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I am still having a difficult time concentrating on reading a book, I hope to get back into it at some point. Still doing book promotions just not reviews Thank you for your understanding during this difficult time. I appreciate all of you. Kathleen Kelly July 2024

16 August 2024

Never Finished by Ana Rhodes Book Spotlight! @Bookgal @therealbookgal




 Synopsis (from Amazon):

She's an heiress bound by obligation, determined to protect her mother's legacy. He's a bartender from the wrong side of the tracks who's always loved her.


Twelve years ago, I chose my family and the future they laid out for me.

And walked away from Jaime, my best friend and forbidden fantasy.

We said goodbye with a soul searing kiss I can still feel on my lips.


Now I'm back in Silverpine for the first time since my mother died.

I'm brokering a merger for the family business—only I don't realize my freedom is on the line.

My father wants to expand at any cost, including offering his only daughter as part of the deal.


But Jaime is back too, and his effortless charm and smile disarm my every defense.

He stands for everything my world isn't—warm, passionate, and unpredictably beautiful.


I'm trapped between the life I've always known and the taste of freedom I've longed for.

But with my father plotting my future, and my mother's legacy weighing heavy, can I dare to rewrite my story for love?

Excerpt

Me: Hey, I need an SOS call to get out of this dinner. Call me in five minutes?

I breathed a sigh of relief when she answered almost immediately.

Caroline: On it. Five minutes starting now.

Thank God for Caroline. I smoothed a hand over my hair and made my way back to the table. Andrew was busy chatting away on his phone, glancing at me as I sat back down and mouthing “Sorry.”

As he wrapped up his conversation, I pushed the food around on my plate with my fork, not bothering to eat any of it.

“I’m sorry about that. Sometimes all this networking can be downright exhausting. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, we were talking about merging,” he said, drawing out the last word, and I smiled tightly, trying to hide my disgust.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get a word out, my phone rang.

Thank you, Caroline.

“Excuse me … You know how it is. I have to take this,” I said, slipping my phone from my clutch and stepping into the lobby. “Hello?”

“Hello, Ms. Carter, an emergency requires your attention. Now before you say anything, I need to know … Are you okay getting rid of this guy on your own, or do I need to come down there with a crowbar? Be honest.”

I bit back a laugh. “That won’t be necessary, but I appreciate the concern.”

“Of course. What are friends for? I expect a full report when you get back, though.”

“You got it,” I promised before I hung up. I glanced up, and my eyes landed on the bar where Jaime was helping a guest. He looked up at that exact moment, and our eyes caught and held. After all this time, he could still make me weak in the knees.

A slow smile stretched across Jaime’s lips, and he winked. I smiled back like a teenager with a crush. He turned his attention back to his customer, and I immediately felt the loss of connection.

I walked back to the table, looking apologetic. “Andrew, I am so sorry, but there’s an emergency and …”

“And you need to go,” he finished.

I nodded, forcing a sheepish expression, and Andrew nodded in understanding. “I get it—I always have a lot of fires to put out. I assume I’ll hear from you tomorrow to set up another time to meet?”

“Of course,” I promised, already dreading it. Andrew opened his arms for a hug, but I stuck out my hand. He laughed awkwardly and shook my hand before telling me goodnight and slinking out of the restaurant.

I hovered near the table until I was sure Andrew was out of sight, then escaped into the bar, relief pouring over me at the idea of being in Jaime’s presence.

I headed straight toward Jaime, who was grinning at me.

“What happened to your fancy business dinner?” he asked as I slipped my butt onto a stool.

I shrugged. “It was a bust, which is why I could use a Gin Fizz right about now.”

“Coming up,” he replied as he grabbed a shaker. “I would feel bad your dinner didn’t go well, but selfishly, I’m glad because you’re here earlier than I expected.”

I felt myself blush. “Well, those dinners are boring, and I’d rather spend my time talking to someone interesting.”

His eyebrows shot up. “And you think I’m interesting?”

I huffed out a laugh. “So modest. You know you’re usually the most interesting man in the room.”

He barked a laugh. “Isn’t that the guy in the Dos Equis commercial?”

“I’m just saying you could give him a run for his money.”

Jaime leaned closer—close enough I could smell his cologne. He smelled like cedar with a hint of bergamot and something uniquely Jaime.

That was when my stomach growled. Loud. I felt my face heat with embarrassment.

“Was that …” he started.

I nodded. “Yes … and that was totally embarrassing,” I lamented.

“Did you not eat at that fancy dinner tonight?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

I shook my head. “Kind of lost my appetite having to deal with that blowhard …” I began before stopping myself as Jaime listened with amusement. “I mean, having to deal with that promising investor,” I amended, slapping an exaggerated smile on my face.

He chuckled. “Well, I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you work on getting a little less gin and a little more water into your system, and I’ll go make you something to eat.”

I shook my head. “Oh no, Jaime, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t, I’m offering,” he said with a grin before something caught his eye over my shoulder. I turned to find Caroline with a feline smile on her lips as she glanced between the two of us.

“Well, hello there,” she practically sang as she slipped onto the stool beside me, reaching her hand out to Jaime. “I’m Caroline, Emma’s best friend. You must be Jaime.” 

Jaime shook her hand, his grin widening. “Hello, Caroline, it’s nice to meet you. I was just going to rustle up something to eat for my starving soldier here. You wouldn’t happen to be hungry, would you?”

Caroline’s eyes lit with amusement as she rested her chin on a fist. “Oh Jaime, that’s my eternal state of being.”

Jaime laughed, and the rich sound sent shivers down my spine. “Okay—two Jaime specials coming up,” he said, throwing a towel over his shoulder. “You two sit tight, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

As soon as he was out of sight, Caroline looked at me in wonder. “Oh. My. God,” she marveled. “He’s cooking for you already. I see why you’ve been pining after him for so long.”

“Caroline,” I hissed. “Keep your voice down. You have the subtly of a freight train.”

She made a face. “Uh, I hate to break it to you, Emma, but there’s nothing subtle about this whole situation. I mean, when I walked in here, that man looked like he was two seconds away from devouring you.”

A happy warmth spread through me at her observation, but I didn’t say anything.

“Besides, you had to know I was going to come check on you after that SOS call. I’m assuming your associate had to have been behaving like a total creep to make you call me.”

I sighed. “Well, maybe not a total creep, but he was fast approaching,” I paused, turning to face Caroline. “It’s weird. Before I would have breezed through that dinner no matter how uncomfortable I was in order to get the deal done. But there’s something about being here … I don’t know. I just didn’t have it in me to put up with it tonight.”

Caroline nodded sympathetically. “Maybe Mama Carter’s spirit is reminding you it’s not your job to take everybody’s shit.”

I laughed. “I can’t imagine my mother putting it like that, but maybe you’re right … and based on our recent experiences, it would seem we both need to embrace that sentiment.”

Caroline grimaced. “Amen to that.”

It was then that Jaime returned with a tray in his arms. “Ladies, dinner is served,” he said, presenting us with two plates that each held a burger with all the fixings, a side of fries, and little cups filled with ketchup.

My eyes widened as the smell hit my nostrils and my empty stomach. “Is that …” I started.

“Oh, it is, Mabel’s secret recipe,” Jaime announced with relish. “It’s been a long time, but I know that recipe like the back of my hand. I only wish I could get my hands on a couple of chocolate milkshakes, and then you could have the full experience.”

I couldn’t stop the grin that took over my mouth. “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”

Jaime shook his head. “Anything for you, Bella,” he said in a low voice, and prickles of pleasure raced down my spine at the mention of the nickname he’d given me when we were younger. I still remember the first time he’d called me that, explaining it meant beautiful.

Our eyes held for a long moment before Caroline’s moan interrupted. “Wow, you were not lying about this burger, Emma,” she mumbled around a mouthful of burger.

“Well, tell me if it still holds up,” Jaime said, gesturing toward my plate.

I picked up the hefty burger, my mouth watering from the smell, and when I took that first bite, a flood of memories assaulted my senses from the taste.

My eyes shut in rapture. It tasted heavenly, but knowing Jaime’s hands created it made it all the better.

I opened my eyes and met Jaime's gaze as he watched me hungrily. I swallowed hard around the bite of food as a different appetite was awakened.

Caroline cleared her throat loudly. “You know, as fun as this has been and as much as I would like to get to know the legendary Jaime, I think it might be better to take this in a doggy bag.”

I looked sharply at Caroline, feeling the need to tell her, “You don’t need to do that.”

She winked at me before saying, “I assure you, no one needs to witness me consuming this burger—it’s about to get wild. So if you’ll excuse me, I think my burger and I need to be alone.”

Jaime had already pulled out a cardboard box and was helping Caroline pack up her food along with a complimentary cocktail for the road.

“Well, Jaime, it was lovely meeting you, and I hope we can talk more later, but right now, I have a date with this burger,” Caroline declared.

“Totally understand. It was nice to meet a friend of Emma’s.”

Caroline beamed at Jaime—my normally suspicious friend had been charmed. She rose from her stool and hugged me. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Enjoy that burger,” Jaime said, his sexy smile further crumbling my resolve. God, that smile used to make me feel all the things, and it had only magnified in power in the years we’d been apart.

It was then Joey rushed to the bar. “Jaime, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have a situation with a guest.”

Jaime shot us both an apologetic look. “I’ll be right back,” he said before stepping around the bar and following Joey.

Caroline looked at me, eyebrows drawn up. “Emma,” she exclaimed, “I thought you were being a little dramatic all these years, but girl, you definitely undersold him. And for the record, that man has plans for you.”

I shook my head. “Would you calm down? We’re old friends catching up on lost time. That’s all,” I said, unsure who I was trying to convince, Caroline or myself.

She huffed out a laugh. “You can tell yourself that all you want, but from my vantage point, you are two seconds away from doing it on this bar.” She stopped cold, and a wicked grin stole over her mouth. “Now wouldn’t that be a picture for old Daddy Moneybags?” she asked, using the nickname she’d given my father, a man she wasn’t particularly fond of given how he’d been acting lately. “And as a token of my love and admiration,” she continued, “I’m delaying the consumption of this burger to stop by the front desk and get my own room.”

I felt a weird combination of panic and excitement threading through me at her suggestion. “Caroline, that’s really not necessary. I seriously doubt …”

She put up a hand to stop me. “Save your breath, Emma. All I’m asking is for you to keep an open mind, and this way, you can’t use me crashing in your suite as an excuse. I refuse to be a cockblock.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Caroline just grinned, snatching up her to-go cocktail and box and giving me a wink before floating out of the bar and into the lobby.


Author bio (in her own words)


Hello! I'm Ana and I love writing swoony, small-town romances with sweet, protective heroes who love their strong and sassy leading ladies.


When I'm not writing, I'm reading... romances, of course! I'm a sucker for a good love story, and I hope you enjoy mine.

Website

https://www.anarhodes.com/


Facebook

@anarhodeswrites


Instagram

@anarhodesauthor


Twitter

@Bookgal


Instagram

@therealbookgal


Amazon:

http://amzn.to/3XFgv9c


Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/210198540-never-finished


Q & A With Author


Where do you get inspiration for your stories?

From everywhere! The places I've been, the people I've met. I'm inspired by everyday things. My mind is always capturing moments that will inspire me down the road.

 

Your book is set in Colorado. Have you ever been there?

I lived there for four years and it holds a special place in my heart. I still travel there at least once a year to visit friends and get my rocky mountain high. :)

 

What is a favorite compliment you have received on your writing?

I have had several people say they can feel all the emotions between my main characters. A story can feel flat without it, so I'm so happy to hear it comes across in my writing. That is the goal after all!

 

What are your favorite tropes to read?

I love a good forbidden love story because it creates beautiful tension between the main characters. Add a little brother's best friend or age gap and I'm all in!

 

Any hobbies? or Name a quirky thing you like to do.

I make homemade wine. While I love the finished product, there is a lot of cleaning and sanitation involved that makes it less romantic than it sounds.

 

What TV series are you currently binge watching?

Emily in Paris! I love the scenery and it's a fun escape from my everyday midwestern life.

 

What is your theme song?

“Unwritten” by Natasha Bedingfield. Every day is a chance to start again. I love that mantra.


Praise:

"This second chance romance with a twist of suspense had me hooked from the very first page. If you're looking for a heartwarming and suspenseful romance novel, then this is definitely the one for you!"Sugarinbookland


"The story kept me captivated and constantly turning the page. This is a great love story." 

Jersy.the.romantasy.moms


"From now on I will read everything from this author, I want to read everything she writes ... when I started it I never gave it up." 

–  Nina_Inkdawn




15 August 2024

Death in St. Georges by M.A. Monnin July 29 - August 23, 2024 Virtual Book Tour!

Death in St. George's by M. A. Monnin Banner

Death in St. George's by M. A. Monnin

The Intrepid Traveler Mystery series

When Stefanie and Thomas meet in Bermuda for time alone away from the demands of the Artifact Retrieval Team that Thomas heads, their romantic rendezvous is waylaid after an archaeologist requests their help to recover an emerald bracelet that's been stolen from his site.

Thomas is reluctant, but Stefanie can't resist the lure of buried Spanish treasure. Then one of the archaeologists is murdered, and they find themselves on the suspect list. Spanish gold isn't the only thing uncovered. Secrets can be deadly, and Stefanie and Thomas must find the killer before it's too late.

Praise for Death in St. George's:

"Monnin’s story has echoes of Agatha Christie’s work, making the most of a large group of suspects and red herrings galore."
~ Kirkus Reviews

"Death in St. George's, the third in M. A. Monnin's Intrepid Traveler Mystery series, will treat readers to the sensory pleasures of the subtropics while dipping their toes in danger. Monnin's writing is as crisp and sensual as fresh ironed linen. Readers are in for a delight and will hop on board wherever Stefanie travels."
~ Sara E. Johnson, Author of the Alexa Glock Forensics Mysteries

"What a treat! Memorable characters, a tropical setting, and intricate plotting. A binge-worthy read!"
~ Joan Long, Agatha Award-nominated author of THE FINALIST

"A charming mystery with twists I didn’t see coming, Death in St. George's is a treasure in itself."
~ Jules Parker, Wild Rose Press author

"A contemporary cozy with the timeless charm of a classic whodunnit, Death in St. George's feels like a refreshing rum swizzle on a warm Bermuda evening. Archaeology and mystery buffs alike will root for Stephanie and Thomas as they unravel two intertwined mysteries—one archaeological, one modern."
~ Megaera Lorenz, author of The Shabti

"Murder, romance, a splendid setting, engaging characters, buried treasure... M.A. Monnin's latest mystery has them all, and may just be her best and most engrossing novel yet."
~ Tom Mead, author of Death and the Conjuror and The Murder Wheel

Book Details:

Genre: Traditional Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: May 14, 2024
Number of Pages: 264
ISBN: 9781685126483 (ISBN10: 1685126480)
Series: An Intrepid Traveler Mystery Series, Book 3
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

“I don’t believe you’re the kind of woman who craves peace and quiet,” Thomas said, holding Stefanie’s hand in the back seat of the taxi.

His handsome face melted her heart yet again. She drank in the welcome sight of him, from the strong jaw beneath the stubble of a beard to his chestnut brown hair. The sun-bleached streaks she’d teased him about in Greece would return after a week in Bermuda, she’d bet.

Having arrived in Bermuda earlier in the day, she’d met him at the airport, and they were on the way to rent a car in the Town of St. George.

“A week alone sounds blissful to me,” she countered. “No trying to discover who ran us off the road in Crete or chasing after Borgia Peacocks in Venice.” And no former girlfriends, she thought. But she’d learned enough to not say that aloud. “No calls from René.”

“René knows that I am not taking his calls for a full week,” Thomas said.

René Renault, his boss, and therefore ultimately hers at Interpol’s Cultural Heritage division, didn’t willingly recognize personal time. Thomas, as the head of Interpol’s Artifact Retrieval Team—ART for short—could dictate his own projects. So far their time together had been a non-stop whirlwind of undercover investigation in an effort to reclaim stolen objects that had been reported to Interpol. A little downtime was in order.

“We could lock our cell phones in our suitcases until next Monday,” she suggested.

He smiled. “Is that really what you want?”

What she really wanted was to decide on their future living situation.

There was no question that they would be together. But would she move in with him at his place in Munich? Or keep her apartment in St. Louis and fly to Europe when she couldn’t bear to be apart from him any longer? Asking so soon might go to his head, and she couldn’t have that.

The taxi driver took a sharp curve a little too fast, then swung in to avoid a red scooter speeding from the opposite direction whose driver drove as though both lanes were his.

Stefanie shared a smile with Thomas as they listed from one side to the other with the motion of the taxi.

“I suppose we need the phones to look up places to explore,” she said. “And

I need photos for my travel blog.”

That reminded her to take in the sights, something other than Thomas.

She tore her gaze away from him, but kept her hand in his. The streets of St. George’s were narrow, barely wide enough for two lanes, and in some places, not even wide enough for that. Low garden walls butted right up against the road. Sidewalks, where they existed at all, fit snugly between the road and the series of one- and two-storied houses.

Most of the houses were small and compact, as if hunkered down for impending storms.

“These buildings have been here since the 1690s or early 1700s,” she said, charmed by their low profiles and the wooden shutters that adorned nearly every structure.

In no time at all, the taxi driver pulled up to the car rental.

As he paid the driver, Thomas’s face blanked in disbelief at the tiny electric cars lined up for rent.

“The bigger cars must be in back,” he said, taking his black leather bag, his only piece of luggage, out of the open Ford trunk.

The taxi driver grinned. “Not in Bermuda. It’s the law. Tourists can only rent scooters or electric cars.” Still grinning, he gave Thomas a business card. “Call me if you want me to take you anywhere.”

When Thomas’s gaze brightened on the row of scooters,Stefanie protested.

“No scooters,” she insisted. “I’ve seen how people drive here. Driving on the left will be challenging enough.”

“No problem,” Thomas said. “I’ve driven in England.”

He bypassed the Twizy models, which had a single seat in front and a single seat in back.

“I want you at my side,” he said. “Not behind me.” “Or you behind me,” she countered.

His mouth quirked up. “That would not happen.”

Oh, how she missed the little games they played. It had only been a week since they’d parted at the Milan airport, but those seven days felt like a year.

After inspecting several small, square Italian Tazzaris, which had two front seats, Thomas grudgingly chose one in red.

“I didn’t think I’d be driving a toy car,” he said as they folded themselves into the Tazzari.

She laughed. “Admit it, you’ve always wanted a red Italian car.” She buckled her seatbelt with difficulty due to his leather duffle on her lap, which was too large to cram into the minuscule storage space behind their seats.

Resting her arms across the duffle, she entered their address into the GPS on her phone. “We’re lucky Greg wasn’t using his house this week. A whole house to ourselves is so much nicer than even the best hotel.”

Her former bank client, Greg Edwards, had often urged her to stay at the house whenever she wanted. Greg, the dedicated owner of Riverboat Rum based in St. Louis, only made it to Bermuda occasionally. Usually when corporate finances and Bermudian law dictated. The bungalow stood on a cliff on the outskirts of the historic Town of St. George. Painted peach, the two-bedroom cottage had an intimate covered patio at the rear that faced the glassy Atlantic—a perfect place to write her travel blog and enjoy the sun.

Thomas’s claim about driving on the left was justified. He had no problem acclimating, and in short order, they’d gone the less than a mile to Greg’s house.

After changing into swimsuits to lounge in the warm Bermuda sunshine, Thomas poured them each a glass of pinot grigio, and they settled onto the chaise lounges in the backyard.

The smoky scent of a neighbor’s wood fire mixed pleasantly with the tang

of sea air. Stefanie glanced around the yard and patio for a fire pit they could use but didn’t see one.

“Bermuda is more colorful than I expected.” Thomas’s gaze went from the low wall painted to match the peach house color to the neighboring bright blue cottage beyond, with its white stepped stone roof. He shifted his gaze from the neighbor’s house to her. “The view is stunning.”

She smiled and set her wine on the small metal table between them.

“Just you and me,” Thomas said. “Alone.”

“Alone,” she agreed. “With our peace and quiet. But you never know,” she teased, “maybe it was the adventure that drew us together.”

Swinging his legs off the chaise lounge, he sat up with his feet planted firmly in the grass and took her hand. “Is that all?”

No, but Thomas found the excitement of the chase irresistible. She smiled as he massaged her palm with his thumb, but didn’t move closer to make it easier for him. Keeping him on his toes was delightfully entertaining, something that he enjoyed as much as she did.

“Where should we go tomorrow? A boat tour to spot sea turtles?” she asked.

Still holding her hand, he said, “Let’s go snorkeling. Tobacco Bay. The fish and coral there are supposed to be worth seeing.”

“I’ve never been snorkeling,” she admitted. “I planned to try it in Crete, but there wasn’t time. Have you?”

“At the Great Barrier Reef.”

Australia. That didn’t surprise her. As the son of the owner of Germany’s largest publishing firm, he’d probably gone all over the world and done all kinds of activities that she’d never tried. Never tried because she’d dedicated all her time to working at Markham-Briggs Bank. That wasn’t happening anymore.

“There’s nothing to it,” Thomas said. “You’ll love it. And after we’ve done Tobacco Bay, we’ll snorkel above shipwrecks. Bermuda is surrounded by them. Until then,” he said, “I want you all to myself.”

She gave in and swung around to a sitting position facing him. Bending forward, she lifted her lips toward his, stopping a breath away. “You have me.”

A discreet throat-clearing intruded on their moment. It came from the direction of the blue house next door. Reluctantly, Stefanie pulled back.

On the other side of the peach-colored wall, a thin man of about five foot eight or nine, tanned and with receding blond hair, peered at them from between two large palm trees. He’d changed from the sweat-stained blue polo and dusty dark grey knee-length shorts he’d worn when she’d met him two hours before and was dressed as colorfully as the houses in a pastel plaid shirt above coral Bermuda shorts.

Stefanie hid her disappointment. “It’s Jeffrey Fitzsimmons,” she said in a low voice. “I picked up the keys from him when I got here this afternoon.”

She scooted further back on the chaise lounge and slipped her arms through her linen cover-up. Chatting with neighbors while dressed only in a skimpy bikini put her at a disadvantage.

“Good afternoon,” Jeffrey called to them. “Sorry, don’t mean to interrupt.” Thomas observed him without replying.

“Good afternoon,” Stefanie called back as she stood up. Greg had cautioned her about always including a polite greeting when she visited Bermuda. “The locals are sticklers about common courtesy,” she told Thomas. “We’ll be outcasts if we forget that.”

“Always the customer service vice president,” he remarked.

“If I’d gotten that promotion,” she said, “we never would have met.”

He leaned in and kissed her. “A tragedy averted.”

She smiled, then glanced at the neighbor. “Jeffrey’s the kind who likes to talk. I had to make excuses so I could meet you at the airport in time. Luckily, the taxi was waiting.” She gave Thomas’s bicep a gentle squeeze. “We don’t want to get on his bad side. We might want to use this house as a getaway again.”

“Neutral territory?” he asked. “Conveniently located between the U.S. and Europe?”

“Something like that,” she said, then turned back to Jeffrey.

The neighbor indicated the wall that separated the properties. “May I?”

“Yes, of course,” Stefanie answered.

Jeffrey stepped over the wall. He’d come prepared, bringing his own bottle of beer.

There were only two chaise lounges, but two metal chairs at a small table against the house were available. Stefanie gestured toward them.

She and Thomas dragged their lounges around to face the patio rather than the ocean.

“Welcome to Bermuda,” Jeffrey said to Thomas.

Thomas must have worried that the neighbor was settling in for an evening of conversation.

“Thank you,” he replied. “We’ll be trying your local cuisine at dinner soon.”

“Here on St. George’s Island? I can recommend places,” Jeffrey offered as he pulled out a pink metal chair. “The Wahoo Bistro has fantastic fish.”

“Hamilton,” Thomas said, mentioning Bermuda’s capital city on the main island.

Jeffrey nodded. “More nightlife there.”

Thomas pointed a finger at Stefanie’s empty wine glass. “Another?”

“Yes, please.” She turned back to the neighbor. “Do you live here yearround, or part-time, like Greg?”

“Year round,” Jeffrey said. “I’m with the National Museum of Bermuda. The lead archaeologist.”

“Are you?” She perked up. “Thomas has a degree in archaeology, and I once interned at a dig on Crete. I didn’t go into archaeology as a career, though.”

“Oh, I know you’re in banking,” Jeffrey said. “Greg’s told me all about you.”

Thomas caught that last piece of info as he returned with the half-empty bottle of pinot grigio.

“Has he?” Thomas asked, filling Stefanie’s glass.

She was surprised at that news, too, but didn’t clarify that she wasn’t in banking anymore. Her work with ART was confidential.

“Yes.” Jeffrey turned back to Stefanie. “Greg told me about your involvement with the Akrotiri Snake Goddess in Greece.”

Stefanie and Thomas exchanged glances. She hadn’t mentioned her part in it to any of her former colleagues at Markham-Briggs. In fact, other than those directly involved, she hadn’t even talked to anyone about the theft of the Akrotiri Snake Goddess. That had been left to the news media and whatever details the Greek police gave out. Thomas never boasted about his accomplishments. It was counterproductive to future cases.

“Jeffrey’s an archaeologist here in Bermuda,” she told Thomas.

The neighbor leaned forward, beer bottle in hand, elbows on knobby knees. “I’m hoping you can help me.”

So he’d had something specific in mind when she brushed him off to get to the airport.

With that news, Thomas seemed even less receptive to the intrusion. He concentrated on pouring wine into his own glass. “Yes?”

Jeffrey gave him a brief smile but focused on Stefanie. “It’s your help I want.”

Stefanie and Thomas exchanged another look, one of surprise that time and amusement. Thomas had put in the major investigative work in their endeavors. She’d simply used the customer service skills she’d learned at Markham-Briggs Bank to her advantage. Yet Jeffrey approached them because of her reputation, rather than Thomas’s stellar career. One point to her.

His eyes bright with humor, Thomas lowered himself onto the chaise lounge. Sipping his wine, he let her have the spotlight.

“My help?” Stefanie asked. “I’m not in banking anymore.”

“Greg says you’re known for your discretion.” Jeffrey leaned even further towards them, sitting on the edge of his seat. “And from your time at the bank, that you have an eye for potential trouble.”

You never knew what people would remember. She’d entertained Greg once with a description of what she noted about each person when they entered the bank, watching for signs of potential robbery.

Thomas’s grey-blue eyes sharpened.

“Something has disappeared from the site I’m working on.” Jeffrey spoke in hushed tones despite the fact that they were in the backyard, with the Atlantic on one side and empty yards on the others. “The theft hasn’t been reported yet, and we—I,” he emphasized, “hope it can be recovered before anyone has to know that it’s missing.”

She peered at Jeffrey. He’d gotten awfully close to their actual jobs. Disconcertingly close. “I’m not sure how discretion and an eye for potential trouble will help after the fact,” she said.

Thomas was leery, too. “Why didn’t you report the theft?”

“The homeowners didn’t want the publicity if it could be avoided. I went along with that to protect our reputations.” Jeffrey’s gaze darted between Stefanie and Thomas. “If we don’t get it back, our professional reputations are shot. Each one of us working the site.” “What kind of site?” Thomas asked.

“It’s on privately owned land. There’s a garden renovation going on at Carmichael House here on St. George’s,” Jefferey said. “The owner, Marlene Carmichael, our Minister of Economy and Labor, wants to make it a showplace. When a dead tree in the existing garden was removed, a small chest was exposed under the roots. That prompted a call for an archaeological assessment of the area to see if anything else was buried in the vicinity.”

“A chest?” Stefanie asked, giddy as a child with an unwrapped present as she pictured a metal-strapped wooden treasure chest filled with gold and jewels.

Jeffrey held his hands about ten inches apart. “A small one. Brass and steel.”

She cocked her head. “What was in it?”

A short laugh escaped Jeffrey’s lips. “Nothing.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows at that. “Any idea how it ended up here?” Jeffrey sat back. “Most likely a Spanish shipwreck in the mid to late 1500s. Spanish and Portuguese sailors occasionally washed up on Bermuda before the Sea Venture wrecked in 1609 and we British settled here. We believe the ship this chest came from was on its way from Cartagena to Spain.”

An exciting find. But the chest was empty. That was disappointing. And now it was missing. Having a reputation for discretion was nice, but the investigation should be carried out by the authorities, not two vacationers with few resources.

“I’m a travel blogger now, and Thomas is an assistant professor of archaeology,” she said, using their completely legitimate cover occupations.

“What you’re describing sounds like a job for the police.” Thomas agreed.

Jeffrey’s brows drew together, disappointment written in every line of his features. “We can’t have another Tucker’s Cross. We can’t.”

A spark of excitement flickered deep within Stefanie’s chest. She’d read the story of Tucker’s Cross in the guidebook she’d brought on the flight from the States.

“The emerald and gold cross that was recovered from the San Pedro,” she said. “Replaced with a forgery, which was discovered just in time for Queen Elizabeth’s visit in 1975.”

Thomas set his wine glass on the table. “Stolen.”

“When the archaeological record gets lost, the whole island loses. It can’t happen again,” Jeffrey said, his voice rising in desperation. “It can’t.”

Surely that emotion on his face wasn’t for a small brass chest, even one that was 450 years old.

Thomas’s eyes narrowed. “It isn’t the chest that’s missing, is it?”

***

Excerpt from Death in St. George's by M. A. Monnin. Copyright 2024 by M. A. Monnin. Reproduced with permission from M. A. Monnin. All rights reserved.

M. A. Monnin

M. A. Monnin is the author of the Intrepid Traveler Mystery series, including Agatha Best First Novel finalist DEATH IN THE AEGEAN. Her 3rd in the series, DEATH IN ST. GEORGE’S, came out May 2024. She also writes the St. Killian, PI and the Hawk Hathaway, Time Traveling Troubleshooter short stories. Mary’s short stories have appeared in Black Cat Mystery Magazine, Black Cat Weekly, and numerous anthologies. A member of ITW, MWA, SinC, and SMFS, an avocational archaeologist and USAF veteran, Mary is a trustee of the Kansas City Archaeological Society and treasurer of Mid-America Romance Authors. She lives in Kansas City, MO.

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Feral by Bryan W. Alaspa Book Tour! @bryanalaspa @bwalaspa @SilverDaggerBookTours

 There's something very, very wrong with the children.


Feral

by Bryan W. Alaspa

Genre

 Historical Horror


 For Garland, the move to California is just what his family needs to finally find comfort and success. After years of failed businesses, this may be their last chance. However, making the journey across the dangerous Sierra Nevadas is potentially deadly business in the 1800s. The journey is long and arduous.

This time, though, Garland's friend Silas says he met a man who has found an easier and safer way to make the journey. Little does he know that his son is having ominous dreams about their trip and that something lurks deep within the woods. The long trek becomes harder and more difficult, taking longer than promised. Soon, the entire train of wagons, horses, and people is trapped in the mountains.

Then, the snow comes and buries them. As a small party sets off for rescue, no one knows that the thing within the woods that has been calling to the children is ready. Beneath the snow, as the travellers fight off starvation, a true nightmare starts—an ancient nightmare with sharp teeth that affects the children. Now, the screaming starts, and the true horror begins.

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ONE Collin McAllister looked over his shoulder once more, convinced this time someone or something was really and truly watching them. Just like the last time, and the time before that, there was nothing. Trees and hard packed ground with patches of snow still lingering. 

"Still jumpy, eh?" Bill Parsons called from the seat on his mule-pulled wagon. "There's a reason this part of the Sierra's isn't used much. This group must have been led by fools to take this way. The ground’s haunted, they say." 

"They usually say things like that," Collin agreed. "I don't tend to believe them." Pat, the man currently at the head of this expedition, snorted. "You're jumping at shadows. By my calculations we should be near where they set up camp just before dark. Hopefully there's enough of them still alive so they can provide us a fire and maybe even food." "From what I heard, doubt they'll have any food to spare. Why else did we bring a whole wagon full of goods?" Collin was consistently annoyed with Pat. The man was always hungry and always more concerned with his next meal, and himself in general, than the task at hand. There were fifteen of them in all, probably not enough if the stories they had heard back in civilization were true, but it would be enough to rescue some from this group, who had foolishly left too late in the year and then had to make camp in the Sierra Nevadas when winter fell. Apparently people were too stupid to back up when they realized they had taken the wrong path and too proud to ask for help somewhere along the way. 

A few of their number had made it to the cities in California, begging people to come help them rescue their families. None of them understood that if their families were trapped in the mountains during the winter, there was nothing short of God's hands that would get them out before spring.

However, as the weeks wore on, the reward offered by these people grew, but you had to sign on with them. Collin and his team wanted to be the first and did not want to be led by the same idiots who had gotten their families lost in the mountains in the first place. 

Although the men he was with now were not the most reputable, all of them had experience in these mountains. All of them had led trains of people over them and knew the location where the ragged band of survivors had left their families. All of them knew it was unlikely many of those people left behind were going to be alive once any party got to them. 

Still, a group of family members might also pay a price, a reward, for whatever remained of their long deceased family. Perhaps just a few bones. 

It had been a hard winter, too. The snow-capped mountains told them that as they watched from the warmth below. Collin felt sorry for these people, frozen, starving, buried in feet of snow in makeshift cabins, but it was not the first time a group had been lost here and it would likely not be the last. As long as fools felt their dreams could be met in the land of California, they would come and they would die before they got there. 

They pushed on until one of the scouts in the lead, a native named Nuka, called back that he had found something. Pat got excited and kicked his horse to move faster, probably hoping it was food. Collin kept his horse steady. He was still unnerved by the sensation they were being watched. 

Maybe even hunted. 

Collin had been up here many times in his life. There were parts of his life when being in the mountains away from everyone and everything was all he wanted to do. He had come face to face with grizzly bears three times his height and with claws big enough to tear his head off with one blow. He had been robbed by bandits, and come close to being killed by Natives who thought he was trespassing on their land. He had nearly died in avalanches. All in all, it was a glorious life and he faced it all. 

He had never felt the creepy fear he felt today, until that morning.

For miles now he was sure he heard things in the woods around them which were not just animals. Things that sounded like humans. Once, he was certain he had heard a child giggling. Then there was the constant feeling of eyes on the back of his neck. 

Each time he felt this, or heard these things, he would turn his head and see nothing but shadows and trees. 

It took another couple of minutes for Collin to reach where others in the group were crowded around the base of a tree. Pat had his heat hanging down his back and wiped his hand across his head. Nuka crouched down at something there. 

Collin dismounted and walked over. The men parted and Collin sighed once he saw what was there. 

"This, you fat fuck," he said to Pat, smacking him on the shoulder,"is why they're not going to have a meal for us." 

It was a human skeleton. Well, as Collin looked more closely, he saw that it was part of a human skeleton. A skull, empty eye sockets staring, most of a spine, some ribs, and leg bones. Arms, hands, feet and fingers were gone. There was no meat on the bones. 

"You'd all better prepare yourself for seeing a lot more of this where we're headed." Collin studied those around him. "The likelihood is that this entire camp will be as dead as this guy. The bones of women and children may be grinning at us." 

"What do you think happened?" Pat asked. 

Collin shrugged. "I have no idea. Either he got dragged away from there by animals after dropping dead, or this guy tried to walk away from camp on his own and the cold got him. This is an entire community who ran out of food, most likely." 

"Looks chewed," Nuka added, studying on of the rib bones. 

"I'm sure it is. Every critter in the woods here has had a chance to go at this guy. The animals probably thought this was a gift from God." Collin shook his head. Did they pack up

these bones and bring them back? "I think we'd better pack up these bones, fellas. The reward is for as many as we can bring back. Dead or alive." 

There was grumbling, but someone produced an empty burlap sack and they packed the bones away. Collin helped gather them up and look for more. He found what appeared to be part of an arm a few feet away. When he studied it, the bones themselves looked cracked open. It was as if whatever had eaten this person had sucked the marrow right out of these bones. 

Collin felt chills run down his spine as the sensation of being watched returned with a vengeance. So much so, he whirled around, his eyes scanning the trees, searching the shadows. He saw nothing, but was sure something was there. 

What animals sucked marrow out of bones? It seemed at some point he knew about such a thing, but couldn't recall. 

He added the arm bone to the sack and mounted his horse. He was very tempted to just turn around and head back. He was about done with this whole situation and close to abandoning the entire expedition. 

They were so close, though. So close. 

Instead of turning back, he clicked his tongue and his horse set off. As the entire group trotted away Collin mused that his horse did not seem particularly nervous. All of that went away about half an hour later, when his horse stopped, ears twitching, and did not want to move forward. 

"We're here," Nuka called back to the rest. "This is the camp!" 

Collin felt no joy and nothing close to the elation he had hoped he would feel. Instead, he kicked his horse to trot a bit faster and soon caught up to the rest. The entire party had stopped just outside the grouping of small cabins. 

Collin knew this party of migrants had little when they stopped here for the winter. He knew they had built some shelters the best they could, in hopes of waiting out the blasting cold and snow. He had heard how they brought as much food stock together to try and keep them

through the cold and snow, but nothing prepared him for the condition these structures would be in when he found them. 

The buildings had fallen over in many places. Walls had collapsed inward and the roofs of most buildings sagged or had fallen in entirely. It was deadly quiet and not a single person came to see the men who were here, ostensibly, to rescue them. 

"This is more grim than I feared," Collin said. 

Nuka just nodded. Pat tipped his hat back and scratched at his head once more. "Let's head into it and see if there's anyone alive. Right now, this place looks abandoned," Collin got off his horse and grabbed the lead. "We also need to do what we can to set up camp for ourselves. It's getting dark now and we'll need to spend the night here before heading back out tomorrow." 

Nuka looked concerned. "I fear this place is haunted, boss." 

Collin nodded slowly, then whispered out the side of his mouth. "Me too." Nuka grabbed his shoulder. "Have you felt it, too? I feel eyes on me. Have been feeling it for a while now." 

Collin pulled the scout aside, away from prying ears. "Yes. but then there's nothing there. Just the woods." 

The native scout did not show much in the way of emotion, but he cocked his head to the side. "I swear I can smell bad things in this camp. I think we should look around and get out of here. Get as far as we can and light torches to get even further if need be." 

Collin studied the man's face, and knew he was one hundred percent serious. He had never known Nuka to be the type to play jokes on people. Then he looked around, saw the encroaching darkness, tried to imagine heading out into the night, navigating this group and their horses through the wilderness with just torches. He couldn't help but feel that a camp, with a fire, with the wagons as a kind of barriers, would be safer.

"I understand, but I don't want to risk it. If you feel the need to cut out, I won't stop you, and you'll still get your share of the reward. But I would prefer it if you would stay and help us." Collin stared hard into the man's dark eyes. 

"I'll stay, but remember that I warned you." 

Not exactly the warm feelings he was hoping to have after speaking to the scout, but it would do. They set about walking through the camp and several of the men started gathering up what wood they could find to start a fire. 


Bryan W. Alaspa is a Chicago born and bred author of both fiction and non-fiction works. He has been writing since he sat down at his mother's electric typewriter back in the third grade and pounded out his first three-page short story. He spent time studying journalism and other forms of writing. He turned to writing as his full-time career in 2006 when he began writing freelance, online and began writing novels and books.

He is the author of dozens of books in both fiction and non-fiction and numerous short stories and articles.

Mr. Alaspa writes true crime, history, horror, thrillers, mysteries, detective stories and tales about the supernatural.

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