#SampleSunday Dreamed It: A New Dreamwalker Mystery from Maggie Toussaint

Justice for the dead and solace for the living is Baxley Powell’s creed, but she faces uncharted territory in this sixth book of the Dreamwalker Mystery Series. The Suitcase Killer has struck again, only this big city menace is now a problem for Baxley’s hometown. As that investigation heats up, a local woman is reported missing. The sheriff orders Baxley to work the missing person’s case.

Listening to the dead is familiar ground for Baxley but finding a missing young lady isn’t in her skill set. Besides, her dreams rarely follow a timeline. With the clock ticking, can this crime consultant discover a way to reach the living?

Her main source of help in the afterlife, a mentor named Rose, is unavailable. Instead, Baxley must rely on her wits and her Native American boyfriend, Deputy Sam Mayes, to find leads. Each shared dreamwalk and energy transfer binds them closer together, creating another issue. Mayes wants to marry Baxley but it isn’t that easy. They’re hampered by their community roles in opposite ends of the state.

Baxley juggles the pressure of two high-profile cases, a determined suitor, and expanding her limits. One thing is certain. Without her extrasensory sleuthing, the missing woman will die.

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Excerpt: Dreamed It by Maggie Toussaint

A sudden jolt propelled me to consciousness. I gazed upon a vast darkness and wheezed air into my lungs. Time passed as I steadied my breathing and slowed my racing heart. Flat on my back, I took stock of my situation. Numb limbs indicated an extended dreamwalk, but I had no memory of any such excursion.

I’d spent a quiet Sunday evening at home with my daughter and Sam Mayes, my Native American boyfriend, who was down from North Georgia for the weekend. I’d gone to sleep in my own bed and awakened here, wherever here was.

Was I alone?

I called upon my flagging energy to do a life signs scan. Using my extra senses, I virtually ranged out from my prone position. Mayes was to my immediate left, and from his low energy levels, as wiped out as I was. He was a dreamwalker, same as me. And from the cold energy pressing against my leg, my ghost dog watched over us. He’d bark on the spirit plane if someone or something approached, though my scan assured me we were alone.

The void in my memory worried me. My debilitated condition pointed to an extrasensory event, but danged if I remembered contacting a spirit on the Other Side. Strange, because I remembered every other dreamwalk I’d ever made. Why not this one?

So much for me being an expert on the paranormal.

Just when I thought I had the hang of my unusual profession of communicating with the dead, it socked me in the teeth. Crossing over to the spirit realm was something I did often, but the veil between the living and the dead nearly won this time.

This had been no ordinary dreamwalk. Instead of it being a spirit-only event, somehow our bodies had also undergone the shift. That defied the laws of physics, but here we were, body and spirit. Impossible and yet my reality.

Tears misted my eyes, and I blinked to sharpen my vision. A woodsy aroma filled my nose, so we were outdoors. The darkness suggested it was night. My thoughts drifted into a self-healing meditative trance focusing on the breath. Gradually, clarity returned.

As numbness yielded to tingling nerves, sensation seeped into my rigid body. Fatigue rolled in next, and with it, the riptide of bone-deep exhaustion. Despite my weariness, I took heart. This reaction was normal after an extended dreamwalk.

Oliver lapped happily at my face, his whip-thin tail wagging his entire ghostly form. Good dog, Oliver, I managed as I joined him on the spirit plane. While here in spirit only, I still maintained awareness of my physical surroundings.

My ghost dog materialized as a misty image of a jet black Great Dane, his body aquiver with happiness. Earlier this summer I rescued Oliver from virtual chains and too-tight collar at a haunted house. No amount of urging had prompted him to the afterlife, and his essence attached to mine. At this bereft moment, I was delighted by his presence.

Oliver showed us the way home through the drift, I realized. It wasn’t the first time he’d rescued me, and I owed him so much already.

Despite my dry-as-cotton mouth, I cooed over him while I tried to pinpoint my location. Stars twinkled overhead, framed by tall oaks and pines. Not my treetops, not my yard.

I heard a moan to my left. Felt the urgency as Mayes whispered my name. “Baxley.” With a final rub of the ears for Oliver, I integrated fully into the physical plane.

Mayes whispered again, his tone deeper and freighted with authority. “Bax. You okay?”

“Yeah.” I managed. “What happened to us?”

“Got no clue.”

Sam Mayes had become a fixture in my life, though I’d only known him for three months. I wished I was in his protective arms right this very second.

“I feel like I got run over by a truck,” I said. “Last thing I remember is getting ready for bed.”

“That’s right.” His voice roughened. “I shared your toothpaste before we crawled under the covers.”

My face heated as memories surfaced. “I remember the before-sleep part fine, but between there and here is a big, fat zero. Except for Oliver. He guided us home through the drift.” I tried to sit, but my limbs weren’t fully responsive yet. I remained prone.

“I have the same mental gap. I believe we were taken, body and spirit, from your house.”

Hearing the words made it real. The impossible had happened. Nothing else explained our physical displacement, the prolonged recovery time, and the shared memory gaps.

My teeth ground together as I made another connection. “Unless some other entity kidnapped us, my money’s on Rose. Her abilities go beyond the possible. I’ve never met another spirit entity as powerful.”

Allegedly, my otherworld mentor, Rose, worked undercover in the spirit realm, but she claimed to be an angel. Seeing her dark, powerful wings had made a believer out of me. That physical manifestation, her ability to do impossible feats, and her total hold on me proved she was more than a powerful spirit. She’d banished demons, fetched folks from beyond the point of no return, wrestled with selkies, quelled spirit rebellions, and more.

Trouble was, Rose kept changing the rules of our association. By sheer willpower, I managed to draw one hand close enough to study in the starlight. From the faint glow of my watch, it was three a.m. The rose tattoo on my hand was still there. Rose put three tattoos on my body to indicate the hours of my indenture to her. Rats. If she’d gone to the trouble of kidnapping us and erasing our memories, her prominent brand indicated I still owed her the hours of my life I’d willingly exchanged during life-or-death situations of loved ones.

That’s right. Rose charged for her supernatural favors, and I’d begged for her help three times. Each time the terms had been the same. A favor in exchange for an hour of my life. I’d agreed due to the dire nature of the situations, but darn-it-all if I wanted Rose to collect. With her rule-bending nature, I could turn into a mass murderer or worse on either side of the veil.

“I keep reminding you, Rose is not your friend,” Mayes said.


Southern author Maggie Toussaint evolved into a mystery author after getting her feet damp in romantic suspense and dystopian fiction, with twenty fiction novels and two nonfiction novels to her credit. Her work won two Silver Falchions, the Readers’ Choice, and the EPIC Awards. She’s a past president of Southeast chapter of Mystery Writers of America and an officer of Lowcountry Sisters In Crime. She lives in coastal Georgia, where secrets, heritage, and ancient oaks cast long shadows. Visit her at https://maggietoussaint.com/

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#MidweekMystery with Guest Post and #Giveaway: Peach Clobbered, a Georgia B&B Mystery

Peach Clobbered

Peach Clobbered Cover

Nina Fleet’s life ought to be as sweet as a Georgia peach. Awarded a tidy sum in her divorce, Nina retired at 41 to a historic Queen Anne house in quaint Cymbeline, GA. But Nina’s barely settled into her new B&B-to-be when a penguin shows up on her porch. Or, at least, a man wearing a penguin suit.

Harry Westcott is making ends meet as an ice cream shop’s mascot and has a letter from his great-aunt, pledging to leave him the house. Too bad that’s not what her will says. Meanwhile, the Sisters of Perpetual Poverty have lost their lease. Real estate developer Gregory Bainbridge intends to turn the convent into a golfing community, so Cymbeline’s mayor persuades Nina to take in the elderly nuns. And then Nina finds the “penguin” again, this time lying in an alley with a kitchen knife in his chest.
A peek under the beak tells Nina it’s not Harry inside the costume, but Bainbridge. What was he doing in Harry’s penguin suit? Was the developer really the intended victim, or did the culprit mean to kill Harry? Whoever is out to stop Harry from contesting the sale of his great-aunt’s house may also be after Nina, so she teams up with him to cage the killer before someone clips her wings in Peach Clobbered, Anna Gerard’s charming first Georgia B&B mystery.

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Guest Post: Dropping Like the Gentle Rain…

Where do you get your ideas? It’s a question we authors are asked a lot, and one that we seemingly can never satisfactorily answer. I read somewhere once that a famous bestselling writer would tell gullible sorts that he subscribed to Writing Ideas of the Month magazine. He claimed that he’d thumb through each new issue when it hit his mailbox, choose an idea, and write his next blockbuster.
Of course, he was kidding. But the truth is that the idea part of writing actually is easy, which is why we often give a frivolous response to that question. We all have ideas, writers and non-writers, alike. They’re a dime a dozen, to use the cliché, and we have far more than we’ll ever need. Not sure how to generate an idea? All it takes is two simple words – What if?

What if the old woman at the coffee shop nervously cradling a latte was once a prima ballerina?

What if the convicted murderer I read about in the morning paper actually was framed?

What if the smelly, unshaven guy prowling the thrift store aisles is actually an undercover cop?

What if the new house I bought was built on an old cemetery?

Ideas come from everywhere and anywhere. Newspapers, television, books,
radio. And, of course, from simply observing. Most writers have far more ideas than they can ever hope to use. As Shakespeare might say, they droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven. And, at least in my case, that’s not far from the truth. I tell people I get my best ideas in the shower and, silly as it may sound, I mean it.

There’s something zen-like about standing under splashing water, almost like
being in a isolation chamber. Outside sounds are temporarily muffled, and as a result one’s mind starts casting about for thoughts to fill the void. Soon enough, ideas start filtering through the pounding water.

Which is one reason I’m planning on having one of those oversized rain shower heads installed in my bath sometime soon. Who knows, maybe I can even write it off as a business expense!

But often non-writers don’t realize that an idea, no matter how grand, isn’t a plot. And without a plot, you don’t have a book. Because the plot is the underlying structure of a story. It’s how you get from the beginning to the end of the tale in an interesting yet logical and satisfying way.


An idea, no matter how grand, isn’t a plot. And without a plot, you don’t have a book

To put that concept into real-life context, you may wake up
one morning with the “idea” that you want to drive from New York City to Dallas. But simply having the idea isn’t magically going to transport you from Point A to Point B. You need to “plot” your journey. Will you go the scenic route that takes a couple of extra days, or will you travel via the fastest highways and toll roads? Are you going to stop at four-star hotels, or are you going to catch a few winks in roadside parks? Only once you’ve made all these decisions can you begin your trip.

In much the same way, an author has to line out their book journey before they can begin writing. And depending on one’s writing style, that can take quite a bit of planning. Some authors I know spend months researching and outlining before they ever type the words, Chapter One. On the other hand, many writers plunge right into the story, working off nothing more than a mental outline and a few scribbled notes. Most writers probably fall somewhere in between those two extremes.

But no matter their process, they all have moved well beyond the “idea” stage when they begin typing.

So instead of asking an author, where do you get your ideas, next time consider asking, how do you construct a plot? You might find yourself hearing a much more interesting answer


About the Author


DIANE A.S. STUCKART is the New York Times bestselling author of the Black Cat Bookshop Mystery series (writing as Ali Brandon). She’s also the author of the award-winning Leonardo da Vinci historical mysteries, as well as several historical romances and numerous mystery, fantasy, and romance short stories. The first book in her Tarot Cats Mystery series is FOOL’S MOON, available in trade, large print, and Kindle versions. Her Georgia B&B Mystery series from Crooked Lane Books launched July 2019 with PEACH CLOBBERED, written as Anna Gerard.
Diane is a member of Mystery Writers of America and has served as the 2018 and 2019 Chapter President of the MWA Florida chapter. In addition to her mystery writing affiliations, she’s a member of the Cat Writers’ Association and belongs to the Palm Beach County Beekeepers Association. She’s a native Texan with a degree in Journalism from the University of Oklahoma, but has been living in the West Palm Beach FL area since 2006. She shares her “almost in the Everglades” home with her husband, dogs, cats, and a few beehives. Learn more about her books at www.dianestuckart.com.

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Southern Sass and Killer Cravings, #MidweekMystery with giveaway

Life has always been sweet on Georgia’s Peach Cove Island, but a case of murder has Marygene Brown down in the pits . . .

For generations, the women of the Brown family on Peach Cove Island have been known for their Southern sass and sweet homemade desserts at their beloved Peach Diner. Since their mother’s passing two years ago, Marygene has been stuck in Atlanta while her sister Jena Lynn has been running the family business. Now Marygene has left her husband and returned to her hometown, where she can almost feel Mama’s presence.
But all is not peachy back home. Marygene has barely tied on an apron when a diner regular drops dead at the counter. When it turns out the old man’s been poisoned, Jena Lynn is led away in handcuffs and the family eatery is closed. Now, to save her sister and the diner, Marygene must find the real killer. With some startling assistance from her Mama’s spirit, Marygene will be serving up a special order of just desserts . . .
Includes Seven Recipes from Marygene’s Kitchen! Enter the giveaway here. (Void where prohibited)
 


About The Author  

Kate Young writes humorous southern mystery novels. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and the Guppy Chapter. Kate lives in a small town in Georgia with her husband, three kids, and Shih Tzu. When she is not writing her own books, she’s reading or cooking.

Author Links

Website – https://www.kateyoungbooks.com

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GoodReads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6527572.Kate_Young

BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/profile/kate-young-b3339e9c-d2e4-482d-a637-5afd7b064d73

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Confound It: A New Dreamwalker Mystery from Maggie Toussaint

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While hosting out-of-town guests at her Georgia home, Dreamwalker Baxley Powell is called upon to help investigate a suspicious fire.

One of her guests, close friend and fellow dreamwalker Deputy Sam Mayes, accompanies her to the scene.
A meth cook is dead, and when Baxley visits her beyond the Veil of Life, she determines that the woman was murdered. Baxley pities Mandy Patterson, a single mother with aspirations for her teenage son Doodle. Unconcerned about the death of a criminal, the authorities pursue the drug-supply chain angle. Baxley worries about Doodle and vows to find out who killed his mother.
As the case grows more baffling, Baxley struggles against her attraction to Sam. Although her husband is missing and declared dead, she does not feel free to love again until she is sure of his fate.
Two suspects have the strongest motive, but Baxley has reason to believe they are pawns in a deeper game. And unless she can stop them, the world will never be the same.


About The Author  

Southern author Maggie Toussaint writes mystery, suspense, and dystopian fiction. Her work won the Silver Falchion Award for best mystery, the Readers’ Choice Award, and the EPIC Award. She’s published seventeen novels as well as several short stories and novellas. The next book in her paranormal mystery series, Dadgummit, releases August 2017. Maggie serves on the national board for Mystery Writers of America, is President of Southeast Mystery Writers of America, and is Co-VP of Low Country Sisters In Crime. Visit her at www.maggietoussaint.com.

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