Rumer Haven’s Coattails & Cocktails

Coattails and Cocktails
by Rumer Haven
Genre: Historical Mystery, Romantic Suspense
Publisher:  Fallen Monkey Press
Cover Designer:  RoseWolf Design
Release Date: September 14, 2017



A body clearly shaken, but not stirring…

Summer, 1929. Murder isn’t on the menu when Chicago tycoon Ransom Warne hosts a dinner party at his country estate. But someone’s a victim—and everyone’s a suspect—when drinks and desires lead to disaster.

Hollywood starlet Lottie Landry has returned home to celebrate her engagement. She’s famous for her on- and off-screen romance with co-star Noble, but, privately, she’s having second thoughts. As her former guardian, Ransom doesn’t approve of the match. Yet his own affections raise questions when his wife, Edith, suspects him of having an affair—just as Noble suspects Lottie. Stirred into the mix are Lottie’s friends Helen and Rex, a young journalist and football hero who can feel tension building in the Warne mansion like a shaken champagne bottle.

And once the cork pops, a body drops.

Coattails and Cocktails is where Agatha Christie meets The Great Gatsby, a whodunit spiked with new love and old baggage, public faces and private vices. Filled to the brim with romance and mystery, it’s sure to intoxicate.

Lottie held her saccharine smile for exactly two seconds after the door had banged shut behind Edith. Then she dropped her lips just as fast as she reclaimed her highball from Noble.

“Must she always be so patronizing?” With her free hand, Lottie fanned the lapel of her loose vest away from the sleeveless tennis dress beneath.

“Must you always be so attentive?” Noble cocked his head toward the lawn, his ice-blue irises particularly piercing. “Look, you’ve overheated yourself.”

Lottie turned on her heel to stare him down from head to toe. “That color doesn’t suit you. No, it doesn’t at all.”

Rolling the cuffs of his striped yellow shirt, he assessed his white vest and trousers. “I think it suits me fine.”

“I mean green. But then, jealous lover never was your strongest role.”

He stepped closer and fondled the bow hanging from her sailor collar. “Remember your place here,” he whispered firmly, then poked the skin above her neckline but once.

“I am. Everything at Belleau is mine to enjoy, too.”

“You flatter yourself, my little four-flusher.”

“As if you’re not counting on that being the case.”

Noble matched her steely stare until a throat cleared behind them.

“Lovers’ quarrel?” Ransom bellowed from the top step.

Lottie and Noble spun apart, her bow untying while still in his grip. He dropped the ribbon to give Ransom a robust pat on the shoulder. “Your little ward is only unhappy with her drink.” He seized the glass back from Lottie, leaving her to fist a now-empty hand onto her hip.

“That so?” Ransom frowned. Standing tall and broad in a cream linen suit, he stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. “It’s not like Edith to mix a bad batch.”

“Everything’s jake, don’t worry,” Lottie said. “Just a little bitter on the tongue, that’s all.” She squinted at her costar with a wan smile as he downed her drink. “Luckily, Noble is dreadfully parched.”

“I only want to drink you in, my love.” He gave a little snort before swigging another deep sip.

Lottie clenched her fist for two beats, but willed herself to snake it around Noble’s back and slide against him. “Aw. You always deliver the right lines, baby.”

He tossed his cap away to wrap his arm around her waist, too, swinging her around to stand face to face.

“You never miss your cues either, doll.” Pressing her close, he brought his lips to where her earlobe peeked out from her bandeau. “Now stick to the script,” he murmured into the silk.

Rumer Haven is probably the most social recluse you could ever meet. When she’s not babbling her fool head off among friends and family, she’s pacified with a good story that she’s reading, writing, or revising—or binge-watching something on Netflix. Hailing from Chicago, she presently lives in London with her husband and probably a ghost or two. Rumer has always had a penchant for the past and paranormal, which inspires her writing to explore dimensions of time, love, and the soul. Her novel What the Clocks Know won 1st Place in General Fiction for the 2017 Red City Review Book Awards.

Learn more about Rumer at www.rumerhaven.com.

Email:  rumerhaven@gmail.com
Street Team: Haven’s Ravens

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Author Spotlight: F. Stone

I’m so excited to be a part of Forbidden’s book launch celebration.

Better Wear Your Flak Jacket!

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FORBIDDEN eBOOK IS FREE! THAT’S RIGHT… FREE!

February 14th to 18th at AMAZON

book-cover-three-dimensional-finalSynopsis:

Year 2047, City of Samarra, capital of the Republic of Islamic Provinces & Territories

Fifteen American travelers have vanished. Surrendering to Mayor Aamir’s demands, Captain Sharif becomes the reluctant keeper of his city’s bloody secret – and the witness, Eliza MacKay. The devout Muslim is horrified to discover that if he exposes the cover-up, his family will suffer dire consequences.

The CIA has the lying Sharif in their cross hairs. Sharif’s only hope is to prove his country’s government is free of guilt. Secretly, he hunts forensic evidence. Cryptic messages, backstabbing informants, and corruption threaten Sharif’s resolve to see justice served. When he discovers the shocking truth, he and MacKay become the targets of a ruthless killer.

Sharif is tortured by his attraction to the impetuous Eliza MacKay. In spite of her struggle with PTSD, he’s drawn to her vivacious personality. Islam forbids the intimacy he craves. In desperation to save Eliza, Sharif plots an act most forbidden and fatal.

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

Enter your name in Feather Stone’s rafflecopter for a chance to win:

GRAND PRIZE: AMAZON coupon valued at $100 USD,

Second prize: Amazon coupon $50,

PLUS five ten dollar amazon coupons.

ΩΩΩ

Below is one of my favorite romance scenes from F. Stone’s book, Forbidden.

Chapter 30

Buzz adjusted his speed and configured the Phoenix to climb. The mountain loomed another one hundred fifty miles in the distance. Snow in the higher elevations glistened in the sun among the jagged peaks.

“Better have a seat, Sharif. Going to get rough. Buckle up your friend, too.” Buzz turned to check on Miss MacKay. “Shit, what is she doing?”

She stood at the tail section in the aisle, wobbling with the aircraft’s movement on the wind currents. Her bare back faced the men. She appeared to be looking for something in her backpack.

Sharif lunged to stand behind her back, blocking the pilot’s view of the semi-naked woman.

“What are you doing?” he growled. “This is not permitted.”

“I spilled hot coffee on my shirt. It burned like crazy. Just give me two minutes to change into a clean shirt.” Eliza shrugged him off. “Turn around.”

“You’re indecent.” Sharif knew he should tear his eyes away, and turn around. The shape of her back, the soft shoulders, and her curves reminded him of the undulating terrain of the Sahara. The waistband of her pants rested low on her hips. Fighting his body’s traitorous desires, Sharif growled, “Get into the bathroom.”

“Too damn small.” Eliza snatched a black lace camisole from her backpack and held it against her chest. “Go back to Buzz. I’ll be properly dressed in two minutes.” The plane lurched to the right. Eliza lost her balance and placed her feet farther apart.

Sharif grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back snug against his chest. He whispered into her ear. “Eliza, when are you going to stop tormenting me?” He half-hoped she didn’t hear his confession above the roar of the twin engines.

“Do you want me to shut off who I am?”

He felt her body tense as if preparing to fight him off, then melt into his wall of muscle and bone.

The intimacy threw him into panic. In the span of one breath, he felt the old inclination to shun the pleasure, even to feel repulsed by the bliss. Allah forbids. But his drive to be honorable refused to allow the lie. He could no longer deny that Eliza, the impetuous and insane woman who had the audacity to expose his humanity, had become very dear to him.

“No, never,” he said, placing a brief kiss on the corner of her mouth. Though he met her just seven weeks ago, he knew her as if they had spent a lifetime together. He knew the cadence of her voice, the swing of her stride, and the nuances of her moods. He marveled at the light that shimmered in her hair and lived in her eyes. He knew the capricious scent of her body, and could spy on her thoughts through the tilt of her head and curve of her mouth. He found it mystifying at the depth to which he understood this woman, like no other. Wanted her, like no other.

The warmth of her body spread like a warm breeze into his. Numbed by isolation and practiced sacrifice, fragments of his passion flared out of control. Hashim Sharif moaned. He couldn’t tell where his body ended and hers began. The dim light of the aircraft cabin sighed over her shoulders. If not for the lace camisole concealing her most alluring charms, his lust would have ruled his actions.

Over the years, the words “I love you” had become mute, lost under the weight of perceived duty and disconnection with his emotions. He was Captain Sharif, the noble Muslim warrior. He was not Hashim Sharif, the good man, worthy of Eliza MacKay.

Soft and warm, her hands covered his. Sharif shivered with need – to declare to man and Allah, Eliza was his. A violent shake of the aircraft shattered his lustful intentions. Sharif straightened, and wrestled his inner cop back into control. Love was for people not running for their lives.

She buttoned up a fresh shirt, turned to face him and flipped up her hair under the police cap. “There, no harm done.”

He lifted his cap and slapped it back down. “Around my family, we’ll have to maintain physical distance. No unnecessary conversation.”

“You’re the boss.” She smiled and patted his chest. “Anything you want, it shall be done.”

For the next hour Sharif and Eliza rested, fitfully sleeping, half relieved to be away from the terror in Samarra, and yet anxious about finding a resolution to the Sharif family’s safety. Sharif bolted upright in his seat when Buzz shook him awake.

“There’s trouble in Rumi, Sharif,” Buzz hollered. “Captain Khattab and his men are setup to meet you on the tarmac.”

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WOW! I don’t know about you all, but I’m fanning myself! More about the multi-talented F. Stone!–Nancee

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Romance Under Fire

Author Feather Stone / F. Stone / Judy Weir

On our cattle ranch, when an animal was in distress or injured, I was put in charge of nursing it back to health. Never mind that I was just a kid and hated the sight of blood, but I had to muster up the courage to apply home remedies. My survival rate was pretty good. It seemed like a foregone conclusion that I would progress to nursing – humans. After one year into nurses training, I bolted. Bed pans and chronic diseases pushed me in different direction; a career of dealing with drug addicts, murder, suicide, fatalities, and biker gangs. In 1983 I graduated with honors as a paramedic and worked in the City of Edmonton’s Emergency Services.

For the next twenty years, I came face to face with scenes most people would rather not think about. I loved it. Having experienced life in the most deadly and gut wrenching events, and work alongside the police service, I gained the fodder for creating intense novels.

My first novel, The Guardian’s Wildchild, was published by Omnific Publishing in 2011. The setting is on a naval ship, under the command of a surely man who is under suspicion of treason. When a battered woman is brought to his ship for execution, he has no idea that she is about to turn his disciplined life into chaos – and that she is no ordinary woman. The Guardian’s Wildchild has a rating of 4.1 at Amazon.

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Project Purse Dump– The Artist Cherry Tucker via Larissa Reinhart

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Today on Project Purse Dump, Larissa Reinhart gives us some insight into her character, Cherry Tucker.

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Nov 06 - IMG_1814 - Larissa ReinhartFirst off, I don’t carry a purse. I’ve got too much to haul around and generally if I’m not at an art gig, I carry beer money in my pocket, which is all I really need. I know I live in Georgia and most girls add a touch of lipstick before heading to the Piggly Wiggly or the Tru-Buy, but I’m not most girls. I might have a few smudges of oil or acrylics on my person anyway, so why dress that up with lipstick?

My name is Cherry Tucker and I live in Halo, Georgia. I like to think of myself as ten times tougher than I look. My height, blonde hair, and cornflower blue eyes don’t help me none. I’m a portrait artist, so where I’m not paying attention to how I look (except for my clothes, I do love to create my own outfits), I am paying attention to how you look. For example, what color would I mix to capture your eyes or what the contrast of light is doing to the angles of your cheekbones. And if you’re a guy, I’ll check out your muscle definition, if you have any. Purely for professional reasons, of course.

Nov 06 - IMG_1813 - Larissa ReinhartThat’s why you can see I always carry a sketch book and pencils. And brushes. Sometimes paint, but generally I keep that in my tackle box. Measuring tape’s always handy. Duct tape, too. I’ve been hog tied and duct taped (don’t ask), so I like to carry my own. And they’ve got some colorful ones, now.

Band Aids and Motrin. More necessities of my lifestyle. Particularly if you do get hog tied and duct taped.

Nov 06 - IMG_1811 - Larissa ReinhartAnd if I do need to clean up, I’m ready with the lipstick and some jewelry. I’ve got a bullet ring and pistol earrings that are good for any occasion. Nail polish comes in handy for all sorts of things. For example, if you drive a rusty, old truck, when you see a new spot, just dab it with some polish. Works wonders for holding the truck together and you can fix your nails real quick, too.

Thanks for your interest! This was a great chance to clean out my bag. I found a lot of empty shot gun shells. Don’t know why I’ve been carrying them around, but now I’m thinking they could make Christmas ornaments.

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Nov 06 - closeup - Larissa ReinhartA 2015 Georgia Author of the Year Best Mystery finalist, Larissa writes the Cherry Tucker Mystery series. The first in the series, PORTRAIT OF A DEAD GUY (2012), is a 2012 Daphne du Maurier finalist, 2012 The Emily finalist, and 2011 Dixie Kane Memorial winner. The fifth mystery, THE BODY IN THE LANDSCAPE, releases December 2015. Her family and Cairn Terrier, Biscuit, now live in Nagoya, Japan, but still call Georgia home.

The fifth book in the Cherry Tucker Mystery series, The Body in the Landscape, is available for preorder now. You can find Cherry Tucker here: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iBooks.

LINKS:

http://larissareinhart.com/

http://www.facebook.com/RisWrites

http://www.twitter.com/RisWrites

http://instagram.com/larissareinhart

http://pinterest.com/LarissaReinhart/

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5806614.Larissa_Reinhart