If I Could Be a Superhero by Julie Christen

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If I could be a superhero…

What kind would I be?

The kind that saves a kitten stuck high up in a tree?

The one who looks into the future as well as to the past?

The type that can fly so high or run really fast?

No. I think I’d do it differently than many people would.

Not rob the rich to feed the poor like some new-age Robin Hood.

Not stop a robber or catch a villain within a cloak and hood,

I think I’d find some different ways to do my kind of good.

I’d conjure up some rain clouds to ease a scorching summer,

Then sing the rain across the land with rock-and-rolling thunder.

I’d listen for all cries for help over every rock and under,

And tend to each and every one, no matter what the number.

I'd fly my pony through clear blue skies out o’er the open prairie,

And in our wake, the flocks and gaggles to the south we’d carry,

Then romp and roam as lookout over all the hills and valleys.

We’ll find the lost and safely get them right back to their families.

In wintertime, I’d carve a path for wildlife to wander,

And ease the route to find a way to clear and open water.

In summertime, I’d be each creature’s personal fly swatter,

And bring some breezes from the north when days grow long and hotter.

I’d find my way to do some good where others might not see.

That’s how it plays out in my mind, and maybe that’s just me,

But that’s the kind of superhero I would like to be.

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First sentence, first page, a first for me by donalee Moulton

Last month I talked about my new book Melt. This month I thought I’d share the opening page with you. It’s a different kind of first page for me, but then Melt is a different kind of book for me.

It’s the second in the Lotus Detective Agency series, and my first sequel. The first book, Bind, introduced three women who meet in a yoga studio and join forces to discover who’s stolen a Patek Philippe watch from what was supposed to be a secure locker. It opens gently basking in the warmth and serenity of the Asana yoga studio. There is no basking in Melt.

The first line came quickly. I deleted it just as quickly. It came back and stubbornly refused to move from top spot. I asked others—writers, editors, friends, wonderful strangers who turned up at my readings—for their opinion. Most liked it. Some loved it. Some shuddered.

Now I get to ask you what you think about the first sentence, and the first page. As you’ll read, there’s a bit of theme in these first 500 words.

https://www.bookswelove.com/search?q=donalee%20moulton

 

 

Excerpt

Luke’s balls are itchy.

His left hand, casually resting on his left thigh, is mere inches from his testicles. He could surreptitiously edge his hand forward and find relief.

“Surreptitiously” is not a word in Luke’s usual vocabulary. It has nothing to do with IQ. Indeed, Luke is smart enough to read the room before he moves his hand a nanometer. He scans the beige walls, the brown tables, the black gowns, the onyx gavel. A courtroom, he concludes, is not the best place to scratch your scrotum. Luke clenches his legs together to stop the itching. Now he has to piss.

Luke looks up to see the judge looking down at him. “I want to confirm your plea. You understand by pleading guilty to trafficking a schedule one drug you could spend 25 years in a federal prison.”

This is not news to Luke. It is not good news, certainly, but it is not a surprise. It is what he has signed on for. Luke’s lawyer nudges him. Luke stands up. He returns the judge’s gaze without malice or defiance. “Yes, your honor, I understand.”

The associate chief justice of the supreme court of Nova Scotia quickly and efficiently takes in Luke’s demeanor, his clarity of voice. She takes in his blue suit, at least one size too large; his tartan tie, with Value Village written all over it; his left hand, which seems to have a small twitch. She looks into Luke Castle’s eyes. She sees what she often sees: fear. What she does not see is hope.

Justice Louise Redmond shifts her gaze to the Crown prosecutor. Then to defense counsel. She reaches for the gavel. “I am not sentencing a seventeen-year-old boy to federal prison before I have a fitness assessment conducted.” The judicial mallet hits its thick round oak base. “Under section 672.11 of the Criminal Code of Canada, I hereby order a comprehensive competency assessment be conducted on Lucas Raymond Castle. Sentencing will follow pending the results of the assessment.”

There is a shuffle of chairs as the lawyers rise. They reach for their files and their briefcases. The court reporter removes the flash drive from the stenograph. The bailiff moves toward the rear door that leads into the judges’ private offices. Justice Louise Redmond is not finished, however. She stands. “I would like to see counsel in my chambers immediately.”  Looking into the public gallery, she locks eyes with an attractive man in a grey suit and black turtleneck that contrasts perfectly with his onyx skin. “Detective Terrell, please join us.”

Justice Redmond walks through the rear door without looking back. The two lawyers look at each other and shrug. They turn to look at Detective First Class Michael Terrell. He shrugs.

Luke Castle scratches his balls.

 

 

  

BWL Publishing New Releases October 2025

 

Amazon.ca: Graeme Smith: books, biography, latest update

There should have been thunder. There should have been lightning tearing the skies and the very heavens weeping. There should have been portents and comets and demons of fire riding skeletal horses of ice-white bone—but if there had been, this would have been a movie. Probably with very artistic lens flare. So there wasn’t. There was a cottage. And a future I was going to make damn sure never happened. Once upon a time...

Janet Lane Walters (Author of Murder and Mint Tea) | Goodreads

Val Heartley is half of a company called We Research. She and her partner have been expanding the business but recently, her partner has been slacking off. Val is frustrated, not only with her partner but with finding a three-bedroom house so her son and mother can move to Rockleigh. While making appointments to speak to realtors, she sees an article. A group of writers are giving a series of lectures about writing a book. Val laughs. With a name like hers Valentina Hartley she should write a romance. After a call and chat with her son and mother, she decides to go to the meeting.

At the meeting, she meets Dana, a woman her age. They chat and Dana knows of a possible place she can rent. There are three bedrooms though one is in the attic. Val agrees to meet Dana for lunch and visit this house. Their talk is halted by the lecture on ideas and how to view them.

Val leaves the meeting to catch up on work she is sure her partner hasn’t done. The hall, porch and parking lot lights are off. She calls a warning but remembers how she counted steps from the ground to the porch and across the porch to the door, she leaves. Just as the lights come on blinding her, she trips and falls over a body whose neck has been slashed. This event changes her life as she is questioned by Kyle, an attractive detective. Though drawn to him, she’s sure he’s taken.

Dean L. Hovey Book & Series List - FictionDB

A break-in at the Two Harbors Public Library leads to the discovery of a tape recording of a song made famous by a local rock band, but with different lyrics. The Whistling Pines residents recall events from the time, reigniting questions about the song and a long-forgotten band member’s death. Revelations about unknown cousins in a family tree, an outbreak of “apiary flu”, a library séance, and a visiting baby’s disappearance from the senior residence all intersect with a 1970s fatal car accident.

S. Peters-Davis Editorial Review for: Whistling Librarian

The prologue begins with a question of ‘what happened next?’ Then it moves on to the characters (workers and residents - each one with their own quirks) at Whistling Pines Senior Resident Home. Peter Rogers runs the place and makes the perfect main character. There’s always something going on that consistently captivates me throughout the mystery. This is book 10 of the Whistling Pines Mysteries series, so most of the characters have grown on me, making me smile, laugh, or wonder what the heck they are thinking, doing, or creating for Peter. I adore all of Mr. Hovey’s books and the additions to this book from Ms. Flagge. I’m never disappointed and am always ready for the next one:)

(1) Roberta Grieve | Facebook

Rosemary Turner longs to leave the confines of her small Norfolk Village to engage in war work. But since the death of her mother, she has felt duty bound to stay at home to care for her father and help him with his parish duties.

She meets Army Lieutenant Simon Spencer who is on convalescent leave after being wounded in the Dunkirk evacuation. He has come to the village with news of Rosemary’s brother who he met at Dunkirk. She is immediately attracted to him but realizes she is unlikely to meet him again. She doesn’t even know where he has been posted to.

She tries to find contentment in looking after the London evacuee in her care, helping her father with his church duties and packing Red Cross parcels for prisoners of war.

Things change for the villagers when the nearby air base is taken over by an American bomber group. Some call it a ‘friendly invasion’ but others are not so sure. Rosemary’s friend Jenny is becoming more than friendly with a US pilot and flirtatious barmaid Peggy seems to be heading for trouble. And when Rosemary meets Master Sergeant Floyd Bowman, he makes it clear he would like to be more than friends. But she cannot forget Simon.

Lots of Ghosts on Prince Edward Island by Eden Monroe

 

 

 https://www.bookswelove.com/search?q=Eden%20Monroe

 

Ahh, Prince Edward Island, Canada’s Garden of the Gulf. It’s also called the Cradle of Confederation because the Confederation Conference of 1864 that laid the groundwork for the creation of Canada, was held in Charlottetown, PEI. Known for its red sand beaches, 63 lighthouses and range lights, fertile farmland, delicious seafood — and of course Anne of Green Gables, PEI is truly a storybook province.

There are also ghosts who call Prince Edward Island home. When I first set out to write the novel Playtime, representing the Island as part of The Paranormal Canadiana Collection, I had several options to choose from. They included, among others, Goblin Hollow, Kings Playhouse, West Point Lighthouse and not surprisingly, the Scotchfort Cemetery where I guess spooky things are expected to take place.

And since PEI sits like an emerald jewel in the sparkling ocean that surrounds it, there are also plenty of ghostly stories involving the sea. That’s where Playtime comes in — in a roundabout way. I’m talking about Yeo House, a must see on the Island’s list of historically and commercially recognized haunted places.

And the connection to the sea? Well, Yeo House was constructed in 1865 by shipbuilding magnate James Yeo, Jr., and one aspect of that mansion in particular caught my attention in terms of creepiness. That was the tiny toy dog on wheels carpenters found hidden in the walls (along with other artifacts of that era) while carrying out renovations.  The appearance of the toy itself is bad enough with its missing nose and mouth, pull cord and one wheel, but there’s more. Once the property had been fully restored and open to the public, staff found that Wheelie, as he came to be known, was given to nocturnal wanderings. Where they’d placed Wheelie following lockup at the end of the day and set the alarm, wasn’t where they found him the next morning. Hence his necessary confinement within a plexiglass box, under which he now glares at the world.

None of the other toys in the room, and there are several, seem to have a penchant for short-distance travel - such as the large wooden rocking horse standing behind Wheelie in the photo below.

  

I have visited Yeo House and discovered for myself there is indeed a weird vibe there. Could it be the vengeful revisiting of overworked servants? Could it be the owners themselves, James and his wife Sarah? I was told that James Yeo, Jr. made good use of the cupola that sits at the very top of the mansion. Before we go any further, let me explain for those who might not know what a cupola is (as I didn’t initially):

Says thisoldhouse.com: “Cupolas are small dome-like structures that sit atop roofs, adding visual interest and character to homes, barns, and other structures. Originally designed to provide natural light and ventilation, cupolas have evolved as iconic elements in various architectural styles.”

The Yeo House is of Gothic Revival design, and while the original master of the house may have welcomed both the natural light and ventilation provided by this architectural feature, it seems James Yeo, Jr. was more interested in another of its benefits. That was to take advantage of an unobstructed view of his shipyard just beyond. From this lofty vantage point he was able to spy on his workers to make sure they weren’t shirking their duties. He could also witness the loading and offloading of his ships, possibly (likely) to make sure there was no pilfering of the cargo, especially since alcohol was often part of that valuable freight. And perhaps this subterfuge was necessary, who’s to say?

I was also told that Sarah (Mrs. Yeo), to make sure she could monitor the comings and goings of the household staff on the floor below, moved her spinning wheel to the head of the staircase and watched while she worked. It seems the couple were diligent overseers, and despite the fact that their wealth at the time is well documented as being substantial, they were determined to make sure they weren’t shortchanged in any way. 

Those surveillance duties were obviously tiring, and James Yeo, Jr. had his own special place to relax in this well-cushioned rocking chair.

 

James Yeo, Jr.

  

Playtime was a fun project. Fictional family, Brody and Jill Sayer and their little girl Della, meet a real-life haunted mansion. I’ve included the back cover blurb in this blog as well:

“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.”

 

Thank you for continuing to share this journey with me. Now, shall we sit down for afternoon tea in the drawing room? Everything has been made ready, and the parlour maid will be along momentarily with our refreshments…

 

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorEdenMonroe/

https://edenmonroeauthor.com

https://books2read.com/Playtime

 

Orange Shirt Day is Tomorrow

 

Fly Away Snow Goose

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Transport to Fort Providence residential school is only the beginning of their ordeal, for the teachers believe it is their sworn duty to “kill the Indian inside.” All attempts at escape are severely punished, but Yaotl and Sascho, along with two others, will try, undertaking a journey of 900 kilometers across the Northwest Territory. Like wild geese, brave hearts together, they are homeward bound.

Orange Shirt Day is a statutory  holiday in Canada, which means that federal workers have the day off, but U.S. readers probably won't be familiar with it. Orange Shirt Day is the brain child of Phyllis (Jack) Webstad, a North Secwepemc woman. It honors those who, like herself, survived the Canadian Residential School system. 

In 1973 her grandmother took six year old Phyllis to town to buy her some new clothes for school, and Phyllis chose a shiny orange shirt. In 1973, such bright "hippy" colors were fashionable and in many native communities across the Americas the color orange signified new beginnings and good fortune. Of course, when she arrived at school, she was stripped of all her clothes, including the precious brand new orange shirt, a shirt she would never see again, no matter how much she wept and begged. Phyllis would never see her grandmother's gift again. 

I have read of far more harrowing stories of things that happened to children in these schools, while researching Fly Away Snow Goose.  These schools, run by private religious organizations, were tasked with "civilizing" the indigenous children, which meant forcing the children--by means of corporal punishment--to speak only English or French and adopt Christianity. The children became unable to speak to their relatives, and thousands of years of culture vanished. When the children, now teens, were finally released, they found they no longer belonged, but had become strangers among their own people. At the same time, they were mostly trained for manual labor and still despised for being "Indian" in the white world. 

Sexual, physical, and emotional abuse occurred in a system which government studiously ignored and barely funded. The brutalized older children in the schools were sometimes abetted by staff in their cruelties to younger ones. On the American side of the border, the mission of the residential school was frankly declared to be "to kill the Indian inside." 

Sometimes more than culture and language was killed, too. Disease was a continual threat to the children, as so many students were herded together into old buildings without adequate sanitation, clean water, sufficient food, or heat. Influenza, pneumonia and tuberculosis (69% of the students at one school) were endemic. Ground penetrating radar surveys recently done on the grounds of one large residential school in B.C., has raised suspicions about a large number of unmarked graves. In many cases, relatives were never notified about the death of a child.

Every Child Matters is the motto of the Orange Shirt movement. Sadly, this is a motto the world at large has yet to adopt. 

~Juliet Waldron

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Before the filles du roi…Desperate to escape her past, Jeanne, a poor widow, accompanies a richer woman to Quebec. The sea voyage is long, one of privation and danger. In 1640, the decision to emigrate takes raw courage, but the struggling colony of Quebec, so far a collection of rough soldiers and half-wild fur traders, needs French women if it is ever to take firm root on the Canadian frontier.