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Author Sarah Stuart Celebrates her New Release

8/27/2021

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Hello blog friends, today I've invited author Sarah Stuart to share her good news with us. She's traveled across the great Pacific to celebrate her latest masterpiece, Shattered Lives. I've just begun reading it and can attest, it's a winner. Welcome, Sarah!  
​
Thank you for hosting me today, Gwen. I’m here to launch a psychopathic serial killer upon an unsuspecting world. All my romantic suspense books include crime, so it seemed the next logical step to move into Police Procedural. I am indebted to John Nicholl, best-selling author in the genre, for his help and encouragement, and to his son-in-law who works in the London Metropolitan Police.

The setting had to be London. I live in County Durham, North-East England, but the only time I set a book here, the lead character promptly made it impossible for him to stay. London, with its theatres and music venues is my second home... or it is when we don’t have Covid19. Note: the disease is ignored in Shattered Lives. I have read books where it’s used very cleverly, but rarely. I read to escape... and it dates the book. Anyway, enough of me. Let's go to the Book Blurb.​


BOOK BLURB:
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​Ralph Thyme, an addicted gambler and his wealthy grandmother’s only acknowledged heir, discovers he has an elder sister, Olivia, who was sold at birth. Suppose Olivia discovers her true identity and claims half the inheritance he craves? How far will he go to eliminate the threat?

Olivia escaped childhood sexual abuse. Despite horrific memories, nightmares, and fear, she is determined to save a stranger’s little girl from the same fate, and the solution she offers takes all her courage... and then some.

DCI Croft investigates a heinous case of rape, murder, and mutilation. Next to die, are a private detective and his pretty daughter... and then another woman... and another. Can DCI Croft identify and capture a psychopathic killer hell-bent on eliminating anyone who stands in his way before he murders his sister... or is it already too late for Olivia?
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A GLIMPSE introducing family man, DCI Gerald Croft, and his sidekick, DS Pringle:

DCI Croft made for the incident room uniform had dedicated to the serial killer murders. A map had been drawn on one of the whiteboards and marked with the exact location of everything found in George Street. Another displayed the places items had been discovered during the fingertip search of Jubilee Park. He pointed from the boards to the table holding bagged items they knew were Joanna’s. ‘Handbag, mobile, gloves, shoe, two pieces of a broken shoe, scraps of her fur coat, knickers, and other clothes including the coat, are all here. Should we be looking harder at the rest, Pringle?’

‘A lot of it points to druggies using Jubilee Park, sir, and Mr Taylor said Joanna tested clean. I’ve instructed Inspector Kapdi to increase patrols to include the park. It’s possible a dealer has found out it’s a well-hidden outlet away from the powerful mobsters. We know who rules the roost in Garton South, and so will the little men trying to edge their way into the market.’

No wonder his detective sergeant had been promoted to a DS post earlier than most who passed the exam. He handled uniformed inspectors so well they were hardly aware of his hands on the reins. ‘It’s Patrick’s report that worries me. He confirmed death by strangulation, but the rest of his findings don’t add up with the Offender Profile. Mrs Ryan is convinced all the murders were committed by the same psychopath.’

‘Joanna was brutally raped by a man wearing a condom, sir.’

‘Rape is always forceful. Our killer has never taken hair as a trophy. A lock was pulled out by the roots, but Joanna’s fingers and thumbs were left intact.’

Pringle frowned. ‘We saw that and hoped we’d get DNA from under her nails. Judging by her scattered belongings, she fought.’

‘I’m certain she did. Pringle, would you say Joanna was a girl who cared about her looks?’
‘Her clothes were stylish and expensive, so yes.’

He rubbed his forehead. ‘Patrick found evidence that she bit her nails, but they were filed smooth.’

‘So?’

He’d been lucky, or Mirelle might have been married before they met. ‘My wife used to bite her nails, but so many lads complained about her scratching them, she painted on stuff that tasted revolting, and it worked.’

‘Joanna wasn’t even wearing nail varnish, sir.’

‘Mirelle said she didn’t. It drew attention to her jagged claws. Any other makeup, except waterproof mascara, would have washed off Joanna. Pringle, I think we’re looking for a different killer. Ours –’

‘Doesn’t chase women, and he likes a warm room, even when he paid a hooker, or agreed to pay one presumably, since Bo Critz took him to her flat.’

Pringle’s instructions to Inspector Kapdi about patrolling Jubilee Park in case it was being used by a drug pusher clattered in his brain. ‘Suppose Joanna knew something about a drug dealer, and he knew she knew? A copycat killing would shut her up and leave the police to assume it was yet another by the man who murdered the others.’

‘Except it wasn’t a true copycat, sir.’

‘Maybe he read that the killer likes trophies and didn’t take on board the media reports that they were always the same – digit tips and the ring finger. He knew the danger of us finding DNA, dumping the body in moving water. But for getting entangled in a tree, Joanna could have been in the Thames before she was found, if ever, and it would explain why he was wearing latex gloves. An opportunist rapist is hardly likely to carry them about.’

‘Both men, if there are two, must be on the police database to worry about DNA.’

‘Even Hal knows DNA can secure a conviction.’ He managed a grin. ‘He watches crime dramas on TV. Pringle, a drug dealer’s DNA might well be on record, but a man with no convictions wouldn’t be, and if we’re right about our killer being young...’

‘Trophies are all he’s interested in, and ring fingers attract him, sir. He didn’t remove Erik Hamsa’s, but he doused him in so much water Mr Taylor found no DNA, even under his fingernails. More water than the females, I mean.’

‘Hamsa almost certainly didn’t scratch. He fought his killer with a weapon of some sort, and it must have connected with clothing – new clothes – forensics found no DNA. To my mind, that confirms Hamsa saw him raping Patsy, and the monster is only interested in mementos from women.’ He eyed the whiteboards gloomily. ‘It’s a different killer, Pringle.’

‘The Garton Gazette is calling Joanna the serial killer’s fourth female victim.’

He knew, and that the Chief Super was furious. ‘Arresting Joanna’s murderer and making charges stick would spike their guns. Top priority, Pringle.’


THE TRAILER:

Pre-publication review:

“Sarah Stuart has created a complex and realistic world in which multiple stories merge into one as we not only follow DCI Croft but also a defending lawyer, the killer’s intended victim, and the killer himself. While the killer’s identity is not a secret to us, the complex way all of the stories intertwine makes for an elaborate web of intriguing narratives. I especially enjoyed how the characters’ personal and professional lives blended together – sometimes unknowingly to the characters themselves – making for a believable yet terrifying experience. With some of the most shocking and heinous crimes, Shattered Lives is undoubtedly one of the most memorable thrillers I have ever read.”

Shattered Lives is available as an eBook or in print. http://getbook.at/ShatteredLives

Website http://authorsarahstuart.com/
​

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Sarah-Stuart/e/B00MA9XLHI
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The Tree of Life

8/25/2021

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Hello dear blog friends. I've another poem for you. It's a response to Colleen Chesebro's weekly #TankaTuesday poetry challenge. Writer and poet Vashti Q. Vega provides today's theme for the week, and it is lullaby.

I've decided to stretch a bit and try a new syllabic form. Because of the theme, I selected t
he Tree of Life, which has syllables of 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/4/4/4/4/4/4. I hope you enjoy it. The photo is of my youngest son, now a man of 38 years of age. 
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Forgiveness

8/22/2021

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Hello dear blog friends! I've been quiet for a while, just dealing with the stuff of life. Today I'm sharing a poem, my response to  a Tanka Tuesday prompt. You can see the photo below. Before I invite you to read my poem, I  want to share a little about me.

My career was in higher education. For the last ten years of that work, I was an administrator in a college in southern California. It was located near Camp Pendleton, a Marine Corps base. Many Marine veterans enrolled in this college. Almost all had served in Afghanistan. They had enlisted after 9/11. 

Part of my responsibility was Veteran Affairs. The vets at this college were mostly Marines, and most sustained injuries, both visible and invisible. I never heard any of them complain about their handicaps. Their courage, pride, and their dedication humble me to this day. 

I could relay many stories, but what I want to share with this post is that my heart aches for all the men and women who served in Afghanistan and now wonder why. My heart breaks for the our citizens in that country, for our allies who struggle to get out, and for the Afghan people who now run for their lives. The images haunt me throughout the day and all I can do is pray. 

Author Colleen Chesebro offered the photo prompt below. When I first saw it, I thought to write about the night sky, but then the images of Afghanistan darted across my TV screen. My response to the photo is three stanzas of my own syllabic creation (3-3-4-4-5-5-6-6) and I have titled it Forgiveness. 
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Getty photo

FORGIVENESS

no rooftop

tall enough
no megaphone
to hold the screams
tears ripping through hearts
swell to the heavens
where they plead assistance
while we bow low in shame

rivers run
red with pain
fear holds children
no warm embrace
one refrain echoes
run faster my child
but desperation leads
there's no safe hiding place

together
we share life
under one sky
where stars delight
your pain is now ours
we suffer our failure
brokenhearted we see
hopefully not too late
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Writing about the final moments of life

8/18/2021

2 Comments

 
Hello blog friends!

​I'm at Story Empire today and have posted an entry on Writing About the Final Moments of Life. I'd love it if you could join in that conversation. 

Have a wonderful day! 
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2 Comments

A Playful Sanctuary

8/10/2021

29 Comments

 
Hello blog friends. It's #Tanka Tuesday again, and author Colleen Chesebro offers another challenge. The second Tuesday of the month is reserved for synonyms and today's words are sanctuary and follow. 

This was a fun one for me, because my first thought was children at play. If ever there was a sanctuary, a magical one at that, wouldn't a playground be such a place?

Here's my tanka. I hope you enjoy it and also hope you'll jump in with your own. 
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Thanks to Canva for the photo.
I hope you have a wonderful week! 💗
29 Comments

Deja vu

8/4/2021

30 Comments

 
Hello dear blog friends. Today I'm responding to author Colleen Chesebro's poetry challenge. She's diverged a bit from the usual weekly pattern and invited us to write a syllabic or a free-style poem.

​I wrote Deja Vu a while back and decided to share it today. I hope you enjoy it. But I especially hope you'll join in the challenge. Here goes: 
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If you'd like to know more about this weekly challenge, Colleen has some great suggestions and resources on her website. You'll also find a growing poetry community. 

I hope you're having a wonderful week. All the best!   
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Some good news ...

8/1/2021

35 Comments

 
Hello blog friends!

I'm super excited to share that the Fresh Ink Group has republished my memoir, Letting Go Into Perfect Love. This was a gargantuan task, because working with Amazon is never easy. Through their unwavering commitment, they were able to transfer the 87 reviews to the new Kindle edition, and soon the reviews will migrate to the other editions as well. 

As you can see below, the book has a new cover, one designed by the FIG team. There are also minor changes to the text. The basic story is the same -- we travel together, sometimes across difficult terrain, but always towards the one Perfect Love. 
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I've a story to share that is related to my memoir. 

Six weeks ago, my husband and I moved to Prescott, Arizona. The journey to this beautiful mountainous area was arduous beyond our imaginations. The moving van never arrived, and we quickly had to secure a U-Haul. Then the U-Haul loaders went on strike and left us without any help. Though I could continue this story, I’ll just say that this was only the beginning of our moving saga.

By the time we reached our destination, we were both too tired to sleep. With nothing in the house to eat or drink, I went to the local Walmart. At one point, I stood looking at canned soup. I don’t know what I was thinking, probably nothing. I just starred. Then I heard a voice behind me. I turned to see an elderly woman pushing her cart. She smiled at me and said, “You are deeply loved, precious one.” And with that, she walked away.  

I was speechless and began going up and down the aisles looking for her, but it seemed she disappeared.
 
The following day, I went to Home Depot to look for house plants. I was debating which ones to buy, when I heard a familiar voice. I turned and faced the same elderly lady I had met in Walmart. Like before, she pushed a cart, and again she said, “You are deeply loved, precious one.” Through my tears I said, thank you, and would have said more, but she was gone.
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I believe we are surrounded with loving messengers, with angels. In my memoir, I describe a few of my encounters. But I’d love to hear about yours. 

I hope you have a wonderful, miraculous week. 💗
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Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way. ―Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning


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