Archive for September 28th, 2018

Remembering Thomas


Remembering Thomas by Anne Rothman-Hicks and Kenneth Hicks

Jennifer and James and their two friends, Kaytlyn and Sleepy, step through a time portal in the vicinity of modern-day Kips Bay and find themselves caught in the middle of a Revolutionary War battle. Their purpose is to stop the evil Malman, who wants to change the course of history by altering an event that occurred at the Battle of Harlem Heights. Their task is complicated by a man, Arthur Whitehair, who was turned into a pigeon by the misreading of a spell many years before.

During the course of twenty-four hours, the foursome meets the genteel Mary Murray and her daughter, Susannah, credited with delaying the British and allowing the rebels to escape. They share the camp of Margaret Corbin, who fought with the rebels and was injured. Their lives are saved by swashbuckling Major Aaron Burr. They encounter Thomas Knowlton, the hero of Bunker Hill, who died at the battle of Harlem Heights. And, finally, Jennifer discovers the joys and pain of first love with Frederick Knowlton, the sixteen-year-old son of Thomas.

Remembering Thomas is a sequel to Things Are Not What They Seem. As in that novel, the four friends learn lessons about love, friendship, and self-sacrifice.

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Author’s Bio

Kenneth Hicks writes all of his books with his wife, Anne Rothman-Hicks. Anne and Kenneth have been married for a little over forty-three years and have produced about twenty books and exactly three children so far. At press-time, they still love their children more.

Their most recent novels have been set in New York City, where they have lived for most of their married lives. Anne is a graduate of Bryn Mawr College where, in nineteen sixty-nine, as the fabled Sixties were drawing to a close, she met Ken, who was a student at Haverford College. They don’t like to admit that they met at a college mixer, but there it is!

Their most recent novel is a mystery called Weave A Murderous Web, published by Melange Books. Previous books include Praise Her, Praise Diana, thriller/mystery, Melange Books (2015); Kate And The Kid, mainstream, Wings ePress (2014); Things Are Not What They Seem, ‘tween fantasy/adventure, MuseitUp Publishing (2014). Other books include Theft of the Shroud, thriller, Banbury Books (1984); Starfinder, a non-fiction book about the stars for children, Banbury Books (1984); and a series of books on individual names for children (for example Michael’s Book, Elizabeth’s Book, John’s Book, Jennifer’s Book, David’s Book, Amy’s Book).

Ken and Anne have a website with the address www.randh71productions.com and a blog at www.randh71productions.com\Blog. There they have links to some of their books and display images that they hope will be used in future efforts. In case you were wondering about the website address, “R” is for Rothman, “H” is for Hicks, and 71 is the year of their marriage. No secret codes or numerology anywhere. Sorry.

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My Review

5 Stars

After stepping through a time portal, Jennifer, James, Kaytlyn, and Sleepy find themselves in the middle of the Revolutionary War. There the kids learn of a plot to change the course of history. They are going to meet some very important people that helped to protect the Americans, fight alongside of others, and come to care for them deeply.

I will be the first to admit that I am not very knowledgeable of the Revolutionary War and I loved how this book had real life events and people in it. Yes, as soon as I learned of a new person I was checking them out on the internet. I love the combination of a great story and real live events. This makes the story so much bigger.

Remembering Thomas is a continuation of the story Things Are Not What They Seem. I could have sworn that I read that book but I am not seeing it anywhere. I will definitely be going back to catch up. This is a great story for all ages that really bring history to life. This is one to check out.

I received a complimentary copy of this book. I voluntarily chose to read and post an honest review.

RABT Book Tours & PR

I would like to thank Reading Addiction Virtual Book Tours for the opportunity to read and share this book.

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Lonesome Song


Lonesome Song

By Elliott D. Light

Genre: Mystery

Imagine you’re in your late twenties. School is behind you.  You have money, a beautiful wife, lots of friends.  Everything you ever wanted is at your fingertips.

And then suddenly, it’s all taken from you.

Shep Harrington was a young, prosperous and happy lawyer, his bright future shining on the horizon like a beacon.  But things that shine are not always what they seem.  Contentment can be intoxicating, dulling the senses to the signs of change.

He and wife Anna were living their dream—together.  And then they weren’t.

​Shep was convicted of a crime he didn’t commit and sent to prison.  Anna, believing him guilty, divorced him. Both were victims of a system created and operated by an older generation who valued power and money over fairness.

Out of prison, Shep must again contend with people who see truth in practical terms as he probes the death of a man whom he loved and who loved him.  A classic murder mystery, Lonesome Song explores the challenges of surviving injustice and of doing the right thing.

Lonesome Song is the first book in the Shep Harrington SmallTown® Mystery Series.

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About the Author

I am a retired patent attorney living in Florida with my wife, Sonya, and our feline, Tsuki.  I spent most of my life in the Washington, D.C. area.  I grew up in McLean, Virginia before the beltway was constructed.  Some of my classmates in grade school lived on nearby farms.  ​McLean had a small town feel to it.  Gossip spread without the Internet.  Party lines were common.  Secrets were hard to keep.

​When I was in my early thirties, my life pivoted when I was accused of a crime I didn’t commit.  My defense counsel and I discussed plans for my likely indictment and possible imprisonment.  I could expect to be handcuffed and paraded in front of the media.  This experience with the so-called justice system ended after a two year ordeal without an indictment and without going to trial. Even so, it could have ended differently.

Sadly, I will never fully believe that prosecutors, investigators, or the government are as interested in the truth as they are in getting a conviction, an attitude that I share with the semi-fictional Shep Harrington.

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Excerpt from Chapter 10

Before his death Reilly Heartwood was a famous country singer.  Frieda was his housekeeper and Lora Jean is a teenager whom Reilly and Frieda cared for.

The open casket was at the end of the room. A stray beam of sunlight danced across Reilly’s waxen face. I watched as a male tabby cat appeared on the closed end of the coffin. He walked confidently toward Reilly’s head, his tail raised in a question mark. When the cat was half way across the coffin, his gait slowed and his tail twitched nervously. He continued to move forward in a crouched position, until he came to the edge of the opening. The cat stepped gingerly on Reilly’s chest, his head bobbing as he took in the scent of the dead body. He looked up, his mouth open—it was the feline’s way of tasting what he had inhaled. A moment later, he was on the floor, scurrying away. I could see by the fluff of his tail that he had encountered something frightening. I wondered if the brave tabby would spread the news to the others that Reilly had used up his nine lives and was no longer of this earth.

Lora Jean and Frieda gathered behind. “Who is that?” whispered Lora Jean.

“That is what Reilly looked like before you were born,” explained Frieda in a slightly louder whisper.

Lora Jean approached the casket, “What you see is Mr. Heartwood of the late fifties,” I said. “Reilly in his prime.”

“Reilly with hair,” added an uncertain Lora Jean. “I never seen Reilly wear a wig before.”

“Another of Jason Grubb’s bright ideas,” I said.

“God have mercy on us,” said Frieda genuflecting.

I met Frieda’s eyes and like the cat tasting what he couldn’t smell, I saw what I couldn’t hear. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Perhaps I should close the lid.”

Frieda shook her head. “Later.”

I took a deep breath. “Lora Jean, could you show me where you keep the aspirin?”

Lora Jean made a face. “But you know…”

Her protest ended when Frieda touched Reilly’s cheek. LJ turned quickly and walked out. I followed her to the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” said LJ. “I didn’t think about Frieda wanting to be alone with Reilly.”

“You did fine,” I said.

She studied a fingernail for a moment, then asked, “Are you going to sleep in this house with that dead body? I mean, jeze, I couldn’t.”

I swallowed two aspirin. “I’ve slept in places with a lot worse,” I said.

“Prison must really suck,” said LJ. Whether she was referring to me or to her father, or both of us, I wasn’t sure.

I put my glass in the dishwasher, then asked, “Did Reilly ever mention the name Hollinger and why he adopted it as his stage name?”

“God, no,” replied Lora Jean, rolling her eyes.

“I gather I’ve asked a dumb question?”

“The most. I asked Reilly about it once. Chewed my butt out but good.”

“Reilly had a temper?”

“Not usually,” she said.

I could see that the interaction still bothered her, but I persisted. “Do you know why he got so heated?”

“No, and neither did Frieda. He apologized—sort of—but that’s the only time it came up when I was around.” Lora Jean bit her lower lip. “It feels strange to be pissed at someone who’s dead.”

I put my hand under Lora Jean’s chin and lifted her head so that she faced me. “No matter how someone dies, people are always left behind. The dead have what comes next. The living have all the unfinished stuff, like arguments that weren’t settled, things that were never done, words that were never said. When someone kills himself, you can’t help but feel cheated, like he should have said good-bye, or you should have said something. There’s no right or wrong about it. Just feel what you feel, and let it play itself out.” I had just synthesized a few thousand dollars’ worth of therapy into a couple of sentences. I patted her on the cheek and she smiled back at me.

“Thanks,” she said. “I didn’t believe he was dead until I saw him in the coffin.” Her eyes welled up, but she didn’t cry. “I know he liked me. I hope he knew I liked him.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, then dripped onto the floor. “I just didn’t tell him.”

“He liked you very much,” I said, wiping her cheek with my finger.

I handed her a table napkin and she blew her nose.

“Thanks,” she said, then asked hesitantly, “Did someone shoot Mr. Heartwood? I heard you and Doc arguing.”

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“But you’re going to find out? Right? I mean, even if one of Doc’s old friends shot Mr. Heartwood, it doesn’t seem right that he should get away with murder.”

“No. It wouldn’t be right.”

I would like to thank Sage’s Blog Tours for the opportunity to share this book.

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