This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Trixie Silvertale will be awarding a $75 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other hosts on the tour.
A pattern of murder. A threadbare case. Can our psychic sleuth pick out the guilty before time spools out?
Mitzy Moon is finally tying the knot. And she’s loving the whole town’s excitement for their upcoming big day. But when their tailor is found buttons up behind a jazz lounge, the almost-newlyweds will have to hem in a murderer before their dreams rip apart at the seams.
Knowing they’ll get no help from the new sheriff in town, the couple embarks on a tightly woven undercover assignment. But Mitzy fails to heed ominous warnings from her mentor, Ghost-ma, and her entitled feline. When another body drops, she could be the next target erased by the mounting powers in the darkness…
Can Mitzy and Erick unravel the twisted clues, or will their wedding be eclipsed by a funeral?
Bells and Bombshells is the first book in a hilarious new paranormal cozy mystery series, Harper and Moon Investigations. If you like snarky heroines, supernatural intrigue, and a dash of romance, then you’ll love Trixie Silvertale’s wedded whodunit.
Buy Bells and Bombshells to stitch up a killer today!
Read an Excerpt
At long last, Erick turns to me and exhales dramatically. “How about we take a little drive, and I bring you up to speed?”
What am I going to say? First and foremost, I’m a diehard snoop. I absolutely have to know what’s going on. “Sure, Sheriff Harper. I can’t wait to be ushered into the inner circle.” My snarky tone is not lost on my intelligent boyfriend.
“Don’t get a burr under your saddle, Moon. It’s all good, I promise.”
He grabs his thick uniform jacket, takes my hand, and leads me out to his cruiser.
As he opens the door for me, a cloud of sadness blows over me. Is this my last time riding in the cruiser with the sheriff? What is he going to do next? And more importantly, where is he going to do it?
He closes the door, jogs around the front of the vehicle — making his plain uniform look like an Armani European-cut suit — and hops into the driver’s seat.
He cruises down Main Street, past Rex’s Drugstore, the boarded up Montgomery Wards, and a few other abandoned buildings whose signs have long-faded. When the iron ore mines shut down, most of Birch County took a massive financial hit. Towns like Pin Cherry Harbor have been able to keep afloat by repositioning themselves as enviable tourist destinations.
The sheriff turns right and heads across Third Avenue, past my favorite patisserie, and right again, eventually making it back to First Avenue.
We’re only a few blocks past my bookshop, back on the corner of First and Main, when he turns into an old gas station. This particular abandoned petrol station played a key part in a previous case I solved, and I happen to know it used to belong to local criminal mastermind Leticia Whitecloud. Not to mention, it connects to a warren of underground tunnels used during the prohibition era.
Despite the little pout I’m having, my curiosity is piqued.
Erick jumps out, opens my door, and instructs me to close my eyes.
“Close my eyes? I don’t think I like any part of this, Sheriff. You do know I have quite a lot of other senses I can rely on, even when my eyes are closed.”
He circles his arm around me, leans tantalizingly close, and whispers in my ear. “I’d consider it a personal favor if you would turn off all of those other senses, and let me have this moment. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
And I’m dead
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