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MERRY-GO-ROUND BROKE DOWN by David Woo & Margalit Shinar #AuthorInterview

Merry-Go-Round Broke Down by David Woo & Margalit Shinar Banner

MERRY-GO-ROUND BROKE DOWN

by David Woo & Margalit Shinar

July 20 – August 14, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Merry-Go-Round Broke Down by David Woo & Margalit Shinar

A novel of nine linked parables about globalization, ambition, hope, love, and greed spanning two decades and eight countries.

Fall 2008. The Waldorf Astoria New York. Two armed men storm the hotel’s famed bar and hold the occupants hostage: an American corporate raider, a Chinese tycoon, a British hedge fund manager, a Japanese housewife-turned-celebrity, a Mexican undocumented worker, a Wall Street bond salesman, and a Norwegian environmentalist.

Who are these terrorists? What do they want? And what ties them to their captives?

Merry-Go-Round Broke Down is a genre-breaking novel that explores globalization’s “butterfly effect”: how choices made in one corner of the world ignited an unstoppable chain of consequences that upended lives across continents.

Praise for Merry-Go-Round Broke Down:

“What a fantastic tapestry of wordsmithing and storytelling! It left me with a much better understanding of how the world was woven so tightly by globalization, all through the dramatic stories of fascinating cultures and characters that are relevant to this day.”
~ Paul Tudor Jones, Chief Investment Officer of Tudor Investment Corporation

“You might think that it would be impossible to write a novel that helps the reader put her arms around the complex issues raised by globalization. Yet, David Woo and Margalit Shinar have done precisely this. The result is most engaging and insightful. It is also one that even globalization experts such as myself can profit from.”
~ Jagdish Bhagwati, University Professor of economics and law at Columbia University, author of In Defense of Globalization

Merry-Go-Round Broke Down depicts the key socio-economic developments of the last quarter-century. It brings to life the people who put them into effect, as well as those who were affected by them. Few were untouched.”
~ Howard Marks, the co-founder and co-CEO of Oaktree Capital and international best-selling author of The Most Important Thing

“A timely portrait of a world bound together by the pursuit of profit.”
~ Kirkus Reviews

“An ambitious thriller with rich characterizations and a heart-pounding pace, Merry-Go-Round Broke Down also offers a stark, on-the-ground vision of globalization’s devastation.”
~ Booklife by Publishers Weekly

“David Woo and Margalit Shinar have perfectly illustrated how even a tenuous connection between individuals can have a profound, far-reaching effect across the world that could never have been predicted.”
~ Reader’s Favorite

Merry-Go-Round Broke Down is a contemporary fiction novel with the propulsion of a financial thriller. It’s fiction, but it wants to explain the world while it entertains you… If you want a story that makes you look up from the page and think, “Wait, is this how it really works?,” then it delivers.”
~ Literary Titan

Merry-Go-Round Broke Down Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Financial Thriller
Published by: Regalo Press
Publication Date: March 31, 2026
Number of Pages: 288
ISBN: 9798895655801
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Simon & Schuster

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 4

TOMOKO WATANABE
Tokyo, Japan, January–July 2005

“Low interest rates punish savers.” —Bill Gross

THE HOUSE IN KASHIWA, CHIBA Prefecture, southeast of Tokyo, was a two-storied box with aluminum windows and clad in white mosaics. It had a grey-tiled roof and a tiny front garden. The wind was howling outside as Tomoko struggled to get up from her bed. It was six o’clock in the morning and still dark, and everybody in the house was asleep. She was loath to abandon the warmth of the heavy duvet, but today was her husband Akihiro Watanabe’s birthday, and she wanted to surprise him with a special breakfast.

Tomoko shivered as her feet, encased in thick white socks, trod silently on the tatami mat covering the floor. It was cold, even for January, and this was one time she wished there was heating in the bedroom upstairs. She put on her slippers, pulled on a heavy cardigan over her fleece pajamas, and went down to the kitchen.

The kitchen, Tomoko’s kingdom, was small, but she ran it like a tight ship, every utensil and small appliance kept in its assigned place.

She began to prepare her husband’s favorite menu: clam miso soup and omelet rolls. There was smoked fish left over from the previous night, as well as cooked rice.

After turning on the small heater and quickly swallowing a cup of hot tea, she put on her old blue-checked apron and set to work.

Poor Aki, she was thinking, as she removed from the fridge the asari clams she had bought the previous afternoon; he really deserved some cheering up. Only eight months ago he had lost his lifelong employment, the first serious crisis in their marriage of twenty-two years. The electronics company he had given his all to for over thirty years had gone bankrupt after its main customer decided to outsource to China.

She rinsed the clams in cold water, rubbed them clean with a dishcloth, and set them aside to soak in salt water. She then filled a pot with water from the sink and blanched a leaf of kelp. When it had softened, she removed it with chopsticks and then put it back in the pot to boil for a minute or two before taking it out again.

Though Aki had found a new job quickly enough, Tomoko was worried. It not only paid a third less than his previous salary, it was a temporary job, with a contract that had to be renewed every six months. While Tomoko was, by nature, someone who took life’s setbacks with a pragmatic optimism, she felt helpless in the face of the loss of their financial security. As she added dried bonito flakes to the boiling water, she shook her head and pursed her lips at the injustice of it.

When the fish was cooked, she passed the broth through a fine sieve lined with a cloth. Discarding the scum, she sieved it again. And again. Inspecting the liquid for any telltale specks, she repeated the process until she was satisfied the broth was perfectly clear. She now reached out for the clams, soaking in their bath of brine.

Usually, Tomoko loved the ritual fuss of birthdays, especially her husband’s—the shopping for presents, the paper decorations and cards, the candles on the cake—but this year there wasn’t much cause for celebration.

She rinsed the clams and tipped them into the broth. Bringing the liquid to a boil, she skimmed it patiently. Once the clams had opened, she mixed in the miso paste, squeezing it through a small sieve with a spoon. The soup was ready.

Now for the omelets. What was more worrying, she thought, breaking eggs into a bowl with a deft flick of her wrist, was that his pension was gone. And the new job offered no pension at all. The bleakness of their future agitated her as she whisked the eggs with more vigor than necessary and poured them into the frying pan.

The omelets were done. When they had cooled a bit, she rolled them up into narrow, finger-shaped wraps and put them aside. Then she arranged the fillets of cold smoked fish in the middle of a long rectangular plate, which she decorated in one corner with a dollop of daikon radish infused with ponzu sauce. Finally, she heated up the rice and took out some nattō, fermented soybeans, everyone’s favorite.

She looked out the window above the sink. The heavy night darkness was lifting, and she could make out the falling snowflakes and the leafless branches of the cherry tree in their garden bending in the wind. A cold grey light was beginning to infiltrate the kitchen. She switched off the overhead lamp, figuring she could do without it now.

A brown Formica-top table with six chairs stood in a nook just off the kitchen. Poor Aki, she repeated to herself as she began to set it. At the age of fifty-three, there was little chance of his finding steady employment again. Although they never talked about it, she knew that, ashamed and frustrated, her husband was unraveling. His drinking binges had become more frequent, and he had taken to coming home at all hours. He was also becoming moody and short-tempered.

Only last week he had flown off the handle when she told him she was thinking about looking for a part-time job. He wouldn’t hear of it, he had responded angrily. Their son was still at school and needed her. Besides, what would their neighbors think? It was out of the question.

Though Tomoko knew his objections had more to do with his pride, she didn’t bring up the subject again. She vowed to herself she would find another way to help. But how?

Tomoko put down a small flower arrangement, teacups, bowls, and chopstick supports on the table. She had to find a way to help Aki. Whereas she could still take comfort in little things, he had just lost his entire world. She took a moment to align the chopsticks just so. Taking a step back from the table, she viewed the result with satisfaction.

Tomoko glanced at the kitchen clock squeezed between the toaster oven and a shelf. It was seven-thirty and all was ready. Plenty of time left for a leisurely meal before Aki left for the office and their son, Nishio, left for school. What a pity her daughter, Keiko, wasn’t there.

Tomoko brushed that regret away, together with a lock of her permed black hair that had strayed onto her forehead, and stood meekly at the entrance of the kitchen, waiting. She could hear her family coming down the narrow wooden stairs.

She bowed to her husband and her mother-in-law as they appeared, her face faintly flushed from her efforts, her shoulders hunched forward ever so slightly. “Ohayō gozaimasu,” she said, with the politest of greetings.

But Aki only grunted a barely discernible thank-you as he viewed the mini-feast she had prepared and sat down, noisily pushing back his chair.

Then he buried his face in the morning newspaper that Tomoko had laid, neatly folded, to the right of his chopsticks.

He was followed by Nishio. At fifteen, he was a tall and gawky youth, with a few wisps of dark downy hair on his upper lip and chin. He advanced towards the table and sat down in silence. He sat there sullenly, looking down under lowered eyelids, not once making eye contact with his mother. He consumed his soup in a few rapid gulps and hurriedly shoved some rice into his mouth. Then with a curt, barely mumbled good-bye, he got up and was gone.

“Don’t forget your bento box,” Tomoko’s voice rang out after him, “you must eat lunch!”

The third person at the table was Mishimo, Tomoko’s mother-in-law. It was she who owned the house, and after the death of Akihiro’s father some ten years before had given over most of the space to her son’s family, keeping only one room for herself. It was a situation not without friction. She had never liked Tomoko and was of the opinion that her handsome son could have found a better match than the daughter of a taxi driver. Or, at the very least, a prettier one. Though their exchanges were invariably on the right side of civil, Mishimo inevitably found fault with everything Tomoko did. But this morning was different. She spooned down the soup slowly, savoring every sip. “Excellent, Tomoko,” she remarked loudly. “Well done.” A compliment! Tomoko was touched to the bottom of her heart.

She then turned to her husband.

Anata,” he said, using a Japanese term of endearment. “I hope you’ll be home on time for dinner. I bought a cake for tonight. And there will be eel as a main course.”

Aki didn’t shift his eyes from the newspaper. “No. I’m eating out.

Client dinner. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back late.”

If Tomoko was disappointed, she showed no sign of it.

“Akihiro-san. I also bought you a small gift,” she announced timidly. She had bought it out of her personal savings and had hoped to give it to him at the evening meal. She would have to give it to him now instead.

She went to the living room where she had hidden it. Coming back, she bowed respectfully and held out the package in her two open palms like an offering, saying “Happy birthday” in English.

Aki finally deigned to lower the newspaper and stared at the box wrapped in delicately folded bright blue paper, tied with a slender red-and-gold string. He reached out to take it. But instead of opening it, he put it in the pocket of his suit jacket.

“Have to rush now,” he said dismissively.

“It’s the lighter you always wanted,” said Tomoko. But Aki responded with a dead gaze of bitterness at the wall behind her. Suddenly, he jumped up from his chair with such violence that it crashed to the floor.

Baka! You stupid woman! Kono ama, you bitch!” He exploded in an inexplicable fit of rage.

Tomoko shrank back.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to waste money?” he yelled. “Don’t you see the situation we’re in?”

Without warning, he grabbed the cast-iron teapot from the table. He seemed ready to hurl it straight at her. Tomoko raised her arm to defend herself. He had hit her before, and she thought she knew what to expect.

At the last moment, however, perhaps in response to a whispered word from Mishimo that never reached Tomoko’s ears, he changed the direction of his aim and the heavy pot went flying toward the kitchen. Spurting tea, it smashed loudly into one of the kitchen cabinets.

In the silence that followed, Tomoko couldn’t move. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. But she didn’t say a word. Out of the corner of her eye, she was just in time to catch the expression of icy disapproval on Mishimo’s face.

***

Excerpt from MERRY-GO-ROUND BROKE DOWN by David Woo & Margalit Shinar. Copyright 2026 by David Woo & Margalit Shinar. Reproduced with permission from David Woo & Margalit Shinar. All rights reserved.

 

 

David Woo & Margalit Shinar

David Woo:

David Woo is a renowned global macro strategist, widely recognized for his bold and prescient calls on some of the biggest economic, political, and geopolitical stories over the past quarter century. Bloomberg called him “one of the most outspoken voices on Wall Street,” while Business Insider named him among “the twelve smartest people on Wall Street.” His views have shaped debates across markets, policy circles, and the global media. David began his career at the International Monetary Fund before going on to hold senior positions at Bank of America, Barclays Capital, and Citigroup. He earned a PhD in economics from Columbia University and a bachelor of arts in mathematics from Tufts University. A true product of globalization, David was born in Pittsburgh, raised in Taiwan, and educated in the United States. His career has taken him from Washington DC to London and New York. He is fluent in English, Chinese, and French.

Catch Up With David Woo:

www.davidwoounbound.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
Facebook

 

Margalit Shinar:

Margalit Shinar is an architect. Margalit was born in New York, the daughter of French émigrés. She has a master’s degree in art history from Tufts University and a bachelor of arts in architecture from the Technion, Israel Institute of Technology. She has edited a history book on ancient Israel. She is fluent in English, French, Hebrew, and Italian.

Catch Up With Margalit Shinar:

Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads

 

Q&A with DAVID WOO & MARGALIT SHINAR

Can you tell us a little about yourself and your background?
David: I am an economist by training. I spent most of my career on Wall Street, where I became known for my out-of-consensus calls on some of the biggest stories over the past 20 years. For what it’s worth, Bloomberg calls me as “one of the most outspoken voices on Wall Street.” Born in Pittsburgh, raised in Taiwan, and now living in Israel, I am a product of globalization, and that experience shapes the way I see the world. I’ve always been drawn to big, ambitious novels about sweeping societal change. It was only after 25 years of researching international finance and economics that I understood the world well enough to embark on my first novel. Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa didn’t start working on The Leopard until he was fifty-eight. Some novels only arrive after you’ve lived them. That’s how I feel about Merry-Go-Round Broke Down. Margalit: I am an architect by training and a mother of two daughters. Instead of pursuing a career in architecture however, I pursued further study and graduated with an MA in Art History from Tufts University. That is where I met my second husband. I was born in New York to European émigré parents, both intellectuals. What I learned around the dinner table about Western culture was the equivalent of another university degree! French was the language spoken in my home. David and I have been married for 20 years and we live in the foothills of Jerusalem with our 2 standard poodles. I speak fluent English, Hebrew and French, and some Italian

What was the inspiration for this book?
David: Globalization has become one of the most divisive ideas of our time. In many circles, it has become a political scapegoat for rising inequality, economic insecurity, and the resurgence of protectionism. Yet behind these debates are the lives of millions of people whose stories are rarely told.
Merry-Go-Round Broke Down grew out of a desire to tell the story of globalization in a way that anyone could understand and, more importantly, relate to. We chose to write a novel because globalization is ultimately a web of human stories about ambition, hope, greed, luck, and fear. We wanted to show how individual lives, separated by continents and cultures, become bound by forces far beyond their control.
In The Plague, Camus examines how people respond when the world around them begins to break down. We wanted to ask a similar question in the context of globalization: how it shapes our lives, draws us together across borders, and, at times, pulls us apart. Ultimately, the novel is about how ordinary people, each pursuing a better life, unknowingly set in motion a chain reaction that transforms one another’s lives—and, ultimately, the world they share.

How did you come up with the title?
Merry-Go-Round Broke Down was the theme song of the Looney Tunes cartoon series. Written in 1937, during the Great Depression, it evokes a world that has spun out of control—a feeling that resonates strongly today.
When our daughter, Adi, suggested it as the title of our novel, we immediately knew it was the perfect fit. The phrase “Merry-Go-Round” also echoes the 1950 French film La Ronde, based on Arthur Schnitzler’s play, whose circular narrative structure inspired the architecture of our book.
Above all, the title reflects our deepest concern: the world we are leaving to our children and grandchildren. Through this novel, we wanted to explore how the forces that shaped globalization also created many of the challenges they will inherit. To navigate the future, they first need to understand how the world became what it is today.

Can you give us a glimpse into the research that went into writing this story?
There is a reason Merry-Go-Round Broke Down took ten years to write. We devoted the first five years to research, including traveling to every location where the story unfolds. The novel spans ten cities across eight countries, and we wanted each setting to feel as authentic as possible. From the very beginning, we knew we were attempting something ambitious. We also knew that readers would hold us to a high standard. Our goal was simple: to ensure that every character, every setting, and every moment felt real. We wanted readers to feel as though they were truly there—whether in a factory town in China, on a trading floor in London, or walking the streets of Havana.

Excluding the main character, who is your favorite character from the book, and why?
Margalit: my favorite character is Tyler. He represents the tragic outcome of globalization. I feel for him. He is a decent person who suffers misfortune after misfortune and is helplessly buffeted by huge forces that are beyond his control.

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Get Gribnitz by Howard Gimple #AuthorGuestPost

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GET GRIBNITZ

by Howard Gimple

June 29 – July 24, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Get Gribnitz by Howard Gimple

Howard Gimple, master of the comedy thriller, takes on the world of advertising in his funniest, snarkiest, most entertainingly irreverent book yet.

Stew Gribnitz is a brilliant advertising copywriter with impulse control issues, an utter disdain for authority, and an unresolved demi-Oedipal complex (he’d like to murder his father but has no sexual designs on his mother). When the first act of his new creative director is to dump our hero’s best work into a garbage bin, Stew’s immediate impulse (which, of course, he can’t control) is to do unspeakable things to his new boss’s necktie while he’s still wearing it.

The next day, when the necktie guy is found brutally murdered, Stew is brought in for questioning by the NYPD. He’s released thanks to an air-tight alibi, but not before his face is emblazoned on the cover of the New York tabloids, declaring him to be a cross between Son of Sam and Jack the Ripper. Stew becomes a Madison Avenue untouchable and a New York City pariah, except to his father who declares that seeing his son on the front page of his favorite paper is the first time that Stew has ever done anything to make him proud.

Stew gets a gig as a part-time advertising consultant to a billionaire publisher running for Governor of Connecticut who’s twenty points behind in the polls. When the publisher’s private plane does a nosedive into Long Island Sound, Stew is the only one who knows that his deceased client had been receiving death threats from his opponent, a former FBI agent whose brother is a mob enforcer.

Stew is convinced he’ll be the next victim and the authorities are convinced he’s a multiple murderer. The only way to clear his name is to find the real killer or killers, a task, well beyond his skill set, made even more difficult because the FBI, the NYPD, several suburban police jurisdictions and a homicidal hitwoman are all out to GET GRIBNITZ.

Praise for Get Gribnitz:

“…the perfect mystery novel”
~ Readers’ Favorite

“…a deliciously entertaining, fun, and exciting read from cover to cover.”
~ The Mystery Review Crew

Book Details:

Genre: Mystromedy
Published by: Mystromedy Books
Publication Date: July 1, 2024
Number of Pages: 348
ISBN: 9798990761575
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

On my way to the house I’m hoping Moish isn’t home. But as soon as I walk in there he is, standing in the living room, holding the Post in one hand and the News in the other.

I gird myself for what’s coming. “So I guess you read about me in the paper.”

His smile gets broader. “You bet I did.”

“It was all a huge misunderstanding. Believe it or not, you’re my alibi. I was here with you last night when it happened.”

He sticks his thumb in the air. “Of course you were. I’ll back you up a hundred percent. Just tell me what time I was supposed to be here and I’ll swear on a pile of Bibles.” He winks at me. “Old Testament, of course.”

“No, really.”

He shakes his head. “This is better. We were here together all night, playing pinochle. Wait a minute, you never learned to play pinochle. How about gin rummy? You know how to play gin rummy. Of course you do. Any moron can play gin rummy.”

“Pop, listen to me. We don’t have to make up a story. If it ever comes up, just tell the truth.”

“Okay, son,” he says, still grinning. “Whatever you say. But I still think the gin rummy routine is the way to go.”

Son? He never calls me son. Putz, schmendrick or shmuck with earlaps, which for my father is the absolute worst thing you can be, are his usual terms of endearment for me, but son? Never.

Since my mother died, giving me a hard time has become my father’s favorite pastime. Even more than playing cards or going to the track. After forty-five years of arguing with her, he needed someone else to yell at. Not that he didn’t yell at me when she was alive, it’s just that she was his number-one target. She told me that he never means anything by it. She used to say, “When he gets quiet, that’s when you have to worry. As long as he’s yelling, everything’s fine.”

That’s why I’m so confused. Here’s the perfect chance for him to tell me what a shmuck I am for getting myself into this mess, instead he’s kvelling like I just won the Nobel Prize.

“You did see the paper, didn’t you?”

“Of course. I bought extra copies. I’m gonna hand them out to everyone at the track.”

“And you’re not upset?”

“Upset?” He puffs out his chest. “I’ve never been prouder.”

“But everyone thinks I’m a cold-blooded murderer.”

“I know.” There’s that grin again. “It’s terrific.”

“I don’t get it.”

“What’s to get? You finally made a name for yourself. Made it to the front page. The page that’s usually reserved for presidents, governors and generals. And now my boy is right up there with them.”

“They made me look like a homicidal maniac. It’s not the same.”

“You’re right. It’s better.”

At this point I don’t know what to say, so I just stand there with my mouth open.

“You know where I grew up, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. Brownsville. Chester Street, right?”

“You know my mother had a chicken market around the corner on Dumont Avenue?”

“Of course. You told me that story a hundred times. They called her the Chicken Lady. She made you get up at five in the morning to pluck chickens before you went to school. Made you come back before you went to bed to sweep up.”

“She was a hard woman, my mother. She had to be. After that goddamn flu killed my father, she had three babies to feed. But that doesn’t matter now.” His eyes start to twinkle. And Moish wasn’t usually a twinkler. “Do you know what was down the street from my mother’s store?”

I shrug.

“Rosie Gold’s candy store.”

“Okaaaaay?”

“You know who hung around Rosie’s?”

“Not a clue.”

He puffs out his chest. I’m thinking it’s gonna be some old-time Jewish sports hero like Kingfish Levinsky or Slapsie Maxie Rosenbloom.

“Murder, Incorporated. That’s who. The toughest SOBs in the country. And they were all Jews. Louis Lepke, Abe Reles, Buggsy Goldstein. Killers, every one of them. Everybody feared them. The Italians, the Irish, the coloreds. They had class too. Money, women, fancy cars, you name it. When I was a kid, twelve or thirteen, I’d sneak out of my mother’s shop and hang around outside Rosie’s. Those guys loved me. They treated me like I was their little mascot. Their good-luck charm. I’d run errands for them. Bring them cigarettes, drinks, the paper. Whatever they wanted. And they’d throw me a twenty-dollar tip like it was a nickel. You know what that’s worth today? Five hundred dollars. I was a snot-nosed pisher with more money in my pocket than most of the grown men in the neighborhood. In a couple of years I coulda been one of them.”

I don’t know whether to be impressed or aghast. “So what happened?”

He shrugs. “This and that. Reles turned rat. Then he fell out of a hotel window. Pretty soon they were all dead or in jail. The Depression hit. The war happened. I spent five years in the Philippines shooting Japs. And when I came home I married your mother.”

I’m a little taken aback that he puts marrying my mother in the same category as the Second World War and the Great Depression.

“Besides, when your grandmother found out what I was doing, she beat the living crap outta me. Told me if she ever caught me hanging around with those bums again she’d pluck me like one of her chickens.”

“Let me get this straight, your childhood dream was to be a gangster?”

“It was different then, not like the scum-bums you see now. Back then, if you were in the rackets you were somebody, a big shot, a mensch.”

“So seeing my commercials on TV and the awards I won, that all means nothing to you, but having everybody in New York think I’m the Jewish Dillinger, that you’re proud of?”

“It’s not like you’re a senator or governor, but it’s something.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but I really didn’t do it.”

“Whatever you say.” He pauses for a second. “Listen, do you know Shifty, the bookie from back in our old neighborhood?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“He’s been giving me a hard time. He says I owe him some money but he’s fulla shit.”

“How much money?”

“I dunno, two . . . three hundred.”

“Dollars?”

“No, kishkes. Of course dollars.”

“And you’re sure you don’t owe him the money?”

“Of course I’m sure. You think I wouldn’t remember something like that?”

I don’t say anything.

“He says he’s gonna come over here with some leg breakers and take it if I don’t give it to him. How about you pay him a little visit and convince him to lay off?” He holds up the paper and grins. “He’ll listen to you.”

“Listen, Pop. I’m not a thug. I don’t even play one on TV. There’s no way I’m gonna threaten your bookie or anybody else.”

He shoots me a scornful smirk. “I shoulda known you didn’t have the guts.” He walks to the bathroom. Before he shuts the door he looks at me with disgust and shouts, “Putz!”

***

Excerpt from GET GRIBNITZ by Howard Gimple. Copyright 2026 by Howard Gimple. Reproduced with permission from Howard Gimple. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Howard Gimple

I’ve been writing for my supper for most of my adult life. First as a copywriter and creative director for several ad agencies. After I aged out of the advertising business (you’re a dinosaur at 35), I wrote English dialogue for the American releases of Japanese anime cartoons, reviewed movies for a pay-per-view television network, and was the editor of a newsletter for the New York Giants football team. I wrote the lyrics for a song used in the soundtrack of the horror film THE REJUVENATOR as well as the fight song for Stony Brook University, where I was a writer and sports editor for their alumni magazine and taught two classes, Rock and Relevance, about the influence of classic rock on politics and Filthy Shakespeare about the sexy bits of the Bard’s plays and poems that they don’t usually teach. Several of my stories have been featured in Akashic Books’ Mondays are Murder online noir series. I recently finished work on The Garbageman, a documentary about a trash hauler who saved the lives of 50,000 children in underprivileged countries with congenital heart disease. And if you’ve gotten this far on the website, you know about my novels.

After living in Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Long Island, I headed west to Glendora, California, with my wife and Goldendoodle.

Catch Up With Howard Gimple:

HowardGimple.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub – @howardgimple
Facebook – @authorhowardgimple

 

GUEST POST by HOWARD GIMPLE

MYSTROMEDY…WAIT, WHAT??

Simply, a mystromedy is a comedy-mystery. It’s a genre that has been wildly popular on screens large and small. Shows like Columbo and Monk ran for many years atop the ratings. And funny mysteries have been dominating the silver screen forever. From William Powell’s Thin Man to Peter Sellers’ Inspector Clouseau to Daniel Craig’s Benoit Blanc, moviegoers can’t get enough daffy detectives. Why is it then, when it comes to the printed page or the pixilated ebook screen, mixing jokes and thrills is unkosher, undignified and unacceptable. A few outliers like Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum books and Carl Hiassen’s quirky Florida capers are the exceptions that prove the rule that comedic mysteries are the Rodney Dangerfields of the mystery-thriller genre.

Even Donald E. Westlake, the dean of whodunit humor, said that his Dortmunder series, one of the all-time comedic mystery masterworks, was created by accident. He began writing another book in his Parker series, featuring a tough-as-nails criminal whose exploits wouldn’t come close to engendering a smirk, let alone a smile or, heaven forbid, a guffaw. Parker’s demeanor was so fierce and foreboding that the mere sight of him entering a room would give its occupants shivers.

Westlake said that when he started writing the book, no matter how hard he tried to stick to the usual ominous Parkeresque atmospherics, the story kept veering wackily off course. He decided to temporarily put Parker on the shelf and continue the comedic arc of the story with a new main character. And so John Dortmunder was born. After The Hot Rock, the first Dortmunder book, was finished Westlake considered it to be a one-off and intended to return to writing hard boiled mysteries. But the tremendous critical and commercial acclaim it received persuaded him to write another and another and another— fourteen novels and more than a dozen short stories in all.

So why is it that out of Amazon’s 60-odd categories for the Mystery, Thriller and Suspense genre, from amateur sleuths to witches and wizards, there isn’t a single category for comedy? Do they think that mystery readers have no sense of humor? Is there no room for both gasps and giggles in a 300 page novel? Of course there is. But it may take time for mysteries and comedies to cohabitate on amazon.

I encountered the same sort of anti-comedy bias when I was a young copywriter at an ad agency. I was assigned to write ads for an insurance company. Every time I submitted a humorous one it was summarily rejected. ‘Insurance is serious business, it’s not a laughing matter,’ I was sternly told. And for years, insurance ads were at best dry and at worse morose. Then Met Life started airing ads featuring Snoopy, Charlie Brown and the Peanuts gang. Not only was no one put off by this, their sales took off. And the trend continued. Geico uses a wise-cracking gecko with an Australian accent as its spokeslizard, Flo and her gang are doing shtick for Progressive and a kooky emu is the face of Liberty Mutual.

Let’s do the same for laugh-out-loud mysteries. C’mon amazon, give us a category. Maybe even two. It could be the start of the mystromedy revolution. Or at least get us mystromedians a little respect.

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Proxy Legal Thriller Series by Manning Wolfe #AuthorInterview

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PROXY LEGAL THRILLER SERIES

by Manning Wolfe

June 8 – July 17, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

 

DEAD BY PROXY

 

In this lawyer on the run action suspense, attorney Quinton Bell loses the trial of his career, and possibly his life.

Dead By Proxy takes you on a heart-pounding journey through the life of a criminal defense attorney, whose world is wiped out. When Quinton loses a career-defining case, he finds himself being hunted by the very client he tried to save.

As Quinton navigates the treacherous path of survival, he is running from a powerful and relentless adversary who will stop at nothing to see him silenced. Finally landing in Houston, he hides in plain sight while re-inventing his new life as a trial lawyer.

When he’s forced to take on a high-profile murder case, he exposes himself and those he loves to danger. With each passing moment, the noose tightens, and he must draw on every ounce of wit to outsmart those who still want him dead.

Will Quinton Bell find a way out, or will he forever be a target in a deadly game of cat and mouse?

 

HUNTED BY PROXY

 

In this lawyer on the run action suspense, can attorney Quinton Bell hang on to his new life as he hides in plain sight?

Hunted By Proxy takes you on a heart-pounding journey through the life of a criminal defense attorney, whose world, as he knew it, was wiped out by the very client he tried to save.

Quinton establishes a new life and law practice in Houston and thinks he’s outrun the dangerous adversaries who chased him there. Just as he begins to relax, he receives a mysterious note that proves to him that he’s still in danger and running from a powerful and relentless adversary. But who?

With each passing moment, the noose tightens, and he must draw on every ounce of wit to outsmart those who still want him exposed, or worse, dead.

Will Quinton Bell find a way out, or will he forever be a target in a deadly game of cat and mouse?

 

ALIVE BY PROXY

 

Can attorney Quinton Bell hang on to his new life, as he hides in plain sight, in this lawyer-on-the-run suspense thriller?

Alive By Proxy takes readers on a heart-pounding ride through the life of a criminal defense attorney whose world was wiped out by the very client he tried to save. After faking his own death and stepping into the life of his deceased best friend, Quinton walks a razor-thin line every day to keep his past buried and his future intact.

When Houston Wildcatters linebacker Marcus Hale is charged with the brutal murder of his agent, the case detonates into a media firestorm. As the defense digs deeper, the murder case opens into something darker with buried secrets, dangerous leverage, and hidden lives that refuse to stay in the shadows.

As the courtroom battle intensifies, so does the danger beyond it. Unseen eyes track Quinton’s every move. Old ghosts stir. The identity that has kept Quinton alive begins to feel more fragile than ever.

Every witness, every revelation, and every step closer to the truth threatens to expose both Quinton and his client. Will Quinton find a way out, or will he forever be a target in a deadly game of cat and mouse?

Praise for the Proxy Legal Thriller Series:

“A riveting read that expertly teams courtroom drama and legal maneuvering with imminent danger, spine-tingling suspense, a touch of romance, and non-stop action. Talk about an adrenaline rush!”
~ Reedsy

“Can a woman write a thriller book that leaves you going, ‘Wow, how did I ever miss this author before?’ Yes, she can. Fist bumps and high fives to author, Manning Wolfe on this fantabulous thriller!”
~ Forgotten Winds

“I love the whole book! From beginning to end, it was a roller coaster ride! From New York to Texas, With incredible character development, and plot twists from beginning to end! Looking back, there were subtle clues, but not until the very end was there a resolution. I would highly recommend this book!”
~ Susan Riley, Amazon Customer

“Manning Wolfe just put herself on my list of must-read authors!”
~ John Ellsworth

Book Details:

Genre: Legal Thriller
Published by: Starpath Books, LLC
Series: Proxy Legal Thriller Series

 

Author Bio:

MANNING WOLFE

MANNING WOLFE, an award-winning author and attorney residing in Austin, Texas, writes cinematic-style, smart, fast-paced thrillers and crime fiction. Manning was recently featured on Oxygen TV’s: Accident, Suicide, or Murder.

  • Manning’s legal thriller series features Austin attorney Merit Bridges, including Dollar Signs, Music Notes, Green Fees, Chinese Wall, and Killer Weed.
  • Manning’s new Proxy Legal Thriller Series features Houston attorney Quinton Bell and includes: Dead By Proxy, Hunted By Proxy, and Alive By Proxy.
  • Manning is co-author of Sinister Santa, and twelve additional Bullet Book Speed Reads.
  • As a graduate of Rice University and the University of Texas School of Law, Manning’s experience has given her a voyeur’s peek into some shady characters’ lives and a front-row seat to watch the good people who stand against them.

    Catch Up With Manning Wolfe:

    ManningWolfe.com
    Amazon Author Profile
    Goodreads – @manningwolfe
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    Instagram – @manningwolfe
    X – @ManningWolfe
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    YouTube – @starpathbooksllc1763
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    BlueSky – @manningwolfe.bsky.social
    TikTok – @manningwolfe

     

    Q&A with MANNING WOLFE

    Can you tell us a little about yourself and your background?
    I’m an attorney turned thriller writer living in Lockhart, Texas, which means I spend my days thinking about courtroom drama, suspicious characters, and whether brisket counts as a food group. Lockhart is known as the BBQ Capital of Texas, so I consider it less of a hometown and more of a delicious occupational hazard.
    I’ve always loved storytelling. Practicing law introduced me to all kinds of personalities and conflicts, and eventually I realized that some of the best fiction starts with people under pressure facing terrible decisions.

    What was the inspiration for this book?
    Most of my books start with a “what if” question. In this case, I became fascinated with the idea of how quickly an ordinary life can spiral into complete chaos. One bad decision, one wrong person, one secret exposed at the wrong time, and suddenly everything changes.
    I also love stories where the hero is smart but still vulnerable. I think readers connect more with characters who are trying to hold things together while the walls are slowly closing in around them. Plus, let’s face it, putting fictional people through misery is part of the job description for thriller writers.

    Can you give us a glimpse into the research that went into writing this story?
    One advantage of being an attorney is that I already understand legal procedure and courtroom strategy. The downside is that I also know how much paperwork real lawyers deal with, which is why my fictional attorneys are always much cooler and more efficient than reality.
    Beyond the legal side, I choose locations carefully. I’ve spent a good amount of time in the places I select as the main venue. I want readers to feel like they’re standing on a Houston street corner at midnight or sitting in a Galveston restaurant watching a storm roll in.
    I also tend to fall down strange internet rabbit holes while researching. At some point during every book, my search history begins to look highly suspicious. So far, the cops have not come calling.

    What does your typical writing routine look like? Any idiosyncrasies or rituals?
    I’m an early outliner and a late-in-the-day writer. I’ll spend days mapping out twists and scenes, then suddenly write for eight straight hours fueled by tea and the false belief that I’ll “just finish one more chapter.”
    I also tend to work out plot issues in my dreams. This has convinced my family that either I’m deeply creative or slowly losing my mind due to lack of REM sleep. The jury is still out.

    What are a few of your favorite foods?
    Living in Lockhart, Texas, it’s basically illegal not to love BBQ. Brisket here is practically a religion. If somebody says they know a “better” BBQ place somewhere else, people in Lockhart react like they’ve been personally insulted.
    But my second home is the Texas Coast, and that’s where my other food obsession takes over: shrimp. Fried shrimp, grilled shrimp, shrimp tacos, shrimp po’boys, shrimp boiled in enough Old Bay to clear your sinuses. I love those little crustaceans in just about any form imaginable.
    Writing this makes me think I should include a restaurant that serves both BBQ and shrimp in my next book. Maybe I’ll throw in a little salad too.

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    The Midas Touch by Gary Grossman, Oren Aviv, & Charles Segars #AuthorInterview

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    THE MIDAS TOUCH

    by Gary Grossman, Oren Aviv, & Charles Segars

    June 29 – July 24, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

    Synopsis:

    THE MIDAS TOUCH by Gary Grossman, Oren Aviv, & Charles Segars

    National Treasure meets Jack Ryan in THE MIDAS TOUCH

    July 19, 1799. Napoleon’s armies advance into Egypt. In the steaming desert sands, his explorers unearth an astounding discovery: The Rosetta Stone. The tablet, cracked and incomplete, will eventually answer mysteries about ancient Egyptian history, culture, and science. But in the years since its partial excavation, world leaders, historians, scientists, and adventurers have speculated that the missing fragments could answer another age-old mystery.

    THE MIDAS TOUCH is a globe-trotting adventure that follows CIA cryptologist/puzzle solver/savant Brady Donovan as he investigates the murder of his beloved mentor Dr. Hastings Kaufman, only to find that it leads to a search for the missing pieces of the famed Rosetta Stone and the secret it holds: The Alchemist Gold Theory – how to turn ordinary metals into gold.

    Protagonist Brady Donovan partners with British archeologist Teppy Flynn and conspiracy theorist Avery Prophet. Only a heartbeat away is a diabolical Silicon Valley tech giant, D’Arcy Lauren Granier, and her henchmen.

    The quest takes them through Napoleonic history and into a contemporary race through the streets of London, America’s backroads, the Caribbean, New Orleans’ French Quarter, Napoleon’s last island prison in the Atlantic, the Louisiana Bayou, and a massive, abandoned salt mine where pirate Jean Lafitte hid his treasures.

    History, told in vivid flashbacks, jumps back to 1799 Egypt, and forward through the hundreds of years since, with pirates and presidents on the search for better or worse. Now Brady Donovan fights against the fast- ticking clock, relentless bad guys, and a Category 5 hurricane to where past meets present and greed and betrayal become deadly partners.

    THE MIDAS TOUCH is written by international award-winning thriller writer Gary Grossman with Charles Segars and Oren Aviv, the creators of the billion-dollar National Treasure movie franchise.

    Praise for THE MIDAS TOUCH:

    “A perfect piece of entertainment with characters and a story that never disappoints. Poignant in places, nail-biting in others, the plot is accentuated by a take-no-prisoners attitude, similar to speeding down a slalom course with all its twists and turns. It’s quite a ride!”
    ~ Steve Berry New York Times best-selling author

    The Midas Touch is a thrilling ride through history and modern-day, tantalizing the reader with intrigue, action, and adventure across a labyrinth of archaeological secrets and danger.”
    ~ Raymond Benson, New York Times best-selling James Bond novelist

    “Fans of The DaVinci Code will love The Midas Touch. Grossman, Segars, and Aviv have created an iconic character in Brady Donovan, a CIA cryptologist who trades in his pen for tradecraft to protect the world from a devastating economic weapon. Gripping prose, unforgettable settings, and non-stop excitement. A real page turner!”
    ~ K.J. Howe, international bestselling author of Skyjack writes

    THE MIDAS TOUCH Trailer:

    Book Details:

    Genre: Suspense, Mystery, History Fiction, Globe-Hopping Intrigue
    Published by: Fayetteville Mafia Press
    Publication Date: June 2, 2026
    Number of Pages: 334
    ISBN: 9781949024999 (ISBN10: 1949024997)
    Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | BookBub

     

    Gary Grossman:

    Gary Grossman

    THE MIDAS TOUCH is written by international award-winning thriller writer Gary Grossman (OLD EARTH, the EXECUTIVE ACTIONS and RED HOTEL series) with Charles Segars and Oren Aviv, the creators and executive producers of the exciting and popular Nicholas Cage NATIONAL TREASURE movie franchise.

    Catch Up With Gary Grossman:

    garygrossmanbooks.com
    Amazon Author Profile
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    Instagram – @garygrossman1
    X – @garygrossman1
    Facebook – @AuthorGaryGrossman

     

    Charles Segars:

    Charles Segars

    CHARLES SEGARS has served as a senior executive at Viacom, CBS, The Walt Disney Company, DreamWorks Pictures, and DreamWorks Animation. Segars is also known as Creator and Executive Producer of the Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures hit movie franchise, National Treasure and National Treasure: Book of Secrets.
    Currently, Segars enjoys a dual role as CEO of Ovation TV, the only multi-platform program service dedicated to the Arts and as President of Segars Media.
    Segars is a respected global safety and security analyst. He advises a number of national security-related technology startups and is actively involved in governmental affairs.He has served as a White House Associate as an Advance Team leader for the Office of the President and Vice President of the United States of America, leading a number of secretive domestic and international trips.

     

    Oren Aviv:

    Charles Segars

    OREN AVIV ran Disney Studios from 2006-2010, after heading Disney Marketing for eight years. He became Disney’s first Chief Content Officer, and after leaving Disney he became CMO for 20th Century Fox Studios. In addition to executive producing a dozen films, he also co-created and was Executive Producer of Disney’s National Treasure film franchise.
    Aviv was named “Marketer of the Year” three separate times by Advertising Age Magazine. He created breakthrough campaigns for the studio’s NARNIA, STEP UP, Pirates of the Caribbean, and the National Treasure franchises, and launched memorable campaigns for many of Pixar’s animated hits, including Finding Nemo, Monsters, Inc., The Incredibles and Cars. He also launched blockbusters such as The Sixth Sense; Pearl Harbor; Ransom; The Rock; Signs; The Waterboy; Armageddon; Unbreakable; 101 Dalmatians; Con Air; Crimson Tide; Freaky Friday; and Father of the Bride, as well as hundreds of other films under the Disney, Touchstone and Hollywood Pictures banners. As CMO at 20th Century Fox, Aviv created the campaigns for Rise of the Planet of the Apes; X-Men: First Class; Ridley Scott’s Prometheus; The Wolverine starring Hugh Jackman; and Ang Lee’s Oscar-winning Life of Pi.
    As head of production at Disney, Aviv was responsible for greenlighting such hits as THE PROPOSAL starring Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds; Tim Burton’s billion-dollar-grossing Alice in Wonderland; Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End; National Treasure: Book of Secrets; and the Amy Adams musical-comedy Enchanted.

     

    Q&A with GARY GROSSMAN

    Can you tell us a little about yourselves and your backgrounds?
    I guess I’m a book with many chapters. Like Brady Donovan, our lead character in THE MIDAS TOUCH, I grew up in Hudson, New York. Unlike Brady, I have no amazing cognitive skills that would lead me to the CIA and a treasure hunt around the world. However, the world was out there for me. The first way, as a 12-year-old ham radio operator, tapping out Morse Code and communicating with other shortwave radio operators across the globe.
    The second way I reached beyond my one-square mile small town borders was as a local rock radio DJ. I started at 15 and at that point, I thought my career was set. Radio. Forever radio and rock and roll. Then came Boston and Emerson College where television and documentary film production lured me to expand my experience. Both mediums extended my reach and I became a story teller. The next leaps were into journalism, local and network news, documentary production, and books – both fiction and non-fiction. All as a storyteller, in one medium or another.
    That’s who I am now—through writing international mysteries and thrillers, memoirs, books on TV history, and yes, I’m still producing some TV and happily getting on live radio and podcasts to promote my books.
    It’s full circle experience, and word for word, it’s my story. I can even still spell it out in Morse Code!

    Can you give us a glimpse into the research that went into writing this story?
    Collaborating with Charles Segars and Oren Aviv has been truly creative and fulfilling. Together, we recognized that history was going to be a character in THE MIDAS TOUCH. That meant we’d have to hunker down and do thorough research on names, places, and dates. We had to create interlocking links between the real and the imagined, and have our cryptologist, Brady Donovan, and his cohorts, Egyptologist Teppy Flynn and conspiracy research Avery Prophet, figure them out.
    That meant there’s hardly a page that didn’t require research. Hopefully, our research will be the transportation for readers to follow the clues from 1799 Egypt with the discovery of the Rosetta Stone, to the British Museum, and onto America, while deep diving through centuries of history.
    The challenge and the goal was to cultivate the facts without getting too deep in the weeds. That gets back to my collaboration with the creators and executive producers of National Treasure and National Treasure: Book of Secrets. Charles Segars and Oren Aviv know how to strike the balance between authenticity and entertainment. They’ve done that in their movies and we feel we’ve succeeded in our wild, globe-hopping treasure hunt, THE MIDAS TOUCH.

    Tweaking this question to get to except I had working with Charles and Oren, who reinvented the treasure hunt genre. How did the three of you collaborate on THE MIDAS TOUCH? What did that process look like day to day?
    Collaboration can work many ways: Talking through the manuscript with one writer hitting the keys. Alternating chapters and passing them around. Or a combination of both. For the creation of THE MIDAS TOUCH, everyone contributed with story, characters, location, dialogue, through the five drafts, then the polish. In other words, we each brought our own best game to the process—as writers, film and television storytellers, and fans of the genre.
    Most of all, it’s really exciting when everyone has something important to contribute. A good idea gets better with help. Imagery becomes richer. Characters, more real. And for us, history jumps off the page.
    I got to work with real pros. It doesn’t get any better than that.

    What does your typical writing routine look like? Any idiosyncrasies or rituals?
    Process, process, process. Routine, routine, routine. I don’t believe in writer’s block. I have to lay something down every day, no matter how much I may rework it later. My goal is three pages a day. Sometimes more. Just do the math. If I keep it up, and I try to, that’s ninety pages a month, Less with a day or a weekend off every so often.
    Then there’s rewriting. Sometimes that’s even harder. Well, if not harder, certainly more tedious because that’s where I discover what needs to be strengthened, improved, eliminated, or reimagined. However, with something on the page, and the establishment of a creative direction, rewriting takes me one step closer to bringing the story together.
    And . . . then come the next drafts.
    As screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan (The Big Chill<, The Empire Strikes Back, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and so many more wonderful movies) says, “Being a writer is like having homework every night of your life for the rest of your life.”
    Totally true. And with that, I have another two pages to write today!

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    The Ledger by Steven Manchester #AuthorInterview

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    THE LEDGER

    by Steven Manchester

    June 8 – July 3, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

    Synopsis:

    The Ledger by Steven Manchester

     

    Set in a medium-security penitentiary in the mid-1990s, The Ledger is a faith-based story that pulls back the curtain on prison life, allowing the reader a safe peek behind the wall.

    Although told from three alternating perspectives—officer, inmate, and sergeant—many of the same questions are asked: Can light be found in the deepest darkness? What about forgiveness, redemption, and grace? And if the code is clear, “loyalty above all things except honor,” when should an officer cross the blue line to police one of his own?

    The Ledger is the long-awaited companion novel to The Menu.

    Praise for The Ledger:

    The Ledger illuminates the dark world of Corrections, making it safe for all of us to steal a peek.”
    ~ Barry McKee, Professor Emeritus, Criminal Justice

    “I found myself holding my breath. It felt like I was right back inside the wall.”
    ~ Nelson Julius, Deputy Superintendent, DOC (ret.)

    “Intensely powerful and deeply moving, pick up a copy to balance your own ledger.”
    ~ Debby Guyette, Book Blogger, Single Titles

    The Ledger is a spiritual read, drawing the reader inward.”
    ~ Reverend Andy Stinson, First Congregational Church of Fall River

    Book Details:

    Genre: Christian, Crime Fiction, Literary Fiction
    Published by: Luna Bella Press
    Publication Date: May 26, 2026
    Number of Pages: 280
    ISBN: 979-8999472021
    Series: Companion novel to The Menu.
    Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Goodreads | BookBub

     

    Author Bio:

    Steven Manchester

    New England’s Storyteller Steven Manchester is the author of the soul-awakening novel, The Menu, as well as the ’80s nostalgia-series, Bread Bags & Bullies; Lawn Darts & Lemonade; Yearbooks & Yo-Yos. His other works include #1 bestsellers Twelve Months, The Rockin’ Chair, Pressed Pennies and Gooseberry Island; the national bestsellers, Ashes, The Changing Season and Three Shoeboxes; the multi-award winning novels, Dad and Goodnight Brian; and the heartwarming Christmas movie, The Thursday Night Club (NYIFA & LAFA winner). He is the co-author of You Will Be Peter, as well as Officer Erik & the Very Special Dad (written with TV icon, Erik Estrada). His work has appeared on NBC’s Today Show and CBS’s The Early Show; in Billboard and People Magazines. Three of Steven’s short stories were selected “101 Best” for Chicken Soup for the Soul series. He is a multi-produced playwright and winner of several book festivals, Including Los Angeles, New York, Paris, Amsterdam, and New England (from 2017-2025). When not spending time with his family, this Massachusetts author is promoting his works or writing.

    Catch Up With Steven Manchester:

    www.StevenManchester.com
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    Q&A with STEVEN MANCHESTER

    Can you tell us a little about yourself and your background?
    After returning home from a difficult tour of duty in Operation Desert Storm in 1991, I stepped back behind the walls of a Massachusetts penitentiary where I battled each day as a prison investigator. Needless to say, there was great negativity in my life at that time, and very little opportunity to heal from my wartime demons (or pursue my dreams of being published). I finally decided to return to college to finish my degree in Criminal Justice. During one of the classes, my professor, Barry McKee, detailed police work, but barely touched on other topics. I finally raised his hand and asked, “As the criminal justice system is so vast, what about the courts, probation, parole – corrections?” Barry smiled and told me to see him after class. I thought I’d done it! In his office, Barry explained, “Except from the slanted perspectives of inmates, there’s no real written material out there on corrections, or prisons.” Barry smiled again and then dropped the bomb that would change my life forever. “If you’re so smart,” he said, “why don’t you write it?” It was the last push I needed to get writing. Nine months later, I placed the first draft of 6-5; A Different Shade of Blue (under the pen name, Steven Herberts) on Barry’s desk. From then on, I was hooked. I was a writer.
    Today, 30 years later, I am the co-author of the historical biographical novel, You Will Be Peter, the author of the soul-awakening novel, The Menu, as well as the ’80s nostalgia-series, Bread Bags & Bullies; Lawn Darts & Lemonade; Yearbooks & Yo-Yos. My other works include #1 bestsellers Twelve Months, The Rockin’ Chair, Pressed Pennies, and Gooseberry Island; the national bestsellers, Ashes, The Changing Season, and Three Shoeboxes; the multi-award-winning novels, Dad, and Goodnight Brian; and the heartwarming Christmas movie, The Thursday Night Club (NYIFA & LAFA winner). I am also the co-author of Officer Erik & the Very Special Dad with TV icon, Erik Estrada, as well as In the Valley of the Shadow, featuring the artwork of Brian Fox. My work has appeared on NBC’s Today Show and CBS’s The Early Show; in Billboard and People Magazines. Three of my short stories were selected “101 Best” for Chicken Soup for the Soul series. I am a multi-produced playwright, as well as the winner of the 2017 Los Angeles Book Festival, 2020 New England Book Festival, 2023 Paris Book Festival, and 2025 New York Book Festival. When not spending time with my beautiful wife, Paula, and our children and grandchildren, I am promoting my works or writing.

    What was the inspiration for this book?
    The Ledger has been another labor of love for me, the second installment in my Menu Series.
    In 2020, I released The Menu, a story about hope, healing, and finding true peace. It’s a positive message intended to unite us all. My greatest hope has been that The Menu serve as a beacon of light for those who are feeling isolated and disheartened. The book’s message is simple: ‘We are all connected, and none of us is ever alone—not ever.’
    Upon The Menu’s release, I began volunteering with caregivers at Hospice. During one of the many healing sessions, one of my readers claimed that she loved the novel but questioned why all the characters were good and kind. ‘Having a conscience was a menu choice,’ she said. ‘What if one of the characters decided not to order a conscience from his life’s menu?’ Talk about a goosebumps moment! I immediately understood that I needed to write a novel to complement—or maybe even counter—The Menu. Ying and yang; light and darkness. I figured that if I’m going to write about mercy, forgiveness, and redemption, what better setting than a prison?
    I spent the better part of a decade working within a medium-security penitentiary—as a Correction Officer and then prison investigator—so it only made sense that 30 years later I’d take my writing skills and return to that setting. Although The Ledger is a departure from my usual fare, it’s a story I needed to write.

    What’s an interesting or fun fact about the book that readers might not know?
    The Ledger is the most reality-based fiction I have ever penned… and that’s saying something. In this novel, my goal was to pull back the curtain on life behind prison walls, giving my readers a safe peek.

    Tell us why readers should pick up your book—what makes it stand out?
    The research took years and the book required 30 years of writing experience to get it right.

    Are you currently working on your next novel? If so, can you share a little about it?
    All the Books in the World is a comprehensive historical and spiritual narrative centered on the life, ministry, crucifixion, resurrection, and legacy of Jesus Christ, as witnessed and recorded primarily by John bar Zebedee and other disciples. It offers a detailed portrayal of early Christian events, the formation of the discipleship group, Jesus’s teachings and miracles, the growing opposition from religious authorities, and the establishment of the early church. The narrative blends historical context with personal reflections and theological insights from the perspective of the last living eyewitness.

     

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    Clear Your Schedule, Open THE LEDGER

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    Hi Love, You Just Dropped Your Glove by Paul Charles #AuthorInterview

    Hi Love, You Just Dropped Your Glove by Paul Charles Banner

    HI LOVE, YOU JUST DROPPED YOUR GLOVE

    by Paul Charles

    June 1 – July 10, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

    Synopsis:

    Hi Love, You Just Dropped Your Glove by Paul Charles

    A McCusker Mystery

     

    Thomas Barry, Lefty Kelly, and Brendy McCusker were all teenage boys who were roaming the streets of Portrush, County Antrim, in Northern Ireland in 1976 when Thomas Barry quite literally bumped into Isabella Scott, and he uttered the words of the title. In July 2019, the same Thomas Barry’s remains were discovered at the foot of the Pilgrim’s Steps in the Portrush Harbour. There were an extra 200,000 people visiting Portrush that week as The Royal Golf Club played host to Tiger Woods and Rory McIlroy and the UK Open Tournament.

    McCusker and DI Lily O’Carroll are conscripted from the PSNI (Police Service of Northern Ireland) in Belfast to help the already stretched local police force work on the case. They discover McCusker’s childhood friends Barry and Isabella Scott had married and then…well then, everything became very complicated relationship-wise involving Isabella’s sister, Colette, lawyers, accountants, and showband singers. Thomas had become an ultra-successful property developer, sometimes in partnership with the Buckley Brothers, at least one of whom doesn’t mind the cowboy approach to work. Meanwhile, McCusker is pining over a recent relationship he had started back in Belfast with O’Carroll’s sister, Grace.

    Set against the backdrop of the (actual) UK Golf Open taking place in a small seaside town, where absolutely everyone has an opinion, and their opinions they are keen to share.

    Praise for Hi Love, You Just Dropped Your Glove:

    “Paul Charles’ Hi Love, You Just Dropped Your Glove is a page turner par excellence. Written written with Charles’ customary verve. Another brilliantly compelling atmospheric effort from a master crime writer.”

    “A welcome return for Brendy McCusker… Charles crafts with such a careful eye on the sparks that can fly—some of them charming, some witty, some downright menacing—between characters who don’t happen to see eye to eye, or sometimes even to be operating in the same galaxy. Once again, it’s hard to resist a hero who realizes, ‘He just had a habit of opening his mouth and not knowing what was going to come out.”
    ~ Kirkus Reviews

    “Charles’s skillful depiction of the many sides of love and its strange bypaths lifts this clever novel well above the genre average.”
    ~ Publishers Weekly

    “Paul Charles is an outstanding author of crime fiction novels. They are models of character development and powerful observations of people the detectives meet. I enjoy reading his books.”
    ~ Irish American News

    “Charles’s skilful depiction of the many sides of love and its strange bypaths lifts this clever novel well above the genre average.”
    ~ Publishers Weekly

    “Charles has a wealth of experience in the crime genre from his past Kennedy and Starrett novels and the McCusker series delivers the same blend of mystery and engaging protagonists. The characters have an authenticity that Charles has fine-tuned throughout his writing career. Charles ability to weave real-like details helps bring the story full to life. A Day in The Life of Louis Bloom is both a love letter to Belfast and a gripping thriller.”
    ~ Aoife Bradshaw, Hot Press

    “Charles In Full Bloom With Novel… a thrilling page-turner.”
    ~ Sunday World

    “Amusing light-hearted entertainment from Paul Charles.”
    ~ The Irish Independent

    HI LOVE, YOU JUST DROPPED YOUR GLOVE Trailer:

    Book Details:

    Genre: Police Procedural, Crime Fiction
    Published by: Level Best Books
    Publication Date: March 31, 2026
    Number of Pages: 382
    ISBN: 9798898201050
    Series: A McCusker Mystery, Book 3 | Stand Alone
    Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Level Best Books

    Read an excerpt:

    Chapter One

    I was born here and I’ll die here, against my will.
    —Dylan

    ‘Hi love, you just dropped your glove.’

    When she turned to face him, he was amazed. He remained totally in shock to the extent he became a blabbering idiot.

    ‘Just now as it fell from your coat pocket…’ he continued, ‘I caught it before it hit the wet ground… Honestly it didn’t get wet. I mean it’s a little wet, but only from the rain and not the pavement…agh…’ and mid-sentence he reluctantly turned and chased after his two mates.

    She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever set his eyes on during his seventeen years on this earth. When she’d passed him a few life-changing seconds beforehand, she was walking, arms interlinked in the midst of two friends with her head bowed to the pavement. Consequently, he’d missed her green eyes, hidden by her long black hair, and he’d missed her quiet demeanour, but, most of all, he’d also missed the chance to make a connection.

    He insisted his two mates, Brendan and Lefty, continue walking around the streets of Portrush with him until darkness fell ninety minutes later. He was working on the theory they’d bump into the three girls again. They’d discovered, to his cost, the only thing more difficult than finding someone in Portrush in the peak holiday season was finding someone on the deserted streets of Portrush during the off-peak season, when Ulster’s number one tourist centre reverted to its more comfortable status of winter ghost town, aka Ghostrush.

    Thomas Barry—Tommy to his acquaintances, Tom to his good friends—minus his two mates was back on the streets the following morning, just before eight o’clock. He walked the short distance from his parents’ house in the sedate Antrim Gardens to the nearly (but not quite) refurbished railway station in Eglinton Street, passing the moth-balled Barry’s (historic) Amusement Arcade on the way. It was a journey just like he’d done most days of his life. Most other days of his life. though, he’d just taken Barry’s (no relation) and every other local landmark, for granted. That Sunday morning in October 1976 though he’d studied every nook and cranny around the streets of the Port as if his life depended on it.

    He felt it did.

    When his friends met up with him just before lunch time, he admitted to them he’d already had tea and toast in Portrush’s Holiday Hostel, with its ultra-colourful rooms; the once elegant Adelphi Hoteland The Atlantic Hotel, with its spectacular views, in the vain hope the three girls were out-of-towners. The other hotels and guest houses were all closed for the winter, he claimed. Still, he’d tried them all, “just in case, you understand.” He also, for one who’d always gone to great trouble to keep the majority of his feelings inarticulately to himself, articulately explained he felt for the sake of his well-being, if not his life, he needed to find this girl. He also admitted that, not only did he not know what he was going to say to her when, and if, he met her, but if such an accidental, on purpose, meet happened he’d be so tongue-tied again, he might even need to walk on past her. He just knew he really needed to find her. He told them he’d been awake all-night thinking about her. Lefty put him out of his misery by offering to take him to some of the out-of-town hotels. The two of them hopped on Lefty’s trusted red Vespa 125 scooter and headed off out past Kelly’s trailer park and bar and on to Castle Rock, Portstewart, Portballintrae and even Bushmills.

    They returned just over an hour later with the Vespa’s petrol tank empty and their four arms all the one length.

    Thomas Barry admitted to his two best friends he’d never felt so convinced about anything before in his life. A real-life girl had never ever had such an effect on him before. Isabella Adjani on the silver screen yes, but a real live human, certainly not. He most certainly accepted the fact he was never ever going to meet the long-haired, green-eyed girl again in his life.

    He admitted how weird this feeling was to him.

    Nonetheless he continued his search.

    He thought of all the things he could have done, should have done. Perhaps all of them were things capable of scaring her off for life. But what did it matter now? He’d most certainly lost her for life.

    The lads wanted to go to the Old Harbour Bar. Even with the new glitzy restaurant extension, accessed by a half a flight of wooden stairs, it was still the cosiest bar in the winter and their favourite watering hole. He declined, suggesting he might join them later. Once again, he took to the streets of Portrush. The same familiar streets he had taken for granted all his life, but which now took on major importance due to the fact they may be keeping him from finding the green-eyed girl. He tried chastising himself for feeling sorry for himself. It didn’t work. How could it possibly work when someone, something, a God even, if such a spirit existed, had allowed him to experience this special creature and then not equip him properly about how to approach her? He chastised himself further for not considering what he’d say to her if, or when, he met her. He’d already let himself down once by blabbering away when he had the perfect excuse to greet her. Equally he felt if he had something rehearsed it would have sounded too false, stifled, insincere and a chat up line. He kicked himself over his rap about her glove being wet not because he had let it fall on the wet pavement but because it had gotten damp in the rain.

    He’d never been one for the chat up lines. They’d left those to Lefty. Funny enough this approach hadn’t worked out for their lead wingman either. Thomas Barry had often wondered if they’d become mates, “blood brothers” just so they could hang out together and look for girls. Anyway, they had launched their little gang, the BLTs. They even had their own unique motto: May the Sauce be With You. It was funny at the time. They’d picked it over a meal together in Morelli’s as they simultaneously chased the food-saving flavouring known as HP. They’d also debated using: Life is a Beach and Then the Tide Goes Out,. Considering their endgame objective, they had unanimously voted against this option on the grounds it was too negative. As he wandered around the deserted streets, now it had gotten down to the nitty-gritty, he wasn’t so sure about their motto either, or even about their gang in the first place. Lefty was always complaining three wasn’t a good number to hang out in. If they met two girls and got through the even more complicated task of chatting them up, then the girls would surely feel sorry for the additional boy they would have to exclude due to the mathematical impossibilities. He reckoned maybe they could possibly have made the problematic maths work down in the more liberal Belfast. In the meantime, they had agreed they would figure out such a scenario as and when it arose. Lefty had claimed the girls would probably make their preference known and they, the boys, would just have to deal with it. They’d been happy to leave the tactics to Lefty. Even though Lefty’s tactics had, so far, been 100% unsuccessful, they still left him in charge. The alternate didn’t bear thinking about.

    Tommy wondered if it would be any easier if, and when, one of them found a girlfriend and peeled off their gang as it were. He wondered who’d be the first to find a girl. He thought if you were a betting man and you followed the odds, then Lefty should be the first to find a girl. But then what would they do? They’d surely be lost without the tactics man. Or would they?

    ‘At least the rain has stopped,’ he said aloud, as he rounded the corner of the forsaken Mark Street Lane and into the desolate Atlantic Avenue.

    ‘Hi Love,’ he thought he heard a ghostly breathy voice say, not much above a whisper, ‘you haven’t found another glove, have you?’

    There she was, there right in front of him on what would now become the hallowed, Atlantic Avenue. His green-eyed girl’s green eyes were smiling straight at him.

    He was so intent on finding her he pretty much nearly walked straight into her. He knew if she hadn’t spoken first, he would have walked past her. Lucky enough before he’d a chance to figure out what he was going to say she spoke again.

    ‘What am I like?’ she started, ‘I’m forever losing a glove, thankfully never both at the same time, mind you, always just the one at a time. The one you picked up for me I…’

    ‘I’ve been looking for you all day,’ he admitted, his voice sounding a lot calmer than he felt.

    ‘Mmmm,’ she replied, studying his face and sounding like she knew, and accepted, such an admission wasn’t as weird as he feared, ‘you’d look good with a moustache.’

    Of all the things he’d imagined her to reply, and most of them also included her rushing off as quickly as her shapely legs would carry her, this was not even in the top 1000. It wasn’t as though he had actually come up with more than three possible replies.

    Before he knew it, they were involved in a natural freewheeling conversation.

    She seemed inclined to linger rather than to walk away.

    At a very brief lull in the conversation, they both silently acknowledged they didn’t want the conversation to be stifled, so they spurted out their next questions simultaneously.

    ‘Do you live here?’ Tommy asked.

    ‘Who were you talking to as you walked around the corner?’ she asked over the top of his question.

    ‘No, I’m at the University of Ulster in Coleraine and one of my course mates invited me and another friend over to her parents’ house for the weekend. Her parents own a wee guest house over by the West Strand,’ she said in response to his question.

    ‘I was talking to myself,’ he admitted, ‘what’s your friend’s name?’

    ‘Gilly Hutchinson.’

    ‘Oh,’ he said, without even meaning to.

    ‘You know her?’

    ‘Well I know of her,’ he replied, ‘I know her sister.’

    ‘Which one?

    ‘Gilly would have been a few years ahead of me,’ Tommy replied.

    ‘Right,’ she replied, without allowing him to finish, ‘so you’d know the youngest, Emmi Mae.’

    ‘Yeah we were really good friends when we were…oh 13 ish and then she outgrew me.’

    ‘Ah yes, it happens at 13 or even 13-ish.’

    ‘Tell me about it,’ he offered more to himself, ‘so was that Gilly the blonde-haired girl with you yesterday?’

    ‘No, Gilly was swotting, you saw the eldest sister, Adele, who’s just great craic altogether.’

    ‘Okay, figures, I don’t know her at all,’ he replied.

    He looked at his green-eyed girl out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t see her as well as he’d seen her yesterday when they’d met face to face. She still looked stunning even though her long dark hair covered the side of her face. He couldn’t see those amazing green eyes though. On the upside what he’d missed yesterday was her personal scents. She smelt of a blend of soap, shampoo, mixed with little hints of a heather based perfume. The combination was totally intoxicating. ‘I’m Tommy,’ he offered, extending his hand, and knowing it was an excuse to steal another glimpse of her stunning emerald eyes, ‘Tom Barry.’

    ‘I know,’ she said, offering her own hand in return.

    ‘You know?’ he said, surprised while noticing two of her top teeth protruded a wee bit to the extent it looked like her top lip was going to have trouble covering them.

    ‘Yes, Adele told me,’ she said, as she smiled, ‘she also said you weren’t part of the other Portrush Barry family.’

    ‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ he said, still holding her soft skinned hand and shaking it gently, determined to never let it go again if he could get away with it. ‘’Fraid it also means I’ll not be able to get you free rides on the dodgems.’

    ‘I’d be more of a Barry’s Big Dipper kind of girl, anyway.’

    ‘Ditto on the Big Dipper, although I can’t pull any strings there either,’ he offered regretfully, while thinking he didn’t see her as being a Big Dipper kind of girl. All that screaming seems so alien to one so reserved and private. ‘I could get you a pony ride on the beach though if you wanted?’

    ‘Accepted,’ she replied, seeming content to leave her hand where it was, she leaned towards him, her nostrils wriggling the more they bridged the gap to his ear, ‘but not being part of the amusements also means you won’t smell of petrol and grease and candyfloss.’

    ‘Or Daulse and Yellowman,’ he added, attempting to complete her list and praying it was a compliment, ‘oh look…’ he continued and pointed with his free hand to the cuff of her red duffle coat, ‘there’s your missing glove, stuck up the sleeve of your coat.’

    Sadly, for Tommy, this gave her an excuse to break away from him.

    ‘I’m Isabella,’ she said, retrieving her glove, ‘Isabella Scott and the pleasure to meet you on this wintery weekend, is all mine. That’s twice you saved me, Tommy, which means I’ll never forget you.’

    And that, was how Tommy Barry and Isabella Scott first met.

    Neither Isabella, her two friends, Gilly Hutchinson and Jane Murray nor Tommy Barry’s two friends, Lefty Kelly and Brendan ‘Brendy’ McCusker, would ever forget Tommy Barry. This fact was even more definite now that forty-three years later (bar three months) on Wednesday July 17th, 2019, the very same Tommy Barry died a very unnatural death.

    ***

    Excerpt from Hi Love, You Just Dropped Your Glove by Paul Charles. Copyright 2026 by Paul Charles. Reproduced with permission from Paul Charles. All rights reserved.

     

     

    Author Bio:

    Paul Charles

    Paul Charles began his career in music at fifteen years old, managing his first band, The Blues by Five, in his hometown of Magherafelt in Northern Ireland. He moved to London in 1967 intending to study civil engineering but was quickly drawn back into the music world. In the 1970s he worked in multiple roles for the Belfast prog rock band FRUUPP, who signed to Dawn Records and toured widely across the UK and Europe. Charles lyrics for Sheba’s Song were later sampled and used as Soon The New Day by Talib Kweli featuring Norah Jones on the album Ear Drum which debuted at #2 on the Billboard Top 200 chart in 2007. After FRUUPP disbanded Charles co funded the Asgard Agency and has represented major artists including Crosby Stills & Nash, Jackson Browne, Tom Waits, The Kinks, Van Morrison, Robert Plant, Ani DiFranco, Gordon Lightfoot, Nick Lowe, Elvis Costello, Loudon Wainwright III, John Lee Hooker, and Ry Cooder. He has programmed the Acoustic Stage at the Glastonbury Festival for the last 38 years. A life long writer he published his first Christy Kennedy mystery in 1997 Level Best Book have just published his 22nd mystery – Hi Love, You Just Dropped Your Glove.

    Catch Up With Paul Charles:

    PaulCharlesBooks.com
    Amazon Author Profile
    Goodreads
    Instagram – @paulcharlesbooks

     

    Q&A with PAUL CHARLES

    Can you tell us a little about yourself and your background?
    My name is Paul Charles. I was born and raised in Northern Ireland. I’ve always been a fan of both music and books. I’ve been so lucky to be allowed to follow both those passions in my career as an agent in the music business and author of some 26 books. Mostly murder mysteries but also some non-fiction about the Beatles and the music business.

    How did you come up with the title?
    In 1968 Van Morrison released Astral Weeks, one of the best albums ever released. The album included the classic track Madam George. Part of the lyrics went along the lines of: He jumps up and shouts, hey love you forgot your glove. I remember like it was yesterday being stopped in my tracks by the imagery. I imagined this young Ulster exile in London at a party but longing for home. He spots a young lady and is immediately overcome by her natural beauty and aura. He silently chastises himself for being so painfully shy he is unable to approach her. She even gifts him an opening by leaving her glove on the seat she’d just vacated. He jumps up and shouts, “hey love you forgot your glove.” and she walks out of the party and his life. In my attempts to keep the books real I used my interpretation of Van lyrics as the way for the two main characters in Hi Love, You Just Dropped Your Glove, Thomas Barry and Isabella Scott, to meet each other. I changed the location from a party in 1968 to them bumping into each other on the late-night streets of Portrush in 1970s.

    Excluding the main character, who is your favorite character from the book, and why?
    My favorite character in Hi Love, You Just Dropped Your Glove would have to be DI Lily O’Carroll, McCusker’s side kick. This is the third in this series and over the course of the three books O’Carroll has developed from a walk-on part in the first to the point she really has become McCusker’s equal. I also love the way their relationship has developed to the extent it has become the foundation of the series.

    Tell us why readers should pick up your book—what makes it stand out?
    Although it is clearly the work of fiction, I always endeavor to make the books read as a true crime book would read. I was inspired by The Executioners Song by Norman Mailer and In Cold Blood by Normal Mailer, where both authors who very successfully took a true crime story and wrote them as though they were novels. I reversed their process.

    What does your typical writing routine look like? Any idiosyncrasies or rituals?
    While writing the first draft I work religiously from 6.00 am to 09.30 am every day. When I start the story, I do not know who committed the crime. I endeavor for the detective, the writer and the author to discover the relevant facts simultaneously.

    Are you currently working on your next novel? If so, can you share a little about it?
    Yes, it’s called The Return of The James Gang, the 12th DI Christy Kennedy Mystery. The James Gang, if we are to believe their own publicity, were the 2nd biggest band in Liverpool to the Beatles. As a power trio they were ahead of their time. They split up back in the day due to the drummer, who was also their manager, triple dipping. They reformed in modern day Camden Town to play at the drummer’s daughter’s wedding. Come the time for their big comeback performance the drummer is found in his dressing room with a drumstick through his heart…

    Do you have a message or anything specific you’d like to say to your readers?
    I’ve always felt that a big part of the success of a book is the reader’s imagination.

     

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    This giveaway is hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Paul Charles. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
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    Wildwood Exit by Joel E. Turner #AuthorInterview

    Wildwood Exit by Joel E. Turner Banner

    WILDWOOD EXIT

    by Joel E. Turner

    May 25 – June 19, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

    Synopsis:

    Wildwood Exit by Joel E. Turner

    A deadly family vendetta at a Jersey Shore restaurant finds John McGinty (aka Ginty) tailing his boss’s lying wife and junkie son into a dark world of embezzlement, drug dealing and murder.

    Ginty has just stepped in as the manager of a Wildwood restaurant owned by his friend, Lou Scolletta, after Lou fires the old manager for dipping in the till.

    Ginty starts out ordering rolls of salami and bottles of Galliano, but quickly becomes Lou’s consigliere, picking up questionable packages from sketchy associates; tailing Lou’s wife Concetta on her furtive trips to Cape May; scouring the Jersey Shore for Lou’s son, Davy, a junkie on the lam; and wondering why a possibly bent State Trooper keeps showing up everywhere he goes.

    Things in Ginty’s world don’t improve when a drug shipment goes wrong, a blackmail note appears…and a body is found floating in Delaware Bay.

    Ginty is now the unwilling-yet trusted-confidante of all the Scollettas, and realizes that everyone in this twisted family circle is in danger-including himself.

    WILDWOOD EXIT is as sordid as it is comic, and should be on every beach towel from Asbury Park to Cape May.

    Praise for WILDWOOD EXIT:

    “A quirky sand-in-your-shoes crime novel with a romantic heart”
    ~ Amy Rosenberg, Philadelphia Inquirer

    “Funny, thrilling . . . a captivating crime story with a vivid Jersey Shore setting.”
    ~ Kirkus Reviews

    Book Details:

    Genre: Amateur Sleuth, Noir/Hard Boiled, Crime fiction, Noir Fiction, Jersey Shore Noir, Literary Noir
    Published by: Level Best Books
    Publication Date: May 6, 2025
    Number of Pages: 329
    ISBN: 9781685129729 (ISBN10: 1685129722)
    Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Level Best Books | Main Point Books | ​​Wildwood Historical Society (Signed)

    Read an excerpt:

    Chapter 1

    The car bumped hard, the undercarriage hitting the edge of the shoulder, as it careened off the Garden State Parkway, heading for a stand of trees. The bump woke me up, and I jammed on the brakes and fought the steering wheel, cutting it hard left, but it was too late. The car fishtailed as the front smashed into a tree, the rear swinging right as the brakes took hold and crashing into another tree. I was flung forward, my hands coming off the wheel and banging against the console.

    My hands were cut and bleeding as I sat staring at the road, the car twisted at a forty-five-degree angle. Pain throbbed from my right temple, and I realized I must have hit the windshield or the roof. A heaviness pressed down inside my head above my eyes, and I felt an urge to close them and go to sleep.

    I forced myself to stay awake and get out of the car. I knew I was still technically drunk, but the crash had pumped enough adrenaline into my veins that I was hyper-aware, despite the likely concussion. I tried to open the trunk, but it was stuck shut, the right fender crunched in and bent on the top where it met the hatch.

    A car passed going north on the other side of the Parkway. I looked back up the south-bound lane and saw no traffic. I stepped onto the road and half-jogged across, stepping over the median and across the north-bound lane. I glanced back at the car, slanted cock-eyed in the grass just past the Exit 6 sign for North Wildwood, then hurried through the grassy stretch alongside the road and into the woods that bordered it.

    My only thought now was to avoid getting a DUI. I could deal with the car later. What a disaster. I had just bought the damn thing yesterday afternoon from a guy in Buena with a badly running nose and a burning desire to take my cash and go meet someone to make him well. That’s what I got for taking a lead on a cheap car from a guy holding up the end of the bar at a beer-and-a-shot place down the street from my house. I could have asked Lou to hook me up, but the price was right, and I just wanted something to get me through the summer. So I hitched a ride to Buena from a buddy who was headed to Margate, where I met Drew, the guy with the dripping nose. Drew had that pressing business to attend to, so he was fine with giving me the uncompleted paperwork.

    Drew said, “Just see Mitch at the title place here next week, he’ll handle it.”

    I trudged through the patch of woods, distancing myself from the Parkway. I came to a two-lane road and ran across that into deeper woods on the other side. I was about ready to just sleep under a tree there, when through a gap in the branches I saw an open field.

    I pushed forward to the perimeter of the woods and stopped, trying to make out where I was. If it was somebody’s back yard, I would have to be careful. But there were no lights, just a dark field spreading out before me. I looked to my left and saw a brighter patch on the ground and a hundred yards beyond that a low building, maybe a garage?

    I walked through tall grass to shorter grass, and as I got closer to the bright patch, I realized what it was: a sand trap.

    I was on a fairway of Wildwood Country Club, the home course of my friend Lou Scolletta, whose house I was supposed to have been at four hours ago. There was probably a caddie shack I could hide out in, but I opted for a makeshift bed in the grass of a hollow a few fairways over. I lay down and, in the brief period before I passed out, wondered if this was the best way to prepare for the first day on my new job.

    * * *

    There was no way I wanted a full-time job working for Lou. I knew just enough about Lou to know not knowing anything more was the prudent path. The fact that he had just fired the prior manager for dipping in the till did not make the opportunity more appealing.

    But there was a crazy part of me that thought running a place—a restaurant, not McNabb’s Tavern, the decrepit neighborhood tappie in Southwest Philly where until last year I humped kegs, mopped up fluids, breathed a lot of smoke and told myself I was the “manager”—might be something I could do. Because I was nowhere right now. No degree, no trade—just fifteen years of bartending that had ended when the last McNabb standing decided—wisely—that this was no way to make a living. The new owners didn’t need a mug like me in the fern bar that McNabb’s was to become.

    I knew The Seabreeze, the quintessential Jersey Shore restaurant. When Lou bought it six years ago, I helped out a few weekends bartending when some of the corner boys he had hired just disappeared on him. It wasn’t hard finding someone to cover for me at McNabb’s. Our weekends were slower in the summer anyway, with a lot of folks going to the shore.

    Lou and I hung out more back then. He bought the place in 1977 when I was thirty and Lou maybe thirty-seven. It was sort of a vanity project for him; his main business was a Cadillac dealership in South Philly. The following summer, he showed up at my bar with his son Davy—guess the kid was sixteen. He wanted Davy to get a summer job. Could we take him on, washing dishes, whatever? I wondered why he didn’t hire him at the dealership, but I guess he wanted him to work for someone else.

    So I hired him, and he was okay, typical teenager, hardly said a word. There really wasn’t that much to do—we had a kitchen and did some sandwiches, but it wasn’t much to keep a dishwasher busy.

    I guess that was the first favor I did for Lou. And I did owe him big, seeing as how his dad got me out of the draft back in 1967. Plus, Lou got me my first restaurant job, which was really a pretty good gig at a nice South Philly restaurant. But with Lou, you never felt like he was looking for payback. He just came off as a great guy, not like he was some connected dude that you had to say yes to. I’m sure he sold a lot of cars seeming like a great guy.

    I used to give Davy a ride home sometimes, which often led to Concetta—Lou’s wife—asking me in to eat. There was always food, loads of food. She’d give me a plate of pasta, red wine out of a jug—might be ten o’clock in the evening, but so what? Then Lou would show up, and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash that I was there. Then he had me down to a little mom-and-pop restaurant near his dealership for dinner, and I met some of his friends. They were mostly older and had gone to Bishop Neumann or Southern, but a few knew guys from Kingsessing, my old neighborhood in Southwest Philly.

    I thought about that pasta and how a mick like me was going to run a real restaurant, and, as I passed out in the wet grass at 3:30 AM, whether Davy was still having the same nose-dripping problems as Drew from Buena, a path I saw him starting down two and a half years ago.

    * * *

    The sound of a mower woke me up. The guy running it looked like he had seen worse. He pointed me to the caddy shack and gave me some coins for the payphone. Thank God Lou picked up, but then that’s Lou, he’s not surprised if some fuckup calls him at dawn. I washed up as best I could with cold water and no soap in the filthy sink in the shack’s bathroom, then waited outside the locker room, not wanting to meet up with anyone, until Lou arrived.

    What a night. Blitzed out of my mind, drinking stingers like I was twenty in Somers Point, dancing with those crazy chicks, trying to teach me to moonwalk like Michael Jackson on that Motown show a couple of months ago. It was the Friday after a Monday Fourth of July, and it felt like the bar itself was stumbling under the strain of a week-long bender.

    I had just stopped in for something to eat, then met these girls, three of them, late teens, which led to my dancing lesson. As it got late and the stingers took their toll, I figured maybe I’d just crash in the back seat for a couple of hours, then get breakfast somewhere, rather than roll in drunk at four in the morning and freak out Concetta.

    Then two of the girls disappeared and the last one, Sharon, became glued to a chair at my table—that is, her butt was glued to the chair, but her face ended up stuck to the table itself, her long brown hair straggling out into the sticky remains of many ungodly drinks. At closing time, I struggled her to her feet and managed to get her to moan out where she was staying in Sea Isle City, a couple of towns south. After she vomited in the parking lot, I got her into the back seat and drove as carefully as I could, taking Route 9 to avoid the faster traffic.

    I got the girl out of the car at her shabby rental duplex, leaving her sprawled on a chaise lounge in the screened porch. I banged on the door until one of her roommates appeared in a long t-shirt. We got her into bed and I talked the roommate through how to make sure Sharon didn’t choke on her own vomit.

    I sat in my car, worrying about the girl. I was old enough to be her father, but being plastered in a Somers Point bar at closing time didn’t exactly qualify me to be in loco parentis. I was just a more experienced wastrel, a thirty-six-year-old failed bartender who would have been a disappointment to someone, if there was anyone left to fill that role.

    When I left the girl’s rental, I figured it wasn’t much farther to Wildwood, and what the hell, why not take the Parkway? But of course, that’s what impaired judgment is all about. So fatigue and drunkenness once more exacted their toll on a stupid Irishman, and here I was creeping around at dawn like an escaped convict.

    ***

    Excerpt from Wildwood Exit by Joel E. Turner. Copyright 2025 by Joel E. Turner. Reproduced with permission from Joel E. Turner. All rights reserved.

     

     

    Author Bio:

    Joel E. Turner

    Joel E. Turner’s first novel, WILDWOOD EXIT, a noir tale set at the Jersey Shore, was published by Level Best Books in 2025. Amy Rosenberg of the Philadelphia Inquirer called it “a quirky sand-in-your-shoes crime novel with a romantic heart”.

    His second novel, BRENDA’S GREEN NOTE, forthcoming from Cynren Press in 2027, is a coming-of-age story about a young woman with synesthesia who harnesses her ability to see sounds as colors to become a key player in the vibrant music scene of the 1960s in Philadelphia.

    His fiction has appeared in many US and UK journals. His website joeleturnerauthor.com, has samples/links to his work and posts about books, film and music. Articles he has written about Soul music have been featured on the UK-based Soul Source website, a major platform for news on the Northern Soul scene.

    Mr. Turner splits his time between Philadelphia and White Cloud, Michigan.

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    Q&A with JOEL E. TURNER

    Can you tell us a little about yourself and your background?
    I grew up in the Philadelphia suburbs, went to Catholic grade school and a Jesuit high school, then a small co-ed liberal arts college—no more single-sex, Catholic education, please! My degree was in English Lit and I wrote my first fiction then, lost (thankfully) in one purge or another. I considered academia but based on what I observed with teachers I admired being denied tenure, I decided it was not for me. I spent a few years working for the SSA and became interested in systems analysis, which led to me getting an MBA from University of Michigan—a truly brutal course of study, at least for me. That led to 30+ years as a consultant/data analyst/software developer in the banking industry.
    I wrote fiction throughout that period and had my first story published by Ambit, a pretty avante-garde, or at least non-academic, literary magazine published in London UK. The fiction editor at that time was J. G. Ballard, and I still have the very nice response he sent to me when recommending the story to the mag’s publisher, Martin Bax.
    My first published novel, Wildwood Exit, in 2025, was the third novel I wrote. The other two— maybe they’ll come out of the drawer some day, with pretty significant rewrites. My second novel publication, Brenda’s Green Note, is due out in October 2027. I am also working on a sequel to Wildwood Exit.
    I also blog about books, music and films at joeleturnerauthor.com. I am a big fan of 50’s/60’s R&B/Soul. A couple of my pieces in that vein were published at Soulsource.uk.com, a major venue focused on the Northern Soul scene (a whole other story, as they say).
    I am married with three grown children. I am a basketball fan and played until my knees gave out, then turned to golf.

    Tell us why readers should pick up your book—what makes it stand out?
    Wildwood Exit is a noir tale, but also a family drama. Ginty, the bartender-become-restaurant-manager-and-unwilling-consigliere is a bit of an everyman. He does things for Lou Scolletta, the restaurant owner who hired him, because Lou, through his dad (a doctor) helped him evade the draft, and got him jobs in the restaurant business. Ginty, in turn, hired Lou’s son, Davy—the addict on the run who is at the center of the story. Ginty has a sense of moral duty, to all of the Scolletta’s, which causes conflict and danger for him.
    The book has a comedic aspect, particularly with the introduction of Pinto, a super-annuated South Philly corner boy, who becomes Ginty’s partner in sketchy assignments from Lou. Pinto is a wise guy who attracts trouble in a carefree manner. And there’s a bit of romance, as Ginty meets Pauline, a vacationing paralegal from a small town in Quebec, who charms and befuddles him with her unlikely attraction to him and her French-Canadian take on his activities, delivered with a Gallic (or more properly, Québécois) panache.

    Are you currently working on your next novel? If so, can you share a little about it?
    I’m in the editing process for my next novel, Brenda’s Green Note, due out from Cynren Press in October 2027. It is the story of a girl with synesthesia—she sees sounds as colors—who is also a talented musician and leverages these capabilities to become a sound engineer in the lively music scene in Philadelphia in the mid-1960s. She begins her journey under the guidance of an avante-garde composer/musician, who introduces her to his electronic soundscapes/installations and then becomes a protégé of a rock and roll promoter. Brenda undergoes a trauma that changes her life and leads her on a search for fulfillment. It’s a coming of age story. Contrary to the advice of several folks in the publishing industry, I haven’t “stayed in my lane” by sticking to crime or literary fiction.

    What are some of your favorite leisure activities or hobbies when you’re not writing?
    I play golf, collect records (esp. R&B/Soul 45s) and enjoy the company of my wife, kids and their families. I especially like spending time at our place in the North Woods of Michigan, and at my wife’s family’s cottage on Lake Michigan—that’s taken the place of the Jersey Shore for me!

    What are a few of your favorite foods?
    Soft pretzels, hoagies, tomato pie, pasta— hey, I’m from Philly.

     

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    MAYBE YOU LIED by Jennifer Sadera #CoverReveal

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    MAYBE YOU LIED

    by Jennifer Sadera

    June 9 – 12, 2026 Cover Reveal

    Synopsis:

    MAYBE YOU LIED by Jennifer Sadera

    Everything he knows about his life is. . . a lie.

    Blindsided by the sudden death of his mother, 21-year-old Will Lockhart can no longer afford the rent or bear the haunting memories of their shared Massachusetts apartment. While packing up his mother’s belongings, he discovers his long-dead father’s deed to a house in upstate New York. With nowhere else to go, he settles there, intent on making a fresh start. But odd things happen as soon as Will moves in. He’s unnerved by evidence of fire damage in the cottage, and alarmed by the seizure his elderly next-door neighbor suffers upon meeting him. Most shocking of all are the rumors of a long-ago murder in his house. Now, trapped in a town full of strangers, unsure of whether local murmurings are true or simply small-town gossip, he’s determined to discover what really happened all those years ago, and how he’s connected to the chaos. The truth will set him free. Or get him killed.

    Book Details:

    Genre: Psychological Suspense, Domestic Suspense
    Published by: Creative James Media
    Publication Date: September 22, 2026
    Number of Pages: 344
    ISBN: 9781965648919 (ISBN10: 1965648916)
    Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

     

    Author Bio:

    Jennifer Sadera

    Jennifer Sadera first worked in the publishing industry as a junior copywriter for NAL/Penguin. She has written and edited for newspapers and magazines as a freelancer and on the staffs of major women’s publications, Woman’s World and Redbook.

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    The Truth Might Be Deadly… This Giveaway Isn’t

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