Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Book Blast and Giveaway: Second Chance Marquess by Jessica Jefferson


When Wilhemina Turner’s younger sister runs off with a young Lothario, she has no choice but to turn to the notorious rake who broke his promise and her heart, for assistance. George Bartlett, the Marquess of Chesterton, hasn’t forgotten the woman who hurt him so many years ago, but can’t deny her request, knowing that his brother’s reputation, and fortune, is at risk. A series of misfortunes leave the straight-laced widow and committed bachelor stranded, sharing both close quarters and old secrets. But when morning comes, will this unlikely pair find a second chance at love?

Book Excerpt:

“Fine.” He looked away first, turning his attention back to the items he’d collected upon his desk. “If you want to join me, then you may.”

She squared her shoulders and stood a bit straighter having won their duel of wills. “Good.”

Without another word or a single glance, Chesterton left the room.

Not one to be left behind, Wilhelmina hurried after him, through the study and up the stairs.

“Where are we going?” she asked once they’d reached the top, breathless from the burst of activity.

He strode down the corridor, seemingly unaffected by the brisk climb. “To my bedroom.”

She immediately stopped. “Your bedroom? Why ever would we go in there?”

Chesterton turned back to her, one sardonic eyebrow arched high. “To change,” he answered. “You didn’t expect me to head out in this, did you?” He turned and continued toward the room, looking back at her before entering. “Are you coming?” he asked, voice smooth as warm chocolate.

This wasn’t the first time she’d been lured into George’s bedroom. He’d been an earl, the courtesy title bestowed upon him at birth, but more than that, he’d been a gentleman. Apparently, he’d lost that when he’d inherited the Marquisate. His bedroom was no longer an inviting sanctuary, and this invitation was not one of love as it had once been, but a lewd proposition, tenderness replaced by cruelty, as he watched expectantly for her reaction.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” she stuttered, trying in vain to remain calm and collected as he started to untie the sash about his waist holding his robe closed. He let it fall to the ground and the robe opened, revealing his chest and torso in all its naked glory.

And it was indeed glorious.

She quickly averted her glance, whipping her head around and staring attentively at the painting on the wall.

“Is something the matter, Mrs. Turner?”

She was not about to play this game. She didn’t have the time, and he didn’t deserve the enjoyment it would undoubtedly bring him to see her suffer so. And most importantly, she couldn’t play because she knew good and well that she had no chance of winning.

Purchase now at Amazon for only 99 cents!


Jessica Jefferson makes her home in Almost-Chicago with her husband, two young daughters, French bulldog Lulu, and English bulldog Pete. When she's not busy trying to find middle-ground between being a modern career woman and Suzy-Homemaker, she loves to watch "Real Housewives of [insert city here]" and performing unnecessary improvements to her home and property.

Jessica writes Regency-era historical romance with a modern twist where she invites her readers to fall in love with romance again.

Links and social media:

www.JessicaJefferson.com and www.embracingromance.com
Like me at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jessica-Jefferson/545243542195152
Follow me at https://twitter.com/authorJessicaJ/
Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7376474.Jessica_Jefferson
Amazon Author Page- http://www.amazon.com/Jessica-Jefferson/e/B00GI20W2K
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authorjessicaje/


Jessica will be awarding a $25 and a $50 Amazon or B/N GC to two randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway


Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Book Spotlight: Comes Before Winter by Elizabeth Golibart Honaker

Write Now Literary is pleased to announce Come Before Winter, a Christian Historical Fiction with author Elizabeth G. Honaker, March 20-24, 2017.

ASIN: B00PPTR5C2

ISBN-10: 1502598353

ISBN-13: 978-1502598356


About The Author

Elizabeth Golibart Honaker hails from Sparta, Tennessee, where she teaches writing support and English at Motlow Community College. Her undergraduate degree is in Liberal Arts, and her first MA is in Theology. This has given her the breadth and scope to write over fifteen full-length passion plays in the last twenty years – seven of which are in print with others being prepared for publication – as well as dozens of shorter scripts, short stories, and poems on Christian topics. Her first historical fiction novel, Come Before Winter, was published in 2014. In that same year, she completed her second MA in English and Creative Writing (Fiction) at Southern New Hampshire University.

When she is not writing or tutoring, she spends her time devising new home projects for Allen, her husband of 45 years. She also enjoys communicating with her two wonderful grown children and buying (and making) trinkets for her four lively grandchildren. She is passionate about sharing Christ, missional activities, and her local church. She also loves gardening, sewing, piano playing, and Star Trek as time permits.



About The Book

This novel skillfully mixes historical people and events from the first century A.D. with fictional characters to create a riveting narrative. What was it like to be confronted by common people from the Roman Empire who believed in an uncommon Savior? Tribune Justinius Plaxus Glatonis, a powerful member of the Imperial Guard in Rome, finds out.












It was sundown when Justinius, Tribune of the Roman Imperial Guard, entered his cubicle and wearily removed his plumed helmet. After placing it in its proper place in the crudely-crafted cupboard near his cot, the warrior stretched and flexed his arms. In the name of Mithras, he thought, am I getting old? My muscles never ached as badly as they do today. He withdrew his broad sword from its scabbard and placed it next to his pilum – the expertly-crafted Roman spear. His shield had shifted slightly on its peg, and he adjusted it to its proper position. Septimus, his tesserarius,1 had already lit his oil lamps, and a welcome cup of wine was placed on the table. Justinius stood to drink it; he awaited Septimus’ help to remove his breastplate and underlying tunic and could not relax until that was accomplished. However, as a good soldier, he was patient – he knew that Septimus would not keep his commander waiting without cause. He drank the cup slowly, savoring the r ich fullness of the wine produced but a few stadia from the gates of Rome. Wine of such quality is not to be found anywhere else in the empire, he mused. I am fortunate to be stationed in Rome herself, the Queen of Cities.

Roman aide-de-camp

Septimus entered and saluted Justinius. His commander nodded, returned the empty cup to the table, and raised his arms so that his aide could more easily access the straps and belts that attached one piece of the breastplate to another. As his aide removed the back piece, Justinius momentarily held the front piece so it would not fall to the ground. It was a heavy, durable section of armor, but the tribune did not want it scratched up unduly. As a good warrior always did, he took care of his own kit himself, polishing it daily. Each piece stood proudly in its assigned place. As Justinius’ aide, Septimus’ job was to assist his commander only in necessary tasks. He was not a servant; he was subordinate only to Justinius. However, there was a certain affection reflected in Septimus’ actions. Indeed, he went beyond the normal scope of a soldier assigned to assist an officer. It was not so much in the big things that he sought to aid his superior; he tried to notice the little things that could smooth the way for such an admirable leader as the tribune he served. His eyes fell on the tattered brown cloak with the curious stripes that draped itself over a partially-concealed scroll. He reached for it to tidy its appearance, but Justinius spoke to him with uncharacteristic sharpness: “Don’t touch that!” “Sir, I only meant…” “I will handle it myself. Do not touch it.” “Yes, Tribune.” “That will be all.” Justinius stood still until Septimus had left the room. Why did I speak to him in that manner? He asked himself. Now I have raised suspicion…What a foolish thought! Who cares whether a moth-eaten cloak and an ill-penned scroll sit in my quarters? Still… Justinius glanced once more toward the door; it had been securely latched by his aide, so he felt more secure. He stood before the cupboard, struggling with himself whether to touch the cloak and the scroll once more or no. What have I to fear from such objects – the cloak of a fanatic and the scroll of a deluded fool? Justinius sank down onto his cot. The apparatus was wellworn and had seen over fifty campaigns – like its owner – but it was sturdy and serviceable, like everything else in Justinius’ cubicle. There were plenty of other things to claim the soldier’s attention; the weekly slabs with their figures and lines and reports had to be read and digested, and more reports had to be made to superiors up the line. There was his armor to polish once again. But Justinius could not concentrate on anything but the two maddeningly distractive articles. He stood and went to the cupboard. This fear is insane. He reached out to pull the cloak from its resting place, and as he drew it closer to his body, he smelled its lingering aroma of travel and sweat and contact with horses and camels and ships. It was somehow reassuring to smell that smell again.






Monday, March 13, 2017

Musing Monday - Mar 13


Musing Monday is hosted by Ambrosia at The Purple Booker It is a weekly meme that asks you to choose one of the following prompts to answer:

I’m currently reading…
Up next I think I’ll read…
I bought the following book(s) in the past week…
I’m super excited to tell you about (book/author/bookish-news)…
I’m really upset by (book/author/bookish-news)…
I can’t wait to get a copy of…
I wish I could read ___, but…
I blogged about ____ this past week…

THIS WEEK'S RANDOM QUESTION: Do you post book reviews right after you finish the book? Or do you wait a while so you can fully digest it before posting a review?

Can you believe a month has passed since I last posted a Musing Monday? Gosh, my life is so crazy. Mostly crazy for good reasons: sold two houses, out shopping around with buyers, inspections, etc.

Not a lot of reading going on, but I'm working toward getting back into it. Here is what is on my list to review:


This one is overdue. I'm almost done with it.


Due April 5.


Due A.S.A.P.




Due A.S.A.P.


Due April 28.


As for this week's question, I usually review them right away because I forget details otherwise. How do you handle your reviews?


Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Book Spotlight: The Lord of the Infield Flies by Steve Reilly



Title:
THE LORD OF THE INFIELD FLIES

Author: Steve Reilly

Publisher: Strong Books

Pages: 126

Genre: Sports Memoir

The Lord of theInfield Flies will thrill readers with Coach Steve Reilly’s harrowing, challenging, and adventuresome baseball team’s trek from Connecticut to play in Maine. As a prequel to his award winning memoir, The Fat Lady Never Sings, Reilly, a high school baseball coach, narrates the true story from the beginning of his coaching career at the age of 20. In summer 1977, Reilly plans to take hishigh-school-age team on a weekend trip to the baseball mecca on Cape Cod toplay a Massachusetts all-star team. When plans go awry, he jumps at an offer totake the players instead to the serene surroundings of southern Maine to play that state’s all-star team. Most of the team’sstarters decline; their hearts had been set on “The Cape.” Determined to gothrough with his commitment, Reilly gathers ten players to make the four-hourtrip in a cabin truck and his car on a Friday night. Will the team arrive in time to battle Maine’s best the following morning?

After his legal alcohol-age players convince him to stop ata package store on the way to buy just a “few beers” for the idyllic cabin theywill be staying at in the resort area of Old Orchard Beach, they exit thepackage store with hand trucks filled with cases of beer. Chaos reigns. Thecabin truck with its inebriated players gets separated from Reilly’s vehicle, losing half the team traveling in the opposite direction in Massachusetts! Will the team ever get to Maine? Will the team play Maine’s all-stars? And, will the players make it back to Connecticut?  

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

Amazon


Book Excerpt:



March 25, 2005

T
HE PEARL WHITE DOOR opened before me. A gaunt man wearing a gray pin-striped suit and goatee held the door open with his left hand and gestured with his right hand for me to enter. As I passed through the door,nervousness came over me. The strong scent of roses reminded me where I was. A pedestal sign directed me to go left. After an elderly couple crossed my path with their heads down, another pedestal sign directed me to the right down a narrow hallway. To my surprise, the hallway was empty. At the end of the hallway stood a wooden pedestal with a gold banker’s lamp lit above an open book. I grasped the pen from the slot carved in the pedestal and signed the book like a schoolboy as I made sure my penmanship was within the lines. I picked up a small card from a slot in back of the pedestal and put it in the pocket of my dress shirt; there would be plenty of time to read the poem later. With no one in front of me, I stood alongside the doorway as if waiting for permission to enter, but none was needed. As I stood in the doorway about to enter the quiet room, I thought about the summer of 1977 and my Senior Babe Ruth baseball team’s trip to Maine the last weekend of July.




About the Author

Since 1976, Steve Reilly, a practicing attorney, has coached high school baseball in Connecticut’s Lower Naugatuck Valley. He has spent the last thirty years assisting other high school coaches and is currently in his seventeenth season at Seymour High. Reilly and his wife, Suzanne, live in Seymour, Connecticut.

His latest book is the sports memoir, The Lord of the Infield Flies.     

Website & Social Links:

Friday, March 3, 2017

Book Blast: The Brass Compass by Ellen Butler


__________________________________________________


We invite you to Ellen Butler's THE BRASS COMPASS Cover Reveal! Please leave a comment to let Ellen know you stopped by and don't forget to order your copy!
 ___________________________________________________




Title:
THE BRASS COMPASS

Author: Ellen Butler

Publisher: Power to the Pen

Pages: 362

Genre: Historical Thriller/Suspense

A beautiful American spy flees into the night. On her own, she must live by her wits to evade capture and make it to the safety of the Allied forces.
Lily Saint James grew up traveling the European continent, learning languages as she went. In 1938, her mother’s abrupt death brings her back home to Washington, D.C., and after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Lily comes to the attention of the Office of Strategic Services (OSS). Her knowledge of German, French, and Italian makes her the perfect OSS Agent, and her quick thinking places her as a nanny in the household of an important German Army Colonel, where she is able to gather intelligence for the Allies. After her marketplace contact goes missing, she makes a late-night trip to her secondary contact only to find him under interrogation by the SS. After he commits suicide, she flees into the frigid winter night carrying false identification papers that are now dangerous and a mini film cartridge with vital strategic information. In order to survive, Lily must make it out of Germany, into the hands of Allied-controlled France, through a path fraught with peril.





Pre-order Links:

To Be Notified for Pre-Orders
Follow Ellen on Facebook, Twitter, or Join her Newsletter:

Book Excerpt:


Chapter One
Into the Night

February 1945
Germany

Was ist sein Name?” What is his name? The SS officer’s backlit
shadow loomed over his victim as he yelled into the face of the shrinking man
on the third-story balcony. “We know you’ve been passing messages. Tell us, who
is your contact?” he continued in German.
Lenz’s gray-haired head shook like
a frightened mouse. With his back to me, I was too far away to hear the mumbled
response or the Nazi’s next question. I pulled my dark wool coat tighter and
sank deeper into the shadow of the apartment building’s doorway across the
street from where my contact underwent interrogation. The pounding of my heart
pulsated in my ears, and I held my breath as I strained to listen to the
conversation. In front of Lenz’s building stood a black Mercedes-Benz with its
running lights aglow, no doubt the vehicle that brought the SS troops. None of
the neighboring buildings showed any light, as residents cowered behind locked doors
praying the SS wouldn’t come knocking. This was a working-class neighborhood,
and everyone knew it was best to keep your mouth shut and not stick your nose
in the business of the Schutzstaffel.
Their presence at Lenz’s home
explained why my contact at the bakery was absent from our assignation earlier
today. I dreaded to imagine what they had done to Otto for him to give up
Lenz’s name … or worse, mine. Even though I’d never told Otto my name, a
description of me could easily lead the SS to their target.
Lügner!” Liar!
I flinched as the officer’s ringing
accusation bounced off the brick buildings. A young SS Stormtrooper stepped out
onto the balcony and requested his superior look at something in his hand. I
should have taken their distraction to slip away into the darkness and run;
instead I stayed, anxiously listening, to hear if Lenz would break under the SS
grilling and reveal my identity. Clearly, they suspected he was involved in
spying and would take him away. They probably also knew he had information to
spill and would eventually torture it out of him, which was the only reason he
hadn’t been shot on sight. It was only a matter of time before he gave me away.
My friends in the French Resistance had been directed to hold out for two days
before releasing names to allow the spies to disband and disappear. I wasn’t
sure if the German network applied the same rules, so I remained to see if he
would break before they took him.
“Where did you find this?” the
officer asked.
The trooper indicated inside the
apartment.
Zeig es mir.” Show me. He followed his subordinate through the
doorway into the building.
Lenz turned and braced himself
against the balcony. I watched in horror as he climbed atop the railing.
Halt!” a bellow from inside rang out.
Lenz didn’t hesitate, and I averted
my eyes, biting down hard on my cold knuckles, as he took his final moments out
of the hands of the Nazis. Sounds of shattering glass and buckling metal ripped
through the darkness as his body slammed into the SS vehicle. In my periphery,
a neighboring blackout curtain shifted.
Scheisse!” the SS officer swore as he and his subordinate leaned
over the railing to see Lenz’s body sprawled across their car. “Search the
apartment. Tear it apart!”
The moment they crossed the threshold,
I sprinted into the night.
My breath puffed out in small
plumes of smoke as I dodged through alleys, in and out of darkened doorways,
moving on the balls of my feet. Silently, I cursed the cloudless sky as the
moonlight bounced off the cobblestones, its brightness clear enough to land a
plane. Unless waiting at midnight at a
drop zone for needed supplies, a spy preferred the inky blackness of cloudy
skies. Especially when escaping the enemy.
A few kilometers from Lenz’s
apartment, I paused behind the brick rubble of a bombed-out building. My gaze
searched the area for any sign of movement. Standing alert, I held my breath,
attuning my senses to the nighttime sounds, and listened for the whisper of
cloth, the click of a boot heel, or heaven forbid, the cock of a gun. The
thundering of my heartbeat slowed, and I balled my fists to stop my shaking
hands. All seemed quiet … for the moment.
My fingers curled around the tiny
film cartridge, filled with information vital to the Allied cause, nestled in my
coat pocket. Dropping down to one knee, I slipped the heel of my right boot
aside and tucked it into the hidden cavity. The coded message I’d planned to
pass to Lenz would have to be burned, but I couldn’t take the chance of
lighting a fire right now. It would have to wait until morning.

<!--[if !mso]>



About the Author

Ellen Butler is a novelist writing critically acclaimed suspense thrillers, and award winning romance. The Brass Compass was inspired by the brave women who served in the OSS, British Special Operations Executive and French Resistance. Ellen is a member of The OSS Society and her fascination with WWII history originally piqued when her grandfather revealed his role as a cryptographer during the war. Ellen holds a Master’s Degree in Public Administration and Policy, and her history includes a long list of writing for dry, but illuminating, professional newsletters and windy papers on public policy. She lives in the Virginia suburbs of Washington, D.C.

WEBSITE and SOCIAL LINKS:

WEBSITE
| TWITTER | FACEBOOK

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Pistols and Petticoats by Erika Janik Book Blast & Giveaway

Pistols and Petticoats

175 Years of Lady Detectives in Fact and Fiction

by Erika Janik

March 2nd 2017 Book Blast



Synopsis:

Pistols and Petticoats by Erika Janik

A lively exploration of the struggles faced by women in law enforcement and mystery fiction for the past 175 years

In 1910, Alice Wells took the oath to join the all-male Los Angeles Police Department. She wore no uniform, carried no weapon, and kept her badge stuffed in her pocketbook. She wasn’t the first or only policewoman, but she became the movement’s most visible voice.

Police work from its very beginning was considered a male domain, far too dangerous and rough for a respectable woman to even contemplate doing, much less take on as a profession. A policewoman worked outside the home, walking dangerous city streets late at night to confront burglars, drunks, scam artists, and prostitutes. To solve crimes, she observed, collected evidence, and used reason and logic—traits typically associated with men. And most controversially of all, she had a purpose separate from her husband, children, and home. Women who donned the badge faced harassment and discrimination. It would take more than seventy years for women to enter the force as full-fledged officers.

Yet within the covers of popular fiction, women not only wrote mysteries but also created female characters that handily solved crimes. Smart, independent, and courageous, these nineteenth- and early twentieth-century female sleuths (including a healthy number created by male writers) set the stage for Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple, Sara Paretsky’s V. I. Warshawski, Patricia Cornwell’s Kay Scarpetta, and Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Millhone, as well as TV detectives such as Prime Suspect’s Jane Tennison and Law and Order’s Olivia Benson. The authors were not amateurs dabbling in detection but professional writers who helped define the genre and competed with men, often to greater success.

Pistols and Petticoats tells the story of women’s very early place in crime fiction and their public crusade to transform policing. Whether real or fictional, investigating women were nearly always at odds with society. Most women refused to let that stop them, paving the way to a modern professional life for women on the force and in popular culture.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, NonFiction, History

Published by: Beacon Press

Publication Date: February 28th 2017 (1st Published April 26th 2016)

Number of Pages: 248

ISBN: 0807039381 (ISBN13: 9780807039380)

Purchase Links: Amazon  | Barnes & Noble  | Goodreads 


Read an excerpt:


With high heels clicking across the hardwood floors, the diminutive woman from Chicago strode into the headquarters of the New York City police. It was 1922. Few respectable women would enter such a place alone, let alone one wearing a fashionable Paris gown, a feathered hat atop her brown bob, glistening pearls, and lace stockings.

But Alice Clement was no ordinary woman.

Unaware of—or simply not caring about—the commotion her presence caused, Clement walked straight into the office of Commissioner Carleton Simon and announced, “I’ve come to take Stella Myers back to Chicago.”

The commissioner gasped, “She’s desperate!”

Stella Myers was no ordinary crook. The dark-haired thief had outwitted policemen and eluded capture in several states.

Unfazed by Simon’s shocked expression, the well-dressed woman withdrew a set of handcuffs, ankle bracelets, and a “wicked looking gun” from her handbag.

“I’ve come prepared.”

Holding up her handcuffs, Clement stated calmly, “These go on her and we don’t sleep until I’ve locked her up in Chicago.” True to her word, Clement delivered Myers to her Chicago cell.

Alice Clement was hailed as Chicago’s “female Sherlock Holmes,” known for her skills in detection as well as for clearing the city of fortune-tellers, capturing shoplifters, foiling pickpockets, and rescuing girls from the clutches of prostitution. Her uncanny ability to remember faces and her flair for masquerade—“a different disguise every day”—allowed her to rack up one thousand arrests in a single year. She was bold and sassy, unafraid to take on any masher, con artist, or scalawag from the city’s underworld.

Her headline-grabbing arrests and head-turning wardrobe made Clement seem like a character straight from Central Casting. But Alice Clement was not only real; she was also a detective sergeant first grade of the Chicago Police Department.

Clement entered the police force in 1913, riding the wave of media sensation that greeted the hiring of ten policewomen in Chicago. Born in Milwaukee to German immigrant parents in 1878, Clement was unafraid to stand up for herself. She advocated for women’s rights and the repeal of Prohibition. She sued her first husband, Leonard Clement, for divorce on the grounds of desertion and intemperance at a time when women rarely initiated—or won—such dissolutions. Four years later, she married barber Albert L. Faubel in a secret ceremony performed by a female pastor.

It’s not clear why the then thirty-five-year-old, five-foot-three Clement decided to join the force, but she relished the job. She made dramatic arrests—made all the more so by her flamboyant dress— and became the darling of reporters seeking sensational tales of corruption and vice for the morning papers. Dark-haired and attractive, Clement seemed to confound reporters, who couldn’t believe she was old enough to have a daughter much less, a few years later, a granddaughter. “Grandmother Good Detective” read one headline.

She burnished her reputation in a high-profile crusade to root out fortune-tellers preying on the naive. Donning a different disguise every day, Clement had her fortune told more than five hundred times as she gathered evidence to shut down the trade. “Hats are the most important,” she explained, describing her method. “Large and small, light and dark and of vivid hue, floppy brimmed and tailored, there is nothing that alters a woman’s appearance more than a change in headgear.”

Clement also had no truck with flirts. When a man attempted to seduce her at a movie theater, she threatened to arrest him. He thought she was joking and continued his flirtations, but hers was no idle threat. Clement pulled out her blackjack and clubbed him over the head before yanking him out of the theater and dragging him down the street to the station house. When he appeared in court a few days later, the man confessed that he had been cured of flirting. Not every case went Clement’s way, though. The jury acquitted the man, winning the applause of the judge who was no great fan of Clement or her theatrics.

One person who did manage to outwit Clement was her own daughter, Ruth. Preventing hasty marriages fell under Clement’s duties, and she tracked down lovelorn young couples before they could reach the minister. The Chicago Daily Tribune called her the “Nemesis of elopers” for her success and familiarity with everyone involved in the business of matrimony in Chicago. None of this deterred twenty-year-old Ruth Clement, however, who hoped to marry Navy man Charles C. Marrow, even though her mother insisted they couldn’t be married until Marrow finished his time in service in Florida. Ruth did not want to wait, and when Marrow came to visit, the two tied the knot at a minister’s home without telling Clement. When Clement discovered a Mr. and Mrs. Charles C. Marrow registered at the Chicago hotel supposedly housing Marrow alone, she was furious and threatened to arrest her new son-in-law for flouting her wishes. Her anger cooled, however, and Clement soon welcomed the newlyweds into her home.

Between arrests and undercover operations, Clement wrote, produced, and starred in a movie called Dregs of the City, in 1920. She hoped her movie would “deliver a moral message to the world” and “warn young girls of the pitfalls of a great city.” In the film, Clement portrayed herself as a master detective charged with finding a young rural girl who, at the urging of a Chicago huckster, had fled the farm for the city lights and gotten lost in “one of the more unhallowed of the south side cabarets.” The girl’s father came to Clement anegged her to rescue his innocent daughter from the “dregs” of the film’s title. Clement wasn’t the only officer-turned-actor in the film. Chicago police chiefs James L. Mooney and John J. Garrity also had starring roles. Together, the threesome battered “down doors with axes and interrupt[ed] the cogitations of countless devotees of hashish, bhang and opium.” The Chicago Daily Tribune praised Garrity’s acting and his onscreen uniform for its “faultless cut.”

The film created a sensation, particularly after Chicago’s movie censor board, which fell under the oversight of the police department, condemned the movie as immoral. “The picture shall never be shown in Chicago. It’s not even interesting,” read the ruling. “Many of the actors are hams and it doesn’t get anywhere.” Despite several appeals, Clement was unable to convince the censors to allow Dregs of the City to be shown within city limits. She remained undeterred by the decision. “They think they’ve given me a black eye, but they haven’t. I’ll show it anyway,” she declared as she left the hearing, tossing the bouquet of roses she’d been given against the window.

When the cruise ship Eastland rolled over in the Chicago River on July 24, 1915, Clement splashed into the water to assist in the rescue of the pleasure boaters, presumably, given her record, wearing heels and a designer gown. More than eight hundred people would die that day, the greatest maritime disaster in Great Lakes history. For her services in the Eastland disaster, Clement received a gold “coroner’s star” from the Cook County coroner in a quiet ceremony in January of 1916.

Clement’s exploits and personality certainly drew attention, but any woman would: a female crime fighter made for good copy and eye-catching photos. Unaccustomed to seeing women wielding any kind of authority, the public found female officers an entertaining—and sometimes ridiculous—curiosity.

Excerpt from Pistols and Petticoats: 175 Years of Lady Detectives in Fact and Fiction by Erika Janik.  Copyright © 2016 & 2017 by Beacon Press. Reproduced with permission from Beacon Press. All rights reserved.

Readers Are Loving Pistols and Petticoats!


Check out this awesome article in Time Magazine!

“Erika Janik does a fine job tracing the history of women in police work while at the same time describing the role of females in crime fiction. The outcome, with a memorable gallery of characters, is a rich look at the ways in which fact and fiction overlap, reflecting the society surrounding them. A treat for fans of the mystery—and who isn’t?” ~  Katherine Hall Page, Agatha Award–winning author of The Body in the Belfry and The Body in the Snowdrift

“A fascinating mix of the history of early policewomen and their role in crime fiction—positions that were then, and, to some extent even now, in conflict with societal expectations.” ~ Library Journal

“An entertaining history of women’s daring, defiant life choices.” ~ Kirkus Reviews


Author Bio:

authorErika Janik is an award-winning writer, historian, and the executive producer of Wisconsin Life on Wisconsin Public Radio. She’s the author of five previous books, including Marketplace of the Marvelous: The Strange Origins of Modern Medicine. She lives in Madison, Wisconsin.

Catch Up With Our Ms. Janik On:
Website , Goodreads , Wisconsin Public Radio , & Twitter !





Tour Participants:







Don't Miss Your Chance to Win Pistols and Petticoats!

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Erika Janik and Beacon. There will be 5 winners of one (1) print copy of Pistols and Petticoats by Erika Janik. The giveaway begins on March 3rd and runs through March 8th, 2017. The giveaway is open to residents in the US & Canada only.
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Friday, February 17, 2017

Coming in April! Big Red by Ellie Dias



Letting go of stuff can be harder than you'd think...even when it’s jammed into a suitcase the size and color of a fire engine.


Seeking to experience simplicity and contentment in the “Happiest Place on Earth,” Dias planned her trip of a lifetime to the Himalayas to the nth degree.

Little did she know that nearly every step would be fraught with challenges, mishaps, and detours. Everything that could go wrong on her spiritual journey did. It was a fiasco that left her wondering whether the Universe—via her Big Red Suitcase—was trying to teach her something.


Ellie Dias, a devotee of Buddhist philosophy, introspection, and yoga, has a graduate degree in Education with a concentration in biology. Her career has been focused on health and wellness as a pediatric nurse, clinician working with families whose babies were at risk for SIDS, a division Vice President of a women’s health care company and a professor. Teaching Anatomy and Physiology, she merged her understanding of the human body with her sixteen-year practice of meditation, incorporating it in a classroom setting.

Writing a book had been percolating in the back of Ellie’s mind, but life got in the way until she was inspired by a solo journey to the Himalayas. Her debut book, Big Red: How I Learned Simplicity from a Suitcase, is a story of challenges, perseverance and humor as she struggles to jettison her Western ways halfway around the world while lugging a 95-pound suitcase—full of what she is convinced are the bare necessities. Common sense should have told her how completely inappropriate all of her “must-haves” were for spending three and a half weeks in the farmlands of Bhutan, Nepal, Tibet, and the Nepalese jungle.

Ellie participates in a book club, writing critique group, and is a member of Sisters in Crime. An artist of water color and pastels, she lives with her husband Ron and dog Roxie in Wilbraham, Massachusetts. She has two children, Michael and Michele and two beautiful grandchildren Aidan and Sebastian Dias. She is currently writing her first novel.


Visit Ellie online at http://elliedias.com/