ASSASSINATION AT BAYOU SAUVAGE

Assassination
at Bayou Sauvage

by
D.J. Donaldson

Genre:
Crime Mystery

Andy
Broussard, the plump and proud medical examiner for the City of New
Orleans, is sitting almost in the kill zone of a too-close-for
comfort and ‘in living color’ murder of his Uncle Joe Broussard
at a family picnic in Bayou Sauvage - the largest urban wetlands park
in the USA. Surprisingly, the murderer then immediately commits
suicide. After easily determining the killer’s identity from the
driver’s license in his pocket, the only remaining task for
Broussard and the police is to uncover the motive for such a heinous
act. But suddenly, everything about the case takes a bizarre turn.

Caught
short handed because of an NOPD work slow-down, and needing someone
to find out what happened to a young woman who has just been reported
missing, Homicide Detective Phil Gatlin deputizes Broussard’s
beautiful death investigator, Dr. Kit Franklyn, and assigns her to
that case. Shockingly, Kit’s efforts soon lead back to the murder
of Uncle Joe. Sensing a plot of horrendous magnitude, Broussard
directs his colleagues and friends in a race to uncover the truth
behind the most audacious Andy and Kit mystery of the entire series.

D. J. Donaldson’s fans can rejoice once again, knowing that Kit, Andy,
Phil, Bubba, Grandma O, and Teddy are back in a terrific new story
that pushes their abilities to the limit.

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* Amazon

Don Donaldson, 
who also writes as D. J. Donaldson, holds a Ph.D. in human
anatomy. In his professional career, he has taught microscopic
anatomy to over 5,000 medical and dental students and published
dozens of research papers on wound healing. He is also the author of
eight published forensic mysteries and five medical thrillers. He
lives in Memphis, Tennessee with his wife and two West Highland
terriers. 

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HOW I WROTE THORPE'S MAIL ORDER BRIDE -- BY CYNTHIA WOOLF

 by Cynthia Woolf

I love to write mail-order bride books, so that is mostly what I write. Thorpe’s Mail-Order Bride started out with a different title and then it was pointed out that my main characters were not living up to that title. So I rethought about the book and what it was actually about and changed the name.

I’m a big fan of NCIS: New Orleans and I wanted a book that had some of that flavor in it. From that primordial soup came Helena Dubois the daughter of a madam. And not just any madam, but the most celebrated and famous madam in all of New Orleans.

So I had my heroine, now she needed a hero. And I needed conflict in the story. What could be better than a man, John Thorpe, blacksmith in Morgan’s Crossing, in the Montana Territory, who wants a wife of good and moral character? What would happen when he finds that our heroine’s mother is a madam? Will he still believe our heroine is a moral person? Well, of course not. What would the fun in that be?

Next I had my heroine return to New Orleans to her mother. I needed to get the flavor of New Orleans so I could put some of that in the book and into my heroine’s mother, who is French. I went to New Orleans, to the French Quarter, to the Monteleone hotel which I mention in the book. We went to the Garden District, where I set my heroine’s mothers’ mansion.

I like to visit the places that I set my stories. It helps me to have the flavor of the countryside or city. I know what the place looks like and can use that information to impart descriptions and a feeling for the area and then I get more information about the people who lived there from books about that period in time for that area, in this case the year was 1887.

With one of my series I placed it in Golden, Colorado, which is where I grew up. I worked in the Pioneer Museum and the Railroad Museum when I was a teenager and my mother was a librarian so I knew how to do research. It was fun to go back in time and see what my town was like in the 1860’s 

and 70’s.

Here is an excerpt from Thorpe’s Mail-Order Bride

“I can understand your reluctance to believe me, but it is the truth. I should have let Mellisande accompany me. She wanted to, you know, but I wanted to tell you myself, vain person that I am.”

He turned his hat over and over on his lap.

“I thought sure you’d be happy about the news. Look, I’m a well-known business-man and couldn’t have my relationship with your mother known within certain circles. When you were two, we decided I should remarry and when you were six we sent you away to school to shield you from your mother’s business. One of your classmates, Eric Rappaport, is my stepson. Do you remember him?”

Lena’s breath caught in her throat at that news. She sat straighter, glad she was sitting on the chair. “That’s true,” she nodded. “I do remember Eric. He was totally obnoxious and mean to me the whole time we were at school together. Does he know about this, too? That you’re supposed to be my father.”

Robert sat forward on his chair. “I’m afraid he does. He overheard me telling my wife, his mother, of your existence. I wanted to take care of you and did the best I could. Now, though, you’re of an age that you must marry and have children of your own. I’ve found a suitable man back in New York. One of my business partners actually. Your mother’s association to you will never be known.”

Anger gave Lena strength and she stood, back straight. She would not show any softness toward him, no matter how much she wanted to have a father. He could be a complete liar. But he wouldn’t have known those things about me if he wasn’t who he said he is. “You propose to tell me that you’re my father and I must marry someone you have chosen for me, all in few minutes. Are you out of your mind?”

“No. You are an adult now and need to take on adult responsibilities.”

She couldn’t believe his arrogance and she didn’t need a stranger’s help in securing a husband. She would remain calm, just like she did when the children she taught were getting rambunctious.

“I’ll pick my own husband.”

“Listen to me Helena—”

“My name is Lena and I refuse to be dictated to by a stranger. Please leave.” She pulled the cord for Thaddeus.

The library door opened and Thaddeus entered. He was not just a butler, but also her mother’s bodyguard. Lena had no fear when he was near. “You rang, Miss Lena?”

“Yes, Thaddeus. Please show out this gentleman.”

“I’ll leave now, Helena,” Robert donned his hat. “But I’ll be back in two weeks and I expect you to be ready to come with me to New York.

“Please leave, Mr. Drummond, before I have Thaddeus hail a police officer.”

“As you wish.” Drummond was not a happy man, but he stood and left through the door that Thaddeus held open. “I can find my own way out.”

Lena shook all over. Never would she marry some man her mother, or her newly discovered father, had chosen for her. Her mother had tried before to get her to marry. Lena was shamed by Mellisande’s business and might hate herself sometimes because of that shame, but she hadn’t fallen so far that she would allow her mother to choose a husband for her. She hadn’t before when Mellisande wanted her to, why would her mother think that she would now?

How could they tell her all of this at once and expect her to acquiesce to their demand? First she had a father, and second, she was supposed to marry some strange man, not of her choosing. That had been the problem last time. She hadn’t chosen the man. Her mother had. This was no different and she would not stand for it.

She dropped into one of the large overstuffed chairs in front of the empty fireplace, making sure it was not the one her father had sat in. Grabbing the paper from the coffee table she flipped through the pages looking for a special advertisement. One she’d heard whispered about by her teacher friends at school when they wanted to marry.

Finally she found it and read to remind herself of the details.

Women wanted. Matchmaker & Co in Golden, Colorado is recruiting women with the object of marriage to one of their thoroughly screened bachelors. These men are farmers, ranchers, miners and of other occupations, that are desirous of marriage and family. Contact Mrs. Maggie Black, with your photograph and the type of man you are looking for.

This was perfect. She could choose a husband far away from both New York and New Orleans. Her parents would never find her and she’d finally lead her own life as she saw fit.

Cynthia Woolf, Author

Cynthia Woolf is the award winning and best-selling author of nineteen historical western romance books and two short stories with more books on the way. She was born in Denver, Colorado and raised in the mountains west of Golden. She spent her early years running wild around the mountain side with her friends.

Their closest neighbor was about one quarter of a mile away, so her little brother was her playmate and her best friend. That fierce friendship lasted until his death in 2006.

Cynthia loves writing and reading romance. Her first western romance, Tame A Wild Heart, was inspired by the story her mother told her of meeting Cynthia’s father on a ranch in Creede, Colorado. Although Tame A Wild Heart takes place in Creede, that is the only similarity between the stories. Her father was a cowboy not a bounty hunter and her mother was a nursemaid (called a nanny now) not the ranch owner.

Cynthia credits her wonderfully supportive husband Jim and the great friends she's made at Colorado Romance Writers for saving her sanity and allowing her to explore her creativity.

TITLES AVAILABLE

THORPE’S MAIL-ORDER BRIDE, Montana Sky Series

GENEVIEVE: Bride of Nevada, American Mail-Order Brides Series

THE HUNTER BRIDE – Hope’s Crossing, Book 1

GIDEON – The Surprise Brides

MAIL ORDER OUTLAW – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 1

MAIL ORDER DOCTOR – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 2

MAIL ORDER BARON – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 3

NELLIE – The Brides of San Francisco 1

ANNIE – The Brides of San Francisco 2

CORA – The Brides of San Francisco 3

JAKE (Book 1, Destiny in Deadwood series)

LIAM (Book 2, Destiny in Deadwood series)

ZACH (Book 3, Destiny in Deadwood series)    

CAPITAL BRIDE (Book 1, Matchmaker & Co. series)

HEIRESS BRIDE (Book 2, Matchmaker & Co. series)

FIERY BRIDE (Book 3, Matchmaker & Co. series)

TAME A WILD HEART (Book 1, Tame series)

TAME A WILD WIND (Book 2, Tame series)

TAME A WILD BRIDE (Book 3, Tame series)

TAME A SUMMER HEART (short story, Tame series)

TAME A HONEYMOON HEART (novella, Tame series)

WEBSITE – www.cynthiawoolf.com

NEWSLETTER - http://bit.ly/1qBWhFQ

MELANIE ATKINS AND BLOOD BOUND

About BLOOD BOUND

Fueled by grief after his fiancée is brutally murdered, Detective Sam Walker focuses on finding her killer -- a calculating predator who binds books with human skin. Dani Barrington, the newest member of NOPD's Victim and Witness Assistance Unit and a survivor of another frightening attack, helps him discover the terrifying link between the monster's known victims.  Despite his anguish, Sam is struck by Dani's strength and determination, especially when her inquisitive nature makes her the killer's next target. He must find a way to protect her or risk losing the one woman who can bring his dead heart back to life.

Excerpt from BLOOD BOUND:

Kristen was gone.

She wasn't at work. She wasn't at home. She hadn't gone out to run an errand. She had simply... vanished.

New Orleans Detective Sam Walker stood in the center of his fiancée's cluttered bedroom and struggled to piece together the timeline of her disappearance. Last night they were supposed to meet for dinner, but he'd caught a case. They'd talked on the phone around eleven, and he'd asked her to meet him for lunch today.

He hadn't spoken to her since.

She was supposed to arrive at the Victim and Witness Assistance Unit for work at nine a.m., but never made it. One of her co-workers had called him about ten o'clock. He'd tried Kristen again, but she hadn't answered.

So he'd come here and found her car in the driveway.

Yet she sure as hell wasn't here.

Her bed was meticulously made, the way she left it every morning, dumping him out if he'd stayed over. A damp towel lay beside the bathroom sink. Soulful jazz drifted from the iPod dock on her nightstand. What terrified him most, though, was the spot of blood marring the door frame and the lone pink sandal lying in the living room floor beside her purse, keys, and cell phone.

His heart lurched. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Simply could not absorb that she was missing. They'd been engaged for five months and three days, with only a month to go until the wedding. They should be mulling over the guest list, squabbling about where to go for their honeymoon, and deciding where they wanted to live.

Instead, Sam stared at an empty bed.

"There's no sign of forced entry, so she either let the guy in or he jumped her when she went after the paper this morning." Major Sabbatini's voice seemed to come from far away. "I'm thinking she fought him off and ran, and he caught her here in the bedroom."

"She would have clawed him." Hell, she would've drawn blood with those nails. Sam should know. He had the marks on his back to prove it. Moisture blurred his vision as he eyed the smudge on the door jamb. "She... she just had her nails done a couple of days ago. They're like talons."

"We'll check the blood for DNA. You know that. What were her plans for today?"

"Um... just work, far as I know. She and I were supposed to have lunch." Sam shook his head. "Then tonight, she was going to a wedding shower. I just--"

"When was the last time you spoke with her?"

"Late -- last night." Sam's eyes fell on a partially-filled mug on the table beside Kristen's favorite chair, where she liked to read. A hard knot formed in the center of his chest. "She didn't... even finish her coffee. She loves coffee."

"We're gonna find her, son."

"You don't know that." Sam's voice cracked. He turned to his boss. "What if I never see her again?"

About the Author

Melanie Atkins a multi-published author of romantic suspense, an editor for an online publishing company, and an avid reader. Writing is more than an escape for her—it’s a way of life. She grew up in the Deep South listening to tall tales and penning stories about her cats. Now she writes gripping stories of love, suspense, and mystery with the help of her furry little feline muses.

Melanie is an active member of Romance Writers of America®, the Magnolia State Romance Writers (MSRW), the Published Author Network (PAN), the Electronic and Small Press Authors' Network (ESPAN), the Electronically Published Internet Connection (EPIC), Sisters in Crime (SinC), the Red Dog Writers, the Gulf Coast Writers Association, the Southern Writers, the Mississippi Authors Guild and the Byram Writers’ Group. She currently serves as Past President of MSRW.

www.melanieatkins.com

www.wordpress.melanieatkins.com

Thanks for stopping by!

GRETCHEN SERVES GUMBO AND HISTORY

Please welcome my guest and friend,Gretchen Craig. As you will see from her post, Gretchen knows how to hook readers. Here she is:

Gretchen Craig

A lot of the research for my books has centered on antebellum New Orleans.  Would you like to know who the governors were? Yeah, I figured that would not be particularly interesting. But I think all of us who ever had to feed our families day after day are interested in the usual kitchen in 1820s Louisiana.

Start with fuel. They burned wood and coal. Wood was plentiful, as you can imagine, and our imaginary Cook – let’s call her Lucienne -- would have preferred that in her brick oven and grill. But charcoal had its uses, too, for heating the house for instance. We always think of how steamy New Orleans is, and it is, but two of the most miserably cold days of my life have been spent in New Orleans in December (1968 and 2011), and I lived in Maine for ten years.

Lucienne might have cooked
on a stove like this

Lucienne would have had a cistern in the courtyard behind the house.  Rain, as you know, is also plentiful in Louisiana, and drains from the roofs into the cisterns, many of which were big, big as my Camry turned on its nose, maybe. She used cistern water for laundry and bathing. She could have used it for cooking, too, but mostly, she bought her drinking water from vendors who did not get it from the nasty Mississippi river. Even in 1820, it was a sewer for the town and for the scores of ships docked at the levee at any one time. There is/was a bayou north of town whose water was much cleaner, fresher, and clearer. Other streams abound as well. So some enterprising fellow would have loaded his wagon with barrels of water and hawked eau through the streets of the Vieux Carre.

The French Market, the same one along the river that’s there now, busily serving beignets and coffee, had everything. Cocoanuts from Cuba, bananas, grapes, peaches, rice, okra, live chickens, watermelon, sausage, French bread, corn, and on and on. Lucienne had no refrigerator, of course, nor an ice box. They could get ice once the steamships started speedily delivering it in the 1820s, but it was a costly luxury. People were not accustomed to icing their drinks, anyway, so no keeping foods cold in Lucienne’s kitchen.  Instead, she shopped often, and what she bought was fresh. Organic, in fact.

New Orleans French Market, founded 1791

Lucienne had a safe in her kitchen. My grandmother had one, too, and likely so did yours. It was a wooden cabinet with punched tin facing so air could circulate. It kept the mice and most of the bugs from getting the food, and seemed to work quite well. Today, I wouldn’t think of leaving leftover fried chicken or ham on the counter for several hours until the next meal, but my grandmother and my aunts did it all the time and none of us seemed any the worse for it.

Antique pie safe with punched tin panels

Lucienne seldom baked bread. It’s a lot of work, heats up the house, or the courtyard if she cooked out there, and it was readily available at the market, delicious, and fresh. She did make beignets for a treat, sometimes, and if she was an interested cook, not just a feeder of children and husbands, she probably made pralines.  She squeezed fresh juice for her children, sliced up pineapples and mangos and bananas every day. And she made soups and stews – gumbo!

Gumbo comes in as many varieties as there are cooks. And as for my own gumbo, it’s different every time I make it. For one thing, one is meant to use what one has available. Lucienne, and I, feel we must have okra for our gumbo, though if you go to some very nice restaurants in New Orleans today, they will tell you okra is not the thing. Well, humpf. I want okra in mine.

My husband makes gumbo with an actual recipe and puts file in his. I don’t much like file, myself.  (It’s dried sassafras and it’s gray and you can buy it in cute bottles in most any grocery, even here in Texas.) Rather than give you a precise recipe, I’m going to tell you what I like to put in mine without bothering with measurements. Who measures? As for the rice, you can cook it in the pot with everything else, or you can cook it separately and spoon the gumbo on top of it. Whatever. New Orleans, after all, is known as the Big Easy. 

Yum! Gumbo...but it's
best with cornbread or French bread

Most Creole cuisine starts out, “First you make a roux.” I’m sure that’s delicious, but it’s also too much trouble for me.  So I start by sautéing onions, garlic, and green and red bell peppers in olive oil. Butter is gooood, but olive oil is healthier.  Then I pour in a box or two of chicken broth.  A can or two of diced tomatoes, with or without the spices. As for adding my own spices, depending on what I have, I add basil, garlic, black pepper, salt, and cilantro. If I’m going to add sausage, which I recommend, I add the cut up pieces now and let it all simmer together for a while.  You can add canned or frozen corn. How much? Some.  (Now don’t go adding beans of any kind. That is just wrong! Save them for your beans and rice dish.)  If you can get fresh okra, and you have the blunt, as they said in Regency days, to pay for it, that’s super. Otherwise, frozen cut okra is great. Don’t worry about overcooking the okra. It is also your thickener.  All of this can simmer for anywhere from 30 minutes to a couple of hours.  If you want the rice in there with everything else, be aware you want lots more liquid than the rice package calls for. Your gumbo should be fairly soupy, but not too soupy.  Otherwise, go ahead and start the rice about twenty minutes before you mean to serve it. Then, just a few minutes before the rice is ready in its own pot, add the shrimp to the stew and cook just until they are curled and pink.

Serve with a salad, if you must. And serve with French bread, or corn bread. And iced tea and/or wine. Bon appetit.

Gretchen Craig’s lush, sweeping tales deliver edgy, compelling characters who test the boundaries of integrity, strength, and love. Told with sensitivity, the novels realistically portray the raw suffering of people in times of great upheaval.

Gretchen was born and raised in Florida. She’s lived in climates and terrain as diverse as the white beaches of the Gulf Coast, the rocky shores of Maine, and the dusty plains of Texas. Her awareness of place imbues every page with the smell of the bayous of Louisiana, the taste of gumbo in New Orleans, or the grit of a desert storm.

Gretchen writes historical novels with romance elements. EVER MY LOVE and ALWAYS AND FOREVER are set in Louisiana among the Cajuns, Creoles, and slaves. Her latest two manuscripts, now making the rounds of the Publishing gods in New York, are also set in New Orleans. Setting inspires her writing, and she has conjured up the heat and aridity of the pueblos in CRIMSON SKY as well as the heat and the humidity of the Everglades in THEENA’S LANDING. She’s yet to write anything set in a cold climate, but she’s thinking about those frozen steppes in Russia.

Learn more about Gretchen and her books here:
Website: http://www.gretchencraig.com
Blog: http://glcraig.wordpress.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/GCraigauthor
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Gretchen.Craig.Fan.Page
Amazon Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001JS7JL0

Mmmm, now I'm hungry for gumbo, aren't you? Thanks to Gretchen for her interesting post. 

Thanks to you for stopping by and reading.!                       

LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL!

Mardi Gras!

This is Mardi Gras time, and Tuesday, March 8th is Fat Tuesday. No matter where you live or what your religion, Mardi Gras is an excuse to let your hair down and party before the Lent season of penitence and devotion leading up to the Christian season of Easter and the Jewish season of Passover. For many people, this is a time to make penitence worthwhile. LOL



When Hero and I were planning our wedding, we decided New Orleans would be a nice place to go for our honeymoon.


Bourbon Street night scene



Know that time in a relationship when you’re so in love you think the world revolves around the two of you, and you’re oblivious to the rest of the world? Yeah, that was us (and sometimes still is). What can I say, we are...um, a unique couple (sounds better than eccentric, right?). When Hero made hotel reservations, he learned our honeymoon coincided with Mardi Gras. How nice was that? All of New Orleans celebrating our marriage! Or not. Great timing for a honeymoon, except that all the hotels were booked.

Hero's motto,
"Stubborness
is a virtue!"

Stubborn Scot-Irish descendant that he is, Hero secured us what was surely the last room in any downtown hotel. The room was about ten by twelve and featured a perfect view of the air conditioning system--not that we cared. We were relieved we had a room in a city packed to the gills. Besides, if you're on your honeymoon, scenery is optional. All you really need is one another. A nice location is a only a bonus.




New Orleans Jackson Square


Hero and I took several tours--a city tour, a graveyard tour, and a trip on a paddlewheeler down the Mississippi and back. We ate begnets at Drummond’s, gawked at the architecture, bought a watercolor from a street artist, and generally visited most of the famous tourist stops. We even shoved our way through revelers to watch parades. Sentimental packrat that I am, I still have some of the beads, a fan, and other trinkets tossed from the floats. 



Mississippi River paddlewheeler
similar to one on which we toured

Yep, we have been there, done that. Loved the experience, but don’t plan to return. Why, when New Orleans is such a popular travel destination?

Here’s what we learned. We’re just not the let-it-all-hang-out kind of people. In fact, those people would no doubt say Hero and I are boring and straight-laced. Hmmm, maybe we appear so to them, but NOT to one another! Thank heavens!

Watching the sunset

Actually, what we are is more the dinner-and-a-movie type. Or the reading-side-by-side in the evening type. Or the sit-and-talk-while-we-watch-the-birds-at-the-birdfeeders outside. Or the watch-the-sunset-together type. You get the picture. Live and learn, though. We’re certainly not sorry we ventured to the Big Easy! New Orleans is a unique city and everyone should visit there once in a lifetime.

Of course, you don't have to travel anywhere to celebrate Mardi Gras. If party-hearty is your style, this is the day to “Laissez les bon temps roiler!”

Let the good times roll!