It’s a Wrap – The Conference Review / by Barbara Baker

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Thanks for your suggestions and tips on how to handle my conference anxiety and for checking in to see how it all went. Your curiosity and concern made me blush.

Yes, I did make more than six contacts. Yes, I did attend sessions on networking, promoting and branding. Yes, I did talk to people I didn’t know. Was it nerve wracking? Yes. Did it get easier? Maybe by a hair. I have to admit though - I relaxed more when I was in sessions which dealt with the art of writing versus promoting my writing.

There were so many wise, well-versed and bestseller speakers throughout the weekend, but I want to give a shout out to two of my favourites.

The hilarious and energetic Christine Tsai Taylor held numerous sessions on Networking Sucks. At times there was so much laughter coming from our room that people stopped by to see what was happening. And Christine set the bar much higher than I did. She told us to connect with 100 writerly people throughout the weekend. 100? What? That’s crazy talk.

But like the good students we were, we used her techniques and introduced ourselves to new people. The awkward introductions like ‘is this seat taken’ to ‘nice cowboy boots’ felt a little less uncomfortable by the end of the weekend. Note – I said ‘a little less’.

Another great presenter was Kelley Armstrong with her no-nonsense approach to breaking down the aspects of writing - all the way from that killer opening to sub-plots to setting up the back story so it pays off … an endless list of need-to-know information which, when used correctly, will make the reader turn pages into the wee hours of the morning. I have scads of notes from her sessions and when I came home, I typed out the key points, highlighted my weaknesses and put it on the wall next to my monitor.

All weekend, the hallways hummed with chatter, people comparing notes and discussions about what’s next. By Sunday it felt cool to recognize faces, get the wave, head nod or thumbs up from new comrades. I felt like I belonged.

Here’s a list of a few take aways:

• keep the reader curious but not confused (Kelley Armstrong)
• even a house can be a character if you give it depth (Bradley Somer)
• to avoid getting caught, always clear your history browser (Dave Sweet)
• remember to make small goals – it’s a thrill to achieve them and gives you drive to attain the big ones (Miranda Krogstad)
• in writing, always come in late and leave early (Kelley Armstrong)
• working together we can achieve more than we can on our own (Bradley Somer)
• an unscientific study showed the weight of a human soul is 21 grams (Dave Sweet)
• show don’t tell (this was mentioned innumerable times by many speakers)
• READ IT OUT LOUD – an email, a message, a passage. You’ll be surprised how many errors you find. (Kelley Armstrong)
• be genuine, be generous, be bold (Christine Tsai Taylor)
• give hope, take hope away (Jaunita Violini)
• rigor mortis stops and disappears 24 – 36 hours after death (Dave Sweet)
• RUE – resist the urge to explain (Kelley Armstrong)
• not everyone will like me or what I write or my shoes - I won’t take it personally (ad libbed by me from numerous presenters)

It was energizing and exhausting but coming out of the conference with a number of new insights into writing and promoting techniques was a definite win for me. When Words Collide put on another great conference.

 

Baker, Barbara - BWL Publishing Inc. (bookswelove.net)

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Summer of Lies by Barbara Baker — BWL Publishing

What About Me? by Barbara Baker — BWL Publishing

 

Bernie's Bucket List by Naguib Kerba

 

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Stories along the Road less travelled

Bernie’s Bucket List

Naguib Sami Kerba

On a chilly, damp March day, as I longed for summer's warmth, I received a call from Bernie Fishbein. He shared that he'd always wanted to visit the Blue Jays during spring training in Dunedin, Florida, but the perfect chance had never come. Instead of leaving it to chance, he asked if I'd join him to tick this off his Bucket List. 

Bernie, who retired nearly five years ago, is a perfect example of someone fully embracing retirement. He eagerly explores his passions—whether it's photography, history, or hiking. He's also engaged in his community, serving on the local ratepayers’ association boards and Habitat for Humanity. Having been a good friend for over twenty years, I happily accepted the opportunity to join him. Plus, enjoying some sunshine and crossing an item off my Bucket List was tempting.

On March 23, we braved a snowstorm to reach the airport, only to land three hours later in the warm 28°C sunshine of Tampa Bay.

That first evening in Florida, we explored Dunedin and its baseball park to get familiar with the area. We’d heard that arriving early would allow us to watch the players practice, and I was determined to make this a memorable experience for Bernie.

At the park, I left Bernie in the car while I visited the media centre. There, I met Mal Romanin, the Baseball Information Communications Manager for the Toronto Blue Jays. After hearing about Bernie’s Bucket List dream, Mal kindly invited us back in half an hour.

When we returned, Mal greeted us with two guest passes and took us onto the field. I enjoy baseball, but Bernie is truly passionate about it. As we stepped onto the field, Bernie’s face lit up with pure joy. Not only was he at Blue Jays spring training, but he was right in the action. The crack of the bat signalled that summer was on its way, and it was music to our ears. We spent the next thirty minutes exploring and taking photos. Bernie even got to visit the Jays' dugout, his excitement palpable. Watching the Blue Jays practice and witnessing their camaraderie was a thrill. As we left, Mal gave Bernie an autographed baseball. After our field visit, we enjoyed the game between the Jays and the Braves.

Bernie was so excited by the day that he would have been happy if the trip had ended then. But there was more to come. Each day seemed to bring its own special moments.

We met wonderful people, engaged in fascinating conversations, and gained a new appreciation for Florida’s attractions. Before heading back to the cold, we explored the Salvador Dalí Museum and the Holocaust Museum in St. Petersburg, went on an eco-tour of Tampa Bay and visited its Aquarium, and spent time with friends at Lettuce Lake Resort in Port Charlotte. We also took photography excursions to the Mary Selby Gardens and Fort De Soto National Park. By the end of the trip, we had both checked off attending Blue Jays spring training from our Bucket Lists. Thanks to the Toronto Blue Jays, Mal Romanin, and especially Bernie for making this opportunity possible.

AND NOW FOR THE REST OF THE STORY…

Bernie is a genuinely kind and thoughtful person. He's also quite the sport. After our first trip, I submitted our story and some photos to Mississauga Living magazine, where it was published. At the time, the magazine was available in print and online, and the article was titled "Bernie’s Bucket List." The story quickly made Bernie a local celebrity among friends and neighbours. As a dedicated practical joker, I saw a perfect chance for some fun.

Inspired by the article's success, we decided to recreate the experience, which led to many more memorable road trips. I’ll share more about those adventures later. Our “Boys Trips” included two more spring training visits to Florida, a trip to Fenway Park in Boston to see the Red Sox, and a journey to Nashville. We even embarked on a "Route 66" themed trip that took us through Chicago, Oklahoma City, Dallas, and Memphis.

We embraced Bernie’s good nature by starting a tradition that involved complete strangers in our antics. While I took the lead, others quickly joined in the fun. I’d walk ahead, spot an approaching stranger, and ask if they were up for a little prank. They would then approach Bernie and playfully ask him why he looked so familiar, only to discover he was the “Famous Bernie from the online Bucket List story.” No one ever refused the chance to join in the prank, and it was a fantastic way to connect with new people.

Here are a few of my favourite moments:

In Punta Gorda, at a restaurant, the manager waited until our group of ten had received our meals. She then came out with a printed copy of the article, apologized for the interruption, and asked Bernie for his autograph. She wanted to frame the article and hang it alongside other famous patrons on the wall.

Another memorable moment was at a Best Western hotel in Georgia. The management and staff, recognising Bernie’s celebrity status, eagerly took photos with him and greeted him every time he entered the lobby.

One of my personal favourites happened at Fenway Park. We sat in the front row of the Loge section when a man in Red Sox gear approached Bernie, claiming to know him. Also thinking the man looked familiar, Bernie went through a list of possible connections, including baseball, scouting, and volunteering. Eventually, the man realised he had read about Bernie online and recognised him as the "Famous Bernie from the Bucket List story." This led to a playful punch on the shoulder from Bernie.

During the 2012 spring training at the Baltimore Orioles’ complex, Bernie went to get a coffee. When he returned, many of the Baltimore section began chanting “Bernie, Bernie,” creating quite a spectacle.

We’ve had many other memorable moments like these, and I’ll share more about our famous road trips in future blogs.

As a teaser, here are some of our road trip rules:

·         We’re not rushing to reach our destination. The aim is to discover something special each day that others might overlook in their hurry.

·         We limit driving to six or seven hours each day. As the main trip planner, I estimate the total driving time and divide it by six. For example, if the journey is thirty-five hours long, we spend six nights on the road and have time at our destination.

·         Each driver is limited to a maximum of a two-hour shift behind the wheel at a time.

·         We leave after breakfast, stop for lunch, and make sure we’re checked into our hotel before dinner. We then have dinner and maybe play some games.

 

This is part of the stories on the Road Less Travelled. There are a few more actual stories in this series coming your way.

https://www.nkerba.com/blog/bernies-bucket-list?rq=berni

The Website

https://www.nkerba.com

 

The Book:

Ordinary People, Extraordinary Lives

Ordinary People, Extraordinary Lives

 

 

Red in the Snow by J. S. Marlo

 

Red in the Snow

To buy, click Here

   

 

  

J. S. Marlo's Books

I would like to introduce Raven Brook, an indigenous, hearing-impaired young woman.

Strong and resilient, Raven is a single mom to a cute little boy named Eja. Together with Rusty, a three-legged dog, they live in the forest in Newfoundland, Canada.

Raven is the heroine of my latest novel, Red in the Snow, released last week.

Here's an except:

Eager to go to bed, and forget she missed his funeral, Raven switched off the porch lantern powered by a propane generator.

Darkness reclaimed the clearing where her grandfather built the log cabin half a century ago.

In the silence of the night, the flames dancing in the brick fireplace cast fiery shadows on the dark windows. She added another log to the hearth, one of many she would throw in throughout the night to keep the fire burning. With the cabin warm and cozy, she entered Eja’s room.

Her son slept with his door open and a grey koala bear in his arms.

She pulled the blankets tight around his small body. “Sweet dreams, munchkin.”

Lying on top the blanket near Eja’s feet, Rusty pricked an ear.

“Good night, Rusty.” It still boggled Raven’s mind to recall that Rusty had been waiting on the front porch upon their return from the bridge. The paw prints in the snow had led to Gage’s body—paw prints that Raven had believed belonged to her dog—but now, she wasn’t so certain.

Her dog jumped off the bed and hurried out of the bedroom. Raven found Rusty scratching at the front door with her lone front paw.

“You need to pee again?” Raven released the latch and pulled the door ajar. Bitter cold swept in, permeating her flannel pajamas. She cringed from the chilling assault. “Hurry, it’s freezing outside.”

Rusty took a step backward, turned around, and retreated by the fireplace.

“No game, Rusty.” Raven’s teeth rattled and her skin prickled. “It’s too late to play.”

Snowflakes swirled onto the doormat. In their midst, a red envelope wafted into the cabin, landing near her woolen slippers.

A lump caught in her throat, and shivers not brought on by the severe weather coursed through her body.

She donned her parka and mukluks, grabbed the loaded hunting rifle stowed on the ledge above the door, and ventured outside.

A few weeks back, I received my first review for Red in the Snow:

5 Stars from Between the Pages (Still Moments Magazine)

Red in the Snow was a compelling and heartfelt mystery that blended suspense with emotional depth, centered around a resilient hearing-impaired woman and her son, who face mounting threats in a small town. When threats escalate, an RCMP corporal steps in, not only to protect, but to uncover the truth behind the intimidation. J.S. Marlo crafted a well-paced narrative with richly drawn characters, a sweet romance, and a mystery that keeps readers guessing. An absorbing read from start to finish.

Red in the Snow is available in paperback and ebook. To buy, click Here

Stay safe! Enjoy fall! It's my favourite season.

Hugs!

JS

 

 

J. S. Marlo's Website

Reading by Season by Eileen O'Finlan

                                                                                                                                                                   

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Over the years, I have noticed an interesting phenomenon. At certain times of the year, usually at the change of seasons, I get the overwhelming urge to read specific types of books. Often, just as we are sliding into summer, I get the hankering for historical fiction set during either the American Revolution or the American Civil War. I've no idea why the warmer weather induces such a fancy. After all, those are hardly what most people would call beach reads, but there we are. 

I've never been into the typical "beach read" anyway. The last time I read a book on the beach (many, many years ago), it was The Shining by Stephen King. I was so into it that I completely lost track of time - a common occurrence when I'm reading a good book - and didn't realize that four hours had gone by. I'd been laying on my stomach, propped up on my elbows. I got a massive sunburn and wore the outline of it on my back from my low, scoop-back, one-piece bathing suit for the next two years! Yes, Stephen King books can be dangerous!

Now that we are heading into fall, the temperatures here in New England are beginning to dip, the days are getting shorter, and autumn is definitely on its way, my book cravings are turning to the supernatural. I'm beginning to amass a "to be read" pile of such books, having just finished two of the genre's classics - Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House and Henry James's The Turn of the Screw.

I'm sure I'm not alone in turning to these types of books at this time of year. It makes sense. (Certainly more than yearning for Revolution and Civil War books just because it's summer.) Come the holidays and the long, cold winter, I'll probably start looking for something more cozy. But from now through Halloween, bring on the vampires, ghosts, and haunted houses. 

While it took a year to write The Folklorist, (after at least six months of research), I really got into it the most during the fall. It was exciting to craft a novel that could have been on my own autumn TBR list at the same time I was craving that type of book. I think it helped me write the kind of book I most wanted to read at that moment.

Included in this fall's reading will be books from BWL's Paranormal Canadiana Collection. If Nancy M. Bell's Night at the Legislature is any indication, they are sure to induce plenty of spine tingles!

Of course, I might throw a book or two by Stephen King into the mix. At least at this time of year, I won't be risking a sunburn.

The beginning of my fall TBR

Place by Paul Grant

 

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Place

 Across its empty miles pours the pushing and shouldering wind,

a thing you tighten into as a trout tightens into fast water.

 

Wallace Stegner - Wolf Willow (1955)

 

 

Place is a critical element in storytelling.  It’s the stage on which characters perform, the environment they must navigate, and it shapes who they are.  In Wolf Willow, Wallace Stegner painted an indelible portrait of the prairies  – a place with images that “…lie in me like underground water; every well I put down taps them.”

 

My adopted home town of Moose Jaw is centre stage in Astraphobia, released in July as part of BWL’s Paranormal Canadiana Collection.  In the story, lightning stalks three generations of the McKenzie family as they carve out a place for themselves in the growing city of Moose Jaw.  Saskatchewan has some of the most extreme weather in Canada, including violent thunderstorms and more than 600,000 lightning strikes a year – not the ideal place for someone who is astraphobic.   

 

Moose Jaw also plays a starring role in my new novel Notorious, about murder, meth, and money-laundering in Canada’s Friendliest City.   Notorious is due out in November from BWL.  Stay tuned.

 Paul Grant

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Special Order, a short story by Victoria Chatham

 

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SPECIAL ORDER

By

Victoria Chatham

 

 “I’m sorry, darling, but I’m going to be late.” Royce Pinnell’s deep voice echoed in her ear.

“Oh, Royce! No, not tonight, please.”

“Sweetheart, it can’t be helped. I need to sort out some loose ends on the Blanchard account. I won’t be any later than seven thirty, I promise. Grab a taxi and go ahead. Paul will look after you.”

Carolyn closed her phone.

Seven o’clock at O’Keefe’s, Royce told her last night, with that little boy grin she so loved pulling at the side of his mouth. It was going to be a celebration; he said, a double celebration in fact.

Promises, promises. She’d heard them all. And yes, she knew that Paul, the maitre d’ hôtel at their favourite restaurant, would look after her. He’d had plenty of practice, she thought bitterly.

Carolyn headed upstairs. There was no point in feeling sorry for herself, she thought as she stepped into the shower. But today of all days. Couldn’t he, for once, have been on time? She pampered her hair with a freesia-scented shampoo, cleaned her lightly tanned skin, and when everything was rinsed, reached for her robe and towel.

Once in her bedroom, she opened her wardrobe and took out the hanger with her dress, bought especially for tonight. She held it up, admiring the midnight blue slipper satin beneath an overlay of navy lace, with the round neckline, short sleeves, and empire waistline. She thought it stunning in its simplicity as she slipped the dress from its hanger.

A smile of anticipation lingered on her lips as she pulled the dress over her head and shivered with sensual delight as the cool satin whispered against her skin. She fastened the side zipper and smoothed the fabric over her hips. With the dress on, she reached up and took out the pins from her hair. It tumbled over her shoulders in a mass of blue-black waves subtly streaked with silver. She shook her head, glanced in the mirror again, and grinned at the rumpled, windblown look that she knew Royce adored.

Reaching once more into the closet, she pulled out a pair of stiletto sandals. They consisted of just a few thin straps of leather attached to the heels, which raised her height by three inches and highlighted the curve of her well-toned calves. She slipped her feet into them, fastened the tiny buckles, took one last look at herself, and allowed her smile to broaden into one of satisfaction with her reflection.

 

***

 

The taxi dropped her right outside O’Keefe’s restaurant. Paul, smiling, opened the door for her.

“May I say how charming you look tonight, Mrs. Pinnell,” he said, with a slight bow.

“Thank you, Paul, yes, you may.”

Carolyn smiled at him with genuine pleasure as he guided her to a candlelit table which, she noticed, was set for four. A martini was already waiting for her as Paul pulled out a chair to seat her.

Carolyn lifted her martini. “Thank you.”

He departed with a slight bow. The smile faded from her face as she placed her glass on the table.

The sting of disappointment that Royce could be late today of all days lingered slowly in her heart. Their first meeting had been purely by chance, she sitting with coffee at a busy little sidewalk café, he asking if he could take the only free seat and join her. She hadn’t intended to start a conversation with anyone but couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was.

  Tanned skin and closely cropped hair. Long, black, silky eyelashes beneath well-defined brows. His chin was square, and his jaw was firm. A man who knew what he wanted and would pursue it relentlessly, she had thought then, and she had been proved right.

“Penny for them,” a voice whispered in her ear.

“Royce!” Startled, she looked up, then her blue eyes widened, and she stood up.

Royce took her in his arms, his lips firmly stopping her protests of surprise. Behind him, their son and daughter waited, and when Royce released her, they crowded in with hugs and kisses of their own.

“Happy twenty-fifth wedding anniversary,” they said.

Still stunned, Carolyn gazed at Royce across the table. “So you being late had nothing to do with any of your accounts?”

Royce shook his head. “I had to collect Tracy and Brad from the airport, but I couldn’t tell you that.”

“And Mom,” Tracy chipped in, “you would not believe the trouble we had coordinating flights for Brad from New York and me from San Francisco.”

“But we wouldn’t have missed that look on your face for the world,” Brad said

Royce picked up his menu. “Have you had a chance to decide what you’re having, sweetheart?”

Carolyn looked at her children and husband, still bemused by his little deception, and shook her head. The buzz of conversation faded as she opened her menu. Inside, she found a long, slim envelope addressed to Mrs. Royce Pinnell. Her family watched as she withdrew it. She lifted the flap of the envelope and took out two tickets for a luxury cruise in the Bahamas. The pink, heart-shaped post-it attached to them declared, ‘To Mom and Dad. Happy Anniversary’. There was something else in the envelope too, and she tipped into her hand a diamond tennis bracelet.

Carolyn clutched the tickets tightly as Royce secured the bracelet around her wrist. Her thoughts darted through the years they had spent together. She brushed aside the frustrations and arguments, tuned out the annoyances, relished the pleasures, and smiled at the memories of fun. Tracy and Brad watched her expectantly.

“I don’t know how you managed this,” she said, waving the tickets in one hand and letting the light catch the diamonds circling her wrist. Under their delighted gazes, she pretended to peruse the menu. “I will have,” she spoke slowly, running her finger down the page as if making a selection. She looked at her husband and whispered, “A special order of at least twenty-five more years with the man I love.”

Royce took her hand in his. The promise she saw in his grey eyes brought a smile to her face, then Brad and Tracy caught her attention again with noisy questions, and they were all soon engaged in lively conversation. The smile still lingered on her lips as she pictured Royce unwrapping his gift.

But that would have to wait until much, much later.

 

END

It's All About Relationships

Relationships are a major theme in my writing. Each of my books focuses on how relationships are integral to the making of a good, or possibly bad, human … or possibly non-human. Quirks, uniqueness, or oddities are what I love to focus on. Those weird, non-nuclear familial concoctions inspire me in real life, so that’s what I write. In the end, isn’t it relationships that so many of us seek when we open a book? New friends and family sprawled vulnerably in ink across the page? 

Yes, plot is important. Heaven forbid we stray too far from the ever-present chokehold of the mountain graphic organizer, neatly placing the exposition at the foothills that lead toward the treeline ridge of rising action, which brings us seamlessly up to the climax (or high point if you’re in my 8th-grade classroom), then cascades beautifully downward into the falling action, only to nestle sweetly in a pool of resolution. (Oh my. Was that all just one sentence?) 

We pick our way through the bramble of grammar and syntax, trimming and pruning a neat little path up and down the mountain. But if I’m being honest, and I am always honest, I want to feel something. I want to struggle but trust the author. I want to fight my way through words and paragraphs and chapters with my emotions, relating somehow to at least one character in a way that feels real and a little raw, perhaps. 

I want to see the characters in such a clear light that, if I met them on the street or in a coffee shop, I would recognize them and feel confident to carry on a meaningful conversation with them. Maybe even share a deep, dark secret or dream. I want to know them. And for me, the only way to try to make that happen on my pages is to foster a relationship between each character and their potential readers.

This is a difficult task for me. It takes me time, so so so much thought, and more empathy than I ever believed I was capable of. But, as I have said before, I can do hard things. I might not be able to pump out two or three books a year, but at least I will know with each new story I offer up to the scrutinous eye of readers out there, that I did my best to find them new friends, heroes, families, and maybe even a villain or two.

Inspiration for writing A Killer Whisky, my historical novel from the Canadian Historical Mysteries collection by Susan Calder

 

Remembering the young soldiers, from an article published in Calgary’s newspaper, The Herald, Nov 10, 2018, to commemorate the official end of World War I on November 11, 1918. 

https://www.bookswelove.com/search?q=Susan%20Calder

       Author Susan Calder remember an article in the Calgary Herald about the Vimy Memorial commemorating 100 years since the end of WWII.  

The Canadian National Vimy Memorial towers above the Douai Plains in northern France. The author of the original Calgary Herald article, shares her memories of a trip she made with her husband and grown-up son where she approached the ridge from the west, as the Canadian troops did over 100 years ago. Her description of that trip, served as my inspiration for my WWII novel, A Killer Whisky. 

An Excerpt from A Killer Whisky by Susan Calder

Detective Bertram Tanner strode into Calgary Police Headquarters, his steps lighter than they’d been this morning.  

“How was your walk?” Julia, the receptionist, asked.

“Reflective.”

“I often think while walking too.”

It was too soon to tell his colleagues he might be leaving the police force. “How was your lunch hour?”

“Busy,” she said. “I tracked down balloons for my son’s birthday celebration tonight.”

“Which son?”

“The oldest. He’s ten years old. We decided to limit the party to family due to the flu. He’s disappointed his friends can’t come, but it will be lively with all of us there.”

Julia, a war widow with three children, lived with her parents—the police chief and his wife.

“I phoned my mother after lunch,” Julia said. “She went to every confectionary in town and managed to find all the children’s favourite sweets despite the sugar shortage.”

The chief’s wife was a ball of energy. A leader in the local suffragette and Prohibition movements, she claimed personal credit for Alberta women gaining the vote and the province going dry in 1916.

Bertram went into his office, closed the door, and draped his coat and hat on the coat tree. What work could he do this afternoon? Reports of the Spanish flu’s arrival on a train from Eastern Canada were keeping people away from the pool rooms and dance halls. Calgary hadn’t had a brawl or knifing in a week. Even the criminals seemed to be staying home.

He took out an old file, a robbery scheduled for trial next week. A man broke into a house in the Sunalta neighbourhood and stole $2.75. Disturbed by a noise, he fled through a window but foolishly returned an hour later. Caught red-handed by three residents, the robber could be sentenced to up to a year of hard labour. Bertram tried to organize his trial notes, but his thoughts kept shifting to his plan to leave the police force when the war ended and soldiers came home to replace him on the job. After fifteen minutes, he set the robbery file aside and decided to take a methodical approach to his lunch hour reflections about leaving.

He took out a clean sheet of paper, drew a vertical line down the middle, and titled each side “pro” and “con.”  

The first positive was that his parents would be thrilled when he phoned them to say that by spring, at the latest, he’d move back to Beiseker and fulfill his father’s dream of his only son taking over his grocery store. At thirty-eight, Bertram was no longer bewitched by city charms.

He wrote simpler, quiet life as positive number two. Number three was a question—safer from the flu in the countryside? Number four was look after parents.

While his father had fully recovered from his heart attack last winter, the experience had made Bertram aware that his parents were aging and would increasingly need help. It would be unfair to leave the entire burden to his three sisters, who had all stayed in the Beiseker area. Bertram foresaw hours spent hunting with his father and nephews, numerous birthday parties, daily dealings with people who weren’t criminals. Family connection and better people were reasons five and six.

Seven. The most important. Beiseker was a mere two-hour drive to Calgary and the graves of Nellie and their son. Bertram could still visit them on Sundays, as he did now. Yet he’d be farther geographically from them—farther from his lonely home with its constant painful reminders. That was reason number eight.

The negatives? A year ago, he’d have said his work. But since the death of his wife and son last November, he didn’t give a pat of cow manure about catching criminals and bringing them to justice. He shuffled by rote through cases like the home robbery. What was the point of this job without heart? He liked his colleagues, most of them at any rate, but his friends had all been couple friends. Now, he was the outsider, the third hand in their card games, Nellie the glaringly missing fourth– especially when the friends invited female players to fill her place. He hated their efforts to convince him to move on.

Bertram left the negatives column blank and dragged his attention back to the robbery file. Someone knocked on the door.

Julia poked her head in. “The chief wants to see you in his office.”

Bertram gladly set the file aside. He nodded at constables and clerks on his way to Chief Wilson’s office. The front was glass so the chief could survey the activity at headquarters. He’d been in his position ten years, and no one used his surname anymore. Even his daughter referred to him as “chief” in the context of police work.

Firsts and seconds by donalee Moulton

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My new book, Melt, is a first for me. It’s the second in my new (and first) mystery series, the Lotus Detective Agency. I’ve discovered the joys, and the angst, of going deeper into characters, inventing new plots for familiar people (albeit fictional), and striving to balance the context for those who read the first book, Bind, and those who are discovering Charlene, Lexie, and Woo Woo for the first time.

It’s essential that Melt stands on its own. As part of a series, I’ve also discovered it’s essential Melt gently reminds readers – in their hearts and their minds – about what they enjoyed in the first book. 

Now the question: What happens in book three?

The answer: I have no idea.

 Until then, let me share a little bit about Melt and what you can expect.

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Melt is a mystery. Melt is a story about friendship. Melt is what happens when like minds and divergent hearts come together to prevent a seventeen-year-old boy from going to jail for the rest of his life.

At its heart, Melt is a puzzle. Luke Castle is arrested for transporting narcotics in the back of a food truck. He confesses. Everyone knows the teenager is not the mastermind behind the $6 million in cocaine nestled among 150 sacks of flour. The lead prosecutor, the defence attorney, and the reluctant detective first class hauled into the judge’s office all admit the kid is innocent. The problem is his professed guilt – a confession he refuses to recant. The legal eagles are at a loss. First question that must be answered: Why is Luke Castle lying?

At its heart, Melt is about friendship. Three women met at a yoga studio. They’re now part owners of that studio – after helping to catch a thief. Now, they’re asked to help figure out what is going on with Luke Castle, bringing new approaches and new ways of ingratiating themselves with the likely suspects: drug lord, drug lord’s sons, bitter daughter-in-law, rebellious younger brother. Lending a helping hand brings them together in unexpected and ultimately profound ways. We root just as much for these women as we do for the dealer (or dealers) to be unveiled. There is a cast of regulars, including the police detective and the yoga instructor. Each a three-dimensional, likeable, and flawed human being. (Madoff, a Westie, makes periodic appearances.)

At its heart, Melt is funny and fun to read. It’s like coming home to a steaming bowl of tomato soup on a cold winter day. Comfortable and delicious. Like a perfect downward dog.

 

BWL Publishing New Releases September 2025

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Darkness is often the playground of the supernatural … the eerily unexplained.

Yeo House is a haunted country home in Eastern Canada’s beautiful province of Prince Edward Island. The stately seaside mansion of a shipbuilding magnate and his family in the 1800’s, it was given new life in the twenty-first century. During renovations something unusual was found hidden in the walls — a small toy dog on wheels. Now freed from his wall prison, it seems he’s still being played with by the ghost of the child who once owned him.

When four year-old Della Sayer and her parents visit the historic Yeo mansion to see the famous Wheelie, the little girl makes a strange and powerful connection with the antique toy. It is an unsettling paranormal knowing, a kindred ethereal awareness….

Life for the Sayers will never be the same again.

Editorial Review

JL Cartwright

If you want to be scared out of your wits, then read Playtime. Eden Monroe has really done it this time. Fascinating, realistic, horrifying are just a few of the adjectives that come to mind when I try to describe the events that happen as you read Playtime.

I’m not going to tell the reader any more. There’s just one thing I have to say about Playtime. Read it! What a fantastic, terrible, frighteningly realistic story Eden Monroe has written. This is a great read.

Editorial Review by JL Cartwright

victoria chatham - BWL Publishing

Antiques dealer Monaghan Wilkes has made many enemies in the village of Sixpenny Cross and its surroundings. When he is found dead beside the pond in a local meadow, no one is surprised. Popular opinion targets Monaghan’s long-suffering business partner, Colin Jones, as the murderer. But retiree Winnie Hatherall, a sprightly woman who has lived in the village all her life, is unconvinced.

Detective Inspector Anthony Wallace has an unexpected history with Winnie. He does not like her poking her nose into his case, a sentiment she reciprocates, but he cannot ignore her exceptional talent for knowing what lies behind her neighbours’ lace curtains.

The gentle pace of village life is shattered as Winnie reveals one secret after another. Will her investigation reveal the murderer, or will it lead her into the path of potential danger, making her the next victim?

Editorial Review by JL Cartwright

A Murder in the Meadow was like a trip down memory lane for me, taking me back to the days when I devoured every Agatha Christie and PD James I could get my hands on. I loved those books, and reading Ms. Chatham’s A Murder in the Meadows with the wonderful interplay between the sisters and DI Anthony Wallace and his new protégé DS Rachel Evans was just such a treat.

This is a book that any fan of really good British mysteries is absolutely going to want to add to their library. Wonderful read. Thank you Victoria Chatham. I can’t wait for the next in this terrific new series

J. S. Marlo - Author/Auteure

Snowstorms blow threatening notes onto the doorstep of Raven Brook’s isolated log cabin, but the police give them no credibility. In their ears, Raven’s tarnished reputation resonated louder than her complaints.

While on a snowmobile ride in the forest, Raven discovers the body of the disgraced officer who investigated her foster grandfather’s murder and dismissed her witness statement. Suddenly, the past she tried to escape roars back to haunt her and her young son.

Corporal Landon Steele is posted to a remote understaffed RCMP detachment to fill the position left vacant by a dead officer. As he searches for missing evidence, he stumbles on a string of suspicious deaths linked to his predecessor. His troubling investigation throws him into Raven’s warpath.

Trust is in short supply. Can Raven and Landon lower their guards, share their discoveries, and solve the murders before their fates intertwine in death?

allan billard - BWL Publishing

How was a discharged woman from a fishing village on the west coast of Ireland able to find and market an unending supply of choice seafood from Vinland… long before Columbus or Cabot ever ‘discovered’ the New World? She exhibited the spunk of a proto-feminist, unheard-of in the year 1249. Ultimately, she contrived a mission to defeat the thieves who wanted to keep the fishing grounds secret and opened the doors of the most valuable fishery ever known. She changed the history of our world.