Voice recognition mistake of the day: "I'm looking for more developmental editing and ghost riding work..." 👻🏇 I mean, if riding ghosts is an option, I'll consider it, but I'm not sure my resume will get me the job.

Text recognition mistake of the day: My first ever published book was a middle grade novel about the Maya, which came out in 1999 under the name Chris Eboch. It’s been used in a lot of schools but is finally going out of print. I’ve gotten the rights back so I can re-release it as print on demand. The publisher provided the text extracted from a PDF document, which introduced some errors. The worst one? Pom resin became porn resin. 😱 Learn more about my (proofed and corrected!) middle grade novels here.

Hiking in New Mexico – that’s the Sevilleta National Wildlife Refuge.

Ferrets Rigby and Mercury are staying cute and cuddly!

Find More New Books and Authors!

Secrets of the Greek Revival by Eva Pohler: "Like Nancy Drew meets the Golden Girls." My exclusive paranormal mystery giveaway this month is from author Eva Pohler. Secrets of the Greek Revival is the first book in her Mystery House series. Meet three fearless women in their fifties. Their hobby? Renovating haunted houses—and solving the cold cases that keep the spirits from moving on. If you love ghost stories, true crime, and fierce female friendships, this binge-worthy series is for you. Get Secrets of the Greek Revival free! (No newsletter signup required.)

Death In Onsen by Ann Rose: “When my soon-to-be-ex and I arrived in this beautiful Japanese spa village to film our YouTube food show, becoming a murder suspect wasn't part of my content strategy. But after a famous influencer propositioned my husband and I told her where to stick her yoga mat, she turned up dead in the hot spring. Now I'm racing to solve the crime before I either become the next victim or star in ‘Japanese Prison Cuisine’ for life. Perfect for fans who love their mysteries served with a side of snark, a pinch of romance, and a generous helping of international intrigue.” Get a free sample with newsletter signup (unsubscribe any time)!

Finley and the Foster Brother by Anna Catherine Field: “At sixteen, Finley Rhodes has grown up fast, taking care of her mentally ill mother, holding down a job to pay the bills, and dropping out of school to do both. When she's placed in foster care, Finley moves to an exclusive gated community and attends The Academy, a school for the privileged and elite. But the biggest surprise comes from her new foster brother. Chase Powell lived life of fame and excess with his famous model mother until he’s sent to live with his grandmother. Late night talks bring these two closer, but it’s not like they can ever be more than friends…” A sweet young adult romance.

For the Love of Us by Kaylee Rose: “What happens when the kids leave for college and you remember you’re not just mom, but a woman too? My need to feel desired and wanted by my husband consumed me, and I was determined to make him see the woman he married. I wasn’t going to give up, so I hatched a plan, one that would hopefully forge a new beginning for us. Fighting to keep our love alive was a risk, but for us, I was prepared to do anything.” This is free with newsletter signup (unsubscribe any time), or find it for sale. Readers say this is sweet with a ton of heart.

September's Free Cozy Mysteries: Check out 60+ free mysteries – with lots of dogs, cats, bakeries, ghosts, and witches! Authors give them away in hopes you'll want more.

A Stone Cold Murder excerpt Chapter 2 (part 2)

  [In the Reluctant Psychic Mystery series, a quirky loner who can read the history of any object with her touch gets drawn into mysteries at the museum of oddities where she works. In chapter 1, Petra was cleaning her new office at the Banditt Museum in a small New Mexico town. When she picked up a cluster of fluorite crystals, she got a vision of rage, pain, and death. In the first part of chapter 2, she met her coworkers Liberty and Haven. Here’s a shorter excerpt finishing that chapter]

  Whenever someone finds out about psychometry, the first question is, Are you kidding me? Well, actually the first question is usually, What’s that? Once I explain, it’s You’re kidding, right? or some variation. The third question is along the lines of Are you completely bonkers? but that’s more of an expression of disbelief than an actual question.

  Anyway, once they start to believe in it—which usually only happens after extensive demonstrations—then the question is, What do you know about me? That one comes with a jolt of panic. Yeah, I don’t even need to touch you to know you don’t want me reading your mind—it’s there in your eyes. Because we all have secrets. Mostly not big secrets. Petty stuff like bad habits or pleasures we’ve been told are shameful. Biting one’s nails, or preferring the remake to the original song.

  That’s why I haven’t told anyone in fifteen years. It’s easier if people don’t know. But then I feel guilty keeping secrets from them, especially secrets about how easily I could learn their secrets. So it’s simpler to not make friends at all.

  I generally try my hardest not to learn people’s secrets, both out of respect for their privacy and because I don’t want to know that much about other people. But the fluorite wasn’t merely whispering something that might be embarrassing gossip. It was screaming violence.

  Could I simply ignore it? Convince myself I’d been mistaken, or it hadn’t been as bad as I’d thought?

  Maybe I was picking up vibrations from a crime that had already been solved, the attacker caught and the case closed. But wouldn’t the police have confiscated the mineral sample if they’d known it had been used in a crime? If they’d eventually given it back, would Reggie have left something used as a weapon on his shelf like that? It was a nice sample, but not so spectacular that you’d treasure it despite its bloody history, like the Hope Diamond.

  Come to think of it, the museum had displays of guns supposedly used by Old West outlaws and sheriffs to kill each other. If someone had used the fluorite to commit murder, it probably wouldn’t be hidden away in a curator’s office. It would be on display as another morbid tourist attraction.

  So if the fluorite had been used as a weapon, I was likely the only person who knew about it—other than the attacker, that is.

  I didn’t see anything I could definitely identify as blood on the crystals, though something dark had seeped into some of the fissures. I could try to find a magnifying glass and take a closer look. But then what? I didn’t know how to prove it was blood. I didn’t know how to tell whose blood it was. And I still couldn’t go to the police. Any regular person would assume a few smears of blood had probably come from some minor accident, perhaps far in the past.

  Maybe I was wrong. I could pretend I believed that. I could wrap the fluorite in a towel before I picked it up and hide it away somewhere, or throw it out, or at least shift it to a display where I wouldn’t have to see it every moment I was in the office. Anyone else who had taken this job would have treated the fluorite like a pretty mineral sample, nothing more. Why should I be different?

  It eventually came down to a simple question. Could I live with myself if I did nothing?

  Darn it. I hate it when I have ethics.

  I had to do something. At least try to learn more about what had happened. If I could capture a bit more of the vision, maybe I’d see the victim. Then I could find out whether they were alive and uninjured—or not.

  I closed my office door. The door was basically a glass panel inside a frame, so closing it wouldn’t keep anyone from seeing me in the office and expecting me to answer if they knocked. Still, it would give me an extra second or two of notice—and maybe discourage people from wandering in to say hi, being all friendly and welcoming, the jerks.

  I sat at the desk and drank a few swallows of the now-tepid tea I’d brought in with me. When I leaned forward to look through the door glass, nobody seemed to be around. It might be better to wait until after hours, or to take the crystal cluster home with me, but I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until I dealt with this.

  I took three deep breaths, and then two more, before admitting I was delaying. I reached for the fluorite.

  My hands settled on the mineral, fingers sliding into gaps between the large crystals. I’d braced myself, but the vision still flooded me, nasty and sharp like downing a shot of cheap tequila. A jumble of anger, pain, shock— What have I done?

[Learn more or buy the Reluctant Psychic Mystery series, in print and ebook at all retailers.]

Double blep! (These ferrets don't stick their tongues out that often, so to catch both at once is a rare sighting.)

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Learn more about the Accidental Detective humorous mystery series, the Reluctant Psychic Mystery series, the Accidental Billionaire Cowboys sweet romance series, the Felony Melanie: Sweet Home Alabama romantic comedy novels, and the Furrever Friends cat cafe sweet romance series.