Monday, July 6, 2026

Astraphobia by Paul Grant


https://www.bookswelove.com/search?q=astraphobia


Lightning has stalked the McKenzie family for three generations, striking seemingly at

random, but always taking a first born. Who will be next to fall victim to The McKenzie

Curse?

Astraphobia (fear of lightning) is set in Saskatchewan because I love the place, and

because it’s one of the most lightning-prone places on the planet, with more than

600,000 strikes every year, most of them in the summer. The story was inspired by

events around Moose Jaw in 1890. Henry Battell, his daughter, and his daughter’s

friend were all killed when lightning came down the chimney, through the cast iron

stove, and across the kitchen to where they were sitting. Battell’s cousin, David Hawke,

was also struck by lightning and killed.

Despite the dire consequences for the McKenzies and the Batells, there is only a one in a

million chance of a person being struck by lightning in any given year, although men are

four times as likely as women to be struck by lightning. The average age of a person

struck by lightning is thirty-seven, and ninety per cent of them survive.

Astraphobia is a perfect novel for the cabin or the beach, part of BWL’s Paranormal

Canadiana Collection: https://www.bookswelove.com/search?q=paranormal

Anatomy of a Book Club Scam by Debra Loughead




(6) Facebook


Up until February of this year, I’d thought I could never possibly fall victim to a scam. Nobody was ever going to pull the proverbial wool over my eyes. I was way smarter than that, could never be sucked into believing the lies of a grifter. There were too many warnings out there. I didn’t even bother answering my phone when I didn’t recognize the number. And who even answers the front door anymore when someone comes knocking? 

And then there were the ‘book promoter’ emails that had been popping up in my inbox. One persistent jerk even got my phone number somehow and kept on calling until I blocked his number, and emailing until I blocked his address.

But nobody could ever have forewarned me about the rush that comes when someone from an American book club (Read Whatever You Want Book Club Austin) contacts you and sings the praises of your most recent novel. Tells you that ‘YOUR BOOK’ has ‘resonated with members of our community’. How their members ‘explore what moves them and bring those discoveries into conversation’ because it has ‘sparked curiosity, reflection, or a strong personal response’. And they’d ‘love to invite you to join us for a virtual author conversation’ in March. A small, informal, relaxed, meaningful exchange. Oh, and they take care of all the details. 

Well of course I responded! No travel, sitting in the comfort of my home office talking to people about books and writing. Sounds amazing. But, one thing I wasn’t certain of was to which of my books he’d been referring. Which ‘YOUR BOOK’ was it, (in hindsight, huge red flag!).

And when he immediately responded with these words: The book our members have been engaging with is Happenstance, my fragile and mercurial writer’s heart leapt for joy. All because one of their book club members shared it as a ‘recent, meaningful read that stayed with them in a quiet but persistent way…became a wider conversation in the group about chance, choice and the subtle turning points that shape our lives.’

These readers had completely nailed the themes of my novel! And then he went on to explain that Happenstance had ‘prompted people to talk not only about the book, but about their own experiences where something seemingly small or unexpected ended up having lasting significance’. By that point I was totally sucked in. I mean, how couldn’t I be? These readers loved my book. It resonated with them. They were talking about it. Buzz was spreading through word-of-mouth. I was officially sold on the proposal, which just goes to proves that for this writer, flattery will get you everywhere. And this was the turning point when I started engaging with my book club contact, with a mixture of trepidation and glee. 

And this is what my writer’s ever-hopeful heart told him in an email:

‘Hi again. I’m thrilled to hear that people are reading and enjoying Happenstance. Putting a book out into the world is a huge leap of faith for a writer. And just knowing that someone, anyone, is connecting with my words and thoughts is utterly uplifting!’ And onward I went, asking him to share whatever he could about this exciting concept. And so he did.

So it was with unbridled enthusiasm that I proceeded to continue communicating with this person. With his encouragement, I actually spent three hours putting together a series of book club thoughts and questions that would help guide the discussion during our session, which he said he would share with his members. We had even settled on a date. Until this happened…

I also want to share one important coordination detail transparently and early. For featured author conversations, we do attach a small coordination fee. 

Pow! The sharp pin that popped my balloon of euphoria. Oh, but apparently not a fee for my participation or time. No, of course not. It’s merely to support the tools, creative element and production work so that they can truly support and honour my book. And then a list of features included in the fee. Which I won’t even get into, because my antennae instantly flew up and I started asking questions, and went into a deep dive, googling the name he was using and the book club he was running, all of which became equally invigorating for a mystery lover. 

First I told him that I needed an explanation, since scamming was already on my radar. He reassured me this was completely above board. I told him that in my 30 or more years as a writer and presenter, people always paid me to present. They arrange everything and paid me. I told him that The Writers Union of Canada expects writers to be paid a set fee for presentations. And he always came back with what I supposed he considered reasonable explanations, mostly to keep on cajoling me while still trying to earn my trust. 

I googled book club scams. Found out the perpetrators used Gmail. He did. Then I googled his name and the caricature image he was using as a front. I found it on another person’s website in the same city, Austin. So I asked my scammer if he was the same guy. And he told me no, they were two different people. The next time I looked him up, his image had been removed from the signature at the end of his emails. I asked him to send me testimonials and proof from others who had participated. And what he sent me looked low quality and super sketchy. 

Finally I asked if I could participate without paying up front, in a roundabout way. 

‘So what you’re saying is that if I decide to opt out of contributing, then the event won’t even be happening? Because earlier you mentioned that the contribution is optional. Or maybe I misinterpreted your meaning.’

He completely avoided a direct answer, said paying would enhance the presentation.

‘It’s not about paying to participate, it’s about making the experience professional, memorable and impactful for everyone.’

Yeah, okay buddy. That was when I blocked him. 

I like to believe that I learned something from this. What I learned is that AI has an incredible vocabulary and is practically sentient, and you can easily be duped by it. How else was he able to capture the essence of my novel, which is what sucked me in initially. And I also like to believe that I was playing him right back for a while, asking him questions and putting him on the spot, and pointing out his deception. And now, well, I have a great book club guide, if anyone should ever decide to read my novel for their book club. 

This is a cautionary tale, since most seasoned writers are well aware these scams are happening constantly, yet many writers are unfortunately falling for them. This particular scammer had it down to a fine art and everything he told me is what any insecure writer is always thrilled to hear. Somebody liked my book!

So don’t be fooled like I almost was. Just press ‘delete’ and move on. 



Saturday, July 4, 2026

Advice From A Nokota Horse by Julie Christen



   


For all the Nokota warriors out there.

Past. Present. And future.


Know who loves you. 

    Know who does not. 

        Behave accordingly.


Read the room.

Roll with it.

Figure out how to get along.


Be an easy keeper. 

If you get hurt, 

        Walk it off.


Protect your family. 

    Keep them close.

        Fight for them if you have to.


Listen.

    Learn.

        Adjust.

            Try again.

Imperfection can be perfect.


When you look at someone,

    Look into their soul.

Believe actions before words.

Never let anyone get away with a lie.


Keep good memories forever.

    Let bad ones heal in time.

Forgive.


Always long for the prairie.

Work the wind-blown effect like a supermodel.

Help your friends fight the pests.

Never deny yourself a good butt scratching.


Watch the weather. 

    Nap in the sun.

      Enjoy a rain shower.  

        Aim your rear at the storm.


Slow down.

Appreciate quiet.

Think before you act.


Show compassion.

Remember that everyone has a story. 

    Including you.





Wednesday, July 1, 2026

Riel Brava returns -- to shelves and his roots by donalee Moulton

My first mystery book, Hung Out to Die, was published in 2023. It featured CEO and psychopath Riel Brava. Riel is about to make a return appearance next year. Writing the second book in the series has got me thinking about the first book. Below you’ll find some questions I’ve been asked about Riel – and my answers.

 


ORDER HERE 

The Riel Brava Mystery Series

 

What inspired the first book?

A bath. I’m a big believer in bubbles, candles, scrubs, essential oils, and music with birds chirping in the background. Friends call this bathroom time my shrine. One night immersed in a lavender cloud I realized it was time to begin writing my mystery. Get off the pot kind of thing. That led me to a litany of possible characters and crimes. Through the mist Riel emerged. Not fully formed but outlined enough that I wrote down my ideas before I even moisturized.

Describe the setting, lifestyle, ethnic and personality profile of your main character Riel Brava.

Riel, at least on the surface, is an unusual character for me. He’s male. Quintessentially male in many ways: confident, fit, good looking, charming, ambitious. He also has a distinctive personality trait; he’s a psychopath. The kind of psychopath that often succeeds in a corporate structure that calls for dispassion.

An American, Riel is currently living in Nova Scotia and working as CEO of the Canadian Cannabis Corporation. He aspires to return to the U.S. and run for president. First, he wants to hone his leadership skills and cement his business credentials.

Riel lives between worlds. His first name is Gabriel; his adoptive parents’ last name is Brava. Riel is neither French nor Latino. In that same way, Riel is a successful man in a competitive world, but it is a world he does not identify with on fundamental levels.

Define the point of view in the narrative and what or who influenced your decision to implement it.

This question reminds me that I made decisions I was not aware of making. POV was one. Perhaps it was the path of least resistance, perhaps it was that Riel emerged fairly well formed from the bathroom fog, but it never occurred to me that this book would be written in any other voice than his. That non-decision, of course, meant from a plot perspective that Riel had to be involved in the scattering and solving of clues. That was challenging at times.

Who are the core cast of returning characters in the series?

There are characters who play a central and secondary role next to Riel.

Tiffany Brava. Riel’s wife and loyal supporter. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Tiffany knows Riel is not quite like everyone else – and she knows why. For now, that door is closed. What’s openly obvious is her affection for her husband, her loyalty, and her acumen. Don’t count Tiffany out as the dumb blonde. Oh yes, she’s vegan.

Franklin Raynes. The Halifax Police Department’s lead detective on this case is Black, characteristically Nova Scotian, and a consummate charmer. He can read the room and respond accordingly. He takes a shine to Riel and also realizes how helpful the psychopath can be in solving this case. (Yes, Lin Raynes is privy to Riel’s deepest secret, but he doesn’t admit it to his new friend – just yet.) Oh yeah, Raynes also does this thing with his left eyebrow.

Senator John Williams. Tiffany’s dad | Riel’s father-in-law is the Democratic Senator for District 19. A seasoned and senior politician, Williams is a co-owner of the Canadian Cannabis Corporation, although it’s not an asset he talks about with constituents. He’s brusque, except where his daughter is concerned, and well connected, even in Canada.

Zahra Bashir. A practising Muslim and savvy TV reporter who’s always on the lookout for the inside scoop. Bashir makes many of the other characters very nervous despite her friendly demeanor.

David Clements. The recreational cannabis sector in Canada is heavily regulated. Clements is the federal contact for Riel. Their relationship is one of power and powerful expectations. Clements holds that power. Although a minor character, Clements plays an important role. He’s the first person to use a special word.

There are two returning characters who surprised me: Tiffany and Marcia, Riel’s executive assistant. They took on lives of their own despite my preconceived notions. Another character, the victim’s son, Bran, also became much more fully formed and essential than I had originally imagined. I’m debating whether to bring him back.

Give a glimpse of the research involved in developing the story.

There were key elements to the story that had to be authentic, at least in a fictional context. I have done a lot of reporting on the cannabis industry and have had the opportunity to tour a cannabis production plant before it opened. Likewise, for years as a freelance journalist I wrote on the health sector and health issues, including mental health and personality issues. As a communications specialist, many of my clients were from this sector.

How long did Hung Out to Die take to complete from concept to final manuscript readiness for submission to literary agents and publishers?

A year. There is part of me that thinks I dicked around too much that year. There is another part that thinks that time helped to better formulate characters and plot.




Monday, June 29, 2026

Two Hundred and Fifty Years


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https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/722879

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/search?query=Juliet+Waldron&ac=1&ac.morein=true&acsrc=gsp&ac.author=Juliet+Waldron&fcsearchfield=author&fclanguages=en&ssId=2LboBEueoN3xEOmskgn4t&sId=f585ccc3-6654-4c6b-a04b-7f2e8fe6b67d




Please excuse these ancient links--having tech problems, as it changes faster than I can. These are old-timey control/click links, but will take you to the book through a blue redirect notice. The only links to all my books are now on B&N and Kobo, which actually show every one. Amazon is currently FUBAR.


Here is the opener of A Master Passion, the story of Alexander and Elizabeth Hamilton. This is another 'wife of a famous man' story, related in a way to my Mozart's Wife, but certainly the personalities and the civil landscape in which these actors were enclosed is far different, a continent apart. Hamilton had a rough childhood and he had to fight for respect doggedly in order to overcome the stigma of a "bastard" birth.  

Hamilton has been in my imaginary life since my eleventh year and so telling this story was important to me. Of course, no one back in the fifties was going to discuss any of this. The Founders were revered and white-washed in ways many contemporary historians and readers can acknowledge. Two hundred and fifty + years ago, status was fairly well locked in at birth. You were born a gentleman, with all the privileges and open doors that entailed--or, you were not. Hamilton had to fight for his place among the upper class men with whom he spent his life politicking and working. He was, in a way, the clerk to the revolutionary generation, a self-educated lawyer and businessman. Jefferson got the monument, but it was Hamilton who did the unglamorous work--laid the bedrock--for the trade and technology that made us a world power.  250 years of America, standing on shaky ground.  I recently learned that the Athenian republic, to which our Constitution is so profoundly indebted, lasted only this long. I hope it's not an omen.  

Sharing a sick feeling, Alex and Jamie Hamilton stood on barefoot tiptoe and peeked through flimsy wooden louvers, all that separated the rooms of their small West Indian house. Both boys were red-heads, but there the resemblance ended. Eleven year old James was well-grown and strong. Alexander, seven in January, was delicate, fast-moving and nervous, like a freckled bird.

“An idiot would have known not to trust him.” The beautiful dark eyes of their mother flashed. Rachel faced her husband, a slight man of aristocratic feature, who wore a white linen suit. Like him, it had seen better days. His wife’s tone was challenging, her arms akimbo. Her stays, containing a generous bosom, rose and fell.

 “I—I—took him for a gentleman.” Father sputtered, attempting to fall back upon a long ago mislaid dignity. “He gave me his word.”

“His word!? Which means bloody nothing! How many times did I tell you what was going to happen? How many times?”

“Shut your mouth, woman!”

A sharp crack sounded. Rachel, hair spilling from beneath her cap, staggered backwards, cheek red. From the kitchen came the fearful keening of Esther, their mother’s oldest slave.

“There’s naught canna be dune noo!” James Hamilton, his long face flushed, roared the words. Scots surfaced whenever he was angry.

“Yes, nothing to be done. As usual.” A livid mark glowed upon Rachel’s face, but she, with absolute disregard for consequences, righted herself and finished what she had to say.

“This time Lytton’s going to let you go. And if you can’t even manage to hold a job with my kinfolk, where will you get another? What are we supposed to live on? Air?”

In spite of the fact that it was winter on the island, the best weather of the entire year, Alexander shuddered. Distilled fear slid along his spine.

How many times in his short life had he watched this scene replayed? Listened to Mama shout Papa’s failures, watched as his father, humiliated and enraged, used his fists to silence her? A business deal gone bad! More money lost…

Will we have to move again?

Every change of residence, from Alexander’s birthplace on cloudy Nevis, to St. Kitts, and from there to St. Croix, had carried them to smaller houses and meaner streets. The carriage, the two bay horses and the slaves who tended them, were only a memory.

Mama was shrieking now, about loans and due dates, things which she declared “any fool” could understand. Frozen, knowing what would surely come, Alexander watched as his father, crossing the room in two quick strides, caught his mother by the shoulders.

With the strength of rage, he threw her like a rag doll. She struck the wall so violently the flimsy house shook. The tiny emerald lizards stalking the mosquitoes drawn by candlelight vanished into shadow.

Silenced at last, Rachel crumpled against the floor, sobbing. Her once gay calico dress, muted by many, many launderings, lapped her. The under-shift, always scrubbed to a sea-foam white, drifted from beneath.

James Hamilton, breathing hard, blind with rage, tore open the door and strode past his cowering, terrified sons. For the last time, Alexander saw his father’s face, a sweating mask of fear. 

**************************************************************************







Hamilton as a young man. This locket would have been painted sometime soon after his arrival in America, when he'd just begun to recreate himself as a gentleman, catching up on the Latin and Greek that his haphazard, mostly self-taught West Indian education had not sufficiently provided and which was necessary for him to be admitted to a King's College (now Columbia). Living in St. Croix, he'd been working for a living--since his eleventh year--in a merchant's office, which was the place from which the priceless knowledge came that made him the perfect first Secretary of the Treasury and treasured right hand man of George Washington.
 

A handsome reenactor at Saratoga battlefield, who obligingly stopped his equally handsome horse for a picture.

The Schuyler house in Albany, set up for whist and port. Here, in front of that same fireplace, as was Dutch custom, Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler, were married during a winter lull in the Revolutionary War. 




Juliet Waldron



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