GUEST POST: How Your Personal History Affects Your Writing by Richard H. Hardy, Author of The Infinity Program


Posted by Ryder Islington, Author of ULTIMATE JUSTICE, A Trey Fontaine Mystery

I had the honor of allowing Richard H. Hardy to present a guest post and also, to introduce himself and his book, The Infinity, to my wonderful followers and readers. Below is his post on How Your Personal History Affects Your Writing, followed by a Bio, Excerpt of the book, Book Summary, and ways to contact Mr. Hardy, and purchase The Infinity Program.

I love to support authors, and am pleased to have Richard here to share his history, knowledge, skill and of course, his book.

 

How Your Personal History Affects Your Writing

My family came to the U.S when I was four years old.  My father was a Chartered Accountant (the British equivalent of a CPA) and he thought he’d have better career opportunities in the USA.  For me, it was a great adventure.  I can even remember seeing the Statue of Liberty when we arrived at New York.

My first great discovery in America was the comic book, especially Superman and Captain Marvel.  Super powers, spaceships, time machines, other worlds—I was just blown away.  To this day I can remember whole panels from these ancient comic books.  I used to pretend that I had come from to America from Krypton.  When other kids were playing in a sand box, I was dreaming about rocket ships to other worlds.

When I was about thirteen years old I bought a bushel basket filled with Astounding Science Fiction magazines from the 1940s.  These timeless classics included writers like Poul Anderson, Isaac Asimov, L. Sprague Decamp and A.E. Van Vogt.  Van Vogt in particular made a huge impression on me with his Worlds of Nul-A.  The world of non-Aristotelian logic and General Semantics was pretty heady stuff to wrap my mind around.  I was completely hooked by imaginative worlds of Science Fiction.  At first it made me want to be a scientist.  I began to devour non-fiction books about Relativity Theory and Quantum Mechanics.

When I got older I discovered that there was more to literature than just Science Fiction.  Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and Ape and Essence led me to Antic Hay and Chrome Yellow, Huxley’s satires about English life in the 1920s.  From there it was on to authors like Thomas Wolfe and James Joyce.  Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man was a revelation to me.

The father of one of my college girl friends once said to me, “I never thought I would ever say this to anyone, Richard, but I think you read too much.”  I did and I still do.  Books are one of the great passions in my life.  Put me in a library and I am like an alcoholic in a brewery!  It is this long experience with books that led me to be a writer.  There’s nothing quite like a well made book in your hand.  Nothing can come close to it except 30 or 40 pages of your own work, fresh off the printer.  A love of books and a love of writing go together.  I was very fortunate to grow up in a home that valued both.

 

richard Richard H. Hardy’s Bio:

Richard H. Hardy was born in Glasgow, Scotland, during a week of relentless bombing raids just before the close of World War II. The day he was born an incendiary bomb fell on the church across the street from where he lived, so he is fond of saying that he entered the world with a big adrenaline rush.His family later moved to England and then on to America.After college Richard bounced through a series of temporary jobs as he traveled around the country, wanting nothing more than to write fiction. A job driving a library van allowed him free time to write several short stories and work on a novel.He and his wife moved to New Hampshire, where he took an entry level job at a software company. He was soon promoted to the technical writing department and ended up producing over 500,000 words of online documentation. After a few years he was promoted to the programming department and ended up as the Senior EDI Programmer, creating EDI maps and writing UNIX scripts and troubleshooting on AIX systems throughout the U.S. and Canada.

After he retired, he started writing fiction again. The Infinity Program is his first published novel.

 200 The Infinity Program Summary
Jon Graeme and Harry Sale are unlikely friends. Harry is a world-class programmer, but his abrasive personality alienates co-workers. In contrast, Jon is a handsome and easy-going technical writer, the low man on the IT totem pole.Sharing a love of nature, the men set out together, planning to go their separate ways–Jon on a hike and Harry, fly fishing. Three days later, Jon arrives at the rendezvous point, but his friend is nowhere in sight. When Jon finds Harry unconscious on the floor of a cave, Harry claims to have been lying there the entire time. But he is neither cold nor hungry. What Jon doesn’t know is that Harry fell into an underground cavern, where he came into contact with an alien quantum computer.Back at work, Harry jettisons his regular tasks and concentrates exclusively on inventing new operating language to access the alien system. In the process he crashes his office’s Super Computer and is fired. Jon convinces the company to give Harry a second chance, arguing that the system he has invented will make them millions.Jon has no idea what havoc Harry is about to unleash.

Formats/Prices: $5.95 ebook, $13.95 paperback
Genre: Science Fiction, Romance
Pages: 250
Release: April 1, 2014
Publisher: Camel Press
ISBN: 9781603819336

 

 

The Infinity Program GoodReads page:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20794011-the-infinity-program

Richard H. Hardy’s Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/richard.hardy.31924

Richard H. Hardy‘s Twitter:
https://twitter.com/rhfh944

Richard H. Hardy‘s GoodReads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7844267.Richard_H_Hardy

Richard H. Hardy’s blog:
http://richard-hardy.com/blog/

Richard H. Hardy’s website:
http://richard-hardy.com/

Tribute Books Blog Tours Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tribute-Books-Blog-Tours/242431245775186

The Infinity Program tour site:
http://theinfinityprogram.blogspot.com/

BOOK REVIEW: MURDER HAS CONSEQUENCES By Giacomo Giammatteo


Review by Ryder Islington, Author of ULTIMATE JUSTICE, A Trey Fontaine Mystery
MURDER HAS CONSEQUENCES is a fun trip. Mr. Giammatteo writes in a way that makes the reader think he has lived on both sides of the fence: as a cop who believes in doing the right thing, and as a convict who takes care of business.
This is really a story about friendship and family, wrapped up in a complicated plot about a cop accused of murder, and a killer who will do what ever it takes to get his friend, the cop, off.  The characters are so real that I found myself hating this one, and loving that one, rooting for this one and ready to kill the other one myself.
This is a great thriller/suspense, and mystery. I’d recommend it to every lover of those genres, as well as anyone who wants to read about relationships, and the difficulty that arises in them. Five stars for MURDER HAS CONSEQUENCES!
Below you’ll find a synopsis, an excerpt, and a list of other bloggers who have jumped on the bandwagon for this book. There are other reviews, guest posts, and interviews. And information on how to find Giacomo Giammatteo on line as well as where to find the book.

Murder Has Consequences

by Giacomo Giammatteo

on Tour October 1 – November 30, 2013

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Suspense
Published by: Inferno Publishing Company
Publication Date: 2/20/2013
Number of Pages: 383
ISBN: 9780985030254
Note: Excessive strong language, Graphic violence, Explicit sexual scenes
Purchase Links:

Synopsis:

For a select few people, friendship lasts forever. Nicky Fusco and Frankie Donovan were friends like that, but that was years ago. Now Frankie’s a detective in Brooklyn’s Homicide department, and Nicky is a reformed hit man. But when Frankie gets in trouble—and the law can’t help him—he turns to Nicky.

The problem is that Nicky promised his family, and God, that he’d go straight.

Read an excerpt:

Murder Has Consequences
Friendship & Honor, Book II
By
Giacomo Giammatteo“Oaths are something you swear to when you’re young, and wish you hadn’t when you get old.”
~Nicky FuscoIntroduction
Wilmington, DelawareActions have consequences. I learned that long ago.

  • I learned it when I was five years old and got caught stealing cigarettes.
  • I learned it when Mikey “The Face” Fagullo beat our asses for not giving him a cut of the smokes we stole from a boxcar.
  • I learned it when Father Tom caught us playing cards instead of attending mass.
  • Mostly I learned it when I shot Freddy Campisi. That lesson cost me ten years in prison.

Different actions yield different consequences. Do something wrong—get sent to prison. That’s one kind of consequence. But that’s the easy one. If you go to prison, you do your time and get out. It’s over. Done with.

But there is another, far worse, consequence—the one you have to live with day in and day out. The kind of consequence you beat yourself up over. The kind that won’t go away. I did my time for killing Freddy Campisi. The other things I’ve done I have to live with. Those are between me and God. They are my cross on earth.

Nicky Fusco

Chapter <$n>
Restraint

Wilmington, Delaware
I looked out my window toward Front Street, then lifted my head until I caught sight of the steeple of St. Elizabeth’s Church. On a good day, when my window was open, I could hear the bells ringing. All I heard today was traffic. I picked up the phone and dialed Angie; she’d be expecting me for dinner. Adapting to my new life had been tough. I had traded excitement and danger for the routine of a family and a steady job. All in all a good trade, but at times I still itched to do something. Angie answered on the fifth ring. I always counted because I hung up if no one answered after ring five.
“Hello.”
Angie had the best voice in the world. Strong and forceful, but…gentle too.
“Hey, babe, I’ve got to check a job tonight, so I’ll be a little late. You and Rosa eat without me.”
“I’ll wait for you,” she said. “Rosa’s eating with a friend.”
“Okay, if you don’t mind. I’ll see you later.”
I grabbed my briefcase, a thin black leather one Angie gave me for my birthday, put the blueprints inside and headed for the door. “Sheila, tell Joe I’m going to check that new site.”
“Which one?”
“The new condos.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow.”
I hated lying to Sheila. Hated lying to Angie even more, but this was something that had to be done. I checked my watch as I started the car—4:45. That should give me plenty of time to get there before Marty Ferris left work. He was Rosa’s scum-sucking ex-stepfather who needed to be taught a lesson. This meant I’d have to get up early to check those condos before work tomorrow, but that would be all right. I liked seeing the site, making sure there were no surprises. It wasn’t just the bricks and mortar I needed to calculate, but also how much scaffolding and how many planks and braces we’d need. All of that mattered.
I was thinking about how lucky I was to have this job when I suddenly realized Union Street was coming up. I put on the blinker, turned left, and headed south, pulling into a parking spot just north of Sixth Street by my favorite water-ice stand. After checking the time again, I got out and grabbed a drink then got back in the car. Marty Ferris would be out soon. He was going to pay for what he did to Rosa. It had been more than six months now, and I had abided by all the rules my old hit-man mentor, Johnny Muck, had taught me. No matter what I had promised Angie, it was time for Marty to learn a lesson.
***
Marty Ferris came out of the bathroom, washed his hands twice, dried them, and tossed the paper towels into the bin. It was almost time to quit, and not much made him happier than that. Another day hacking at slabs of meat with a cleaver had earned him enough for his weekly bills and a few beers at Teddy’s. Not nearly what he deserved for putting up with all the assholes who came in demanding special cuts, or trimming of fat, but it was the best he could do considering the economy. At times he felt like taking one of the knives and cutting some fat off a few of the customers, especially Mrs. Mariano. What a pain in the ass she was. That woman was never satisfied. She came into the shop every Thursday, walking as if she had a t-bone stuck up her ass.
‘Don’t forget to cut off all the fat, Marty. All of it.’
Her nagging voice grated on his nerves, staying with him long after she left. Stupid bitch should realize it was the fat that made the meat taste good, but he’d never tell her that.
Marty finished wrapping a few chops for the customer he was waiting on, and cleaned his knives as he waited for the day to end. The clock chimed—it was five-thirty, the first thing since lunch that put a smile on Marty’s face. He untied his apron and headed for the back room. “Time for me to go, Sal. See you tomorrow.”
“See you, Marty.”
After scrubbing his hands he exited the building, got in his car and headed south on Union Street. He wanted to go home and shower, but he hadn’t had a beer since Tuesday night, and he was itching for one. He thought about stopping at the bar, but then remembered it was Thursday, his day for subs at Casapulla’s.
***
I sat in the car a block north of where Marty worked, still sipping on my water ice to cool off. There wasn’t much better than water ice on a hot day. As I thought that, I marveled at the genius of combining sugar, ice, and lemon into a drink that is damn near addictive, tasted good, and actually quenched your thirst. Water ice was one of the things I had missed most when I lived in New York, and missed even more in prison. I hadn’t been all over the country yet, but so far I hadn’t found anyplace that had water ice like Wilmington. For such a little city it had a lot of special things, particularly when it came to food.
Someone I didn’t recognize was walking north on Union Street. I could tell he knew me by the way he stared, leaning down a little to get a better look at who sat behind the wheel. His face was familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to it for the life of me. Frankie was always the best at that. I don’t think there was anyone Frankie forgot once he met them. Even ten years later he could instantly spit out a name. I always wanted to be able to do that, but never could. I sighed as the guy headed toward me. There was no way I was coming up with his name in time.
The guy stooped over, leaned toward the car and smiled. “Hey, Nicky. Good to see you again.”
I reached my hand out and shook his, then started to fake a forgotten-name moment, but I ended up doing what I always did when faced with this situation. “I know I should remember your name, but I don’t.”
The guy laughed, probably to cover up the embarrassment that he was forgotten. If only people knew it wasn’t them, just a common thing.
“It’s Howard. Remember, ninth grade, Sister Louise?”
I thought a second, then shook my head. “I don’t, Howard. I’m sorry. I barely remember Sister Louise.”
He smiled, laughed some more. “That’s okay. Good to see you anyway. Take care.”
“Yeah, take care, Howard.”
As he walked up the street, I repeated the name in my head, hoping to remember it in case we ran into each other again. Within a few seconds I started looking for Marty again, focusing on the cars going south on Union Street. A minute later I saw his car, letting it pass before pulling out and falling in a few blocks behind him. We went past Front Street, past the park, past the street where he lived and over the bridge into Elsemere. As soon as he headed over the bridge I knew where he was going; on Thursdays Marty usually treated himself to a cheesesteak at Casapulla’s. Most people thought Philly had the best cheesesteaks, but little old Wilmington, Delaware, made the best subs and steaks, bar none, and Casapulla’s was king. Had been for more than fifty years.
Originally I’d planned on torturing Marty, but something inside of me wouldn’t let me do that, so while I waited in the car, I decided I’d just have a talk with him. If that didn’t work, I’d shoot him to get it over with. I had planned on doing it before he got his food, but despite how much I hated the guy, I couldn’t justify killing him on an empty stomach. Everyone deserved a good last meal.
Rather than risk being seen, I turned around, deciding to wait for him by his house. I went back across the bridge and was lured in by a McDonald’s sign boasting the billions they’d sold. It flashed at me on the left, so I turned into the parking lot and waited. Marty lived in Canby Park, just across the street, and from here I could see him coming. If he kept to his routine, he’d go home to shower then go out for a few beers. Perfect. I’d wait for him to leave the bar and take him then.
After half an hour, I began to worry. It shouldn’t have taken him that long to get a sandwich, not even if they were busy. I waited ten more minutes then started the car and drove to Casapulla’s. Marty’s car wasn’t there.
Shit. How did I miss him? I turned and drove back past Marty’s house. Not there, either. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. I never thought stuff like that, so perhaps it was an omen. Angie had been after me with constant reminders not to do anything illegal, and while I promised her I wouldn’t, this was one thing I’d promised myself long before that so it didn’t count.
Maybe she was right, though. Even guys like Marty deserved a second consideration. I pulled to the curb, put the car in park, and took a quarter from the change slot under the radio.
Tails.
I flipped the coin, a toss to determine Marty’s fate.
Heads.
I nodded. All right, Marty lives. I popped the car in gear and headed home, a good feeling in my gut. Sister Mary Thomas would be proud. As I drove home I wondered what I would have done if the coin had landed on tails.
It took less than five minutes to get home. Angie and I had moved into a single-family home on Beech Street. It was only a few blocks from where we grew up, but the houses were nicer and still within the St. Elizabeth’s school district. It also put me a few blocks closer to where the guys hung out and played cards. Doggs was still around, and still running games, and Patsy the Whale and Charlie Knuckles were there too. Mikey the Face was serving time, and Pockets had gotten killed in an armed robbery. Some of the others had just moved on.
I parked the car, threw the bag in the trunk, and headed up the sidewalk to the house, then climbed the steps to the stoop two at a time. When I reached the top, I pushed open the front door. Angie stood in the center of the room, hugging Rosa. They were crying.
I nearly ran to them. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“It’s Marty,” Angie said. “Rosa met him for subs and they got into an argument. He hit her.”
My body tensed. Fists clenched. That fuckin’ prick is gonna pay.
Rosa broke away from her mother and grabbed me, hugging. “Dad, don’t do anything. I’m okay. Nothing’s wrong. Don’t hurt him, okay?”
I held her close. Patted her back. All I could think of was what Mamma Rosa used to say to me when things got bad. “Non ti preoccupare, Rosa.”
“English!” she hollered. “Speak English.”
“All I said was don’t worry.” Inside though, things churned. Thoughts of what I’d do to Marty when I got him, and how much I’d make him suffer. I thought of nails and screws and hammers and acid…
Then I felt her pinch me. “Dad. Dad, are you listening?”
I looked down at her and rubbed the back of her head. “What?”
“Did you hear me when I said don’t hurt him? I meant it.”
Her eyes were red from crying and her cheeks were tear-stained, but her face was that of an angel. How could I refuse. “All right, Rosa. But I swear…”
“Don’t worry. It will never happen again. I’m through with seeing him for good.”
I pulled her to me. Hugged her. You’re right, Rosa. It will never happen again.

Author Bio:

Giacomo Giammatteo lives in Texas, where he and his wife run an animal sanctuary and take care of 41 loving rescues. By day, he works as a headhunter in the medical device industry, and at night, he writes.

Catch Up With the Author:

1.   10/01 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Deal Sharing Aunt
2.   10/02 ~ Review @ Teena in Toronto
3.   10/03 ~ Guest Post @ Lauries Thoughts and Reviews
4.   10/03 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Beth Art From the Heart
5.   10/04 ~ Review @ Books Books and More Books
6.   10/04 ~ Showcase @ Housewife Blues and Chihuahua Stories
7.   10/07 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Real Army of Moms
8.   10/15 ~ Review @ Views from the Countryside
9.   10/16 ~ Interview @ The Reading Frenzy
10.  10/19 ~ Review @ Literary R&R
11.   10/21 ~ Interview @ A Blue Million Books
12.   10/21 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Dr. Pepper Diva
13.   10/22 ~ Guest Post @ Closed the Cover
14.   10/23 ~ Showcase @ SweepingMe
15.   10/28 ~ Review & Giveaway @ This College Dropout
16.   11/01 ~ Review @ Smoochiefrog Reviews
17.   11/07 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Rhodes Review
18.   11/08 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Ryder Islington Blog
19.   11/08 ~ Review of Murder Takes Time @ Now is Gone
20.   11/09 ~ Review, Guest Post & Giveaway @ Now is Gone
21.   11/11 ~ Review & Character Interview @ Jersey Girl Book Reviews
22.   11/12 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Celticladys Reviews
23.   11/27 ~ Review & Giveaway @ The Top Shelf
24.   11/28 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Cabin goddess

BOOK REVIEW: Murder by Syllabub by Kathleen Delaney


Review By Ryder Islington, Author of ULTIMATE JUSTICE A Trey Fontaine Mystery

Syllabub? I’m from the South and I’d never heard of it. Turns out it’s sweet drink. The book, Murder By Syllabub? Far from sweet! This is a great cozy, with lots of red herrings, several suspects, and characters who can irritate you just by walking into the room…wait…onto the page. The book is so well written, the characters so well-rounded, that they have become friends, and a few have become like some of my relatives…they can be a real pain in the *&%.

Ms. Delaney has done an excellent job with this Ellen McKenzie mystery, starring a real estate broker, married to a small town sheriff, who goes with her aunt to help the older woman’s dear friend. Turns out there’s more trouble than Ellen or her aunt anticipated. Murder. Theft. Ghosts. Family secrets.

As five women try to figure out who did what, the danger and intrigue build. And yes, it is a cozy, not an international spy thriller, or a maniac-on-the-loose suspense. But for a cozy, it has its share of spying, maniacs (or at least borderline idiots) and suspense.

I’d recommend this book to lovers of the good old-fashioned mystery, as well as lovers of suspense, Southern history, and modern cozies with nosey characters who get into trouble minding business best left to the police. now I have to go back and read the first two books in the series, though I thoroughly enjoyed book three without the need to read the others. A first-rate mystery that kept me turning pages to see if I could outsmart the villan, which by the way, I didn’t.

Those who leave a comment regarding this post get their name entered for a chance to win a copy of Murder by Syllabub, and at the end of this post is a list of other sites where you can find articles, interviews, other reviews about this book, and more chances to win, so please take a few minutes to learn more about this Kathleen Delaney and her new book, Murder by Syllabub.

Murder by Syllabub

by Kathleen Delaney

on Tour September – October, 2013

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery
Published by: Camel Press
Publication Date: July 1, 2013
Number of Pages: 298
ISBN: 978-1-60381-957-2
Purchase Links:

Synopsis:

A ghost in Colonial dress has been wreaking havoc at an old plantation house in Virginia. The house is owned by Elizabeth Smithwood, the best friend of Ellen McKenzie’s Aunt Mary. Mary is determined to fly to the rescue, and Ellen has no choice but to leave her real estate business and new husband to accompany her. Who else will keep the old girl out of trouble? When Ellen and Aunt Mary arrive, they find that Elizabeth’s “house” comprises three sprawling buildings containing all manner of secret entrances and passages, not to mention slave cabins. But who owns what and who owned whom? After Monty—the so-called ghost and stepson of Elizabeth’s dead husband—turns up dead in Elizabeth’s house, suspicion falls on her. Especially when the cause of death is a poisoned glass of syllabub taken from a batch of the sweet, creamy after-dinner drink sitting in Elizabeth’s refrigerator. Monty had enemies to spare. Why was he roaming the old house? What was he searching for? To find the truth, Ellen and her Aunt Mary will have to do much more than rummage through stacks of old crates; they will have to expose two hundred years of grudges and vendettas. The spirits they disturb are far deadlier than the one who brought them to Virginia. Murder by Syllabub is the fifth book of the Ellen McKenzie Mystery series.

Read an excerpt:

Mildred leaned back against the drain board, as if she needed it to prop her up. “Do you think he’ll be back?”
I set the dish on the drain board along with the other rinsed dishes. “You mean the murderer?”
Mildred nodded.
I’d wondered the same thing. “I think it was Monty prowling around upstairs, looking for something. Why he was dressed like that, I can’t imagine, but I don’t think he found whatever it was he was looking for. The only reason I can think of for both Monty and whoever slipped him the poison to be here is they were looking for the same thing. I don’t think they found it. So, yes, I think whoever it is will be back.”
Mildred nodded. “I think so, too. That crate was no accident.” She paused before going on, her voice filled with apprehension. “You know, McMann isn’t going to buy the mysterious prowler story. He’s going to take the easy way out. Elizabeth fed Monty the poison before she left for the airport and we’re protecting her.” She sighed deeply and turned to the dishwasher. “Might as well load this. Can you hand me that bowl?”
She opened the door, pulled out the top rack and froze. “How did that get in here?”
“What’s the matter? Oh no.”
We stood, frozen, staring at the immaculately clean crystal glass, sitting on the top rack in solitary splendor.
“That’s one of the old syllabub glasses.” Mildred turned around to look at the glasses on the hutch and returned her gaze to the dishwasher. She pulled the rack out all the way but the dishwasher was empty, except for the one glass.
I’d had a close enough look at the glass next to Monty to know this was from the same set. “It’s the missing syllabub glass.”
“Missing?” Mildred’s hand went out to touch it, but she quickly withdrew. “Where are the others? Cora Lee and I packed these away years ago. There were eight of them. How did this one get in here?”
“Noah didn’t tell you?”
“That boy only tells me what he wants me to know. What was it he should have told me?”
“The set of these glasses were on the sideboard in the dining room where Monty was killed. Six of them. One was beside Monty with the remains of a sticky drink in it. That made seven. One was missing. The one the murderer used.”
We stared at each other then back into the dishwasher. “That’s got to be the missing one, right there.” Mildred took a better look. “It’s clean. Someone’s trying to frame Elizabeth.”

Author Bio:

Kathleen Delaney has written four previous Ellen McKenzie Real Estate mysteries, but has never before transported her characters out of California. A number of years ago she visited Colonial Williamsburg and fell in love. Long fascinated with our country’s history, especially the formation years, she knew she wanted to set a story there. Another trip with her brother and sister-in-law solidified the idea that had been rolling around in her head but she needed more information. A phone call to the nice people at Colonial Williamsburg provided her with appointments to visit the kitchen at the Payton Randolph house, where she got her first lesson in hearth cooking and a meeting with the people who manage the almost extinct animal breeds the foundation is working to preserve. A number of books purchased at the wonderful bookstore at the visitor’s center gave her the additional information she needed and the story that was to become Murder by Syllabub came into being. Kathleen lived most of her life in California but now resides in Georgia. She is close to many historical sites, which she has eagerly visited, not only as research for this book but because the east is rich in monuments to the history of our country. Luckily, her grandchildren are more than willing to accompany her on their tours of exploration. You can find Kathleen on the Web at delaney.camelpress.com.

Catch Up With the Author:

Tour Participants

1. 09/02 ~ Showcase @ The Book Divas Reads
2. 09/03 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Kaisy Daisys Corner
3. 09/04 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Savingfor6
4. 09/04 ~ Review @ The Book Connection
5. 09/06 ~ Review @ Vics Media Room
6. 09/07 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Caroles Book Corner
7. 09/09 ~ Interview @ Lauries Thoughts
8. 09/10 ~ Review @ Hotchpotch
9. 09/11 ~ Interview @ ?The Pen & Muse
10. 09/12 ~ Showcase @ I Read a Book Once
11. 09/13 ~ Showcase & Interview @ CMash Reads
12. 09/16 ~ Review @ Ginas Library
13. 09/17 ~ Review by Carol
14. 09/18 ~ Review @ Wall-to-wall books
15. 09/19 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Read 2 Review
16. 09/20 ~ Review & Giveaway @ bless their hearts mom
17. 09/23 ~ Review @ Buried Under Books
18. 09/24 ~ Guest Post @ Buried Under Books
19. 09/24 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Deal Sharing Aunt
20. 09/25 ~ Review @ Views from the Countryside
21. 09/26 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Mochas, Mysteries and More
22. 09/27 ~ Review @ Hezzi-Ds Books and Cooks
23. 09/30 ~ Review & Giveaway @ THE SELF-TAUGHT COOK
24. 10/01 ~ Review @ Brooke Blogs
25. 10/02 ~ Review @ Book Dilettante
26. 10/03 ~ Guest Post @ Omnimystery, A Family of Mystery Websites
27. 10/05 ~ Showcase @ The Stuff of Success
28. 10/07 ~ Review @ Mama Knows Books
29. 10/08 ~ Interview, Review & Giveaway @ Words by Webb
30. 10/09 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Deco My Heart
31. 10/10 ~ Review @ B&M Review Gazette
32. 10/11 ~ Review & Giveaway @ By The Book
33. 10/14 ~ Showcase @ Rose & Beps Blog
34. 10/15 ~ Interview & Review @ Melinas Book Blog
35. 10/16 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Marys Cup of Tea
36. 10/17 ~ Review @ WV Stitcher
37. 10/18 ~ Review & Giveaway @ Ryder Islingtons Blog
38. 10/21 ~ Review @ My Devotional Thoughts
39. 10/30 Showcase @ A Room Without Books is Empty