October Book News

Harvest Moon

2017 the Harvest Moon will occur October 5th.

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Lise McClendon here… from the far southwest tip of Montana. Not the end of the world but you can see it from here! I’m still letting people know about my new women’s fiction/suspense novel set in France, the fifth in the Bennett Sisters Mysteries. It’s called The Frenchman, a title so bland it’s been used a million times. Hence, here is the link: THE FRENCHMAN. If you haven’t had a chance to read any of the novels, start with Blackbird Fly.

October brings an anthology of riffs on conspiracy theories that roiled through the Obama years, edited by the talented Gary Phillips. I have a short story in The Obama Inheritance: Fifteen Stories of Conspiracy Noir, set in a fictional Montana town called Forked Tongue. It is, needless to say, about Russian trolls and fake news (maybe not so fictional… 🙄) Walter Mosley is the big name in here but there are lots of fascinating takes on aliens, ninjas, and Michelle. Something for everyone, for sure. And, yes, Obama is blue on the cover!

From the publisher: “In an era where the outlandish and fantastic has permeated our media 24/7, where mind-bending conspiracy theories shape our views, THE OBAMA INHERITANCE writers riff on the numerous fictions spun about the 44th president of the U.S. Although Obama himself does not appear in most of these stories, contributors spin deliberately outlandish and fantastic twists on many of the dozens of screwball, bizarro conspiracy theories floated about the president during his years in office and turn them on their heads.”

It’s available for pre-order now. It goes live in ebook and paperback on October 10, and will be in Montana bookstores (or by special order.) Have a lovely, leafy autumn 🍂🍃🍁

Leslie Budewitz: Congratulations, Lise!

Christine Carbo and I just returned from the Montana Book Festival in Missoula, where we were part of a conversation about the contemporary mystery set in the west. In mid October, we’ll both be attending Bouchercon, the annual world mystery convention, being held this year in Toronto! And I’ll be leaving the board of Sisters in Crime, the international writers’ organization focused on the recognition, advancement, and professional development of women crime writers. It’s been an honor to serve — writing is a solo activity, but every opportunity I’ve had, and many of the joys, have come to me because of a group.

Wishing you the pleasures and joys of this sweet season!

 

Spring near Ratham Creek

Ratham Creek

Ratham Creek

The following excerpt is from my new release Ratham Creek.  Arianne has spent her first winter in a cosy cabin tucked away in a  mountian chain in western Montana.  She is checking Tumble Creek which runs along her property.  It is  filled to overflowing with spring run off.

Was someone watching?  Arianne spun from looking at the creek swollen with spring snow melt.  She surveyed down the tree line—both ways.  Nothing.  No one.  She shivered, yet didn’t feel chilly.  “I’m going nuts,” she whispered and turned back to her problem.  Tumble Creek raced downstream and spilled over its bank just before forking into Ratham Creek.  The runoff filled the meadow.

Arianne stepped onto the bridge.  She stomped and jiggled the boards.  It seemed to be holding.  She didn’t know why she worried.  The meadow probably floods every April.  The name of the month brought a smile to her lips.  Her first winter in the cabin had been a challenge, but she’d met each problem the snow and ice brought.  She now knew how to put chains on the pickup tires, how to use a blowtorch to thaw a frozen pipe and how to survive the long nights with a good book and deep sleep.  Another fear had been driving to work on the dark snow-packed mountain road at five o’clock in the morning.  Only thing to do was to do it, so she had.  Today, life seemed renewed and she looked forward to summer.

Her forehead creased as the uneasy feeling returned.  Shading her eyes, she retraced the tree line.  Still, nothing.  She couldn’t help hurrying back to the Chevy.  She locked the doors and headed for town.

Marie F Martin

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