Watch Things Grow by Jay L O’Callaghan – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jay L O’Callaghan will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

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Curious brothers Zack and Liam love healthy food—but they’ve never grown their own! With help from Mum and Dad, they learn how tiny seeds turn into fruits and vegetables. They discover the magic of plants, the power of patience, and why nature matters.

But will their plants really grow? And what surprises will the garden bring?

Watch Things Grow is a fun and engaging story that inspires young readers to connect with nature, get their hands dirty, and see the world in a new way. It’s the first book in an exciting series that explores the wonders of nature, creativity, and the joy of learning through hands-on adventures!

Enjoy an Excerpt

When we plant seeds of Life, we can watch things grow, and we truly grow because we reap what we sow.

This is true for all life forms, whether big or small, short or tall.

When we plant trees, fruits and vegetables, we will grow in more ways than you may ever know.

About the Author:Jay O’Callaghan has been crafting stories through writing, directing, and producing for over 15 years. With a Digital Media and Film & Television Production diploma he co-founded 4word Thought Entertainment in 2007, bringing narratives to life through music videos, corporate films, advertisements, and short films.

A career highlight was designing the graphic interface for the Kids B Safe smartphone application and directing its promotional campaign. Away from the screen, Jay spent 15 years as a chef in the aged-care industry, mastering the art of nourishing body and soul.

A storyteller at heart, Jay has transitioned from film to full-time writing, developing a captivating children’s book series inspired by his own kids, and other books for young readers. His work blends imagination with rich storytelling, drawing from his deep interests in philosophy, history, and antiquities. Beyond writing, he is an illustrator, painter, and avid gardener, always exploring creativity in various forms. With a passion for promoting a healthy and balanced lifestyle, he brings thoughtfulness and depth to every project he undertakes.

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Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge for November 19, 2025

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Books That Influenced My Life

Verb Tenses by M.G. da Mota – Spotlight and Giveaway

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Thirty-four-year-old Raquel Whiteman has it all: beauty, a high-powered career, a very rich fiancée, a loving brother and a stepfather she adores. Life is good. Until her mother commits suicide. Clearing the paraphernalia of her mother’s life she finds old photographs and journals which plunge her into a search for the truth about her real father and early childhood, forsaking everything including her engagement to travel a path she is powerless to resist. Like a giant wave the past travels fast and comes crashing down on her, flooding her mind with incomprehensible fragmented memories and continuous questions – What? Why? Why?

Enjoy an Excerpt

Ken’s journal, December 2017

In hindsight, I would have acted differently. Hindsight is a great thing. It’s a shame we don’t have it when we most need it. We would then be able to weigh our decisions and ensure the future wouldn’t be negatively impacted. As it stands, regret sets in and regret is a useless feeling, as it always arrives too late. I wonder why we even have it within the range of our human emotions. With her strict Catholic upbringing my darling Matilde would have said that God decided humans needed to feel regret to enable them to eventually redeem themselves of their sins. She would have added that we are not to question God’s reasons, as we don’t understand them. Sadly, I don’t believe in God. I believe in Matilde and my love for her. I believe in my children and the people I care about, which is probably the whole list of my beliefs though actually that is not strictly true. I believe in science and the scientific approach. It is logical and based on fact and evidence.

All these thoughts however are irrelevant. They are just ramblings of an old man with too much time on his hands.

I continue to worry about my children even though they are now middle-aged and can fend for themselves very well. But I suppose that once a dad, always a dad.

It is a warm day for December though grey and wet. I’m sitting in the conservatory, looking at nothing in particular. I’ve tried to read but cannot concentrate. I can hear the noise from the television. It is tuned into some sports channel. Not that I care about it; it’s all white noise to me but it’s a company of sorts. A fake company of course but I got used to leaving it on all day after Matilde died and, somehow, I feel the need to hear it in the background. I dozed earlier, listening to its distant, monotonous sound. I dreamed that Matilde appeared at the door and called me in for a cup of tea. Then I woke up and of course there was no-one. Just the endless white noise of the TV. I decided to write down some of my thoughts after Matilde was gone from me forever. It’s not for anyone to read but writing my thoughts makes me feel less alone in this house. In hindsight, as mentioned earlier, I’d have done things differently.

About the Author

M G da Mota is Margarida Mota-Bull’s pen name for fiction. She is a Portuguese-British novelist with a love for classical music, ballet and opera. Under her real name she also writes reviews of live concerts, CDs, DVDs and books for two classical music magazines on the web: MusicWeb International and Seen and Heard International. She is a member of the UK Society of Authors, speaks four languages and lives in Sussex with her husband. Her website, called flowingprose.com, contains photos and information.

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SEAL Watch by Petie McCarty – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Petie McCarty will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Someone is watching Cory.
She can feel it in her bones . . . but why?

Navy SEAL Sean MacKay’s teammate is murdered after stealing a deadly nerve gas formula from Syrian terrorists. Naval Intelligence believes MacKay’s teammate was a traitor and shipped the stolen formula to his sister in the States for safekeeping. MacKay is ordered to find the sister before the terrorists do and to recover the stolen formula at all costs.

Foreclosure looms for Cory Rigatero as she struggles to keep her rustic resort near Mt. St. Helens afloat after her brother abandoned her to join the SEAL Teams. Cory’s whole world plummets into a tailspin when Sean MacKay shows up at her resort with news of her brother’s death and the shocking suspicion that her brother sent her traitorous classified documents.
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No way will Cory ever trust MacKay—the man who once seduced her and then vanished into the night without a trace.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Cory stopped in the kitchen on her way outside. “I thought I’d go out front and see if Vern needed any help.”

“He’s all done,” Cookie told her and handed Garth a dog biscuit from the jar on the counter. “He had a boy out front helping him when I peeked out the window a bit ago.”

“A boy? You mean Jasper?”

“No, I’ve never seen this one around here before.” Cookie went back to stirring her pot. “Handsome, though,” she added. “They headed for the barn.”

“I’d better go see who it is,” Cory said, already striding for the back door.

She called out as soon as she reached the open barn doors, and Vern hollered from the small office that doubled as his shop. Cory threaded her way through all the equipment in the back half of the barn. Cookie’s stranger stood up when she appeared in the doorway, and Cory froze.

This was no boy. This was a man. All man. And he literally stole Cory’s breath away. She had read that in novels before. Never believed it to be possible.

Until now.

Shaggy hair and dark brown curls, perfectly teamed with a matching beard, were her first thought. Her second thought was broad—really broad—shoulders beneath his black flannel shirt, and hips so narrow that his black jeans sagged a smidge on his tall, muscular frame. His sleeves were rolled up, and those forearms and biceps belonged to a working man.

Good grief! Stop staring, Cory!

She caught herself before she licked her lips and jerked her gaze back to his face. Blue eyes that snared her gaze like a predator traps unsuspecting prey. Those blue eyes sparkled with just enough mischief to send a wicked flutter through her belly. Blue eyes that looked startlingly familiar.

.
Maybe she just wanted them to look familiar, so she could already know this handsome man.

“Mac here is our new help.”

About the Author

Petie spent a majority of her career at Walt Disney World—”The Most Magical Place on Earth”—where she loved working in the land of fairy tales by day and crafting her own romantic fairy tales by night, including her series, The Cinderella Romances. She eventually said goodbye to her “day” job to focus on her stories full-time.

These days, Petie spends her time writing new tales for her Cinderella series, her new paranormal-romantic-suspense series, The Watchers, sequels to her Regency time-travel series, Lords in Time, and more standalones like Any Fin For Love and Ambush in the Everglades.

Petie shares her home on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee with her horticulturist husband and an opinionated Nanday conure named Sassy, who makes a cameo appearance in Christmas Watch, Book 2 of The Watchers series.

Visit Petie at her website, http://www.petiemccarty.com, or her Facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/petie.mccarty, to get to know her, learn about her current projects, and discover her other published works.

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Background of the Book by Mark A Hill – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Mark A. Hill will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Background of the Book

I have always written, whether it be poetry, lessons, courseware or angry notes on the fridge to my wife and son. Writing is an emotional release, a way of saying things that you don’t have the time or energy to express during the working day.

I have had my poetry published in several collections and literary journals. I have written two somewhat complex, obscure novels and notwithstanding the many compliments on my style and the kind words received, I’d had difficulty in finding a willing publisher. Besides, I guess you never know if someone is really complimenting you when you receive a selection of rejections. I decided that I needed a more structured approach to writing so I decided I would write a crime novel.

In 2019, I was teaching a group of judges and ex-judges in Bologna. It was a state sponsored courses that certain Italian institutions organise for privileged social groups and during those lessons, we started to talk about the Bologna massacre of 1980. That year, there was a terrorist bombing of Bologna Centrale railway station, which killed 85 people and injured over 200. It was Italy’s most serious terrorist attack. Although several members of the neo-fascist terrorist organization Nuclei Armati Rivoluzionari (NAR, Armed Revolutionary Nuclei) were subsequently sentenced for the bombing, there is still a lot of controversy over who was actually responsible. Some commentators accuse the far right, some accuse the far left. The secret services of several countries and many foreign terrorist groups have been investigated.

I did a lot of reading around the subject and decided that the whole incident was so compelling and there were so many conspiracy theories that reverberated around it, that there was probably enough material for a novel.
So, with a little dose of reality and a whole lot of imagination, I set about writing. I created the classic private investigator character, the villain, Carlos the Jackal, the corrupt Italian politician couldn’t go amiss. Who’s not going to identify with that? A little bit of love interest and off I went.

I disciplined myself to recount a straightforward narrative in chronological order, with a basic structure, using simple ideas and style. It is an attempt to narrate events in a more disciplined way than I had used in the past, I tried to eradicate any complex descriptive passages in a more high-flown poetic style. When I edited and it sounded like I was showing off, I just eliminated the offending paragraph and rewrote it as I actually perceived it, like I saw it happening step by step, in front of me.

I remember that year I was free 3 or 4 mornings a week and I just leaned into it. I’d write in streams and just throw the ideas down and then work back through, correcting the dialogues and description, the structure, the punctuation and spelling. It took me about three months to get a first draft. I remember I was quite free at that time in the mornings and able to throw myself into it without any great personal sacrifice. Whenever I am creating something that is fun, I don’t regard the time as ever being wasted.

Finishing the first draft is always a worrying moment because you risk thinking that the hard work is done. Personally, I find it much more difficult to rewrite rather than to write. You have to be relatively harsh on yourself and willing to bin whole chunks if they’re not up to standard. Revise, revise, revise is not bad advice.
I sent the novel to Wallace Publishing and they agreed to take it on. After some intense editing, the COVID years and a series of other bureaucratic setbacks, the book came out in July this year.

As an aside, in September my collected poems were published by Hidden Hand Press so, at the moment, I am promoting both books.

Mitchell Rose and the Bologna Massacre is a crime story that explores the last fifty years of cross-fertilisation between the Italian criminal underworld, its secret services, politics and the judicial system.

When Mitchell Rose is called to Milan by Remo Rhimare, a local judge who wants him to investigate the Bologna bombing of 1980, he knows it would make more sense to turn the job down.

To make things even more complicated, Rhimare also wants Rose to rein in his errant daughter, who is becoming increasingly wayward.

As Rose begins to investigate, the two missions surprisingly become one, culminating in a dreadful dramatic climax.

Enjoy an Excerpt

I twitched nervously. The will to move out of there and toward the action was strong. I wanted to be an integral part of the scene that I could see reflected there in the mobile phone. Alessandra raised a hand and made a gesture that encouraged me to stay put. In doing so, she touched me softly on the left shoulder with her long fingernails. Being discovered there would put me back to square one. Robuyuki was gonna get his from Cambio’s guards, but I had to stay still, I couldn’t move.

“It’s also my favourite drink.” The chef offered.

“But you don’t drink, Robuyuki.”

Robuyuki lifted the glass to his lips and forced the drink down his neck, licking his lips with satisfaction.

Cambio had been silenced and we heard the clumped, mechanical tramping of feet as they exited the restaurant. Alessandra heaved a sigh of relief and we slowly moved apart. I poured a glass of Grand Marnier into the glass that I had seized and we shared it there in the cellar. The sense of relief was overwhelming and we hugged each other, but without the intensity that there had been between us moments before. There was still a layer of fear that lay like a film across the room, and that fear had rendered us sexless siblings. Robuyuki knocked on the cellar door and we climbed back up and thanked him sincerely.

About the Author:

Mark A. Hill has an Economics degree from the University of Lancaster and both CELTA and DELTA qualifications to teach English to second language learners.

In 2005, in Cagliari, Italy, he founded English Teachers, which offers language services such as English courses, translations and interpreting. He collaborates as a translator and interpreter with the Cagliari Law Courts, several universities throughout Europe, and numerous private and public organizations both in the Cagliari area and throughout Italy.

Every summer, he teaches English for Academic Purposes (EAP) to Postgraduate students at Swansea University in the UK.

Mark A. Hill’s poetry has been published in The UK Poetry Library’s Top Writers of 2012 and the Live Canon 2013 Prize Anthology. He was highly commended in the 2015 Segora Poetry Prize and was short-listed for the Canon 2015 First Collection Prize. In 2016, one of his poems was commissioned, published and performed at The Victoria and Albert Museum, London, for the anniversary of Shakespeare’s death.

Mark A. Hill has also published academic courseware in collaboration with Delfis s.r.l.

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Things I’m Thankful For

Hippie Mermaid by Joanne Guidoccio – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Joanne Guidoccio will be awarding a $10 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

From sea to shore, betrayal follows her wherever she goes.

On Christmas Eve, psychic Kendra Adams reveals the secret she’s hidden for decades—she was once Rosina, a mermaid torn between sea and shore. Betrayed in her ocean kingdom and desperate to escape banishment, she persuades a politician to smuggle her into the human world. But freedom on land comes at a cost, as she soon finds herself ensnared in another web, this one spun by the politician’s power-hungry sister.

Read an Excerpt

The human laughter startled me. It sounded so foreign, unlike anything I had ever heard before. I followed the sounds and turned my gaze toward four large humans approaching us. Up close, they were frightening, almost menacing, in their dark garments. I took note of their varying appearances. Two had light brown hair and blue eyes, while the other pair sported dark hair and dark eyes. Intent on observing the darker pair, I didn’t notice the other two men eyeing me.

“Hippie mermaid!” yelled one of the men with light-colored features.

All the men glanced in my direction. I felt myself reddening as I met their liquid eyes and wide smiles. There was interest there, and some other emotion or feeling I had never seen before. For a split second, I was flattered by their attention. And then I recalled what Mama had said. I must let Annabella choose first.

Annabella did not give me a chance to react. She beckoned to the man who had spoken, and he reluctantly turned away from me. Rosetta claimed the other light-haired man, and Lisetta chose one of the dark-haired men. I watched as they moved to separate rocks along the shore.

The remaining man approached. As his features came into closer focus, I realized he was older than the others. Not by much, but there were white hairs sprinkled in the darkness, and his face crinkled as he smiled. “I guess I won this mermaid lottery.”

My eyes widened in surprise.

He laughed and shook his head. “You could have had any of us. You didn’t have to end up with me.”

“But I’m not a Bella or an Etta. I’m an Ina.” There was no point in hiding my rank. I had never been embarrassed by it, and after hearing about Aunt Lina’s punishment, I knew my place.

“Honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the prettiest of the group. You just don’t know it yet.”

About the Author:

Joanne Guidoccio enjoyed a rewarding career teaching mathematics, business, and co-operative education courses before retiring to pursue writing. A member of Crime Writers of Canada, Sisters in Crime, and the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, she writes paranormal romances, cozy mysteries, and inspirational stories from her home base of Guelph, Ontario.

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What Would I Tell a New Author? by p.m. terrell – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. p.m. terrell will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

What Would I Tell a New Author?

I’ve been in the business of writing for over forty years, and I’ve seen a lot of changes. However, there are a few things that seem to stay the same, including:

Write the best book you can possibly manage, and hire the most capable editor that you can afford. If you are traditionally published, your competition is formidable. If you are self-published, editing is even more important.

If you want a traditional agent or publisher, check out a copy of Writer’s Market at your local library. With over 100 editions since it was first published, it is the best source of publishers, agents, and editors who are most likely to want your book.

Your book is unlikely to hit the national bestseller lists unless you have a dedicated marketing team behind it. This usually means a major imprint has published your book. There are exceptions, but they are rare.

Learn as much as you can about the publishing industry, particularly about book marketing. The industry is complex, and book marketing is a unique skill. If a traditional imprint publishes your book, understanding the industry will help you to become a valuable team member.

If you self-publish, you are taking on the role of a publisher as well as an author. This means you’ll have to wear multiple hats, including sales, marketing, production (editing, formatting, print runs, etc.), and lots more.

Be wary of any emails or advertisements promising you bestseller status. Unfortunately, authors can be easy prey, especially when someone promises you exposure and sales. Do your homework.

Stay in the game. If you love to write, keep writing. Improve your craft. Sometimes, all it takes is to stay in the game.

While researching her next book, historian and author Hayley Hunter rents a lighthouse in Southeastern North Carolina. The modern lighthouse and vacation home replaced an original wood structure that only functioned during the Revolutionary War. The old lighthouse may be long gone, but the lightkeeper’s ghost remains.

Hayley becomes increasingly obsessed with finding why the spirit of Jonathan Corbyn lingers between realms. Joined by her lover Shay MacGregor, her search will take her into a world of spies, double agents, and espionage at the dawn of American democracy.

Enjoy an Excerpt

I bolted upright and tapped on the latest alert. I found myself staring at the lantern room. The security camera encompassed nearly the entire circular room, save for the wall behind it. My eyes skimmed the walls, alighting briefly on each window. The moon was high and full, and for a moment, I thought the camera might have picked up the glow or perhaps even something flying against the window. But as I continued to stare into my phone, I spotted something moving along the top steps as if ascending.

I quietly tossed the covers off me and glided into my slippers as I grabbed my robe. I cautiously strode to the spiral stairs to peer upward into the stairwell. It was not as dark as I had expected, but a muted light from the moon struggled to illuminate it. I glanced downward to discover it was darker beneath me. Turning my attention again to the stairs leading upward, I remembered the curvature in the design prevented me from seeing to the top. How, then, my mind argued, could the moonlight find its way down?

I stepped onto the staircase. My right hand clenched the phone, while my eyes continually moved from the image on my screen to the steps above me. My naked eyes could see nothing out of the ordinary. The steps appeared just as they had a few hours earlier. But my phone displayed a shadow moving upward.

As I reached the uppermost stairs, I realized the image picked up by the security camera was not a human, but rather a human form. It was opaque, but I detected the outline of a man’s broad shoulders, his torso, arms, and legs. His legs were misshapen, as though he were wearing breeches that ballooned slightly from him. There was something else that extended beyond his body, like a waistcoat. I could see the outline of his head, but it was shadowy, with facial details absorbed into the darkness.

I froze on the step. I could see the image clearly on my phone’s security app. But when I used my naked eyes without the benefit of the phone, I could see nothing at all in the spot where it should have appeared. Shakily, I climbed to the next step and then the next.

The figure moved just beyond me as if to entice me to follow him. As my head topped the floor, it turned to me, as if he was looking straight at me, though I could see nothing but darkness where his face should have been.

About the Author My full name is Patricia McClelland Terrell, and I have been writing under the pen name p.m.terrell ever since a publisher presented me with my first fiction book cover. The graphic designer had also entered my name in lower-case letters; my editor hated it, and I loved it. It’s been p.m.terrell ever since.

I began writing when I was nine years old, inspired by a schoolteacher and elementary school principal. Scott-Foresman published my first book, a computer instructional for universities, in 1984. Scott-Foresman, Dow-Jones (Richard D. Irwin branch), Palari Publishing, Paralee Press, and Drake Valley Press have published 26 books to date.

Before embarking on a full-time writing career, I founded McClelland Enterprises, Inc. in the Washington, D.C. area in 1984, specializing in computer instruction for employees in the workplace. I opened another business, Continental Software Development Corporation, in 1994, which focused on custom application development, programming, website design and development, and computer crime.

I was honored to be the first female President of the Chesterfield County/Colonial Heights Crime Solvers. I also served as the Treasurer for the Virginia Crime Stoppers Association. Since moving to North Carolina, I served on the Robeson County Friends of the Library and Robeson County Arts Council.

I launched The Book ‘Em Foundation with Waynesboro, Virginia Police Officer Mark Kearney, and assisted in Virginia, New Hampshire, and South Carolina events before establishing the Annual Book ‘Em North Carolina Writers Conference and Book Fair, chairing it for several years before turning it over to Robeson Community College in Lumberton, NC.

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The Martha and Marya Mysteries by Emily Hanlon – Spotlight

With compassion, wit, and a sharp eye for human contradiction, Emily Hanlon’s The Martha and Marya Mysteries explore the unlikely partnership between two women who use faith, intellect, and intuition to uncover truth in the face of moral ambiguity.

In Who Am I to Judge?, the quiet parish of Saint John of the Cross is rocked when a beloved priest confesses to the murder of a parishioner. Marya Cook, an eccentric octogenarian known for her purple wardrobe and Bible quotes, refuses to believe he’s guilty. Her search for justice draws in Martha Collins, a younger, efficient church volunteer who would rather stay far from gossip—or the strange old woman leading it. Yet together, they peel back layers of deceit in Pequot Bays’ affluent social circles, revealing envy, corruption, and hypocrisy in unexpected corners. A Cloud of Witnesses opens as the town tries to recover from scandal, only to find itself torn apart by a new priest and his cultlike following, Dies Irae. When tragedy strikes again, Marya’s peculiar reasoning and Martha’s practicality clash and converge as they unearth motives rooted in ambition and fear. In The Wagers of Sin, the duo travels beyond Pequot Bays aboard a luxury cruise to the Greek Isles, where an elderly heiress drops dead mid-vow at her own wedding. Surrounded by opportunists, heirs, and hidden resentments, Marya and Martha race to expose the truth before another life is lost. Through these interlocking mysteries, Hanlon examines faith as both compass and test—and friendship as its most steadfast form of grace.

Enjoy an Excerpt from Who Am I to Judge?

Martha craned her neck to see over the Purple Pest and O’Hara, trying to get a glimpse of her first set of suspects to no avail. She would have to squeeze by them.

GET OUT OF MY WAY!

As though the old woman could hear Martha’s screamed thoughts, she looked up. She smiled, exhibiting a missing bottom front tooth, but Martha looked away. The old woman spoke softly to Martha as she brushed past, but Martha ignored her.

Martha’s eyes narrowed in on her first suspect, Monica Byrnes, who sat praying earnestly, looking up at the statue of St Joseph. Monica wouldn’t have the nerve to kill anyone. She’d just worry her own self to death over Matthew, her no-good son. Martha instead eyed Lance, sitting next to his wife, his handsome features unmarked by concerns about anything other than himself. She followed his gaze and saw, with a start, that it was locked on the shapely figure of her third suspect, Cyndi Higginbotham.

Martha looked from Cyndi back to Lance, and then she shook her head. No. They might want to get rid of their spouses but not Enid.

She turned her glance to Higgy. It couldn’t be him. Higgy’s a jerk, a loudmouth, and a blowhard, but no one who’s so generous to the Bishop’s Annual Appeal could be a murderer.

Martha was puzzled for a moment until she recalled there was one more suspect. She slowly turned toward the front of the church and saw the young man—tall, dark and handsome—spotlighted by a ray of light from the large rose window so bright that dust motes danced in its glare. What a shame he became a priest.

Fr. Jim Cartwright , the associate pastor at St John of the Cross, wore a gold embroidered vestment that rustled majestically as he processed down the center aisle.

She looked him over, from his perfectly coiffed hair to his black leather shoes shined to a mirror gloss, as she followed his progress toward the back of the church. It’s him! He’s the murderer.

Martha sat down in a pew and remained in church long after everyone left, drained of energy, her adrenaline spent. She trudged to the door that, as she opened it, was a good deal heavier than when she had entered the church. Walking to her car, the Purple Pest’s comment pushed its way into her consciousness. She stopped short.

Had the old woman really whispered, “It must have been quite a shock for you, my dear. Discovering the body like that.” No. It couldn’t be. I’m exhausted. It must be my imagination.

About the Author: Emily Hanlon is a lifelong storyteller whose journey from the courtroom to fiction has given her writing both precision and heart. Raised in Texas and educated in Boston, she spent years as a personal injury litigator and later as an arbitrator, sifting through contradictory stories to uncover what’s real—a skill that translates seamlessly to her mysteries. A late-life convert to Catholicism inspired by her husband and sons, she now serves as a eucharistic minister and volunteer for the St. Vincent de Paul Society. Her novels reflect her belief that truth and compassion can coexist—and that justice begins with understanding. All profits from her books support charitable causes. Learn more on her website or follow her on Instagram and Facebook

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Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge for November 5, 2025

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A Strange or Useless Talent I Have