My 20th Book Release is Today!!!

Today I have many things to be thankful for: my husband of nearly forty-five years, my two children and their spouses, my five wonderful, fun grandchildren, a warm home to live in, food to eat, friends to enjoy, and so many more.

 Today I’m also thankful for my twentieth book release. I find it hard to believe I’ve written that many books – well, actually I’ve written more than that, but this is my twentieth published book, with many more to come.

“Missing My Heart” is a Chandler County Mystery set in fictional Chandlerville and Bourbonville, Kentucky. I came up with the story idea when, about thirty years ago, I was vacuuming my living room. When my grandmother had died, I got this metal horse that had been my grandfather’s. It was sitting on an end table. Somehow the vacuum cord got tangled up. I snapped it to straighten it out and knocked over the horse sending it to the floor. The saddle came off, something I didn’t know would happen. A bunch of sawdust came out.

It took about five seconds to come with the idea of, instead of sawdust, notes fell out. Mysterious notes. The heroine, Ellie Farrell, in my story would have to solve the mystery of the notes. This idea, which has been stuck in my head for all this time, is finally done.

Blurb: Bourbonville, 1975

After the death of the grandmother Ellie Farrell had lived with since she was sixteen, she is tasked with the job of cleaning out the over-packed house. When Ellie begins to find love notes and money from a Burt to Randi spanning over four decades, she sets out to find out who these people are and what they have to do with her. An unexpected check for $100,000 dollars delivered to her house, ramps up the mystery – especially when death threats begin to arrive.

Patton Trullinger, an investigative reporter, comes to Chandler County to research bootleggers for a book he’s contracted for. As a Vietnam veteran, he’s dealing with PTSD. When he meets Ellie, he finds her mystery too good to pass up.

Who are Burt and Randi? Who is sending death threats? Will Ellie and Patton’s love bloom as the mystery deepens?

Here is how Ellie finds the notes:

The vacuum cleaner roared, overpowering Eleanore Farrell’s confusing thoughts. Shaped like a silver bullet, heavy to maneuver, and loud enough to drown out the roar of a 747, Ellie figured it was built around the time of the first rocket launch. It certainly looked like something from outer space. Every week as she cleaned the house she and her grandmother had shared, Ellie had tried to convince her to replace the monstrosity. But her grandmother’s words echoed in her mind, “If isn’t broke, why replace it.”

Careful not to bump the antique furniture packed into the stuffy, pink living room, Ellie gave the too-short cord a yank, pulling it from the wall plug. The cord flipped through the air, snapping like a lion tamer’s whip. Ellie leapt over the couch to grab a priceless lamp standing helpless in the way of the wild, snake-like creature. Her foot snagged on the coffee table and with a resounding thud her grandmother’s absolute favorite treasure fell to the pink and red floral, carpeted floor.

‘The Horse.’ Not just any horse, but a heavy brass horse, complete with saddle and a chain for reins. Bright from Miranda’s weekly polishing, the horse now lay on its side, its bottom glowing in the lamplight. For the first time in her twenty-eight years of life, Ellie finally knew ‘The Horse’ was male.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, leaned over and reached out her hand, then drew back. As long as she could remember, ‘The Horse’ had been off limits. The last time she’d dared touch it, she’d been four and had been soundly whopped on her rear for her disobedience. Everyone knew you never, ever touched ‘The Horse.’

Where to find Missing My Heart:

Amazon: http://a.co/24GPfjT

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/missing-my-heart-tina-susedik/1127117826;jsessionid=5CD8E0C53CD4F845C84F10DF52DB0729.prodny_store02-atgap03?ean=9781537842363

Ibooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/missing-my-heart-a-chandler-county-novel/id1286603051?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/missing-my-heart-a-chandler-county-novel

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Tina_Susedik_Missing_My_Heart_A_Chandler_County_No?id=0B82DwAAQBAJ

Continuing The Soul Mate Tree Collective: “A Promise Remembered”

Erin Riley’s book in The Soul Mate Tree Collective, A Promise Remembered, was published on June 14th.

Rowan and James have been drawn together in every existence since the beginning of time. But love’s sweet promise is cut short after an unthinkable tragedy strikes two young families, shattering the bond in this lifetime.

Is love stronger than death? Can Rowan and James find another way to each other? Against all odds, a forgotten promise is remembered and kept, reuniting two souls destined to be together.

PRE-ORDER BUY LINK: https://www.amzn.com/B071H9TRP7/

Book Trailer for The Soul Mate Tree: https://youtu.be/VjxyyD3TVoA

Trailer for A PROMISE REMEMBERED: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3oXFV-LppyE&feature=youtu.be

SHORT EXCERPT: Rowan opened the closet door, jumping back as the hinges squeaked, and gazed around the empty space. It was an old fashioned small closet with a single hanging bar and a shelf on top. There were no visible signs of rodents.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

The sound was coming from under the floor, it seemed. She knelt carefully, keeping her can of compressed air at the ready, as she examined the wooden floorboards. Looking closer, she furrowed her brow. The blemish was nearly seamless, but she could tell the floorboards had been cut. Despite her fear of the rodents, her curiosity was piqued. Was there actually a secret compartment hidden in the closet floor?

Rowan used her fingernails to pry up the end of one of the floorboards, peering down warily in case the mouse decided to jump out at her. After removing two more boards, she used the flashlight on her phone to examine the dark hole. No beady red eyes stared back her. The secret compartment in the floor contained only what appeared to be a dusty shoebox.

Rowan sprayed some compressed air around to be safe, then pulled it out the box marked Airwalks, men’s size twelve. Carrying it closer to the window, she sat down on the floor to lift the lid.

There wasn’t much in it. A crumpled pack of Marlboros, so old the tobacco had fallen out of the cigarettes. A lighter. Several baseball cards. A pencil drawing of a large tree, drawn by someone who was by no means an artist. A well-worn Playboy magazine with Pamela Anderson on the cover. Rowan glanced at the date—1997.

A wave of sadness washed over her. She must have found the secret stash of Bella’s long-dead brother. Poor kid. It seemed oddly intrusive touching the private things of a dead boy, and Rowan hastened to put everything back where she found it. But the sound of something rolling in the box caught her attention, and she peered in.

A stick? A small twig half the size of her pinkie was in the bottom of the shoebox. Why had the dead boy put a stick in his secret shoebox? Despite herself, she reached in to pick it up.

Energy prickled through her body, like a shot of expresso, quickening her pulse and her breathing. She heard a noise behind her that sounded like a gasp of surprise, and turned sharply to find she was no longer alone in her bedroom. Rowan screamed as she leapt to her feet.

A man stood in the middle of her bedroom, blocking her only exit. Tall, dark haired, lean yet muscular, he was nearly naked, wearing what appeared to be bicycle shorts. How had he gotten in her room? What was he going to do to her? With a sick sense of panic, Rowan remembered Bella saying her ex had been a crazy stalker. Had he returned to kill them both?

“What the . . .?” The man’s voice was deep and grumbling as he glared at her with displeasure. “How the hell did you get in my house, Rowan?”

Rowan backed up, still gripping the stick, and desperately looked around for a weapon. “How do you know my name?” she squeaked.

He stepped closer, his broad shoulders and naked chest now very close to her face. She got a whiff of aftershave as she peered up into angry green eyes that seemed startlingly familiar. Blinking in confusion, she dropped her gaze for a moment, which unfortunately landed on his ripped abs and the trail of fine hair that lead down toward the low waistband of his bike shorts.

Oh, they weren’t shorts. They were underwear. An angry man who somehow knew her name was standing in her bedroom wearing nothing but a tight pair of boxer briefs.

“How do I know your name?” he echoed unbelievingly. “Are you on something?” Confusion lanced his face as he looked around the room. “What did you do to my bedroom?”

He took another step in her direction, reaching out as though to touch her. Rowan screamed, dropping the stick, and bent to pick up the discarded can of compressed air with the intention of bashing him in the face with it. But when she looked up, he was gone.

How to find Erin:

http://tinyurl.com/erinrileybooks (amazon page)

https://www.facebook.com/erinsrileyromance/ (facebook page)

https://erinsriley.wordpress.com/ (website)

@erinsriley1 (twitter)

 

 

Catching Up With The Soul Mate Tree Collectives: “Making a Match”

I got behind with posting the past two releases for The Soul Mate Tree. No excuses – but I guess I could blame it on summer and trying to get my story, “Missing My Heart” for the Chandler County stories done.

As a reminder, here is the poem depicting the Soul Mate Tree

The legend of the soul mate tree:

I am old, I am ancient, my purpose is clear

To give those who are needy a treasure so dear.

They who come to my roots, touch my bark, stroke my leaves

Find the soul of their lives if they but believe.

When I call and you listen, your prize will be great

If your heart remains open and you don’t hesitate.

Do you yearn? Be you lonely? Is your time yet at hand?

Reach for me and I’ll give to you. I’m yours to command.

For your trust, for your faith, keep my secrets untold

And I’ll gift you forever, to have and to hold.

An ancient legend spanning eras, continents, and worlds. To some, it’s nothing more than a dream. To others, a pretty fairy tale handed down through the generations.

 For those in critical need of their own happy ending, a gift.

Mackenzie Lucas’ story, Make Me a Match, was released on May 17th. Buy Link: ttp://a.co/h9PJJn5

Widower Mark Cage needs help getting a date with a cute kindergarten teacher, only the last person on earth he’d ask is Athena Sullivan, Essence’s resident dating guru. Yet, Mark doesn’t have much of an option when his teenage daughter forces his hand and purchases a matchmaking package for him with the sexy relationship coach.
Sparks fly as Athena polishes Mark’s manners and helps him become dating savvy. Unfortunately, Mark begins to realize too late that the woman he thought he wanted is not the one he needs.
And, with the aid of The Soul Mate Tree, that his destined true love is closer than he’d imagined, if only he will open himself up to love a second time.

Book Trailer for The Soul Mate Tree: https://youtu.be/VjxyyD3TVoA

Trailer for MAKE ME A MATCH:  https://youtu.be/yBbL95k_ZVA

Mackenzie can be found at:

Website: http://www.mackenzielucas.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MacLucas_writer

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MackenzieLucasAuthor

https://www.facebook.com/MackenzieLucasFanPage

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6915570.Mackenzie_Lucas

Instagram: mackenzielucas.writer

Newsletter Signup: http://www.mackenzielucas.com/newsletter

Ranchers, Rustlers, and Romance: “A Photograph of Love” is Live

This past few weeks have been crazy trying to keep up with all the social media for other author’s books that have been released in the various series or collectives I’m part of. Some days I don’t know if I’m coming or going.

The most recent group I was asked to write for was Sable Hunter’s Hell Yeah! Kindle World series. Sable created her characters and world several years ago and began asking authors to join her world. The only rule was we had to tie in characters from her original world. Last fall I was asked to join the Hell Yeah! KindleWorld, and “A Photograph of Love” was created. I tied Presley Love Saucier and her husband Zane. I also brought in a couple more characters.

But the main characters in my book are Lincoln Phister and Trudy Selucas. When Lincoln’s parents died while he was in college, he left school to keep up their family ranch and raise his younger siblings. His dream of becoming a photojournalist, along with his camera and photos were buried in his past. Now, ten years later, his heart not in ranching, his siblings are ready to take over and give Link the chance to pursue his dream. But at this point in his life, he’s not sure he is able to do this.

Trudy Selucas has worked as a home hospice nurse for too long. Burned out from helping people pass on, she’s ready for a much needed vacation. So when her college friend, Presley, invites her to visit Texas and spend time taking pictures, she jumps at the chance.

Trespassing and a chance encounter with a snake, bring Trudy and Link together – even though he thinks she’s a city slicker and she thinks he’s a bitter, angry man. Both are wrong. Can they find their own “Photograph of Love?”

Buy Link: Amazon: http://a.co/1VdSkfZ

Tag: Can an angry rancher and a burned-out hospice nurse find their own photograph of love while searching for cattle rustlers?

Excerpt:  “Who are you?” She scooted away, then stopped and looked down at her exposed torso. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything except kill that rattler snoozing beneath your . . . um . . .” He pointed to her ass, before turning his back and stepping away. “You may want to cover yourself.”

A pile of equipment lay a few steps away. He knew what he’d find. Like all the others who came out here, she was probably taking pictures. He toed the backpack. Sure enough. Sitting beside the bag was a camera and tri-pod. A shiver of irritation slid through him.

Must be nice to be able to wander around and take pictures all day. He’d love to be able to do that, but since he’d inherited the ranch and younger siblings when his parents died ten years ago, there’d been no time. Maybe she was on vacation. Vacations, kids, and ranching didn’t go hand-in-hand. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had more than a few hours off.

“Ugh. I’m covered in . . .” She paused a moment. “…snake guts?”

“’Fraid so.” Her face was red. Embarrassment or sunburn? Both?

“Can you hand me a towel from my backpack?”

With a deep sigh, he unzipped the bag. Three small canisters of film rolled to the ground. Huh. A purist. Someone who still took photos the old-fashioned way. His hand touched something hard. Huh. He pulled out another digital camera. He recognized the brand name and whistled between his teeth. Must be nice to be able to afford two cameras. He glanced at the one on the ground. Two expensive cameras. He dug further into the backpack. And lenses to go with them. If he had the time and money . . .

“It’s in the other pocket.”

With reluctance, he replaced the camera, opened the larger pouch, and found a small piece of white fabric.

“You call this a towel?” he said, keeping his back to her, tossing the cloth over his shoulder, hoping he’d sent it in the right direction.

****

Trudy caught the towel he’d pitched over his shoulder one handed. Could she simply crawl under a flower and die? Wait, that’s what almost happened. It was coming back to her now. The damn rattler. But how had this man found her? She didn’t seem hurt anywhere, so he hadn’t done anything to her except kill that damn rattler.

“I use it to shade my lens against sunlight.”

Now she was covered in blood and guts. But at least she was alive. She hadn’t been sure how much longer her legs would have held up if he hadn’t come along. They’d been getting shakier and the damn rattler more upset.

She cleaned herself off the best she could. There would be no more pictures taken today. As soon as she got back to Presley’s, she’d take a shower and throw away every stitch of clothing she wore.

“I’m decent now.” While wiping off the blood, she couldn’t help but notice his broad shoulders beneath a long-sleeved, chambray shirt tucked into well-worn jeans. Dark brown hair hung to his shoulders beneath a well-used, sweat-stained, gray cowboy hat. But when he faced her and tipped his hat back, she got a good look at his features.

Her breath caught. If Tom Selleck had a twin brother, it would be this man. Dark eyebrows, a bushy mustache, light brown eyes, a dent in his chin, and she’d bet her bottom dollar he’d have dimples if he smiled.

Scarred, brown leather chaps encased slim hips and muscular thighs. She was not, no she wasn’t, going to look at his crotch, but, damn, in her mind, chaps were meant to highlight a man’s goods. Instead she drew her eyes from the hunk in front of her and took in the snake carnage littering the ground.

“I guess I should thank you for saving my life. I’m not sure how much longer my legs would have held out.” She closed her eyes to the mess. “Every time I so much as flexed a muscle the damn rattler started shaking its tail.”

The man didn’t say anything, just kept his arms folded over his chest and stared.

Trudy took a step toward him and reached out her hand. “I’m Trudy Selucas.” When he didn’t offer his hand, she wiped her palms on her shorts. “Well, anyway, thanks.”

“You’re trespassing, you know.”

Shit. She’d been warned to stay off private property, but in her interest in the landscape, she must have missed any posted signs. Maybe there weren’t any. “I didn’t see any signs.”

He yanked his hat back down, shading his features. “Well, they’re there. Not to mention the barbwire fence you had to have climbed over, or under, to get on my property.”

“I saw a fence, but it was cut, so I thought it was all right to go through.”

Chandler County: Missing: The Lady Said No

This past Tuesday, April 25th the next book in the Chandler County Series was released. I just finished reading Missing: The Lady Said No by Jacquie Biggar and thoroughly enjoyed it. This was the first book I’ve read by her and plan on reading more. I particularly enjoyed the bumbling detective, Augustus Grant. He reminded me of Columbo, although this story takes place in 1953.

Tag: The Race is on to find a killer in the heart of Kentucky horse country.

Blurb:  Detective Augustus Grant is faced with his most baffling case to date. Well-respected race horse breeder, John Jorgenson, is murdered in his den days before the Kentucky Derby and the list of suspects is growing.

Complicating matters, Gus’ ex-girlfriend is the last person to have seen the victim alive.

Rebecca Hayes owes the Jorgenson family her loyalty. They gave her a new life after a disastrous affair leaves her alone and pregnant.

With all the evidence pointing in Becky’s direction, will Gus do his duty?

Or follow his heart?

Buy Links:  http://books2read.com/u/3Lrqre

http://amzn.to/2jXEbAP

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34033805-missing

Excerpt:

“If there’s something you want to share; it would be just between the two of us.” He waved the bread in the air.

She hesitated, then glanced around before leaning close. “Mr. Jorgenson was real worried about his horse, Forever Humble. I thinks he has a lot invested in the race. Emmett says he’s been hanging out at the track night and day.” She covered her face with her hands, one bandaged white, one black. “It’s just so sad.”

Hmm. That was interesting. He’d heard rumors around town that the Jorgensons were in financial straits, but he’d put it down to jealousy and human nature. Obviously, there was more to the story than he’d figured.

Maybe even enough for murder?

Gus finished the soup and thanked the young cook before making his way into the main part of the house. Fine hardwood floors and the dark wainscoting lined the walls. Everything was polished to within an inch of its life and glistened from top to bottom. How could anyone feel comfortable in a place like this? Bet the Jorgensons never kicked their feet up onto the coffee table to relax, or left their rooms in robes in search of a midnight snack. This was the type of house that demanded decorum.

As if to prove his verdict, a man came into view at the end of the hall. He was directing the coroner, Nancy Huggins, to a room with a police guard, disapproval radiating from his immaculate frame. He wore a suit nicer than Gus’ funeral attire, all three pieces starched and pressed to perfection. A wrinkle wouldn’t dare latch itself to those clothes.

Gus looked down at his own rumpled shirt and skewed tie and shrugged.

Nancy caught his eye and raised her brow. “Augustus. What brings you to the back of beyond?”

The manservant turned, and a chill crawled down Gus’ back. The guy had the deadest, black eyes he’d ever seen.

“I’m…ah, here to investigate the Jorgenson case. The Brass called and requested me for this one.”

“Hmm, must be important then. I heard you received a medal from the President.”

Gus squirmed.

He hadn’t done anything to deserve a medal. It was pure luck that he figured out the plot to kidnap the President’s daughter, and was able to catch the perps before they got away with the deed.

“Why were you in the back of the house, sir? That area is reserved for the servants.” The manservant folded his arms and waited for an answer. Gus felt like a misbehaving child all over again.

“I, ah… came in from the pool, after talking to Mrs. Jorgenson. She gave me permission to question the staff as I see fit.” He met the man’s coal dark gaze. “And you are?”

Gus didn’t think it was possible for the broom handle to climb any further up the man’s butt.

“That’s Ernest. He takes a while to warm up to strangers,” a lilting voice drifted down from the upper reaches of the home.

Gus froze. His heart battered the walls of his chest. There was a ringing in his ears. The chicken soup threatened to revolt.

“Hello, Augustus.”

About Jacquie: Jacquie is a USA Today bestselling author of Romantic Suspense who loves to write about tough, alpha males who know what they want, that is until they’re gob-smacked by heroines who are strong, contemporary women willing to show them what they really need is love. She is the author of the popular Wounded Hearts series and has just started a new series in paranormal suspense, Mended Souls.

She has been blessed with a long, happy marriage and enjoys writing romance novels that end with happily-ever-afters.

Jacquie lives in paradise along the west coast of Canada with her family and loves reading, writing, and flower gardening. She swears she can’t function without coffee, preferably at the beach with her sweetheart. 🙂

Free reads, excerpts, author news, and contests can be found at:  http://jacqbiggar.com

You can follow her on at http://Facebook.com/jacqbiggar , http://Twitter.com/jacqbiggar

You can also join her street team on Facebook: Biggar’s Book Buddies

Or her exclusive Review Crew: https://jacqbiggar.com/join-my-review-crew/

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