Showing posts with label Excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Excerpt. Show all posts

Sunday, October 25, 2026

The Resurrection of Evania James - A Review, Excerpt, & Giveaway

 Review


THE RESURRECTION OF EVANIA JAMES
By Jaime Jo Wright 

In the 1800s, and even later, if a man found a woman to be a nuisance or someone he just didn't care to deal with anymore he merely had to say she was insane and have her committed to a lunatic asylum for the rest of her life. It made absolutely no difference if she was not mentally ill. So in 1879 Indiana when Evania James becomes pregnant out of wedlock and then despondent when the baby dies, her father decides she needs to go! Evania's sister Eloise does her best, but with their mother long dead and the fact that she's been trained to be submissive, she is no match for her father, a so called pillar of the community. Despite Evania being sent away, Eloise is determined to get her back. Meanwhile in modern time Tilly Thompson has always admired the James Mansion. Caretaker to her grandfather, who has recently been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, she's stunned to discover that Grandpa Joe has bought the house for her, with the plan to live in it together. But nothing can prepare her when they find a body in the wall!

Mental institutions, grave robbers, and walls that talk? Yes please! As someone who works in the mental health field, I've always been interested in the history of mental institutions. Sadly, what happened to Evania is not uncommon. I love that the book features historical truths, as frightening as they are. Eloise's story sucked me right in while the sections from the wall's perspective was mesmerizing! I enjoyed seeing how Tilly's story corresponded to Eloise's and how Tilly found her own truth.

Evil men and justice seekers haunt the pages of the story as the James Mansion itself speaks. A dual time story I really enjoyed the historical portion of the story best, though the modern story finally put the full story to rest with hopes for a much brighter future.

A story of redemption and truth THE RESURRECTION OF EVANIA JAMES is a story both spooky and provocative. Both gripping and thought provoking it is a fantastic read!

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The Resurrection of Evania James by Jaime Jo Wright Banner

THE RESURRECTION OF EVANIA JAMES

by Jaime Jo Wright

October 5 - 30, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Resurrection of Evania James by Jaime Jo Wright

If walls could talk, what nightmare might they expose?

1879

When Eloise James's sister, Evania, goes missing after being admitted to an asylum, Eloise is determined to find her sibling but instead discovers evidence of dying patients and missing remains. Wannabe journalist Silas Dobbs has his own suspicions that something more nefarious is at work, and that black market sales may originate at the asylum. Together, they are intent on learning whether Evania is alive, or if her body has also been stolen. But unraveling a web of underground resurrectionists proves daunting, and the dead cannot share their secrets.

Present Day

Tilly Thompson is horrified to find historical human remains entombed in a wall of the Gothic mansion her grandfather just purchased, launching her into an investigation of the original owners' questionable past. The James family legacy harbors a darkness tightly woven through decades of secrets, but the past refuses to remain ensnared by silence. Will revealing the truth resurrect dangers best kept buried forever?

Jaime Jo Wright masterfully weaves a dual-timeline gothic suspense novel that brings together a haunting historical tale and a shadowy modern-day mystery. For fans of atmospheric thrillers, spooky reads, the Victorian era, creepy mansions, and dark family secrets.

Book Details:

Genre: Gothic Fiction; Christian Mystery & Suspense
Published by: Bethany House Publishers
Publication Date: October 27, 2026
Number of Pages: 336 Pbk
ISBN: 9780764246258 (ISBN10: 0764246259)
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Baker Book House

Read an excerpt:

 

 

Author Bio:

Jaime Jo Wright

Jaime Jo Wright is a Publishers Weekly bestselling author of more than eighteen novels and three novellas, including Christy Award-winner and ECPA bestseller The Vanishing at Castle Moreau, Christy Award and Daphne du Maurier Award-winner The House on Foster Hill, Christy Award-winner Night Falls on Predicament Avenue, and Carol Award-winner The Reckoning at Gossamer Pond. She lives in Wisconsin with her family and fabulous felines.

Learn more at

JaimeWrightBooks.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @JaimeJoWright
Instagram - @jaimejowright
Threads - @jaimejowright
YouTube - @madlitmusings
Spotify - MadLit Musings
Facebook - @JaimeJoWright

 

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Thursday, October 22, 2026

The Swamp Ghost - A Review, Excerpt, & Giveaway

 Review


THE SWAMP GHOST by Christi Keating Sumich
The First Old New Orleans Bookshop Mystery 
 
Mary Catherine Whitney is at her wits end. Very pregnant, her husband is urging her to rest more and get someone to help around the house, at least part time to cook and help with their two hellion young boys. Something even more interesting comes her way, however. Aiden Doyle is the foreman of the front running crew of ditchers, digging the New Basin Canal. One of his men claimed a blur orb chased him back to camp. The other ditchers said it was a fifolet, a pirate ghost guarding treasure. The next morning the man is dead and the other ditcherers refuse to come back to work. With his job on the line, Aiden follows his fiancée's advice and asks Mrs. Whitney for help. After all, she was clever enough to write that pirate book about Jean Lafitte! With a little help from unexpected places Mary Catherine will set about trying to determine just who, or what, killed the ditcher. 
 
The first Old New Orleans Bookshop Mystery brings back characters from a previous novel. Where LAFITTE LIVES was more of an adventure yarn, THE SWAMP GHOST is distinctly a mystery, a historical cozy one at that! This shift is probably why this book is considered the first in the series, even though we've seen the main characters before. While I really enjoyed LAFITTE LIVES I absolutely adored THE SWAMP GHOST!
 
Mary Catherine Whitney is a force to be reckoned with! She's loud, opinionated, dramatic, funny, and smart. And she's not about to let being very pregnant in 1833 New Orleans stop her from using her wit, and wiles, to solve a murder! She had me laughing... that scene at the bank!...and her dealings with her neighbor and her boys. I'm laughing again thinking about those scenes. I also love the addition of Henrietta, a perfect match for Mary Catherine. While Tobias takes more of a backseat in this story, his quiet strength is always evident and he's always there when needed, providing love and support.
 
Delightfully funny with a heady mix of history and adventure THE SWAMP GHOST is an engaging mystery and one of the best books I've read all year. 
 
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The Swamp Ghost by Christi Keating Sumich Banner

THE SWAMP GHOST

by Christi Keating Sumich

October 12 - November 6, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Swamp Ghost by Christi Keating Sumich

AN OLD NEW ORLEANS BOOKSHOP MYSTERY

 

In 1833, Irish immigrants are hard at work digging the New Basin Canal, a waterway that will connect New Orleans to Lake Pontchartrain. When one of the workers sees a strange blue orb glowing in the swamp at night, he fears it is a Fifolet (fee-foo-lay) guarding Jean Lafitte’s buried treasure. Legend has it that pirates killed a crewman and buried his body with their loot, dooming his ghost to stand guard forever. The next morning, the worker is found dead. The men believe the site is cursed, and Aiden Doyle, the crew's leader, must uncover the truth or risk losing his job. When the newly formed police force refuses to investigate, Aiden seeks help from Mary Catherine Whitney, now renowned throughout New Orleans for her mystery-solving skills after she and her husband, Tobias, unraveled the secrets of the notorious pirate Jean Lafitte and wrote a popular adventure story about it. She’ll need all her cleverness and wit to unlock the secrets of the Fifolet, and she may even need a little help from Lafitte himself.

Continuing characters from Lafitte Lives, The Swamp Ghost is the first in the Old New Orleans Bookshop Mysteries, featuring Mary Catherine Whitney, irascible wife, mother, and amateur sleuth in this charming series set in nineteenth-century New Orleans.

Praise for The Swamp Ghost:

"In The Swamp Ghost, the lovable Mary Catherine Whitney returns to lead readers on a captivating adventure through 1833 New Orleans as she investigates the mysterious death of a troublemaker who died while digging a canal. Word goes out that an evil spirit attacked him. A merry band of helpers joins Mary Catherine to find the true killer — or confirm the evil spirit tale. Along the way, they encounter pirates, gamblers, and drunkards. Once again, Christi Keating Sumich entertains us while immersing us in the sights, sounds, smells, and folklore of New Orleans."
~ Marlie Parker Wasserman, author of First Daughter

"If you love strong-willed women solving spooky mysteries in the heat of the bayou, this book is perfect for you! Introduced to the Whitney family in Sumich's first book, THE SWAMP GHOST expands their world and the mysteries in it. Mary Catherine Whitney is a force to be reckoned with. Even the supernatural can't hide from her investigations."
~ Nicole Asselin, Author of the Minor League Mysteries, Host of Baseball, Books, and Banter podcast.

'In Christi Sumich's new novel featuring the Whitney family, feisty Mary Catherine continues to berate her rambunctious sons and, if I may say, saintly husband, but is now stepping not-so-quietly into the world of the amateur sleuth, with help from her equally acerbic cook, Mrs. Clarke. We return to New Orleans. It's a divided city, where the Creoles and the influx of Irish are vying for economic and political dominance. At the heart of this novel is the death of an Irish "digger," just one of hundreds who are digging a new canal out of a swamp. Was his death a murder, or did a ghost protecting pirate treasure kill him? Although this is your classic who-dun-it, albeit with ghosts and pirates, the background of a city and the plight of immigrants is nicely documented. I'm looking forward to Mary Catherine's next "case"!'
~ Claire M. Johnson, author of the Fog City Noir series

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: September 22, 2026
Number of Pages: 232
Series: An Old New Orleans Bookshop Mystery, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

Swamps Outside of New Orleans
1833

Chapter One

Sean Leery smacked his own cheek with such force that he felt like he was back in Ireland, on the receiving end of a blow in one of his many pub brawls. He missed County Cork and his cottage there. It hadn’t been much, but it was certainly better than his present circumstances, trying to catch some sleep in a sweltering Louisiana swamp. The pitiful cypress log hut that was his temporary home while he was out digging the New Basin Canal offered little comfort and couldn’t keep out the water from the daily rainstorms, let alone the mosquitoes that swarmed him and his fellow diggers.

He wiped a smear of blood from his face, slightly mollified to see this one had a full belly, judging by the sizable blood splatter. Hell, most of it was probably his to begin with, but at least the menace would feast on him no more this evening. Not that it would do much good. Ridding the Louisiana bayous of one mosquito had about the same effect as plucking a snowflake off an avalanche. God, he even missed the snow and cold of his homeland, though he still recalled shivering next to the stove, trying to extract the last bit of warmth from the feeble coal remnants. It was just so hot here. And not only during the day. In the summer, which seemed to last most of the year, it was equally unbearable at night, especially in the swamp. Even now, in October, the air was so thick he felt he needed to chew it before he could breathe it in.

He stretched his feet past the edge of his cot to restore circulation before tucking them back under the mosquito netting. Tomorrow, he’d have to find the hole where they were getting in and stitch it up. Cagey little suckers, they were. They’d weasel their way through the tiniest opening. He flopped onto his side, hoping sleep would envelop him again. He needed to rest if he had any hope of performing the arduous labor his job required. The sooner they finished their digging, the sooner he could high-tail it back to New Orleans and civilization.

Though the working and living conditions were less than ideal, Sean considered himself lucky to be on Aiden Doyle’s digging crew. Aiden was a fair foreman, much better than some of the others. He treated his “ditchers” well, as the men digging out the swamp were called.

They were the lead crew on the project, an ambitious plan by the New Orleans Canal and Banking Company to dig a navigable commercial waterway from Lake Pontchartrain to the American Sector of New Orleans, located behind the Vieux Carré, or the French Quarter, as the Americans called it. The canal was to be six to ten feet deep, sixty yards wide, and six miles long. It was being dug by a workforce composed mainly of Irish immigrants wielding picks, shovels, and wheelbarrows, slowly making their way through the swamps outside the city.

It was dangerous, backbreaking work. Ditchers, even young ones, often did not fare well. Because Irish immigrants were arriving in New Orleans in large numbers and were willing to toil for low wages, the company hired them as “expendable labor,” knowing that excavating mosquito-infested swampland meant losing many workers to yellow fever, cholera, and malaria. Some of the foremen joked that to dig a canal, at least four things were necessary: a shovel, a pick, a wheelbarrow, and an Irishman.

Aiden Doyle was Irish, so Sean supposed that might explain his more compassionate nature. Most bosses wouldn’t have taken on someone as old as Sean, let alone someone with his less-than-stellar reputation. Sean would be forty-two on his next birthday, but he looked far older. Hard living took its toll on a man. So did drinking too much whiskey and trying to live by his wits for too long, especially since he hadn’t been blessed with an abundance of them. His bulbous nose was a testament to his love of drink, and its crookedness to the brawling that generally followed.

Sean also loved cards, and he owed debts to the sort of people who expressed their displeasure at not being promptly reimbursed in unfortunate physical ways. So when his debts began piling up and he feared the threats of bodily harm were no longer mere threats, he sought employment out of sheer necessity. He would work until he could pay the most pressing debts to the most violent of his creditors, then quit and resume his life of gambling, drinking, and enjoying the company of disreputable women. Such was his pattern, and Sean was eager to return to it—if he survived this present job.

Sean flopped onto his back, blowing out a frustrated breath. In addition to the stifling heat and swarming blood suckers, his ability to fall back asleep was being hindered by Darren’s snoring and Murph’s farts. Might as well take a piss while I’m awake.

Sean grunted as he shifted to his feet. They were sore after the day’s labors. Every inch of him hurt, but the worst was his shoulders. They ached and throbbed, adding to his insomnia. He needed to sleep if he was to get up the next day and do more digging. If he couldn’t work, Aiden would have to replace him on his crew. Sean wasn’t keen to find another crew. He didn’t particularly like any of the men he worked with out here in this godforsaken place, but he figured he had less than a month to go before he would have enough money to quit. What could be worse than having to beg your way back onto a job you hated? He needed to tough it out.

He pulled on his boots and left the shack. The sliver of moon did little to dispel the swamp's stygian darkness. As he made his way to the temporary privy the crew had erected, he was careful not to trip over the cypress knees poking out of the semi-solid earth and to avoid any snakes that might be hiding in the tall grass. No doubt there were alligators to avoid as well. He shuddered at the thought of disturbing a sleeping gator as he swatted futilely at the mosquitoes buzzing around his head.

Suddenly, his hand froze in front of his face. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? The sight before him shouldn’t be there. A bright blue orb was dancing in the distance, just beyond a copse of water gum trees. Could it be his imagination? It was easy to think so. After all, this landscape was eerie and otherworldly at night. It occupied a nebulous space between water and earth, always wet and only sometimes solid. The densely packed cypress trees, dripping with tattered Spanish moss that reminded Sean of ghosts caught in the branches, crowded out the sun during the day, making it perpetual dusk at its brightest and forcing the humid air to hover over the swamp dwellers like a hot, moist blanket.

Sean had seen some unusual sights out here, but this went beyond any of them. Could it be the moonlight illuminating some swamp gas? He knew this wasn’t it, but he was desperate for a logical explanation. Sean was not superstitious, unlike some of the men he worked with, fools still clinging to their Irish folklore like a lifeline in this strange place. Yet the sight before him sent chills down his body, straight through his aching arms and into his cramping feet.

What was he looking at? There should not be a blue light shining in front of him out here in the desolate swamp. It was not a fire or a lantern, of that he was certain.

Sean was not a religious man, yet he crossed himself in an unconscious, protective gesture. He needed to get back to the safety of the shack and the other diggers, but fear froze him in place. There was a terrifying moment of stasis, and then the blue orb advanced rapidly toward Sean, as if sensing his presence and locking onto him, preparing to give chase. Sean heard a scream and realized it was coming from his own throat. He turned and ran back through the swamp, trying to stay upright as he stumbled over the cypress knees and deep eddies, all thoughts of sleeping gators and rattlers driven from his mind. He burst into the shack, waking the rest of the crew.

As they rubbed sleep from their eyes and sat up in astonishment, trying to make sense of what was happening, they took in the strange sight before them. Sean Leery, the ornery old bastard they had assumed feared nothing and no one, was gasping for breath, sputtering about something he’d spotted in the swamp. His face was as white as if he’d seen the very devil himself, and a dark, wet spot spread across the front of his breeches where he’d pissed himself.

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Excerpt from The Swamp Ghost by Christi Keating Sumich. Copyright 2026 by Christi Keating Sumich. Reproduced with permission from Christi Keating Sumich. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Christi Keating Sumich

Christi Keating Sumich holds a PhD in History and a master’s degree in English. Her writing combines her fascination with history with her love of the mystery genre. She is the author of Lafitte Lives (Level Best Books, February 2026), a historical mystery centered on her ancestor, the notorious pirate Jean Lafitte. It is the prequel in the Old New Orleans Bookshop Mysteries, followed by The Swamp Ghost (Level Best Books, September 2026). She is also the author of the short story “The Night Doctor of New Orleans” in Crime Before Our Time (Level Best Books August 2026).

Christi's nonfiction titles include Hauntingly Good Spirits: New Orleans Cocktails to Die For (Wellfleet Press, 2024) and The Brandy Milk Punch (Louisiana State University Press, 2025), both written with her mother, Sharon Keating.

Christi lives just outside New Orleans with her husband and too many pets, as she has a soft spot for “unconventionally attractive” animals in need of homes. She is the mother of three grown children (plus a daughter-in-law). Her claim to fame is being the winningest contestant on Hollywood Squares.

Catch Up With Christi Keating Sumich:

ChristiSumich.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @sumichchristi
Instagram - @casumich
Facebook - @christi.keating.sumich.author

 

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Friday, October 9, 2026

The Harlot of St. Cecelia's - A Review, Excerpt, & Giveaway

 Review

 
THE HARLOT OF ST. CECELIA'S by Darcy Graves
The First Inspector Garrett Mystery 

As Eden Brior has no plans and wants to finish up some work she volunteers to stay and close St. Cecelia's library for the night. After witnessing some unexpected drama with a stunning French woman and a bright young thing she accidentally gets locked in the library vault with that very bright young thing, a playboy named Simon Cross. Released by the police in the morning Eden wonders how they knew to rescue them. The problem is that the police weren't there to save them, but because there was a dead body in the library - that of the French woman. Even with his supervisor leaning on him to make a quick arrest, along with saddling him with an incompetent sergeant, Detective Inspector Garrett intends to fully investigate the murder, even if the evidence is pointing directly to Simon Cross. Eden believes Simon is innocent. After all, he was trapped with her and simply didn't have enough time to kill the woman. Both Inspector Garrett and Eden will follow the clues to find the killer, but is that person closer than they think? 

I truly enjoyed being in 1923 London with Eden. I like how she's both a fish out of water, an American expat living in London with few friends, as well as someone who is right in her element, working in the sanctity that is St. Cecilia's library and investigating the murder. THE HARLOT OF ST. CECELIA'S has more than a few laughs, Eden's play-reading circle that both opens and closes the book and Inspector Garrett's dealings with both his stoogeish sergeant and the children, for example. 

I appreciate the nods to the Golden Age of detective fiction, particularly the use of fair play. I noticed a clue early on which led me to consider the killer before any of the protagonists. That clue made me suspicious, but not certain, and I enjoyed seeing the investigation proceed by both Inspector Garrett and Eden.

Distinct characterizations, adept historical world building, and a finely crafted mystery make THE HARLOT OF ST. CECELIA'S a delightful start to a new series. 

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The Harlot of St. Cecelia's by Darcy Graves Banner

THE HARLOT OF ST. CECELIA'S

by Darcy Graves

September 21 - October 16, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Harlot of St. Cecelia's by Darcy Graves

An Inspector Garrett Mystery

 

London, 1923. American expat librarian Eden Brior thinks things are bad when she is accidentally locked overnight in the St. Cecelia’s Library vault with the charming and unreliable Simon Cross. Then she emerges to find the body of his estranged wife — a celebrated French actress — draped over a chair upstairs.

Detective Inspector William Garrett is methodical, quietly perceptive, and already fairly certain he has his man. He tells Eden firmly to go home and leave the detecting to the professionals. But how can she?

Racing to clear their names before Garrett closes the case, Eden follows the truth from the bright footlights of the London stage through the sleek drawing rooms of Jazz Age society, and into secrets that someone will kill to keep buried.

Steeped in the style of the golden age of detective fiction, The Harlot of St. Cecelia’s captures a London still glittering on the surface and shadowed underneath — where every drawing room hides a secret and every secret has a price.

Perfect for fans of Jacqueline Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs series.

Praise for The Harlot of St. Cecelia's:

"This novel consistently delights, from the spicy title to the last page."
~ Kirkus Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Independently Published
Publication Date: May 3, 2026
Number of Pages: 306
ISBN: 979-8195315580
Series: Inspector Garrett Mystery Series, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

 

 

Author Bio:

Darcy Graves

Darcy Graves grew up in Boston and holds an MA in English history and a BS in copywriting. A marketing content writer for over thirty years, she brings to her work a deep love of the golden age of detective fiction — particularly Agatha Christie and P.D. James — and the whimsy of P.G. Wodehouse.

Darcy lives in the Berkshires with her daughter, two ragdoll cats, and a very naughty terrier named Merial. The Harlot of St. Cecelia's is her first novel.

Catch Up With Darcy Graves:

DarcyGravesAuthor.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @darcygravesauthor
Instagram - @darcygravesauthor

 

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Tuesday, October 6, 2026

The Harlot of St. Cecilia's - An Interview, Excerpt, & Giveaway

I'm pleased to welcome Darcy Graves to Cozy Up With Kathy today. Darcy writes the Inspector Garrett Mystery series. THE HARLOT OF ST. CECILIA'S is the first book in the series and was released earlier this year. I hope you'll return to the blog Friday when I'll share my review.

Kathy: It is said that THE HARLOT OF ST. CECILIA'S is steeped in the style of the Golden Age of detective fiction. Who are some of your favorite authors of this time period and how did they influence this book?

DG: Ngaio Marsh is probably my favorite, but I also love Dorothy L. Sayers, Josephine Tey, Christianna Brand, and, of course, Dame Agatha.

I love the puzzles, so obviously that’s foundational. But sometimes even the older mysteries can feel flat if they are all about the puzzle.

What I really react to, and I think a lot of readers do, is the people and the world around the puzzle. For one thing, it’s simpler. A dear friend of mine recently said: “Sometimes I don’t want to deal with all the forensics and sexual assault and just want someone to get strangled by a string of pearls.” That resonates with me.

What I love and want to recreate is all the cleverness and wit in the Golden Age mysteries, which in some ways is just a characteristic of the time. Think of Dorothy Parker and Dash Hammett and all that snappy, smart wit. I love that.

I also really appreciate the writers who deliver meaningful character. Sayers, in particular, created characters who had rich lives outside the mechanics of the murder. Lord Peter Wimsey changes in those books. His relationships matter.

That was something I wanted for The Harlot of St. Cecelia’s. I wanted a mystery that could be solved, with clues that mattered, and sparkling repartee — but I also wanted Eden, Garrett, Simon, and the other characters to feel as though they had lives that existed before a body appeared and that those lives would continue meaningfully after the murderer was caught.

Kathy: In this, the first Inspector Garrett Mystery, Eden is accidentally locked overnight in the St. Cecelia’s Library vault. While I may not like being locked in a library vault, I would certainly enjoy being locked in a library. What about you?

DG: Hah! If it were a library like St. Cecelia’s, maybe… with its comfortable reading room, deep chairs, and far too many books, I think I could manage.

But I’ll be honest: there is something about libraries after dark that is slightly unnerving. Is there a more likely place to find ghosts than hiding in books? You have all those voices of people who have been dead for hundreds of years sitting quietly on the shelves, waiting for somebody to fall asleep in a reading room.

Kathy: While Detective Inspector William Garrett thinks he has an open-and-shut case, Eden follows the truth from the bright footlights of the London stage through the sleek drawing rooms of Jazz Age society. If you were in London in 1923, what would you most like to see and do?

DG: I would go straight to Gordon Square and people-watch.

I studied the Bloomsbury Group a lot when I was younger. I still have shelves full of their letters, diaries, monographs, biographies and whatnot. (I have a draft of a play about Vanessa Bell in my unfinished projects folder.) So I would absolutely sit on a bench in Gordon Square, hoping John Maynard Keynes or Lytton Strachey wandered past in the thick of an argument.

After that, I’d want to see London at night.

I’d find one of the nightclubs beginning to spring up around the city, order a cocktail, and watch everybody. The early 1920s are fascinating because you have so many different generations occupying the same city at once: Victorians, Edwardians, veterans of the Great War, and of course, the Bright Young Things.

So yeah, I’d probably spend most of my time snooping and eavesdropping.

(For research purposes, obviously.)

Kathy: Why did you choose this time period for your series?

DG: Britain between the wars was my minor field as a historian, and the 1920s have fascinated me for a very long time.

I think what interests me most is that it was a society trying to decide what came next after everything shattered. The First World War broke all the assumptions about class, duty, empire, masculinity, technology — civilization really. Then everyone had to go home and just pick up and carry on.

At the same time, technology was changing daily life at an astonishing pace. Motorcars, aviation, radio, cinema, telephones, mass advertising. Women’s lives were changing. Social and sexual conventions were changing.

And we forget, this was not just a handover to a new generation. There were still Victorians still alive who were clinging to an Empire gone by. There were Edwardians, who had grown up believing in a social order that the war had blown enormous holes through. And then, yes, there was this younger generation coming along saying, essentially, ‘the world has collapsed, so let’s just drink and dance.’

And we think we have generational conflict now.

For a novelist, it’s an irresistible mix. Everyone in that world can look at the same event and understand it completely differently.

Kathy: What first drew you to historical mysteries?

DG: Mysteries have been part of my reading life for as long as I can remember, but the history is what makes them matter. Really, the two forms ask surprisingly similar questions.

A historian looks at surviving evidence, considers who created it and why, notices what is missing, and tries not to assume that the obvious explanation is necessarily the correct one.

So does a detective.

I remember reading about how in WWII the best codebreakers were medieval scholars, because they were best at understanding material from arcane clues, without all the facts. So history and mystery are perfect companions.

I’m also interested in historical fiction that is immersive and makes you feel what it felt like before people knew what was going to happen next. We know which technologies became ordinary, which social movements succeeded, which wars came later. The people living in 1923 didn’t.

A mystery gives me a wonderful way to explore that uncertainty because the characters are already trying to make sense of incomplete information. If that makes sense.

Kathy: Do you write in any other genres?

DG: I do! Although I keep them under separate pen names because they are very different.

I write YA dystopian science fiction, and under a third pen name I write very spicy Greek mythology romantasy/retellings.

The separation is partly practical. I would hate for someone who enjoyed a fairly traditional 1920s murder mystery to innocently wander into one of the spicy books and need therapy.

And they’re very different stories, but I suspect I return to some of the same things in all of them: complicated characters, power, identity, and people discovering that the story they’ve been given may not be entirely true.
 

Tell us about your series.

DG: The Inspector Garrett Mysteries follow Detective Inspector William Garrett but also a supporting cast who at various times step into the limelight.

That is Eden Brior, an American expatriate librarian (and, spoiler alert, future journalist), and then the charming Simon and Meg Cross, who are siblings from the upper middle class. Their paths cross in the first book, but they’ll go on to intersect as they solve a series of murders in 1920s Britain.

Inspector Garrett is the spine of the series, of course. And each book has a self-contained mystery, but the relationships and unfinished business among the characters continue from one book to the next.

Kathy: Do you have a favorite character? If so, who and why?

DG: That has to be Simon Cross.

I feel slightly guilty saying that, because Inspector Garrett does have his name on the series, and Eden is technically the secondary amateur sleuth in THE HARLOT OF ST. CECILIA'S.

But it’s Simon, always and forever for me. I remember reading somewhere that Dorothy Sayers was accused of falling in love with Lord Peter Wimsey, and let’s just say I COMPLETELY understand this problem.

Simon is charming, intelligent, funny, maddening, deeply loyal, wounded, and so, so much more damaged than he wants anyone to notice. He’s also capable of walking into a scene I have carefully planned and upending it.

Unfortunately, like Lord Peter, he is entirely out of my league.

Kathy: Did you have a specific inspiration for your series?

DG: The period itself was really the inspiration, but as far as literary catalysts, I’ll say Robert Graves was particularly important. You may know him as the author of I, CLAUDIUS, but he also wrote a wrenching Great War memoir called GOODBYE TO ALL THAT. That book had an enormous influence on how I thought about the war and that generation. It’s so heartbreaking.

Both Simon Cross and Garrett grew directly out of a fascination with the men who returned from the war expected to resume their old lives, but were profoundly changed by what had happened to them. Simon in a really broken way, and Garrett, who is someone who believes deeply in institutions and order — in a world where both are being challenged.

Alan Hodge’s THE LONG WEEKEND, about life in Britain between the wars, was another formative book. And the young war poets like Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen.

Two movies that didn’t exactly influence plot but that I found evocative and inspiring of the time were Chariots of Fire and Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle. Both have such a strong sense of place and character. I wanted to tap into that.
 

Kathy: What made you decide to publish your work?

DG: Oddly enough, Andy Weir.

I have been writing for years, and had done querying and even had an agent at one point. But various threads of that publishing journey had petered out over time, due mainly to timing or luck, and my books were sitting under the proverbial bed.

Then I heard Andy Weir talking with Neil deGrasse Tyson on his StarTalk podcast, and his advice to writers was essentially: “Self-publish. There has never been a better time.”

Something about hearing him say it just clicked for me. Publishing had always felt like this enormous gate you had to somehow persuade somebody else to open. Suddenly I thought: Well, what exactly am I waiting for? At the very least, I’ll have a copy of this book for my own shelf, and it won’t be a file that dies with my laptop.

So I pulled out the file and my shelved cover design, and I went for it.

Kathy: If you could have a dinner party and invite four authors, living or dead, in any genre, who would you invite?

DG: This is such a hard question, and I might answer it differently tomorrow. But today, I’m choosing entirely for witty conversation.

Dorothy Parker, P. G. Wodehouse, Robertson Davies, and David Sedaris.

I’d expect a dinner conversation you could sharpen knives on.

Parker and Wodehouse bring just extraordinary wit from completely different directions. Robertson Davies was enormously erudite but also so funny and interested in wonderfully strange subjects. And David Sedaris would probably have so much fun provoking them and then summing it up. I’d just love to see how that conversation would progress.

I would mostly sit there drinking wine and hoping nobody turned their attention or sharp tongue on me.

Kathy: What are you currently reading?

DG: At the moment, nothing. Which is very unusual for me, except when it’s not.

I’m not allowed to read while I’m writing. That’s a rule that goes back to a very unfortunate incident involving reading some P. G. Wodehouse, which resulted in several chapters requiring serious reworks. A lot of gentlemen’s club shenanigans.

So yeah, I’ve learned that I’m a little too susceptible to other writers’ rhythms and voices while I’m writing fiction. Now, I mostly read around the book instead: history, letters, biographies, research material, things like that.

I’m actively drafting the second Inspector Garrett mystery, and my TBR is growing in the background. Once this draft is finished, I’ll go back to it.


Kathy: Will you share any of your hobbies or interests with us?

DG: Travel and museums are probably where most of my discretionary income disappears.

I’m happiest wandering through a house museum, historic neighborhood, gallery, library, archaeological site, or basically anywhere somebody will let me look at old things. Love things. The Victoria and Albert Museum in London is my happy place.

I also read constantly when I’m not actively drafting, and I genuinely enjoy research far more than any sensible person probably should. That’s my medieval historian roots. I can lose an alarming amount of time to an old magazine.
 

Kathy: Name four items you always have in your fridge or pantry.

DG: Nutella.

Harney & Sons tea. (I have an unreasonable number of Harney & Sons tea tins.)

Nespresso pods. Can’t live without a morning latte.

And popcorn. So much popcorn. (But specifically the big “mushroom” kernels that pop into those enormous round pieces that hold butter.)

I apparently require caffeine, chocolate, and snacks in order to write!

Kathy: Do you have plans for future books either in your current series or a new series?

DG: Yes!

The second Inspector Garrett Mystery is underway. It’s called THE TREASURE OF MAYFAIR. Eden, Garrett, and Simon all return as POVs (Meg is away for most of this book). This time, the victim is a young Mayfair socialite who is murdered during a country-house treasure hunt with a group of friends.

The victim and suspects have connections to Simon, and Eden gets pulled into the investigation, and the mystery becomes tangled up with money, family history, old grudges, and the First World War.

I’m having a great deal of fun with the puzzle in this one. I think (I hope) the murderer will be harder to guess.

Beyond that, I already have ideas sketched for at least a half dozen more Garrett books. There is so much about the 1920s that I still want to explore. I’d love to move Garrett through some different corners of Britain and different themes and subcultures as the series develops.

Kathy: What’s your favorite thing about being an author?

DG: The characters. Hands down.

There’s a point in writing a book where someone you invented stops feeling like a handful of choices you made and starts feeling like a person you are discovering.

They tell you what they would say or never say. You get surprised by what frightens them or what they find funny or infuriating. And for a little while, you get to be them.

That is probably the strangest and most wonderful part of writing for me. I can live inside lives I will never have, in places and periods I can never actually visit, and see the world through new pairs of eyes.

Then, if I’m super lucky, readers get to meet those people, too. 

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The Harlot of St. Cecelia's by Darcy Graves Banner

THE HARLOT OF ST. CECELIA'S

by Darcy Graves

September 21 - October 16, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Harlot of St. Cecelia's by Darcy Graves

An Inspector Garrett Mystery

 

London, 1923. American expat librarian Eden Brior thinks things are bad when she is accidentally locked overnight in the St. Cecelia’s Library vault with the charming and unreliable Simon Cross. Then she emerges to find the body of his estranged wife — a celebrated French actress — draped over a chair upstairs.

Detective Inspector William Garrett is methodical, quietly perceptive, and already fairly certain he has his man. He tells Eden firmly to go home and leave the detecting to the professionals. But how can she?

Racing to clear their names before Garrett closes the case, Eden follows the truth from the bright footlights of the London stage through the sleek drawing rooms of Jazz Age society, and into secrets that someone will kill to keep buried.

Steeped in the style of the golden age of detective fiction, The Harlot of St. Cecelia’s captures a London still glittering on the surface and shadowed underneath — where every drawing room hides a secret and every secret has a price.

Perfect for fans of Jacqueline Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs series.

Praise for The Harlot of St. Cecelia's:

"This novel consistently delights, from the spicy title to the last page."
~ Kirkus Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Independently Published
Publication Date: May 3, 2026
Number of Pages: 306
ISBN: 979-8195315580
Series: Inspector Garrett Mystery Series, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

 

 

Author Bio:

Darcy Graves

Darcy Graves grew up in Boston and holds an MA in English history and a BS in copywriting. A marketing content writer for over thirty years, she brings to her work a deep love of the golden age of detective fiction — particularly Agatha Christie and P.D. James — and the whimsy of P.G. Wodehouse.

Darcy lives in the Berkshires with her daughter, two ragdoll cats, and a very naughty terrier named Merial. The Harlot of St. Cecelia's is her first novel.

Catch Up With Darcy Graves:

DarcyGravesAuthor.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @darcygravesauthor
Instagram - @darcygravesauthor

 

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Sunday, September 13, 2026

The Alchemist of All Hallows Eve - A Review, Excerpt, & Giveaway

Review


THE ALCHEMIST OF ALL HALLOWS EVE by Gigi Pandian
The Tenth Accidental Alchemist Mystery 

After hundreds of years of wandering alchemist Zoe Faust is ready to settle down in Portland, Oregon. Engaged to former detective Max Liu, not only is she ready to be married, she's also ready to buy a house. It's not an easy task with the current housing market, plus the need for a separate space her her best friend, Dorian, who happens to be a living gargoyle. Zoe is amazed when she finds her dream house. It's absolutely perfect with an amazing garden and orchard as well as a separate living space with an outstanding gourmet kitchen for Dorian. Not only that, the owner is eager to sell, the property is in their budget, and no one else seems to be interested. Unfortunately, when Max arrives he tells her the reason why. Known as the Murder House it's said that the owner killed his girlfriend there. While Max refuses to live there, Zoe is determined to prove the owner innocent and get her dream house. When a psychic claiming to have information about the cold case is murdered near the property Zoe and Dorian know they must solve both crimes in order to get their happy ending.

I absolutely adore the Accidental Alchemist series and this tenth addition may be my most favorite! Halloween season infuses the mystery with both a cozy and spooky vibe, from Dorian cooking up treats for trick or treaters, autumnal decorations, and a seance in a murder house! It's fun to see how Dorian uses his special abilities to investigate. I appreciate Zoe's connection to Octavia and wish they had more time together. Max is more the skeptic with his doubts about Octavia, yet also more superstitious with his refusal to live in the murder house. Together, with a little help from some friends, they work together brilliantly.

One of my favorite aspects to the whole series is the food. Not only do we get to see Dorian whip up gourmet meals and simple snacks, but in THE ALCHEMIST OF ALL HALLOWS EVE we also get clues in a cookbook. And there are recipes to try yourself at the end of the book.

Finding the perfect home is scary enough, but add a psychic, a medium, and a murder house, with or without bodies in the walls, and you have an amazing Halloween themed mystery with seasonal tips and treats included! While a murder mystery, when it comes down to it THE ALCHEMIST OF ALL HALLOWS EVE is a book about love and what people, and gargoyles, are willing to do for it. 

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The Alchemist of All Hallows Eve by Gigi Pandian Banner

THE ALCHEMIST OF ALL HALLOWS EVE

by Gigi Pandian

September 7 - October 2, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

THE ALCHEMIST OF ALL HALLOWS EVE by Gigi Pandian

AN ACCIDENTAL ALCHEMIST MYSTERY

 

An eternally young alchemist. A gargoyle who fancies himself Poirot. A Murder House for sale the week before Halloween.

Zoe Faust has run from her past for centuries. She didn't plan on settling down. She didn't plan on falling for a mortal man. She certainly didn't plan on the gargoyle.

Now Zoe, her fiancé, and her French chef gargoyle best friend Dorian have found an enchanting home with a hidden cottage for Dorian. It’s perfect for their little family. Except for one thing. Forty years ago, the night before Halloween, a woman was murdered in their dream house. Or was she?

When an enigmatic stranger arrives and insists that a mythological Irish witch holds the secret to the unsolved crime, Halloween turns deadly once more. Refusing to let Zoe lose the home she's waited centuries for, Dorian the gargoyle sets out to crack the case.

Can an alchemist, a gargoyle, and a teashop-owning detective solve two Halloween murders before an innocent man takes the fall and their perfect home slips away?

The Alchemist of All Hallows Eve is the whimsical tenth book in USA Today bestselling author Gigi Pandian's Anthony Award-winning Accidental Alchemist mystery series. If you love cozy fantasy, Agatha Christie-style whodunits, and found family, you'll adore this charming Halloween mystery, complete with Irish fortune-telling recipes.

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery, Cozy Fantasy Mystery, Culinary Cozy
Published by: Gargoyle Girl Productions
Publication Date: September 8, 2026
Number of Pages: 288
ISBN: 978-1938213373
Series: The Accidental Alchemist Mystery Series, Book 10 | Each is a Stand Alone
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

I dashed through the wrought iron gate that stood open, the misty rain leaving nearly invisible droplets on my silver raincoat as I made my way to the house. Ivy tendrils wound their way around the curved black iron of the gate and fence, hiding the wires of electric candles that illuminated the yard with a warm glow.

By the time I took my first step on the stone path, I already knew. The house was perfect.

A perfect family home. I blinked back tears. What an astonishing idea, after so many decades living on the road. On my own. On the run. Never staying in one place for long. Never imagining I could have something more. The last two years in a fixer-upper were two of the best years in my life, still on my own but tentatively testing the idea of putting down roots. All the joys and trials of these last two years had led to this moment. Finding a home for me and Max. For the start of a new life together.

A twenty-foot Malus domestica tree towered above me, bringing me to a halt when I should have been rushing inside to see if I’d made it in time. The apple tree’s green and yellow leaves shielded smooth branches brimming with red-gold apples ripe enough to pick. I ran my fingertips across the smooth bark and crouched to touch the spot where the trunk met soil. Gnarled roots peeking out of the earth told me the tree’s advanced age, but it was thriving. The person who tended to this tree truly cared for it. As I would.

A bright yellow door, only three inches high, rested at the base of the tree. It was a fairy door, inviting anyone who took the time to notice it to imagine a portal to the fairy realm. I wondered if the whimsical doorway was there year-round or only because it was the week before Halloween. Behind the tree, crimson delphinium flowers were blooming. Red was a rare color for the flower, and it was late in the year for the spire-like stems to bloom. They, too, had been well tended.

As curious as I was about the person who attended to this landscape, I didn’t have time to speculate. I stood and hurried on.

Old-fashioned lanterns lit the stone steps leading to the covered porch. Two massive copper owls flanked the front door, one guarding a carved pumpkin, the other an autumn vegetable I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen: a mangelwurzel. I’ve celebrated many types of Halloween traditions over the years, so I recognized the root vegetable that had been popular for Halloween carvings over a century ago in Britain and Ireland. These decorations weren’t plastic toys from a modern manufacturer, but talismans that harkened back to celebrations of the autumn harvest—and the idea that October 31 was a night when the veil between worlds of the living and the dead was thin.

I smiled at the mangelwurzel’s grotesque grinning face, wondering how a modern-day homeowner in Portland, Oregon had stumbled across the tradition of carving creepy faces into the lumpy root related to a beet.

But I didn’t have time to linger outside and wonder.

I was lucky that nobody had put in an offer on the house while I was away last week, since the housing market was so tight these days. Today, I’d hoped to arrive right when the open house began, but it was such a busy afternoon at Max’s new shop that he couldn’t get away. We decided I should go on ahead. Still, it was already twenty minutes past the hour when the showing began.

And yet, the squeaky door of my old 1942 pickup truck was the loudest sound I’d heard since arriving. Instead of a rush of other eager homebuyers, the inviting yard was deserted. No kids were exploring the whimsical décor. No voices could be heard coming from inside the house, but perhaps the walls were thick?

The old home was beautiful and the listing price far lower than expected. Why was I the only potential buyer here?

The front door stood open, and as I stepped inside a tall woman in a cream-colored pantsuit greeted me.

“Zoe?”

I nodded and took her outstretched hand.

“Simone Friday,” she said, ushering me into the cozy foyer of the house. “Congratulations again on your engagement. This is a wonderful home to begin a new life together.”

I touched my malachite engagement ring. The green stone was the most perfect embodiment of Max’s and my love for each other. Malachite, the stone of transformation.

“What a stunning ring.” The real estate agent pulled her gaze from my ring finger and craned her thin neck to look around me. “Is Max still in the car?”

She had no idea how unique the ring truly was. Not that I could ever tell her.

“Max is running a little late,” I explained, hoping that wouldn’t make us look irresponsible if the owner was making a decision between multiple interested buyers. This housing market was brutal, and homes around here were being snatched up as soon as they hit the market. The agent Max had found us hadn’t suggested this house. I’d found it while browsing.

I’d reached out to the seller’s agent ahead of time to make sure the low list price wasn’t a mistake. She told me the owner needed to sell on an expedited timeline, prioritizing a buyer who could close quickly. He’d had a bad fall and was currently recovering in the hospital, hoping to move into a retirement community as soon as possible since he could no longer handle living alone in this big, multi-story house.

Looking out the front window, I smiled as I spotted even more autumn decorations I hadn’t noticed on my way in. Sheltered on the covered porch, an owl made from a pinecone and acorns sat next to a trio of gourds with silly painted faces. With this type of creativity, wherever the owner ended up, I had a feeling he’d be just fine.

“You’re an outdoorsy person,” Simone said. “I can tell. You’re in for a treat. I’ve been doing this for decades and believe me, this place is quite a find.”

I continued through the house, enjoying the solid wood paneling and cozy nooks that included a built-in window seat in the main bedroom. The back garden included a small kitchen garden, bountiful flowers, and even more fruit trees. Three types of apples, plus two each of cherry, plum, pear, and fig trees, making a full dozen. The Spartan apple tree’s ripe apples hung unpicked, but I was more worried by its thin branches, which were drooping from more than the weight of the fruit. When I was a young woman helping with farmland that included a nearby orchard with apple and pear trees, I would have immediately known what was wrong. Was I losing my edge? What did the tree need?

“Zoe?” The agent’s voice shook me out of the memory.

I’m Zoe Faust, born in 1676, in Salem Village in what’s now Massachusetts, a hundred years before the Declaration of Independence was signed. My natural aptitude with plants led to my being accused of being a witch, and later being taken under the wing of famed alchemist Nicolas Flamel. Under his tutelage, I learned the principles of alchemy, which led to my accidentally discovering the Elixir of Life. When I said I’d celebrated many types of Halloween traditions, I wasn’t kidding.

“Ready to look at the guest house?” Simone asked.

She led me through the backyard to a small cottage almost entirely hidden by trees.

“Designed for someone who loves to cook, as you can tell!” she said as we stepped inside. “Take your time out here. I’ll be in the front section of the main house to greet others.”

She wasn’t kidding about the layout. Two-thirds of the little home’s open floorplan was taken up by a massive kitchen. The style was a bit dated, but for the one who would be using the space, it was functionality that mattered. Max and I needed a home of our own, but we couldn’t abandon our friend Dorian. It would be impossible for him to live on his own. And as a chef, he would love this space.

I stepped back outside into the miniature orchard. Everything about this place was perfect. Too perfect, the nervous part of my brain chimed in. The part of my brain that had kept me safe for centuries. That had kept me moving, avoiding being detected as an alchemist. But this house… I knew this was where I was meant to be. Where we were meant to be.

I rooted through my bag for my phone. It took Max four rings to answer.

“Zoe, is everything—”

“It’s perfect. So perfect. How soon can you get here?”

“I had no idea how wild weekend crowds could be. I don’t know if I can—”

“You’re at the register?” I imagined him ringing up the customers lined up at his cozy shop, The Alchemy of Tea, with a smile on his handsome face as he told people about how best to brew his custom tea blends or use the various styles of teapots he stocked.

“I stepped outside to take your call.”

“Mary can handle the register on her own. She did it beautifully while you were away. Truly. You need to see this place today. What if someone else puts in an offer that’s accepted? As soon as you see it in person, you’ll understand why it’s so special.”

“Do you know,” he chuckled, “it’s impossible to say no to you, Zoe Faust.”

Max arrived ten minutes later and found me in the backyard’s mini orchard, where I was trying to figure out what was afflicting the ailing apple tree.

I threw my arms around him. “I thought you were going to call me when you arrived. Did you see the house?”

Max didn’t answer immediately. More than that, his shoulders were stiff. And he wasn’t hugging me back. As I pulled away, expecting terrible news, only then did I see the look of worry on his face.

My own smile drained away. “Someone else got the house?”

“I doubt it.” He looked past me towards the house.

“What’s going on?” I followed his gaze. What was I missing?

“This is Rufus Hitchcock’s house.”

“You know the owner? It’s not on the listing—”

He groaned. “It wouldn’t be. But I know the house. You really don’t know the name?”

“Why would I?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t look more closely at the listing, or I would have spotted it. I’ve just been so busy—”

“Max. If you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, my head is going to explode like an overheated cucurbit. What could possibly be wrong with our dream house that we can’t fix?” Whatever it was, I hoped it wouldn’t need too much money. This is embarrassing for an alchemist to admit, but I’m wretched at making gold.

“It’s not fixable.” Max looked forlornly at the perfect house. “I wish it was… but—”

“Max.”

He turned back to me and shook his head. “Rufus Hitchcock is a murderer, Zoe. He killed his girlfriend in this house forty years ago, and strange things have been happening here ever since. That’s why nobody else wants this house.”

***

Excerpt from The Alchemist of All Hallows Eve by Gigi Pandian. Copyright 2026 by Gigi Pandian. Reproduced with permission from Gigi Pandian. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Gigi Pandian

Gigi Pandian is a USA Today bestselling mystery author, locked-room mystery enthusiast, and fan of exploring ruined castles in the rain. She’s been awarded Agatha, Anthony, Lefty, and Derringer awards, and been a finalist for the Edgar. She writes the Accidental Alchemist mysteries (humorous cozy fantasy mysteries), the Secret Staircase mysteries (locked-room mysteries called “wildly entertaining” by the New York Times), and the Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt mysteries (lighthearted adventures steeped in history). Gigi lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and a gargoyle who watches over the backyard garden. For bookish fun plus a free story and free mini cookbook, sign up for her email newsletter at www.gigipandian.com.

Catch Up With Gigi Pandian:

www.GigiPandian.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads - @gigipandian
BookBub - @GigiPandian
Instagram - @gigipandian
Facebook - @GigiPandian

 

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Friday, July 17, 2026

Dashing Through the Show - A Review, Excerpt, & Giveaway

 Review


DASHING THROUGH THE SHOW by Cindy Goyette
The Second Wiggle Butt Manor Mystery 
 
Charlie Calderbank has taken the plunge, leaving New Jersey for good and moving to the Pacific Northwest. With her dreams of being a police officer dashed because of her rheumatoid arthritis diagnosis Charlie plans to help her aunt run Wiggle Butt Manor, a dog hotel. The possibility of romance with Nick doesn't hurt either. Her arrival coincides with her aunt's first venture into dog agility featuring the champion Bentley. Unfortunately, Bentley comes with his owner, the obnoxiously rude Miles Collins. The man's behavior is so repulsive that he's kicked off the property. The next day the murdered body of Miles is found and all signs are pointing to Charlie as the killer. Who would want to frame Charlie? And why? Charlie will have to prove her innocence and find the real murderer while fighting a dog custody battle, a visit from her mom, and worsening symptoms. So much for a merry Christmas.
 
I was stressed reading the second Wiggle Butt Manor Mystery! There was so much tension as absolutely everything that could go wrong from Charlie was happening. Even worse that being framed for murder, and thus preempting her romance with the local cop, was the possibility of losing Maya, the troublemaking dog she's grown to love.
 
While I was understandably stressed, I was also loving the story as I quickly turned the pages. DASHING THROUGH THE SHOW is smartly written and deals with societal issues while providing a well constructed mystery. The characters are great, including a few despicable ones. And of course the dogs steal the show...especially Maya. Funny moments, a touch of romance, and the drama of family are captured alongside the thrilling and desperate acts in this mystery.
 
Tension, excitement, and gritty realism permeate DASHING THROUGH THE SHOW creating a captivating mystery that will have you enthralled. 
 
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Dashing Through the Show by Cindy Goyette Banner

DASHING THROUGH THE SHOW

by Cindy Goyette

July 6 - 31, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Dashing Through the Show by Cindy Goyette

A WIGGLE BUTT MANOR MYSTERY

 

Murder is under the mistletoe in the peaceful island community of Orca Cove. Holiday plans are put on hold to give attention to the grand opening of the Wiggle Butt Manor Agility Course. Special guest, Bently, is supposed to dazzle on the stage, but the locals have had enough of his snooty trainer, Miles Collins. So has his killer. When Charlie Calderbank finds Miles’ body in the back of her moving van, it becomes the season of giving…alibis, that is. Her hopes for a Christmas romance are dashed when the local hot cop is forced to pay more attention to the clues leading to her door than the chemistry that simmers between them.

Tainted treats, a widow who raises a toast along with a few eyebrows, a groomer with a grudge, an angry Santa Claus, a nosey reporter, and a canine custody hearing have Charlie spinning in every direction, juggling clues, dogs, and blizzards. She must identify the killer, or she’ll spend her Christmas behind bars.

Praise for Dashing Through the Show:

"A cozy mystery you’ll want to curl up with. Warm, witty, and wonderfully twisty."
~ Kristi Rose, USA Today Bestselling Author

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: June 16, 2026
Number of Pages: 225
Series: A Wiggle Butt Manor Mystery, Book 2
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | | Goodreads | BookBub

The Wiggle Butt Manor Mystery Series

DIAMOND IN THE RUFF by Cindy Goyette
Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

Dashing Through the Show by Cindy Goyette
Amazon | Kindle | | Goodreads | BookBub




Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

Although it was a few days before Christmas, it felt like spring. By ten a.m., the temperature had already climbed into the fifties, and people were shedding their coats, carrying them folded over their arms or tied around their waists. The grounds of my aunt’s pet hotel, Wiggle Butt Manor, were buzzing as locals and vacationers flooded the property for the grand opening of Orca Cove’s one and only agility course.

Noah, my buff-colored Cocker Spaniel—and a very good boy—stuck close to my side as I navigated the crowd. We’d arrived the night before following a four-day drive across the country from my hometown in New Jersey, arriving at the Pacific Northwest island town my aunt Jo-Jo called home.

Ten-hour days behind the wheel of the moving van I’d rented were exhausting, and my body was stiff from sitting for so long. But we made it. I was about to dive into my new life headfirst. I was now a permanent resident of Orca Cove.

People I recognized from my recent stay on the island greeted me warmly as I passed booths in various stages of readiness for the day. I found Aunt Jo-Jo walking around the property with a cane in one hand and a clipboard tucked under her other arm. A leash encircled her wrist as she tried to subdue Maya, who I wouldn’t exactly call a good girl, but she had her moments.

As I approached, my aunt handed me control of the miscreant, the town’s most infamous resident, best described as a basic brown dog.

“How’d you sleep, Charlie?” Aunt Jo-Jo asked, bending down to give Noah some attention and dropping her clipboard.

I scooped it off the ground before Maya trampled it. On it was a checklist of everything that had to be done for the daylong event. People would shop the booths in the morning. Baked goods, hot drinks, and pet-related items were for sale. The ribbon-cutting, with photo opportunities for the local paper, would be the highlight of the afternoon. For the grand finale, an agility champion would run the new course. The crowd expected him to dazzle them with his speed and skills.

The opening of the agility course was a dream come true for my aunt. She’d been planning it for months and wanted everything to be perfect.

“How’d I sleep? I repeated, falling into step beside her. “Like I’d eaten a poisoned apple.” I always slept well on the porch of my aunt’s home with the fresh ocean air wafting in through a cracked window. But I was itching to find a place of my own.

With a twinkle in her eye, my aunt said, “And did Prince Charming wake you this morning?”

I blushed at the thought. She meant Nick, or Officer Sabato, as many called him. He was the town’s hottest cop who had wooed me the last time I was here. Unfortunately, fate intervened, disrupting our relationship before I could completely fall for him.

First, Nick had a murder to solve. I may have stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, but that hadn’t run him off. It was the unexpected news that he was the father of a sullen sixteen-year-old that knocked him off his feet. While dispensing law and order was in his blood, parenting was new to him. He’d let me know he was in over his head. Not in love with me unfortunately, but in his new role.

He hadn’t been at my welcome party last night. Only my aunt, her sidekick Martha, and Nick’s daughter, Kyleigh, greeted us. Of course, Maya was there. My aunt had assured me Nick wanted to come, but he was on duty.

The others had met me with a welcome-home sign, a bouquet of balloons, and a seafood feast. Once everyone went home, I fell asleep instantly—Maya on one side and Noah on the other. My happy place.

This morning, I woke up to a text message sent late the night before. Welcome home, Jersey.

Nick. So, in a way, Prince Charming had woken me. But I didn’t want to give my aunt any more ammunition, as she’d been playing matchmaker for months. I changed the subject. “Looks like a great event. What can I do to help?”

“Follow me.”

Aunt Jo-Jo led me past a stall decorated like a toy shop, where a man dressed in a Santa costume practiced his jolly laugh. “Make sure you get a photo of Noah and Maya with Mr. Claus,” my aunt said. We stopped at an undecorated booth with the Wiggle Butt Manor sign stretched across a folding table. Boxes sat on the ground. “There are decorations, brochures and giveaway tennis balls for the pups,” she said. “Please decorate and organize. Once people start showing up, you can distribute the balls to anyone who wants one. Oh, and can you answer questions about the hotel? Make sure vacationers know we’d be glad to watch their dogs while they’re out whale watching or kayaking. We do more than overnight visits.”

“Sure thing,” I said.

And with that, my aunt was off to manage other things.

I tied the dogs’ leashes to the table leg and set about opening boxes, hanging signs and displaying handouts on the tabletop. My slightly swollen hands were painful, a reminder that I’d forgotten to take my rheumatoid arthritis medication that morning. I would have to get back to my normal routine, something no thirty-year-old should have to do. Bent over a box and engrossed in my task, I looked up when a shadow darkened my booth and the dogs went bananas.

Nick stood on the other side of the table. He wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a brown corduroy jacket. Unruly chestnut hair skimmed his broad shoulders, defying department regulations. The skin around his nothing-gets-past-me brown eyes crinkled when he smiled at me. “Jersey, you made it.”

My heart thudded as I stood up and smiled. “Hey, you.” I was tall—five ten—but Nick had a few inches on me. I didn’t feel like a big doofus when I was around him, as I sometimes did around shorter people.

Nick turned his attention to Noah and Maya. As he fussed over the dogs, I felt a tug toward him, like we should hug. But the table between us made things awkward. Plus, his newfound fatherhood wasn’t the only obstacle in our way. I hadn’t yet told him about my RA diagnosis, and I was afraid my unknown future might run him off. I mean, who wants to hear about stiff joints from a thirty-year-old?

As if he felt the same frustration, he sighed, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “How was your drive?”

“Endless,” I said. “But now I can add truck driver to my resume.”

He laughed. “That would take you away too often. Hoping you’ll stay put for a while.”

My cheeks burned. “That’s the plan.”

He scanned the thickening crowd. “Have you seen Kyleigh?”

“Not this morning. How’s that going, by the way?”

He blew out a long breath. “Don’t think she likes me much. But we’re making the best of things.”

“Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t seem fond of most people. It took her a while to warm up to me.”

He pursed his lips. “And now you’re one of her favorite people. Hope she accepts me soon. Right now, everything I say is wrong.” He checked his watch. “Gotta man the booth on microchips. Catch up later?”

“I’d like that.”

He bid goodbye to the dogs and then walked off toward a booth at the other end of the lot. I looked at Maya and Noah, jealous of the hands-on attention they’d received.

Once my booth was in order, Kyleigh appeared, handing me a cup of chai tea. Though petite, she was no pushover. She handed out glares like goodie bags at a birthday party. Everybody got one. As usual, black clothing covered her from head to toe, and a curtain of black hair blended into the trench coat that dwarfed her.

“Bless you,” I said, accepting the drink.

Settled on the folding chair next to me, she propped her Doc Martens on the table and stroked Maya’s head.

“Did you catch up with Nick…. I mean, your dad? He was looking for you,” I said.

She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. It’s all good.”

I took a leap of faith. “Might want to take it easy on him. He’s new to the game.”

She played with a loose thread on her coat. “I know.”

People started spilling into the space, and the festival was now officially underway.

There were almost as many canines as people in attendance. Maya watched the crowd with interest, while Noah turned his back on the festivities and slept. A wiry, small man wearing neatly pressed trousers, a vest and a bow tie hurried our way. A striking liver and white English Springer Spaniel walked in perfect step by his side.

He stopped at our booth, and his dog sat without a command to do so. “Can you tell me,” the man said, pushing glasses up his ski slope shaped nose, “where I can find Mrs. McMullen? She’s expecting me.”

I looked past him and scanned the crowd. “My aunt’s around here somewhere.”

He checked his watch.

Maya, who had been on her best behavior, decided she wanted to make a new acquaintance. Placing her paws on the table, she barked at the springer.

The dog looked to his owner as if he needed permission to respond.

“Control your mutt,” the man said in a haughty tone.

I resisted the urge to ask him if he had a leash for his ego as he paraded it around so confidently. Sometimes the Jersey in me appeared like a second personality. “Down, Maya,” I said, gently tugging on her lead. We did have work to do.

With a sigh, Maya complied, but the man seemed unimpressed. He puffed his chest out and grasped the lapels of his vest with both hands. “Please tell Mrs. McMullen that Miles Collins has arrived with Bentley. Bentley is a champion,” he added, giving Maya the stink-eye.

“Oh,” I said, wondering if I should bow or just laugh it off.

Clearly irritated, Mr. Collins turned and stalked off, Bentley obediently at his side.

“What was that about?” Kyleigh said, laughing.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m sure it’s nothing us peasants can understand.”

Kyleigh played with the hole in her jeans, giving me a sideways glance. Her Morticia Addams-like hair looked too heavy to carry around, almost brushing the ground. “Have you thought any more about the house?” she asked.

She’d sprung the idea on me at the party last night. Kyleigh had inherited the house of Maya’s deceased owner, Lucy Masanova. It needed a tenant until Kyleigh was old enough to either live in it or sell it. Although I was comfortable sleeping on the daybed at my aunt’s, her screened-in porch wasn’t exactly winter-friendly. Plus, I needed my own space if I intended to make Orca Cove my home.

I’d looked for rentals online before I’d made the move. The place would have to take dogs. Not only did I have Noah, but my aunt had hinted that Maya was too much for her to handle after her accident. People weren’t exactly lining up to take the devilish dog, so she was as good as mine. With her reputation, finding a rental that would take her wouldn’t be easy.

But Lucy’s house had a history that made me a tad uncomfortable. If there were another option, I might have declined Kyleigh’s offer. But there didn’t seem to be one, and I wanted to help Kyleigh out.

“I don’t know,” I said, giving her the side-eye. “Are you a mean landlord?”

She laughed. “As long as you pay your rent on time, we should be fine. And you can do what you want with decorating. Make it something I might want to live in someday.”

I held out my hand, and we shook. “You have a deal.”

***

Excerpt from Dashing Through the Show by Cindy Goyette. Copyright 2026 by Cindy Goyette. Reproduced with permission from Cindy Goyette. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Cindy Goyette

Cindy Goyette is a former probation/parole officer who had a front-row seat to the criminal justice system. She kept her sanity by finding humor in most situations. A mix of these things helped her create The Probation Case Files Mystery Series, winner of Public Safety Writer's Association awards, and a finalist for Lefty and Silver Falchion Awards. She also authors The Wiggle Butt Manor Mystery series, which she based on her love of dogs. After spending over twenty years in Arizona, Cindy lives in Washington state with her husband and two Cocker Spaniels.

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