haired man walked to their table instead. His face had an unsightly burn scar on one side, and Kirsty did her best not to look at it as he arrived at the table. She wondered how Mr. Watson knew him.

“Clawson,” Watson said. “Change of plans. You’ll need to contact the Royal Academy and see about rescheduling my talk.”

“Yes, sir, right away, sir.”

“We’ll be staying in New York tomorrow evening. We’ll need three rooms at the hotel where we often stay.”

“Three rooms, sir?”

“One for you, one for me, and one for Miss Thompson.” He nodded to her. “Clawson, this is Miss Thompson. Miss Thompson, my assistant, Mr. Clyde Clawson.”

“A hotel room? Oh no! I’ll be heading directly home. I have to get home. My family will be frantic!”

“Miss Thompson, I d-doubt we’ll be able to catch a train after we arrive as it will be very late in the day. We’ll have to wait until the next morning to travel.”

“How do you know? Do you always take a steamer to New York? Isn’t it easier to catch the train?”

“Ah,” Clawson said. “I’ll need to see if our tickets can be canceled or sold, perhaps.”

Kirsty watched the young man hurry away. “What did he mean about the tickets being sold?

What tickets?”

Mr. Watson stared at her and then looked up at the waiter bringing their cheese platter and pots of coffee and tea. He pulled bills out of his wallet, handed them to the waiter, and told him to keep the change. He stirred several sugar cubes into the cup of coffee the waiter poured for him and looked up at her.

“Tickets for a t-transatlantic crossing.”

“Why would you cancel your tickets? When were you planning on sailing?” she asked, interested to know if the date could work for her, although after she arrived home the day after tomorrow, she doubted if her older sister and brother, Muireall and James, would ever let her out of their sight again.

“The day after tomorrow, Miss T-Thompson. This steamer stops in New York to pick up additional p-p-passengers and then goes directly to England.”

“Well, why can’t you go now? Has something happened?”

He stared at his cup for some time. He would prefer to continue to England as planned but he could not abandon her without an escort.  And spending time with this beautiful, vivacious woman would not be a hardship. “I can hardly allow you to t-travel by yourself, Miss Thompson. I will see you back to your home.”

Buy Links:

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09M8WJJK7

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09M8WJJK7

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B09M8WJJK7

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B09M8WJJK7

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-professors-lady-holly-bush/1140541963

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-professor-s-lady

Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-professors-lady/id1596647471

Author Bio:

Holly Bush writes historical romance set in the U.S.in the late 1800’s, in Victorian England, and an occasional Women’s Fiction title. Her books are described as emotional, with heartfelt, sexy romance. She makes her home with her husband in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.  Connect with Holly at www.hollybushbooks.com and on Twitter @hollybushbooks and on Facebook at Holly Bush

Social Media Links:

Website: http://www.hollybushbooks.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/hollybushbooks

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1039237946113957

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/holly-bush-47654218/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hollybushbooks/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/hollisbush/_saved/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/holly-bush

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com.au/Holly-Bush/e/B006ZDTQ1A

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3378392.Holly_Bush

From Amazon: How much are you willing to trust someone you love? Eve Calderone has been married to Boyd for forty-two years and is grateful for the many gifts in their lives: good health, loving children and grandchildren, dear friends, a beautiful home, and a flourishing family business. But their blissful marriage is shaken when they meet Peter Murray . . . because it doesn’t take long to discover he’s the son Boyd never knew he had. Boyd’s stubborn insistence to bond with his surprise son ignites a transformation in him Eve is entirely unprepared for. She can’t help but question how his unexpected behavior and impulsive decisions will affect her and alter her family’s identity. And after decades of a loving relationship, she wonders how much she really knows her husband. Ultimate Love is Book 6 in the Calderone Family Romance series. This poignant seasoned romance weaves past incidents with present-day events to journey through the depths of heartache and trust, responsibility and commitment, forgiveness and ultimate love.

My Review: The Calderone family – they are rather “epic” as Jamie would say. This book completes the series in a romantic and magnificent manner befitting the Calderone name. That name will stay with me for quite some time to come. Pain, heartache, misunderstandings, and fear mixed in with all the ginormous love the family has for each other, and reading how books one through five came about, makes fir a don’t miss romance. Five shiny gold stars.

Please welcome Thaddeus Arjuna to my blog. Good Morning everyone!

1. Please introduce yourself to those reading this blog post.

Hello. I am Thaddeus Arjuna. I am a Retired American Expat living in Bali Indonesia, writing under a penname. I am a  lifelong Chef and celebrated Foodie a long way from home.

2. Has writing always been part of your life and when did you “know” that it was time to start writing your first book?

I actually started writing less than ten yrs ago. My first book was a biography about an insane mother. I started on the manuscript in my mid 50s when I was nearing the end of my cooking career. I shelved it for several years as the material was sensitive and had caused some family tension due to exposing a dark family secret that we had attempted to never talk about.

3. How difficult was it writing your first book?

Extremely. My book “Something is Wrong with Janet” chronicles a life with an institutionalized Manic Depressive as a young boy. It was very painful to write because I, like the rest of my siblings, spent our lives trying to suppress and forget the trauma of living with a troubled mother.

4. Have you ever wanted to give up and what stopped you?

About every five minutes. My original intention was just to write about my mother. But I realized after writing half of it, that I had actually lived an extraordinary life and had material for several books.

5. Who is the most supportive of you and your dream to be a writer?

Almost no one. Laughing. Because of the nature of the first book, which didn’t get published for several years due to procrastination and a desire to ‘not rock the boat’ in the family, and being a chef and not writing a cookbook, (yet) I found little support around my family and friends. I published a different book first and came back to it. I also have written almost exclusively Ebooks and Novellas. I have charted a tiny niche that has been difficult to promote.

6. Anything specific you want to tell your readers?

I write in several genres, and I write for art. I believe that not choosing one genre has made it more difficult to create a brand, but I felt my ‘sweet spot’ was the Novella. Under 50,000 words. I have only written one full-length novel. The other 7 books are all novellas and two of them are slightly larger than a short story.

7. What is the best advice given to you (book or otherwise), and by whom?

I was fortunate to have grown up around a few well-known authors. Walter Farley was a personal friend of the family and spent every election night with my father. I grew up on his books. John D MacDonald also wrote the forward for my mother’s self-published cookbook. I grew up reading the Travis McGee mystery series. My best advice? Write about your life. Even if you disguise it, you are going to be in it. There is no other way if you write honestly.

8. What is your target audience and what aspect of your writing do you feel targets that audience?

Anyone who has a Kindle device or app. Laughing. I have written two murder mysteries, (one that was a true story and I am in it) one Sci-fi trilogy based on Mars. ( a childhood fantasy escape for me) A book about Hindu Mysticism based on an early involvement in a Hindu sect as a teenager, the book https://www.amazon.com/Something-Wrong-Janet-brilliant-imperfect-ebook/dp/B0837G8VMT about my mother, and my life with her, and a book of poetry and odes.

9. Did the cover evolve the same way, or did you work with someone to make it come together for you?

The book, “Something is Wrong with Janet” cover was created by Carol Marrs Phipps. She has also done 4 of the 8 books. and several promotional banners for me.

10. What are you working on now? Can we get a peek, an excerpt?

I am currently writing a dark spy novel about an Iranian Assassin living in Paris. I have a friend in the NSA who is giving me tips.

It is called “A Heresy of Angels”, and I hope to have it done in the next 4 or 5 months. It is about two women, one who works in the NSA and the woman who she is tracking who is an Iranian Assassin. This is a poem in the book written in the first person from the viewpoint of the Iranian Assassin.

Tulip Ponders…

There are secrets beyond imagination. Secrets that were once innocent, and now are scars on my soul. Secrets of betrayal. Betrayal of my country, my faith, and even love. Because the truth is too ugly. When you love someone so much that you are willing to give up your soul, for revenge, what do you have to live for? Revenge for what was taken from you, or the longing for that innocence that made you pure? The love that gave you wings. Can that be greater than revenge? Is there nothing I will not do to find that revenge, and will this finally satisfy my hate?  I can have that feeling of innocence back! I Can be made whole again, I know I can…

11. Any last words before we wrap things up?

I walked away from the Restaurant Business after 47 yrs as a chef. I spent a lifetime creating menus and writing wine lists. Culinary Creativity was my gift. When I retired I needed a creative outlet to keep myself occupied. Writing has been almost a divine gift to me. Relieving me of boredom, and helping me channel some of that leftover imaginative zeal still inside me.

Links needed for:  Blog, author page, website, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Amazon, Tumblr, Barnes & Noble, Instagram, etc. https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B07G7XGWNG

twitter.com/ThaddeusArjuna. Aspiring Scribe, w/ tidy typos

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100016079266373