Showing posts with label digital mystery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label digital mystery. Show all posts

Thursday, July 19, 2012

A new "old" release: In For A Penny

E-revolution, here I come!

Announcing the digital release of In For A Penny. It's got a sharp new cover but it's the same fab story reviewers loved in 2007. The list price is $2.99. It will be exclusively available at Kindle for 90 days.

This cozy was my first published mystery, and it opened all kinds of doors for me. I'm delighted to have the opportunity to bring in out in e-format for mystery lovers everywhere.

First, let me introduce you to my amateur sleuth, Cleopatra Jones, small town accountant. She knows everybody and does most of their taxes, but she was the last to find out of her husband's affair. Now two years later, they're divorced but her anger at his adultery comes out in her golf game, causing her score to shoot into the stratosphere and her balls to fly into the woods.

One shot sailed over the green and landed on a dead guy. A dead banker, to be exact. Worse, she knows him. Even worse, the cops are sure her best friend Jonette killed him.

Cleo and Jonette have been best friends since forever. She can't let her BFF go to the slammer, so she starts poking around in the case, turning over rocks, and dodging the nasties that come crawling out.

Want more? An excerpt follows.


Chapter One

The golf course is one of the few places I don’t have to pretend. Oh, I still give the socially correct answer of “fine” when asked how I am, but I am not fine. There’s enough anger churning through my gut to fuel a volcano.

Golf therapy is how I’m relieving my stress. I imagine my ex-husband’s face on every ball I hit, and when I’m done, I’m almost fine.

My name is Cleopatra Jones, Cleo for short. Self-employment allows me to spend my Wednesday mornings playing golf in the Ladies Nine Hole Golf League. So far in today’s round, I hadn’t experienced any signs of rebirth into a nicer, perkier thirty-five-year-old, but I hadn’t given up hope.

Sunbeams danced around me on the number six ladies tee of the Hogan’s Glen Golf Club as I aimed my shoulders at the distant flag. I swung hard. My tee shot hooked left into the trees lining the fairway.

I whacked my driver against the ground. Exorcising Charlie through golf was therapeutic to my mental health, but it was hell on my golf score.

“Provisional ball,” Jonette Moore suggested. People thought of Mutt and Jeff from the comics when they saw us together because I was tall and slender while she was short and stacked. I’d known Jonette since forever, a fact she never let me forget.
Jonette’s tee shot taunted me with its perfect lie in the middle of the fairway. By mutual agreement we’d decided that the winner of the previous round got to drive the golf cart. I can’t remember when I last drove Jonette around the course.

I dropped my provisional ball on the tee box. Hitting this second ball would speed our play if I couldn’t find my first ball. Unfortunately, my provisional ball curved along the same evil trajectory into the woods. 

Drat. I stomped back to the cart. 

“Looks like you’ll be buying more golf balls,” Jonette said with a smirk.

I’d used up my late father’s lifetime accumulation of golf balls during the first year of my golf therapy. If I didn’t find either of my tee shots, I’d only have one ball left for the remaining three holes. Not good. “I’ve been over there before. The underbrush isn’t too thick.”

“Have you given any more thought to going out with that lawyer friend of Dean’s?” 

Jonette asked as we zipped towards the woods. Dean was the current man in Jonette’s life. He was also her boss at the tavern where she waited tables.

The thought of dating twisted my stomach in knots. “Sure I’ve thought about it. And the answer’s no.”

“Damn you, Cleo.” Jonette waggled her finger at me. “Don’t let Charlie win.”

My ex hadn’t won. I was being cautious. I wasn’t giving up. Who said I had to jump back in the dating pool right away? The view from the high dive was terrifying. “I’m not ready.” 

“Maybe some hot guys will move into White Rock. I wouldn’t mind checking them out for you.” 

“That development is wishful thinking and you know it.” The much-hyped new subdivision on the old Wingate farm had stalled in the bulldozer phase of construction. 

“You need to get out of that house.”

“If I wanted to get out of the house, I should take a golf lesson so I don’t spend half my round scouring the woods for my balls.”

“There’s an idea.” Jonette beamed her approval. “The golf pro is definitely hot.”

I sure wished Jonette would get off this dating kick. “Don’t go getting any ideas. I’m not interested in dating.”

“You may be right about Rafe Golden,” Jonette said. “He’s supposedly slept his way through the women of the club. But, he’s such a hunk.”

“I don’t want a man that reeks of sex appeal. If I ever dated again, I’d want someone like me. Hardworking, loyal, trustworthy, family oriented, and obedient.”

Jonette’s mouth gaped. “Where’s the excitement in that? You need someone to sweep you off your feet.”

I leveled my sternest gaze at her. “Forget it.”

Jonette rolled her eyes and huffed her disapproval.

Too bad. If I could erase Charlie from my life, I would, but his weekend visitations with our two daughters put him on my schedule every week.

Shedding Charlie was more difficult than getting fungus out from under a toenail. Just when you thought you had the problem solved, there it was again.

Jonette stopped the cart near where my balls had disappeared into the woods. “Should I help you look?”

“Stay put.” I waved her back in her seat. “I won’t be responsible for you getting poison ivy again.” 

I marched into the thicket alone, kicking through last year’s musty leaves as I searched for my golf balls. A gleam of white beckoned in the honeysuckle-scented shade ahead.

Both balls lay adjacent to each other. That brought a fleeting smile to my face. Hell, if I couldn’t hit straight I’d settle for consistent. “Got ’em,” I called to Jonette as I pocketed my provisional ball.

A massive maple stood between me and the number six green, blocking forward progress. I had no choice but to chip out of the rough and hope for distance on my next shot. Of course if I missed and hit the slender trunks of the myriad of smaller obstacles between me and the fairway I’d quite possibly lobotomize myself. Fair enough.

I marched back to the cart and selected my pitching wedge. “You might want to back up the cart while I hit.”

“Won’t do it.” Jonette smoothed her flirty little red golf skirt. “But you hit me and you are one dead dog.” 

Back in the woods, I took aim at Jonette and whaled away. My ball skimmed over the top of her head and landed in the center of the fairway. 

Success tasted sweet in my mouth. “Hot damn! I’m on a roll.” I jogged back to the cart and noticed Jonette had a death grip on the steering wheel. Served her right. I thumped her on her back.

She choked in a breath of air. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Cleo. Nice shot.”

I was still furthest from the hole, so I exchanged my wedge for a seven iron. In truth, I didn’t see the point of having so many clubs in my bag when my trusty seven worked well for any occasion. I took a deep breath and swung easy. 

My ball landed twenty yards ahead of Jonette’s. Counting all my strokes, I lay three to her one, but that was beside the point. If the world ended right this minute, my ball would still be closest to the pin. That was worth a lot. 

The golf gods must have taken a lunch break because my next shot zoomed over the green and down a steep embankment. I grabbed a club and started down the hill.
Jonette followed, sniffing tentatively. “Do you smell something?”

I did. My eyes watered at the latrine-like stench. It wasn’t unusual to smell something ripe this time of year in Maryland. The odor could be anything from farmers manuring their fields to the groundskeeper’s natural fertilizers. “No telling what that is.”

Using my golf club as a cane, I crabbed sideways down the hill, scoping the terrain near my feet for my ball. At the base of the hill, I saw something that resembled a bundle of clothes. 

A huge lump formed in my throat. “What is that?”

“I’ve got a real bad feeling about this,” Jonette said.

“You and me both.” The closer I came, the more certain details stood out in my mind. I saw that the bundle of clothes was actually an expensive business suit. Pinstriped trouser legs were rolled up to reveal dark crew socks and black-and-white golf shoes. 

The man lay on his back staring straight up at the cloudless sky. Between his slate-gray eyes was a dark circular wound. Bloodstained grass framed his lifeless head in a grotesque abstract shape, as if some wicked cartoonist had thought to ink in the conversation.

Only there was no conversation coming from this person. He was dead. Very dead.

My personal problems receded in a heartbeat. I fought down dizzying nausea as I felt my blood charge through me like a speeding freight train. I wanted to run and get far away from this grisly scene, but my feet weren’t listening.

I knew this man. He was my ex’s best friend and coworker down at the Hogan’s Glen Bank. His name tumbled from my lips. “Dudley Doright.”

Still want more? Click on over and download your copy right now! It's priced at $2.99.
 

Wishing you a summer full of reading and mystery!

Maggie Toussaint
www.maggietoussaint.com
ps the second book of this series, On the Nickel, is out in hardcover and the third book, Dime If I Know, is under contract!
 

Monday, March 5, 2012

Ketchup is more than a vegetable

When my kids were little, we used to joke that ketchup was a vegetable. It's chock full of tomatoes, so it has to be healthy, right? Fast forward a few years and we move to the deep South. At one of our fav eat-out spots, they have a list of veggies in big letters right on the back of the cash registers. Get this, macaroni and cheese is a vegetable. So is rice. You gotta love the South!

Anyway, I have some catching up to do, hence the ketchup blog.

For anyone that missed the announcement, SEEING RED, my sweet romance about the bed and breakfast that's a huge money pit, is FREE this week/month at Smashwords as they promote reading e-books. Free, that's right. But you need a coupon code, so here it is:
MD44L and here's the link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/41338 

In this book, Emma Heartly is desperately trying to get out of her dead end job, but her boss and sisters won't let her. Contractor Quentin Stone likes old Victorians and he's keen about the redhead too, so he volunteers to help her when her loan falls through. Expect construction mishaps and family drama in this full length book.

As the wheels of publishing turn at unequal rates, my "February" release of my hardcover title from Five Star / Cengage, DEATH, ISLAND STYLE, actually becomes live at Amazon and B&N on March 7. That's this Wednesday. You need to read this fun-in-the-sun book. It's gotten fab reviews from Publisher's Weekly, Kirkus, Library Journal, Romantic Times and more. MaryBeth reinvents herself as a craft store owner after the deaths of her husband and her mother, but her past isn't done with her. It catches up with her in the form of a dead guy in the surf, a guy the cops link to her. Yikes! She has to work fast to prove her innocence.

Besides 3 of the Big 4 reviewers taking a shine to this mystery, read this from a trending author:

"On the surface, Maggie Toussaint's "Death, Island Style," is a well-written, intricate, and satisfying cozy mystery with a charming setting and well-developed characters. Below the surface, it's an emotional but no less satisfying look at a woman's journey from heartbroken widow and grieving daughter to self-confident business woman and kick-ass heroine. It delivers on both counts, and will hopefully not be the last we see of MaryBeth Cashour and the people of Sandy Shores Island." Jennie Bentley, New York Times Bestselling Author

Thank you, Jennie Bentley. You are truly a Rock Star in my world.

And the publishing wheels revolve again, this time to my zany cozy mystery, MURDER IN THE BUFF, an ebook-only mystery from Muse It Up which releases this Friday, March 9. Holy Murgatroid, Batman. Two books releasing in one week! What was I thinking?

Murder is about wronged Molly Darter, a reporter who caught her husband doing a tonsil check of her sister. Her boss makes her go to the nudist colony for a story and the nudists insist that one of their own was murdered. Molly doesn't want to help them, but certain photos push her into sniffing around. There's a slobbery dog, a precocious boy-child, a determined husband, a boss with secrets, and a whole lot more. Plus this book very affordable. Here's a link you might find useful on Friday (to buy) or today just to nose around. Muse It Up Publishing

I've got two signings coming up this month. One on Sunday, March 18 and another on Saturday, March 31. Local folks will get postcards with more info. If you aren't on my mailing list - you need to be! Email me for more info maggie@maggietoussaint.com

In the upcoming weeks, I have guest posts to promo the books, and I'll post a link at mudpies in case folks want to click over. There are excerpts for all my books at my site www.maggietoussaint.com.

Whew! That was a lot of Ketchup. I've fulfilled my vegetable requirements for the week.

Maggie Toussaint

all formatting errors are mine and mine alone. blogger hates me.