Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Books I have written

A  cozy Mystery
Janet Elizabeth Lynn


          After three lonely Christmases, Elaine Cooper, a forty something divorced mother of three teenage daughters says farewell to her two quarts of eggnog.
          Bravely, she puts her chin to the wind and picks the bugs out of her teeth to enter the uncharted waters of dating.
          Her life makes a radical course change when five men enter her life while she is busy keeping up with three teenage daughters and dealing with an obnoxious ex and his cutesy young trophy wife.
          When she discovers things don’t add up at the pharmaceutical corporation where she works as a CPA, Elaine wonders if she should blow the whistle on them. But if she does, will it put her family and her co-workers in danger?


I was born in Queens, and raised in Long Island, New York until I was 12 years old. Then my family escaped the freezing winters and hurricanes to the warmth and casual life style of Los Angeles.
It has always been my dream to write novels. Finally, in 2001 I decided that if I don’t try I’ll never know. After many classes and seminars, much blood and sweat my first novel was published. South of the Pier in 2011. That was it, I can’t seem to stop writing and researching. To date I have 8 novels, 4 crime fiction, and 3 cozy mysteries. I also co authored 2 Noir mysteries set in 1955 with my husband, Will Zeilinger.
I am a Clinical Speech Pathologist and have enjoyed my profession since 1980. I have traveled to the far reach of the planet for work and for pleasure ending up with wonderful memories, new found friends and a large basket of shampoo and conditioner samples from hotels.

Friday, December 11, 2015

Books I Have Read

St. Nick
A Christmas Cop Novel
Alan Russell

When Santa Claus is a cop, you better watch out.
It’s not looking like a very merry Christmas for San Diego cop Nick Pappas. Suspended from his job, alienated from his family, and persecuted by the press, he’s sorely tempted to turn his gun on himself. Except for his first name, he couldn’t possibly have less in common with jolly old St. Nicholas. But when a local mall decides it needs a secret Santa to help collar some vicious muggers preying on its holiday shoppers, Nick’s persuaded to red-suit up so as to take the naughty punks down and avert a ho-ho homicide
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In 1990 Walker & Company published Alan Russell's first book, "No Sign of Murder," which received positive reviews, including a standalone rave from The New York Times. The work was followed up by "The Forest Prime Evil" and comedic mysteries "The Hotel Detective" and "The Fat Innkeeper," which won him The Lefty award, given to the best comedic mystery of the year and a Critics’ Choice Award. His novel "Multiple Wounds," a psychological thriller earned him a nomination for both an Anthony Award and the Macavity Award for best novel of the year. Russell then published "Shame," a novel of psychological suspense. His next books, "Exposure," "Political Suicide," and "Burning Man," have been categorized as suspense novels.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Books I Have Written

Janet Elizabeth Lynn and Will Zeilinger
The Pacific breezes blow many things in from the ocean, this time its power, greed, and murder. At the dawn of the television age in 1955, Skylar Drake is called to identify the remains of a fellow movie stuntman found buried in a shallow grave. While there he is shown mysterious wounds and strange tattoos on two additional bodies.
A wealthy Bel Air matron sends her enticing niece to enlist Drake’s help in locating a missing nephew. The search takes him back to pre-statehood Hawaii where he stopped off on his way to the hell of the Korean War. Unexplained deaths, politics and superstitious locals turn the tropical paradise into a nightmare where nothing is what it seems and no one can be trusted.

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The two men looked directly at me.  “I’m Drake.  Can I help you?”
Dolan stood right behind me.
“I’m Agent Miller, this is Agent Tanner.” They flashed their badges, “We want to talk to you Mr. Drake.” Miller looked past me and frowned at Dolan.
“I’ll just wait out...” Casey moved toward the door.
I put my hand on Casey’s shoulder. ”This is my partner Casey Dolan, anything you have to say to me you can say to him.”
They shrugged and stepped inside.  “Let’s go in your office.” I  showed them inside, as sweltering as it was.
Miller put his hat on top of the file cabinet.  Tanner kept his on.
“We are investigating the disappearance of a Mr. Ted Stone.  You're a known associate of his.  Is this true?”
“Sure, I know Teddy.  We worked on a few films together.” I sat back in my chair while Casey stood by the door, “His sister Florence and I used to do stunts for Prestigious Studios a while back.  Teddy started about a year later... you say he’s missing?”
“His sister reported him missing a year ago.  Our records show you were one of the last people to see him before he disappeared.” 
“You said a year ago?” I thought for a moment,  “Yeah, that sounds about right.  It was a war movie.  There was a battle scene and we had to fall out some windows and off a moving truck like we’d been shot, y’know.  This was before...” I stopped myself.  They didn’t need to know about my law suit with the studio brass.
“Before what?” Agent Tanner asked.
“Before my last stunt gig with Flo.”
“And the victim?”
“Victim?  I thought you said he was missing.”
“Just tell us about your last job.”
“Well, Teddy and I shared a dressing room.  It was about midnight when we finished the night scenes.  After we changed and dropped our costumes off at wardrobe, we left for breakfast.  That was about two in the morning.  I took the bus home, and I guess he drove.  I never saw him again after that.  Flo and I did a shoot at the studio the following month.  She told me she was going to Washington to get married.  That was that.”
The two agents took notes on everything I said.
Casey spoke up, “Do you mind if I ask what prompted this recent investigation?”
Miller put his pencil in his ear, “We found a man’s remains in the Arizona desert.  Our medical people said he was buried for about a year, so we only have bones, clothes, few personal items and his wallet.  There was nothing in it except for his SAG membership card.” He paused, “The Union said you worked with him.  We found you in the phone book.”
Agent Tanner pulled a cellophane envelope out of his pocket containing the card.  There was Teddy, staring back at me. “Yes, that’s Teddy and that is what he looks like.”  I showed it to Casey.  He took a look and handed it back to Tanner.
“We’re unable to locate his sister, do you know her married name?”
I thought hard, “I don’t believe she told me.  No.  She never mentioned it.  Flo just said she was leaving the business to get married and move to Washington.”
“The remains are at the  LA County Coroner’s office.  Since we can’t locate next of kin, we’d like you to stop by and ID what you can.”
I looked at Dolan.  “What do you think?” He nodded.
We met them at the Coroner’s office and waited for the Medical Examiner to get back from lunch.  Casey called the hospital, Bev had gone home.  He called his house, no answer.  “I’m not worried,” he said.  His eyes said otherwise.
I hadn’t been down here in a long time.  Yep, the same frigid air, smell of alcohol and bleach have never left my mind.  The door swung open and Dr. Harold Logue came in wiping his mouth with a paper towel.  I remember he always ate at the most inopportune times, “Hey Drake and Dolan, LAPD’s two best detectives.  Nice to see both of you.” Logue was an old timer.  We worked a lot of cases with him.  He put his arms on our shoulders, “Sure miss working with you two geniuses.  I could never figure out how you caught all the bad guys.  These youngsters they got in here now are...” He stopped when he saw the young FBI agents standing by the wall.  “Oops, sorry.  No offense,”  and shook their hands.
Agent Miller kept hold of Dr. Logue’s hand and said, ”We're here to see the remains of Ted Stone.”
“Yes sure, come this way,” Logue said.
He had the bones laid out on the table, a complete skeleton.  How was I suppose to ID the remains of Teddy from this?
“I don’t know if this will help you,” Agent Tanner said,  “but here are the clothes we found, his accessories and wallet.”
The clothes looked like his.  I knew him as a rather classy dresser when he wasn’t working. 
“We found a hundred dollar bill hidden in the wallet.” Miller remarked
“You can’t trace the bill?”
He shook his head, “We tried, nothing.”
I knew Teddy well enough to know he didn’t carry so much cash around.  “He was a Las Vegas hound.  We’d get paid.  He’d go to Vegas and blow the wad, all of it - then come back broke.  He was a real gambler and big with the ladies.  I’m not surprised he had that much cash, but he seldom carried it around.  He either banked it or lost it.”
“And the clothes?” Agent Miller lifted his pencil from his notepad to point at the clothing spread on a different table.  Dolan and I spent time looking at what they found. “Shirt, tie, suit, vest, socks, pants.  It was all there.”
“What about these?” Tanner asked.
On the counter was an assortment of gaudy men’s rings, a tie bar, gold cuff links, bracelets and a watch.  We knew not to touch them.  It looked like his stuff, but something didn’t seem right.  I took another look at the clothes and jewels, but couldn’t put my finger on it.
I straightened up, “Seems like his stuff.  It’s been a while.”
“How do you think he died?” Dolan asked Logue.
“You knew him Mr. Dolan?” Miller asked.
Casey crossed his arms and shook his head, “No, we never met.”
Dr. Logue picked up the skull.  “Looks like he was hit in the head with a dull object.  There are also a number of fractured ribs.  I think he was beaten before being bludgeoned.
“Sorry Drake,” Agent Tanner said, “but we have to ask, where were you last summer?”
Wait a second, did they think I had something to do with Teddy’s disappearance?
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Dolan said.  “Part of the summer both of us were on a special assignment in Santa Rosa in conjunction with the LAPD and Santa Rosa PD.”
Miller looked up from his pad, “This can be verified?”
Most of the people who could verify our presence in Santa Rosa are in witness protection, prison or dead.  “Olivia Jahns out of the San Francisco bureau can vouch for our work in Santa Rosa.
“Yes, we know her.  Great agent.” Tanner replied, “We’ll check on that.”
Miller and Tanner were already in the hallway when a light bulb went on in my brain, “Wait, I need to check something again.”
I went back inside with the other three in tow and looked at the clothes.  “These are not Ted’s clothes.  He never would have worn these.”
“How do you know?” Miller looked at his watch.
“Ted Stone never wore such a plain business suit.  He wore tweed or pin stripes.  never plain Jane stuff like this.  And look.  That’s a white shirt, Ted was a blue or gray shirt guy.” I moved to the counter and put on a pair of rubber gloves to pick up the cuff links.  “Are these real rubies?”
Tanner shook his head, “No.”
“What about the other stones?”
“Nope and the tie tack and bracelets are all cheap gold plate.”
I tossed the cuff links onto the counter, “This isn’t Teddy.  He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this crap.  Only the real McCoy for him.  He had a reputation in Vegas.  He needed them for insurance when he ran out of folding money.”
Tanner and Miller scribbled some more notes as I referred them to the jeweler in Pasadena that Teddy used.
“Could he have hit a rough patch and substituted fakes after pawning the real jewels?”
“No, never.  At least not a year ago.  Last time I saw him he was loaded with cash.”
“Well,” Tanner asked, “Who the hell is this guy?”

I hated to leave the cool, dead quiet of the Coroner’s office but Casey and I were starving. We headed for lunch
The front doors were wide open when we arrived at Clifton’s Cafeteria.  It looked like their air conditioner wasn’t working either.  It was miserably hot, but we were hungry. 
We got our food and sat quietly sweating for some time.  “So where is Ted Stone?” Dolan asked.  “and who’s the poor unfortunate fella on the table back there?”
“Maybe Teddy owed gambling debts. He could’ve skipped town and left a dead body for the gangsters to find in his place.” I swallowed half my glass of ice tea, “Well, whoever that was, doesn’t concern me or my business.”
Casey glared, “I do hope you’ll be more concerned about me if I ever go missing.” and took a big bite of his corned beef sandwich.

When they met it was murder... like a real Hart to Hart. Authors Janet Elizabeth Lynn and her husband Will Zeilinger just released the second novel in the Skylar Drake Mystery series, STRANGE MARKINGS, a Noir mystery set in 1950's. They have been writing separately for over a decade and have two more Skylar Drake Mysteries in the works.
Contact information:

Pineapple Haupia
Haupia is a traditional dessert at Hawaiian Luau feast. This dessert is mentioned in the book: STRANGE MARKINGS

1-1/2 c. coconut milk
1/1/2 c. water
1/2 c. +2 TB sugar
1/2c. +2 TB cornstarch
1 c. crushed pineapple, drained

In a sauce pan over medium heat, combine coconut milk, water, sugar and cornstarch, stir until thickened. lower heat, continue to cook 5-10 minutes. Transfer mixture to 8-inch pan. Stir in pineapple. Refrigerate until set about 2 hours.

To serve, cut into 2-inch squares. Serves 8-10

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Friday's Featured Author

Wicked Business
Janet Evanovich

Lizzy Tucker's once normal life as a pastry chef in Salem, Massachusetts, turns upside down as she battles both sinister forces and an inconvenient attraction to her unnaturally talented but off-limits partner, Diesel.
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Janet Evanovich is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Stephanie Plum series, the Lizzy and Diesel series, twelve romance novels, the Alexandra Barnaby novels and Trouble Maker graphic novel, and How I Write: Secrets of a Bestselling Author, as well as the Fox and O'Hare series with co-author Lee Goldberg.

Friday, November 13, 2015

Books I have read

Murder in Trall
Anne Cleeland


From Anne Cleeland comes the first in a captivating new mystery series, following the perilous exploits of two Scotland Yard detectives as they track down London's most elusive killer. . . First-year detective Kathleen Doyle and Chief Inspector Michael Sinclair, Lord Acton, are a most unlikely pair. An Irish redhead of humble beginnings and modest means, Doyle is the antithesis of Acton, the British lord who has established himself as a brilliant but enigmatic figure with a knack for solving London's most high profile homicides. But Acton senses something exceptional beneath Doyle's awkward naivete and taps her to help him with his investigations. And her spot-on intuition is just what he needs to solve a chilling string of murders. 

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Her eyes were five centimeters apart.  Her face was proportioned perfectly; the wide set eyes, the spacing between the zygoma and the mouth, the ratio of chin to forehead to temples. He had taken a photograph of that face when she was unaware and he often studied it after he went home.  He could not help himself.

“I am wretchedly sorry, Sir.” Doyle apologized for the fourth time in the past two hours. She was waiting with Acton in the unmarked police vehicle, the rain pattering on the roof. Although she was cold and miserable she would rather be tortured than admit to it, a demonstration of stoic atonement being needful at present.
“Whist, Constable,” he answered, without taking his eyes from the door of the pub.  They had been staking it for over an hour. 
Cautiously heartened, she stole a quick glance in the dim light at his averted profile and wiggled her toes in her boots keep them warm—she was fast losing feeling. Surely it was a good omen for her future prospects that he was imitating her; he was not one to joke about before lowering the boom. She stole another glance at his impassive face and recalled that he was not one to joke about at all, so perhaps it meant nothing.  Or perhaps it did.  She was Irish with an accent that tended to broaden when she was nervous; the present circumstance serving as an excellent example.
She ventured, “Is there a rank lower than Detective Constable?” 
“Not at present.”
He continued his silent perusal of the pub and did not look at her. Snabble it, she thought, sinking into the seat.  You’re only making it worse; keep this up and he’ll push you out of the car, he will. 
They were outside the Laughing Cat pub, hoping their prime witness would make a reappearance. Doyle had lost him.
“D’you think he has gone to ground, then?” The words were out before she could stop them. Honestly; what ailed her that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut? Acton was going to rethink his ill-conceived plan to partner with a first-year and give her the well-deserved boot--it was a rare wonder she had lasted this long.
It was indeed one question too many and Acton turned to meet her eyes.
“I’m that sorry,” she offered yet again, feeling the color flood her face. 
The Chief Inspector had been most displeased when he discovered she had allowed Capper to trick her. She knew this only because the words delivered in his modulated public school voice had become clipped. The signs were subtle but she was alive to them--it was a survival mechanism, it was.
 The witness had been a fellow Irishman, from Limerick, who was coming to meet with the murdered man. Doyle was never to discover the purpose of his visit because the aforesaid witness, a man named Capper, had neatly given her the slip.  He had thought to show her the tack room as a likely place to search for evidence, all the while expressing his profound shock at the horse trainer’s murder.   So helpful he was, in his low county manner, that she had abandoned protocol and had gone in before him. The door to the room had then locked with a snap and she was left alone in the darkness, breathing in the scent of worn leather and muttering Gaelic curses. She was forced to ignominiously text Acton on her mobile to request a rescue and after springing her free, her Commanding Officer had told her in all seriousness that she had taken a huge risk and was lucky not to have been shot. He never raised his voice nor changed his tone but she was thoroughly ashamed of herself all the same; she wouldn’t care to lose his good opinion. She knew--although she couldn’t say how she knew--that she indeed held his good opinion. Or had held it until this latest misadventure in the tack room.

Anne Cleeland holds a degree in English from UCLA as well as a degree in law from Pepperdine University, and is a member of the California State Bar. She writes a historical series set in the Regency period as well as a contemporary mystery series set in New Scotland Yard. A member of Romance Writers of America, The Historical Novel Society and Mystery Writers of America, she lives in California and has four children.; @annecleeland

Friday, November 6, 2015

Books I have read

Will Zeilinger


Photographer Ben DeCastro drives in sports car rallies on weekends.  He discovers an abandoned rally car in the California desert with a headless corpse in the trunk. As a volunteer firefighter, he joins in the search for the missing drivers.  His life veers off course when their fingerprints are found on his garage door.  The FBI looks at Ben as a suspect. This hurts his professional reputation, and cramps his dating efforts with the women in his building.  An assortment of friends and neighbors try to help him with his circumstances, but cause more problems in the process.  How does he get out of this mess?

“You are such a party pooper Ben DeCastro.” slurred out of her mouth as I sat her down in the passenger seat and buckled her belt. I was hoping the ride back with the top down would provide enough fresh cool air to clear her head. But as we headed down the hill toward the long stretch of road at Bolsa Chica State Beach she started singing the theme from “Green Acres” - an old TV show on the retro channel and waving her arms above her head in the slipstream.
Suddenly she leaned over and wrapped her arms around my neck, “I love you Ben.” followed by three more choruses of the theme song. Then she started to cry.
“Are you okay?” I asked as she wept on my shoulder.
“No.” she mumbled, “You didn’t say you love me too.” and started to cry on my shoulder again. I thought maybe I should drive a little further up PCH. Maybe she needed more air and because I couldn’t imagine myself getting her up to her apartment in this condition. I reached over to smooth her skirt back down because the wind had bunched it up on her thighs.
“Ben, Ben,” she shook her finger at me while at the same time parting her legs slightly. “Just what do you thing we are doing?” slid out of her now smiling mouth.
“I’m just trying to put your clothes back in place. What are you doing?”
“Who me?” she pointed at her chest, “I was just helping you.”
“Just sit still, Jessica.” I got her skirt back where it should have been so anyone in a vehicle taller than mine wouldn’t get a free show. “I think you have too many Mojitos in you.”
“You think so? I’ll fix that.” With that statement, she turned away from me and threw up over her side of the car. “Sorry Ben... but I don’t feel very well,” and did it again.
I know it sounds selfish but that put the lid on anything further with Jessica tonight and I could just imagine what the outside of my car looked like. I turned around when I got near the roundabout in Santa Serena and headed back to Seagull Beach. Jessica put her head back on the seat and closed her eyes for the rest of the ride back home.
She was fast asleep as I pulled up to the garage. Her side of my car looked and smelled like I’d imagined so I took her keys out of her purse. Luckily she was light for someone around five-foot six. I picked her up and carried her to the elevator. Her shoes were missing and probably still in my car. This woman sleeps like a log but while waiting for the elevator I looked at her face. It was very pretty - even with the little bit of drool on her cheek. The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. There was Molly. Her eyes grew wide as her mouth dropped open.
“Hi Molly.” I tried to act like everything was normal.
“Hello Ben?” She backed around us and stood by the open door staring while I turned sideways and slipped into the elevator with Jessica, who’d stopped singing, in my arms.
“She’s asleep - not feeling very well.”
Molly fanned her hand in front of her scrunched-up face, “Yeah, I can tell. Whew!”
As the doors closed, I said, “Well, I’ll see you around... G’night.” Jessica stirred in my arms a little and snuggled her face into my shoulder. I managed not to hit her head on the wall when I carried her down the hall to her door. Juggling her keys I opened her apartment door and took her inside.
I hadn’t been inside her apartment before since she talked to me at the door when we met. It was very neat and clean. Her bedroom door was open so I took her in and laid her on the bed. Her eyes were still closed when her arms came up around my neck and she moaned, “Oh Ben, don’t go.” I didn’t say a word as I carefully peeled her arms from my neck and quietly slipped out of her apartment, locking the door behind me. As I turned around Molly was standing right behind me in the hallway.
“Did you follow me up here?”

He has been writing for over twelve years. During that time, he took novel writing classes and joined writer’s groups, but what has helped the most are published authors who mentor, encourage, critique, and listen to him while he continue to learn the craft.  
Most recently Will and wife, Janet Elizabeth Lynn (also an accomplished author), co-wrote Slivers of Glass, a noir murder mystery set in 1955.  At the time of this writing, Will has published three other novels (Ebooks.) The Naked Groom, Something’s Cooking at Dove Acres, and The Final Checkpoint (also in print).
As a youth Will lived overseas with his family. As an adult he has traveled the world with Janet. He says that finding time to write while life happens is a challenge.

Contact info:
Twitter:  @Will_Zeilinger

Friday, October 23, 2015

Friday's Featured Author

Deputy's Bride
Anita Philmar


Deputy’s Bride is an erotic, historical western that is a stand-alone story with a satisfying HEA. Texas Deputy Bo Kildare is looking for a special kind of lady, one that is willing to meet his special requirements. No sweet little virgin will do, he wants a woman who knows how to please a man, perhaps two.

 Recently widowed, Sarah Elizabeth Foster-LaFever has lived in the public eye for the last few years and wants out. Her reputation as Micah LaFever’s wife has left her penniless and without many viable options until Bo comes calling. Now, she believes she found the perfect man until her past rears its ugly head.

Can murder and corrupt dealings keep these two lovers from making it to the alter?


“God, when is he going to get here,” Sarah muttered and strolled to the freestanding, oval mirror in the corner.
Critically, she examined her silk dressing gown’s high collar. Unable to breathe with every button running down the front of garment secured, she’d only connected a few at her waist. The dark red robe highlighted her creamy complexion and light blonde hair.

Through the open at the top, she viewed the curve of her breasts and the tight fit of her corset. The cream color almost matched her skin, creating the illusion that she was nude underneath. Tugging aside her wide skirt, she examined the long line of her legs. She’d opted to omit her bloomers. One, because with the fire raging in the fireplace, she was hot. Two, because she thought Mr. Kildare should get a glimpse of what he’d receive if he decided to make her his wife.

 Granted from what Madeline had told Sarah, the man wanted more than a dutiful wife. He sounded as if he were more like her deceased husband. Micah enjoyed playing extreme bedroom games.

 She frowned, thinking how much she’d missed sex in the last year. Not because she hadn’t had the chance to indulge. More because she hadn’t wanted to fall victim to the same power hungry crowd that Micah had belonged. She’d done enough for those bastards and she had no intentions of doing... 

Knuckles hammered against her door.

 Brushing a nervous hand over her hair, she offered up a silent prayer that everything would work out before she rushed back to the doorway. After a quick breathe, she asked, “Who is it?”

 “Bo Kildare, I was sent by Madeline Cowden.”

A masculine tone rang from the other side.

 His voice alone sent shivers racing over her skin. She flipped back the lock and inched open the door. “Yes, she said you might be stopping by.”


Anita Philmar likes to create stories that push the limit. A writer by day and a dreamer by night she wants her readers to see the world in a new way.
Influenced by sci-fi programs, she likes to develop places where anything can happen and where erotic moments come to life in a great read.
Naughty or Nice?
Read her books and decide.


HolidayRecipe for
Super Easy Fudge

1 (8 oz.) semi-sweet chocolate bits
1 (14 oz.) can Eagle Brand milk
1 tsp. of instant coffee
Dash of salt
1/2 to 1 c. nuts
1  tsp. vanilla

Melt bits in milk over low heat, remove from heat and instant coffee, nuts and vanilla. Spread in lightly buttered 9 inch pan; chill until firm, cut.
Remove from pan. Store at room temperature.
Better after 24 hours.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Books I have Read

Elizabeth Haynes

Two women share one fate. A suspected murder at an English Farm. A reported suicide at a local quarry.

Can DCI Louisa Smith and her team gather the evidence and discover a link between them, a link which sealed their fate one cold night.

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Elizabeth Haynes grew up in Seaford, Sussex and studied English, German and Art History at Leicester University.

She currently works as a police intelligence analyst and lives in Kent with her husband and son.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Books I have read

Linda O. Johnston
While visiting her friend Wanda, Kendra Ballantyne sets off a squabble over the building's animal policy. One week later, an anti-pet board member is found dead in Wanda's apartment. Now, Kendra must start sniffing around for the real killer.

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Linda O. Johnston's first published fiction appeared in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine and won the Robert L. Fish Memorial Award for Best First Mystery Short Story of the Year. Since then, Linda has had more short stories and novellas published, plus, by the end of 2015, she will have had forty-one novels published, including mysteries and romance.