SKELETONS IN THE ATTIC @JudyPenzSheluk

SKELETONS IN THE ATTIC

by Judy Penz Sheluk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GENRE:  Mystery

The author will award a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn host via Rafflecopter.

SKELETONS IN THE ATTIC Blurb:

What goes on behind closed doors doesn’t always stay there…

Calamity (Callie) Barnstable isn’t surprised to learn she’s the sole beneficiary of her late father’s estate, though she is shocked to discover she has inherited a house in the town of Marketville—a house she didn’t know existed. However, there are conditions attached to Callie’s inheritance: she must move to Marketville, live in the house, and solve her mother’s murder.

Callie’s not keen on dredging up a thirty-year-old mystery, but if she doesn’t do it, there’s a scheming psychic named Misty Rivers who is more than happy to expose the Barnstable family secrets. Determined to thwart Misty and fulfill her father’s wishes, Callie accepts the challenge. But is she ready to face the skeletons hidden in the attic?

SKELETONS IN THE ATTIC Excerpt:

Callie: “You said he wanted me to move into the house? When was he going to tell me?”

“I think the initial plan was that your father was going to move back in there,” Leith said. “But of course now—”

“Now that he’s dead, you think he wanted me to move there?”

“Actually, it’s more than wanted, Calamity. It’s a provision of the will that you move into Sixteen Snapdragon Circle for a period of one year. After that time, you are free to do what you wish with it. Go back to renting it, continue to live there, or sell it.”

“And if I decide to sell it?”

“Homes in that area of Marketville typically sell quickly and for a decent price, certainly several times your parents’ original investment back in 1979. You’d have to put in some elbow grease, not to mention some basic renovations, but your father left you some money for that as well.”

“He had money set aside? Enough for renovations?” I thought about the shabby townhouse, the threadbare carpets, the flannel sheet covering holes in the fabric of the ancient olive green brocade sofa. I always thought my dad was frugal because he had to be. It never occurred to me he was squirreling away money to fix up a house I didn’t even know existed.

SKELETONS IN THE ATTIC is on sale on Amazon Kindle from December 1 through December 7 for .99 (reg. price $4.99). http://getbook.at/SkeletonsintheAttic

Judy Penz Sheluk, Author

An Amazon International Bestselling Author, Judy Penz Sheluk’s debut mystery novel, The Hanged Man’s Noose (Barking Rain Press), was published in July 2015. Skeletons in the Attic (Imajin Books), the first book in her Marketville Mystery Series, was published in August 2016.

Judy’s short crime fiction appears in World Enough and Crime, The Whole She-Bang 2, The Whole She-Bang 3, Flash and Bang and Live Free or Tri.

Judy is a member of Sisters in Crime, Crime Writers of Canada, International Thriller Writers and the Short Mystery Fiction Society.

Find Judy on her website/blog at www.judypenzsheluk.com, where she interviews other authors and blogs about the writing life. You can also find Judy on Facebook

http://facebook.com/JudyPenzSheluk, Twitter @JudyPenzSheluk and on her Amazon author page, https://amazon.com/author/judypenzsheluk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

The author will award a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn host via Rafflecopter.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

MEMORIES FUEL WRITING

When I was a girl aged from about 11 to 13, going to spend a week with my aunt and uncle who lived south of Lubbock was a vacation. My parents would take me to my uncle’s house on a Sunday, and my uncle would bring me home later in the week. My cousins were older than I was, but I was a daydreamer and made up my own adventures and wasn’t lonely. To me, my aunt and uncle were wealthy. I realize now that they were comfortably well off, but not wealthy.

West Texas Cotton Field near Lubbock
Vacations spot?

Actually, my uncle was a cotton farmer, and lucky enough to have irrigation for his crops. I loved "helping" him check the irrigation. He had an old Jeep and riding in it was fun. He was very tolerant. Since his and my mom's dad died when my mom was six, he was sort of like her substitute dad. He was twelve years older than she was, and she was the youngest sibling and probably pampered and spoiled.

Happy memories inspired me to write HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME in a fictional area near where my aunt and uncle had lived. HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME, is a sweet contemporary romance and is a twist on Cinderella. Here’s the blurb:

Courtney Madison

Courtney Madison has battled poverty her entire twenty-five years but is determined to make a safe and happy home for her teenaged brother after the recent death of their mom. Her mom’s illness left Courtney with a mountain of hospital bills, her formerly sweet brother Jimmy is now cutting class and hanging with a rough crowd, and she’s just learned she’s being downsized in two weeks. Hanging on by the threads of a fraying rope, she learns she’s inherited two million dollars from a kind elderly man she befriended when he was in the hospital across the hall from her mom. She thinks her inheritance in West Texas is the answer to all her prayers--but Courtney learns that while money improves her life, it doesn’t guarantee happiness. This modern Cinderella encounters problems even a fairy godmother couldn’t imagine.

Derek Corrigan

Rancher/entrepeneur Derek Corrigan has incredible instincts for flourishing in the business world. With women, not so much. In fact, his friends bemoan he’s King Midas where money is concerned, but his judgment of women is pathetic--evidenced by his late wife and now the flamboyant woman he’s been escorting of late. As far as Derek is concerned, all he wants is to be a good dad to his children Warren, aged 8, and Meg, aged 5. Derek suspects the worst of his new neighbor and vows to fight his attraction for her. The only way he can protect his children and himself is to keep his private life very private. Besides, he knows what women do to him--they always leave and take chunks of his heart with them. He's been there, done that, had the vaccination and is cured. Isn't he?

Here’s an excerpt from HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME:

Set up: Derek surprised both he and Courtney when he asked her to the Winter Madness Ball held at the local county club.

They joined the others circling the room and Derek pulled her into his arms. He looked down at her while they twirled to a waltz. His beautiful cobalt eyes held passion and tenderness. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.
His arm tightened, snuggling her to him. His lips brushed her hair and she thought he murmured her name. Contentment washed over her, sending her encounter with Janelle far away.
A samba followed. He put both hands on her hips and she rested her hands on his shoulders. They moved as one to the rhythmic beats. Erotic fantasies invaded her mind. Tropical isles, sun drenched beaches, surf gliding gently over their entwined bodies.
In the middle of the next number, a fox trot, Derek guided her to the edge of the ballroom floor and out into the lobby. Gently, he pulled her into a shadowy corner before he pressed his lips to hers. For Courtney, they were alone in the universe.
He pulled her closer and she melted at his touch. She slipped her hands inside his jacket and wound both arms around him to knead his back, oblivious to anyone else in the world.
As he slowly raised his head, she felt herself pulled into those deep blue eyes.
Her senses reeled from his kiss and she struggled to maintain at least a shred of her sanity. “You’re a prominent person here, and this is a public area.”
“You’re right, but I couldn’t wait a second longer to kiss you.” He pulled her head to his chest. “Let me hold you a few moments longer.”
With his arms gently caressing her, she rested against his chest. When at last she raised her head to meet his gaze, he exhaled in resignation and brushed his lips across hers. “I know, I know. We should rejoin the others.”


HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME is available from The Wild Rose Press in print and ebook at
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=638
and Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other online stores.

Thanks for reading. On Wednesday, I have a new guest author for you, so please return.

LINDA BANCHE SHARES REGENCY WEATHER

“Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.” MARK TWAIN, editorial in the Hartford Courant, Aug. 24, 1897


Whether or not this quote is accurate, and there’s some doubt about its validity, the weather confounds us all.

Love it or hate it, the weather is always with us. My latest Regency comedy novella, AN INHERITANCE FOR THE BIRDS, is set in England. Rainy, chilly England. Cold, damp England.


Well, not necessarily.


 England's climate is both colder and warmer than that of the United States. The Gulf Stream crosses the Atlantic to brush by the southern and western coasts of the island, creating milder weather than in New England, where I live. Palm trees grow in Cornwall, England’s southwestern most county. Snow is rare, especially in the south, as well as blazing hot temperatures. In 1818 London, according to the Royal Society’s Meteorological Journal, the temperature range for the year was 24 degrees F to 80 degrees F. Compare that to the Boston Massachusetts range of 6 F to 103 F from February 2011 to January 2012.

 But where there is weather, there are extremes. The summer of 1818 in England was one of the hottest on record to that time, with June and July the warmest. According to the Royal Society’s observations, the average London temperature for June was 66.1F, with a high of 78 F and a low of 57 F. For July, the average was 68.9F (high 80 F, low 61 F). Compare those readings, again according to the Royal Society’s London records, to the more typical year of 1817: June range 81 F - 47 F, average 62.8 F, and July range 70 F - 54 F, average 60.8 F.



The summer of 1818 was not pleasant in London. The River Thames, which, for all practical purposes was an open sewer, reeked more than usual. The streets, full of horses and their manure, reeked as well. With no air-conditioning, deodorants or running water, the people, dressed in their year-round woolens, did, too. The ever-present pall of coal smoke from thousands of chimneys added to the miasma.

In AN INHERITANCE FOR THE BIRDS, my hero, Kit, abides in noxious London when he receives the letter from his late great aunt's solicitor informing him of a possible inheritance. In order to win her estate in Somersetshire, he must compete with her former companion. Their task: Make her pet ducks happy.



Idiotic the contest may be, but the prospect of a sizeable inheritance is enough to make him accept. Another lure is the trip to the country, where, although the temperatures may not be lower, at least the air will be cleaner.



BLURB:


Make the ducks happy and win an estate!



Mr. Christopher "Kit" Winnington can't believe the letter from his late great-aunt's solicitor. In order to inherit her estate, he must win a contest against her companion, Miss Angela Stratton. Whoever makes his great-aunt's pet ducks happy wins.

A contest: What a cork-brained idea. This Miss Stratton is probably a sly spinster who camouflaged her grasping nature from his good-natured relative. There is no way he will let the estate go to a usurper.



Angela never expected her former employer to name her in her will. Most likely, this Mr. Winnington is a trumped-up jackanapes who expects her to give up without a fight. Well, she is made of sterner stuff.



The ducks quack in avian bliss while Kit and Angela dance a duet of desire as they do their utmost to make the ducks--and themselves--happy.



EXCERPT:


Yawning, he shut the door behind him. Enough ducks and prickly ladies for one day. After dropping his satchel by the bed, he dragged off his clothes and draped them over the chair back. He dug a nightshirt from the valise and donned the garment before he blew out both candles.



Bates had already drawn back the bedclothes. The counterpane was soft under Kit's palm, and covered a featherbed. He grinned. By any chance, had they used the down from the pet ducks to stuff the mattress and pillows?



After tying the bed curtains back, he settled into the soft cocoon and laced his fingers behind his head. Tomorrow, he would have it out with Miss Stratton about the steward's residence, but that was tomorrow. He fluffed up his pillow and turned onto his side…



"QUACK!"



A bundle of flapping, squawking feathers exploded from the depths of the covers and attacked him. Throwing his arms over his head for protection, Kit fell out of bed. He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door, the thrashing, quacking explosion battering him. A serrated knife edge scraped over his upper arm. "Ow!" Batting at the avian attacker with one hand, he groped for the latch with the other.



The door swung open. Miss Stratton, her candle flame flickering, dashed into the chamber. "Esmeralda, you stop that right now!"



The feathered windstorm quacked once more and, in a graceful arc, fluttered to the floor.



Kit lowered his arms and gave a mental groan. A duck. He should have known.



AN INHERITANCE FOR THE BIRDS, part of The Wild Rose Press’s Love Letters series, is available from The Wild Rose Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other places ebooks are sold.

Thank you all,


Linda


Linda Banche
Welcome to My World of Historical Hilarity!
http://www.lindabanche.com
http://lindabanche.blogspot.com
http://www.facebook.com/LindaBanche
http://www.twitter.com/LindaBanche


Thanks to Linda for her post. Her stories are fun to read, and I'm eager to read AN INHERITANCE FOR THE BIRDS.


Thanks for stopping by!

ANOTHER PEEK AT MY SWEET CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE



West Texas - where there are
"miles and miles of miles and miles"

 HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME is a sweet contemporary set in West Texas near where I grew up. My uncle and cousins were farmers who also sometimes raised cattle. Can’t keep all your eggs in one basket, right? Not with Texas weather so unpredictable. My husband had several uncles who were ranchers and farmers, and some of his cousins still farm. Although we live in a rural area now, both Hero and I grew up in the “big city” of Lubbock.  If you've ever been to Lubbock, you realize that's a joke. It's about 250,000 people, and it still has a small town atmosphere. But since it's the largest town for 120 miles, it's a major shopping and business center.



Lubbock Cotton Field

 To raise money to build their new house, my father-in-law raised cotton on a field at the edge of town and my husband helped. Large-scale farmers had lots of equipment, but my father-in-law had to hire someone to plow the land for planting. The rest was accomplished by hand--Hero's, his dad's, and eventually his younger brother's hands. Hero remembers initially clearing hundreds of tumbleweeds from the land and burning them to ready the plot. Needless to say, he hates tumbleweeds! After several years, the family had saved enough cash to buy a lot-and-a-half and build a house on it, with my father-in-law as contractor and doing some of the work himself. Once they’d saved enough to build, that was the end of their cotton farming. My husband was grateful. I'll bet his dad was even more grateful, because he did all this farming while holding down a full-time job.

Texas Tech Univ.
is in Lubbock

During the time Hero and his brother worked in the cotton field, when they came in dirty and tired, their mom would tell them that if they didn’t go to college, they’d be doing back-breaking work like that forever. Hero said he didn’t know then what his degree would be, but he knew that he was going to college so he’d never have to farm again. He graduated from Texas Tech with an electrical engineering degree that he used in the aeroapace industry. So what did we do as soon as he reached the peak of his career? You guessed it! We bought a small acreage in a rural area, and here we are today. Life certainly plays tricks on us, doesn’t it?

Here’s a video about tumbleweeds even my husband can’t hate.


About the time my future husband was burning tumbleweeds, “chopping cotton” (hoeing weeds from young cotton rows) and "pulling bolls" (harvesting the cotton), my family moved to Lubbock. Dad had been managing cotton gins, but he was making more money buying and selling cotton. No, he didn't have to cart the bales around. The process involves samples of each crop for grade, which is where the term "fair to middling" originated. (In West Texas, when you ask someone how they're doing, often the answer will be "fair to middlin'.")

Lubbock, Texas, dubbed the Hub of the Plains

First, my dad bought our house near the same edge of town as where my husband's family lived. We were so pleased to have our own new home. When I was small and we lived in California, Dad had built houses. But each house supposedly built for us ended up sold because of a local housing shortage. He and Mother could never turn down a tidy profit. Anyway, in Lubbock we were happy to finally own one similar--though not nearly as well constructed--to those Dad had built in California. The first year we lived in Lubbock, cotton plants came up in our flowerbeds because the housing development was carved from a cotton farm. We thought that was funny. Yes, we lived simply and took pleasure in simple things.


You can see that even a contemporary book about that area might be close to my heart. Here’s an excerpt from this modern day Cinderella story in which a Dallas city girl, Courtney Madison, inherits property and investments in West Texas. The set up is that hero Derek Corrigan had arranged for his best friend Rusty to be Courtney’s date for a neighborhood potluck the previous Friday. Derek might have asked Courtney himself, but he’d already arranged a date with an old friend, Janelle, before he learned of the party. Things didn’t go well for Derek and Janelle at the party, and now it’s Monday morning. It helps if you know that the house Courtney inherited is the one in which Derek grew up and that it was Derek's adopted father, Sam, who left Courtney the legacy, but the will binds Derek and Courtney to work together for a year. Derek now lives across the road.

Family-oriented contemporary romance.
Cover represents Derek and his two children,
Meg and Warren. Courtney's dog is named Bingo.

HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME excerpt:

Derek Corrigan

After wrestling with himself all weekend, Derek had come to apologize to Courtney. The two of them had to keep working together for the better part of a year. Somehow she’d found out he’d set her up with Rusty and misunderstood. She left a message with Rosa that she’d arranged for the repair of his truck and that Jimmy would be working off the cost of repairs. Didn’t even ask to speak to him.


He figured she was still mad, but he didn’t see why. What was so all-fired wrong with setting her up with a nice guy like Rusty? Hells bells, he’d just tried to help her get acquainted. Where’s the crime in that?

At church yesterday, she’d evaded him or looked right through him. That wasn’t even Christian. And just when he was getting used to having her to talk to. Of course, for Rusty she’d been all sugar and cream. Derek smiled in spite of himself. She’d made Janelle spitting mad with that little imitation act. He’d never seen anyone get the best of Janelle, but Courtney had. Everyone got it, and laughed. Except Janelle.

Oh, no. Janelle didn’t laugh at herself. She’d sulked the rest of the evening. He vowed never, but never, to ask Janelle anywhere again.


In Courtney’s house the next day, Derek grabbed a cup of coffee as he passed through the kitchen. Courtney was in the living room consulting with two painters. He stopped dead in his tracks. What the hell did she need with painters? Hadn’t this house been plenty good enough for Maggie and for Sam just as it was? Sure it had, and plenty good enough for him too. Why did Courtney have to go changing things?



Courtney
Madison

 When she saw him standing in the kitchen doorway, she paused. “Joe and Juan helped me get our trucks to Buddy’s garage. Buddy will call you when yours is repaired.” She stared, eyebrow lifted. “Did we have an appointment about something else today?"

An appointment? In his own house? He kept forgetting it wasn’t his house anymore. The house wasn’t Sam’s either. A pang of sorrow stabbed his heart and sliced downward. This had been his place with Sam and Maggie—the place they’d built especially for him. That was then; this was now. The whole place was hers and she could make any changes she chose. He had no say in anything she did with the house and farm. Instead, he was now the interloper in her house.


He exhaled. “No, but I’d like a word with you when you have a minute. I’ll just wait in Sam’s, um, your study.”


Ten minutes later she came in and he’d swear the room’s temperature dropped twenty degrees. She closed the door softly behind her. Man, but he had the distinct feeling she’d have preferred to slam it—and hard.

The second the door clicked shut, she launched into him. “Derek Corrigan, I realize you think I’m an incompetent social pariah. However, do not ever, ever take it upon yourself to find dates for me. No matter how nice the man might be. Do I make myself clear?”

Her quick breaths recalled the way she’d looked with only the sheet covering her breasts. Admiring her fire, he wished she wouldn’t direct it at him. Oh, hell. How had she found out about that? Rusty never would have told her.

He threw up his arms. “I thought it would be nice for you to have an escort since you don’t know anyone here yet. Okay? What’s so wrong with that?”


“For your information, I had a date the weekend before the party.”

He froze, and blood drained from his body. Who had she been out with? He’d bet it was that creep Lance Thompson. Damn the man. “I was only trying to help.”

She shook a finger in his face. “You should have asked me first. Do you have any idea how humiliated I was to learn Rusty didn’t ask me on his own? I had to hear from Janelle that I was a charity case.”

Damn, damn, damn. His fingers clenched and he wanted to punch the wall. He should have guessed Janelle was the culprit.

Courtney turned and paced. “And to think I fell for that fake visit to Rusty’s where he just happened to have fresh coffee and a cake from his mother. Oh, brother, I guess you both got a laugh out of that.”

“No, we did not laugh. Hey, you needed to meet him, right? And once he met you he said he would have asked you anyway, so what's the difference?”

When she opened her mouth and stepped toward him, he tried again before she could launch another attack. “Look, Janelle shouldn’t have told you, but you shouldn’t have made her cry, either.”


“Humph.” Courtney narrowed her eyes. “Puhleeze, me make that woman cry? Give me a break. That woman hasn’t cried since she got her first training bra.” She paced the office as if she were being paid by the step.

Man, Courtney had one smart mouth on her when her anger took over. “She cried because you called her a piranha after she tried so hard to make you feel welcome to the community.”

She stopped pacing again. “Your girlfriend certainly made no effort to welcome me. In fact, she did everything within her power to make me feel unwanted.”

Hell, how had he come to be defending Janelle? “She’s not my anything. We...um, she’s just gone through a rough divorce.” He suddenly remembered that this was Janelle’s third divorce, but Courtney didn’t need to know that. “Neither of us wants to remarry. She likes to have a presentable escort when a twosome is called for—“


“Please spare me.” She held up a hand. “I’m not interested in the sordid details of your sexual liaisons.”


“They’re not sex…” He swallowed hard. “Not liaisons of any kind, just two people going out with no strings attached. Okay?”


Courtney faced him and jammed fists on her hips. “If you believe that woman is not interested in marriage, and to you, then what I heard was right.”


Anger raced through him. Dear God, how he hated gossip. He’d been hurt too deeply by rumors, first as a child about his parents’ lifestyle and poverty, and later by his former wife’s escapades. No, he’d never speak a word of gossip himself. How he’d like to shut Courtney up now by kissing her senseless instead of waging this stupid argument.


“Oh yeah?” He took a deep breath and glared. “What did you hear?”


She stepped toward him and leaned into his face. “That where making money is concerned, you’re King Midas, but where women are concerned, you really are dumb as dirt.”

“Who says?” He clamped his jaw tight. Damned if he’d apologize now. He’d bet Elaine made that wisecrack. She’d been mad at him ever since grade school when he’d called her a chipmunk. “Was it Elaine?”


“Everyone who knows you says it.” She stamped her foot. “Do you hear me? Everyone!”


“Yeah, well at least Janelle is nicer than that creep Lance Thompson. I suppose you plan to keep seeing him?” He didn’t trust that man and couldn’t understand why she didn’t see through Lance’s fake so-called charm.

“As a matter of fact, I am. He’s an interesting date.”

The ring of the telephone forestalled her next comment. She gave him another of her molten glares before she picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

She staggered backward to a chair. Her eyes widened as color drained from her face. “I’ll be there right away.”

He stepped forward. “What’s happened? Who’s hurt?”

With shaking hands, she leapt up and grabbed her purse and keys. “Jimmy’s been in a fight at school.”

HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME is available in print and e-book from The Wild Rose Press at
www.thewildrosepress.com/caroline-clemmons-m-638.html,
and at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other online stores. I hope you’ll give it a read and let me know what you think.

Thanks for stopping by!