Tag Archives: Echelon Press

A Sneak Peek

The Meeting

Legs up to there and a smile that could melt the rocks from a glass of Bourbon. That’s what I see when I look at Universal Bureau of Investigation’s officer, Edmund St. John.

The impeccably dressed man strolled across the sidewalk and shoved the gate aside. He stepped around a small dog lying on the ground next to its lunching owner.

Now, I’m no expert on men, but I know what I like, and sister, I like the way the green eyes of this UBI agent simmer when he looks at me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not in the market for a man, but if I were, he’d be a damn good choice. Not that any of this matters.

The federal bureau went universal somewhere around 2020 and with it came a new breed of investigators. There was no choice when things changed. The crime in America grew at alarming paces after the turn of the new Millennium. Space exploration opened our country, hell our earth, to a new kind of terror. Growing up, we’d watched movies about aliens and space creatures, but no one would have ever imagined that the worst kind of creature would look just like us. There is no way to distinguish between humans and otherwise. I’ve never seen one of the outsiders, but that don’t mean I’m not on my guard all the time. There are some things that a girl can’t help but notice. Which brings me back to St. John.

Now, I make it a point, like everyone else, to notice St. John, but my lifeless long brown hair don’t offer an extraordinary enough view to attract more than a passing glance from him. I keep in good enough shape, but sometimes it’s not enough. Edmund’s eyes hold the same murky shadows of a jungle’s deepest greenery, fierce and dangerous, while mine are slightly darker than my hair. Nothing anyone chooses to gaze into, but I can live with that. With my usual long pants and button down blouses, most men don’t look any further than my smart mouth and knack for trouble. I don’t mind—much, since I don’t’ really need the complications of romance.

Our little neck of the woods doesn’t instill a keen sense of romance in anyone’s heart. Then again, what do you expect from Illinois. However, I’m certain that if I did decide I needed a man, Miller’s Pit would pull something out of its hat for me. Time didn’t change things that much. At the turn of the new Millennium, the United States had slipped quietly into the past, taking Miller’s Pit with it.

Boris Miller was the brilliant man who decided that since he had more money than anyone else did, he’d name the town after himself. The pit part came when his wife died by falling into a pit on his property. But none of that really matters. With my job, I don’t have time for love, or I wouldn’t if I could get a gig, which is why I’m here today. Well not exactly.

Gangsters are on the move and history is hell-bent on repeating itself. Prohibition has reared its ugly head once again and the UBI has its hands full with a ton of small battles destined to roll themselves into a full-scale war. At this rate, the twenty-first century will no doubt prove as thrilling as the last.

St. John sauntered up to my table. He leaned his head to the side and tipped his hat at the slender blonde sitting at the table behind me. I looked at my watch again. Quarter to ten. So much for our nine-thirty meeting. I often wonder if it’s not a G-man’s nature to be late. Maybe they think it will unnerve us and we’ll throw ourselves on the mercy of justice and confess to all our sins. If we had any that is.

As far as I can figure, St John’s biggest flaw is his lack of punctuality. My watch says that this is the fourth time in two weeks that I’ve had to wait for him to join me at The Shoppe. If I didn’t need his help, I’d be on my way to the office for some scintillating conversation with my cousin, Stuart.

“Hi ya, Doll.”

St. John’s voice wrapped around me like a smooth shot of brandy and I forced my mind back to the matter at hand. “If you refuse to call me Miss Gumshue, then I will gladly respond to Gloria, but please refrain from calling me Doll.”

The man has a habit of comparing me to any number of objects. I find the habit somewhat amusing, but to acknowledge this could settle us onto a new level of familiarity and that will not benefit our relationship.

I dab the fine mist of perspiration from my cheek and settle back in my café chair. The soft cotton fabric rustles as I make a show of arranging my skirt around my legs. I slip my feet out to the side and cross my ankles. With a little lean to the left, I offer St. John a healthy look at my legs, covered with sheer black stockings. I need something from him and there are very few ways of loosening his tongue.

This is not my normal attire, mind you, but some situations call for drastic measures. Once I discover what he knows and finish this meeting, I can head to the office and slip back into my slacks. In my line of work, I don’t have time to dawdle along in high heels and snug skirts. Thank you, dear women. I offer my silent gratitude to the dames of nearly a hundred years ago who made long pants the fashion for working girls during wartime. They do not, however, suit my needs at this moment.

St. John glances down and I know he’s noticed my slight shift in posture. He has a reputation for being hard as nails on the job, but a shapely leg supposedly turns him to a simpering charmer. He looks at my legs, whistles, and looks to my face again.

The sharp blast of a Ford horn rings out, but neither of us pays much attention. I’m too busy watching St. John, who is too busy eyeing my gams. He tosses his hat onto the table before carefully laying the jacket he’d been carrying, over the back of his chair. He folds himself into the small seat with an impressive display of masculine elegance. His navy blue trousers, freshly pressed pleats running down the front of decidedly slender legs, hug against his thighs. The pale yellow shirt contrasts sharply with his darkened skin. A brightly decorated tie, splashed with red, yellow, green, and gold sets off his entire ensemble.

That might seem like a strange word to describe a man’s clothing, but St. John is not your average G-man. He has flair. It shows in the way he dresses, each item perfectly coordinated to supply a certain style, and the way he works, meticulous and precise. Everywhere he goes people notice him. Mostly women, I note as a slender red head shimmies past him.

I chose The Shoppe for our meeting because of its very public location. The outside café tables offer a good view of Main Street as well as being close to my office. Being on the job makes my time valuable. Not having to get the car out saved me time. Having long legs has more than one good use, I think, watching St. John who keeps glancing down. I can walk to work in less time than it takes to get the Olds out of the parking garage. Lord knows why the lightweight sports car ever fell to the side of oversized heaps of metal.

Just for effect, I lean to the side, run my hand up the length of my calf, and check the seam of my stocking for straightness. Edmund never takes his eyes off my legs.

“Hmm,” he groans softly.

I look him directly in the eyes as I cross my legs. “When you’re done.”

His head snaps up and for a split second, he looks disoriented. His usual demeanor returns quickly and he slips back to his usual aloofness. “So, Gumshue, what’s got you all fired up today? Cat in a tree? Dog in a well?”

Edmund can’t possibly be so dense, then again G-men aren’t known for their IQ’s.

“St. John, I could take this to anyone, but I thought maybe your career could use a boost.” I take a sip of my joe. “Perhaps you missed that email.”

He snickers and the chase is on. My heart skips a beat at the possibility of going head to head with him and I smile.

“Does the name Eleanor Van Dresden set off any bells for you?”

Edmund pulls out a silver case and leans his arms against the edge of the table as he rolls a smoke.

I find myself enjoying the sweet smell of his imported tobacco as the smoke wafts in my direction. After a long and visually appealing pull on the cigarette he leans back in his chair.

“She’s a classy one,” he noted. “My kid sister claims her fashions are adored all over the world.”

I tap my fingernails against the glass tabletop as he ogles the shapely server tending the next table. The man has no shame. His intensity offers me the opportunity to notice a snag in my thumbnail. Maybe once I get a check for a gig, I’ll get myself a real manicure at one of those fancy salons in the city.

“I’m guessing the precinct boys haven’t clued your office in on the latest.”

St. John’s brow wrinkles as he turned his gaze back to me. “Cut to the chase, Gumshue.”

Ah, so now I have his attention, not that it bothers me, him watching the small brunette lean across a chair. “Van Dresden’s assistant filed a report several days ago. She claims someone has been threatening Dame Van Dresden.”

He shoots forward in his chair, his eyes blazing with a newfound determination. “I don’t get it, Doll. How is it you get the skinny before the Bureau of Investigations?”

His irritation sparks something inside me and I can’t stop myself from gloating. I make a mental note to keep it down to a minimal. “Well, let me think. I might have overheard old lady McGarrity talking about it when I was getting her cat, Milo, down from the tree.” His cheeks turn a pesky shade of pink as he glares in my direction.

“I’ve got better things to do with my time than hang out with a wiseguy in drag.”

“Keep it down, St. John. I’m willing to share what I know if you’d be so kind as to consider a partnership of sorts.”

I find his snort of laughter very unattractive. Downright rude, if you must know. I prefer to work alone, but in this instance the Bureau representative in question, in spite of his annoying tendencies, could offer me a few links I might not otherwise be privy to.

An older woman, with more than a little bustle backing her up, squeezes between Edmund and the chair behind him. The wind picks up and plucks a feather from her overzealous contraption of a hat. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much pink and yellow settled on a puffed up bed of orange. While most of the women of the decade are wearing sleek sophisticated haircuts, this gem is boasting a horde of curls unlike any I’ve ever seen.

The feather settles on Edmund’s lap and I swallow past a moment of envy. I’ve never wanted to be a feather before.

“Gloria, I think you’re cracked. Even if I thought you knew something that we don’t—couldn’t find out on our own—why would I partner up with you?”

I signal the server for my check and then gather my purse and hat. I’ve gathered all the info I need and now it’s time to get to work. Oh, I have plans for Edmund St. John, but all in good time. For now, I have to take care of some things at the office so I can join the rest of our sleepy little town at a new kind of shindig.

At seven this evening, I will be sitting in the front row of the Cascade Theatre. Dame Van Dresden has chosen Miller’s Pit—although I can’t get a grip on why—to debut her new fall line of fashions. The town’s folks have been buzzing for weeks about this event and my mother managed to get prime seats for the entire family. Television crews from all over the world will be sending the show via the link, but we will count ourselves among the elite.

Lucille, that’s my mum, has got an in with just about anybody who is anybody in this town and the next three in every direction. She’s a homemaker, mother, and social guru, that’s what my dad calls her, unstoppable. No one ever tells her no. Well almost no one.

It’s taken me almost two years to rebuild our relationship. I told my mother no.

“Gloria, won’t you please stay at home a few more years, at least until you finish nursing school?”

“No, Mother. I know what I want to do and that’s not it.”

So, out I had moved and shortly after that I got my PI license. That’s Private Investigator. Dad was pretty pleased. Mum on the other hand cried for weeks and didn’t speak to me for twice as long. But anyway.

Tonight, we will be living the high life as special guests to the designer. Mum and Eleanor had been school chums at Miss Chatterham’s School of Etiquette for Demure Ladies. I could live without all the hullabaloo, but Mum deserves a night out and if Dad can do it, so can I.

I thank the server when she brings my change and I nod my goodbye to St. John.

“You dragged me all the way across town for this?” he asks, his annoyance clear in his caustic tone.

“I was mistaken that you could be of service to me at this time. I apologize for the inconvenience. See ya around, St. John.”

The slight tick in his jaw kicks up as I make my way around the table. The sensor catches my approach and the door swings open. I watch him from the corner of my eye as I pass by on my way out the side gate.

“One of these days, Doll, I’m not gonna jump when you say so.”

Maybe just not so high. A smile curves my lips. I can’t help liking the control I have over this particular man. He doesn’t know it, but Edmund St. John is as intrigued by me as I by him.

 

 

 

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Dear Lendink

 

I don’t claim to know all the ins and outs of how this book business works, but I do know that I am offended on your behalf. Recently, your site was shut down because a group of authors decided you were a pirate. I visited your site. I read your FAQ page. I did some research and as far as I could discover you were doing exactly what you said you were doing.

I did NOT see any signs of a wooden leg, a hook where your hand should be, or a skull and crossbones flag hanging anywhere on your site. Nor did I see an eye patch, though you might have looked quite dashing in an eye patch.

I would like to take a moment to say thank you. Perhaps this is too late, perhaps not. I sincerely appreciate what you were trying to do buy leading readers by the virtual hand to the actual buy pages of the books I write and publish. I am constantly looking for new ways to market our books that do not require more time than I have to give. You did that, willingly, and legally, and you were cast out for your efforts.

::hangs head in shame:: I am sorry that not everyone felt the need to give you the benefit of the doubt and to take the time to figure out that you were acting on behalves and in fact doing us a FAVOR.

I would like to let you know that should you get your site back up and running, you have my permission to LEGALLY promote my books on your site. This goes for anyone who wants to LEGALLY introduce readers to the books of Echelon Press. Don’t steal from me, don’t distribute or lend our books without ensuring that the authors and I are being full compensated within our legal rights. But by all means, if you want to post covers and links to where readers can BUY our books LEGALLY, you have my blessing and my supports.

I am certain I am not the only one angered at your mistreatment. You can find another supporter at the blog of April L. Hamilton. http://aprillhamilton.blogspot.com/2012/08/congratulations-you-killed-lendink-and.html

Respectfully,

Karen L. Syed

 

 

 

 

What was Satan Thinking?

 

First, let’s be clear on what I mean when I say POD books. This term has become so misused and misunderstood that it has actually resulted in lost sales for many. This doesn’t need to be the case.

POD stands for PRINT ON DEMAND. You’ll notice the word PRINT. Not publish or promote, PRINT!

POD is the process used by PRINTERS to eliminate the need for excessive runs of print copies. The printer simply waits until there is an order and then prints the specific number of copies ordered, removing the immediate potential for wasted paper.

I’m not sure why POD books have received such a negative reputation, but most booksellers and librarians, and now due to the overwhelming number of authors arguing about it in public forums, readers equate POD with lower quality books. This simply isn’t the case.

For over a decade, a multitude of publishers, both big and small, have been using the POD method for fulfilling orders.

The quality of the written word is determined well before the actual book ever goes to print, thereby eliminating the misconception that POD books are “bad.” It needs to be understood by all that POD, the method of printing does not account for the number of poorly written and edited books being sold in the market.

The biggest problem with the misunderstanding of POD is the ability for companies and authors to market and promote the books. However, with the proper education within the retail (and library) industries, bookseller and acquisition librarians could not only increase their potential sales and titles available, but could increase the variety of stories available to their readers.

Readers crave originality. They are tired of reading the same recycled stories by the same authors. Yet, they are deprived of any freshness in their choices, because the larger and more traditional publishers are reluctant to take any financial risk on the newer and more exciting stories written by unknown or new authors.

I would encourage everyone in the book industry to educate themselves and to recognize the value of POD books and to acknowledge the potential for increased sales. Give new authors a chance to prove that they have writing skill and the ability to tell a good story, no matter how many copies of their book is printed at one time.

Furthermore, consider the environmental impact of POD books. A traditional publisher may print 5000 copies of a paperback novel by a new author, and only sell 1500 of them. This means that the remaining 3500 unsold copies will be put into waste. Had the publisher used the POD process to print those books, they would have simply printed the 1500 copies as the orders came in and eliminated the waste. If you did this for 10,000 books in one year, imagine how much paper would be saved and thus less trees.

Bottom line, POD is not the work of Satan. It is simply a process used to print books in smaller quantities. Sorry, Dude, you don’t get credit for this one.

My final point refers to the availability and returnability of books produced using the POD process. The status of returns is not determined across the industry, it is determined by the specific publisher or author. This means that it is an unfair assumption for a bookstore not to carry a POD book, without first determining its returnability status.

We all have choices, but when we make a choice, that doesn’t give us the right to complain when that choice cause a problem.

I hope that after reading this post, more people who speak ill of the POD process will reconsider their “choices” and give authors a fair chance to sell books and entertain readers.

Will you?

Originally published at ©Life as a Publisher by Karen L. Syed
This can be reproduced in it’s entirety with no additions or corrections.

 

Pick Your Battles Wisely

Force of Habit by Marian AllenWell, it was bound to happen. After a week of begging for reviews (WTF? Begging for Reviews), I finally got the email I had been expecting–took a little longer than I would have thought. Yes, you guessed it. I pissed someone off by asking for reviews, no “begging like a spoiled child” is what I supposedly, actually did.

What kind of publisher would post a Blog telling the world that no one would review your books?” Have I lost my mind? What the hell as I thinking? Um, the fact that many of our books had no reviews might have been a sign to the world. Furthermore.

Is it your goal in life to ruin the careers of all your authors?” How dare I? No kidding, why would I want readers to tell other readers what they thought of our books. That might actually encourage someone to go out and buy one of the books. I suck!

Perhaps no one reviews your books because you publish mediocre writers who can’t get published anywhere else.” Um..yeah, that’s it. I only publish people who suck.

Come on, Asshat. Really? I have not, nor will I respond directly to this person–who by the way submitted to us and was rejected. Obviously they read my blog and can see my response here. So you all know, I am not taking my professional hat off, but I am tipping it a little to the side.

Who do you think you are? Seriously. You have the audacity to question my intentions and level of professionalism? Did you think I would not recognize your name when you signed your email? I do keep records. Did you think that sending a publisher a note calling them names and insulting them would gain you favor anywhere? Did you really think I would NOT post my response publicly? You obviously have not read enough of my posts. You should consider yourself lucky I did not take off the professional hat, or your name, email address, and web address would be in HUGE bold letters with this response. I’m sure I will get more than one request from Echelon authors to know the name of the person who called them all mediocre.

There is something you obviously have not learned about me throughout the years that I have been blogging and speaking freely about my role in the industry. I am not a lemming. I do not follow along blindly and let everyone else dictate how I run my business or my life. I have every intention of continuing to succeed in this business. I have not “failed to intrigue or energize readers or reviewers with lackluster plots and mediocre writers.” I have published damn good stories that entertain readers. And if some of our books have errors in them, then I sincerely apologize, but we are human.

People, authors, readers, etc, don’t let stupidity rule your life. If you don’t like something, then find a considerate way to say it. This isn’t about publishing, it’s about human decency. I don’t expect everyone to agree with everything I say or do, but if you don’t, then either give me constructive advice, or shut the hell up. Don’t keep telling me that I am doing something wrong until you have solid advice on how I can do it better.

I would wager there are tons of people out there who don’t agree with my tactics for gathering reviews, I thank you all for not sending me pissy emails calling me a “hack publisher wannabe.”

With all that said, please don’t think this has swayed me in any way from my path to riches and success. There are still four more days for you to request your book and get those reviews posted on the original blog post to be entered to win the Kindle. So send me those requests. The family won’t mind sandwiches another day so you can finish that book.

And to those of you who have requested books and are sending/posting your reviews. I cannot thank you enough. Your support of Echelon is very much appreciated.

Drop and give me four!

Oh my gosh. I have been trying to read more Blogs lately, see what’s going on with the rest of the industry and other authors. I have seen a couple of names popping up in some of the same places as mine and I was more than a little annoyed with these people. Why, you ask? Of course you do!

Signature lines.

I know people consider signature lines a small thing, but not when they are 16 and 21 lines long. Seriously? Yes. That is the length of two sig lines that I keep seeing. In most cases, their sig lines are longer than their comments and in my opinion that is just rude. You may not care what I think, but consider other readers who look at all those lines and the fact that you felt the need to share every detail of your writing career with them on someone else’s Blog. Not cool, man.

After all these years on the Internet, I have discovered one thing holds true for almost all forums, groups, and the like. 4 lines. That’s FOUR max! In many cases, if you include more than 4 lines in your sig, moderators will delete your posts without them ever seeing the light of day. How do I know this? Experience.

Have you not learned from reading my blog that nearly everything I post about is based on my own personal experience?

So let’s be a little courteous to our fellow Bloggers and DROP those extra lines. Keep it simple. Need examples?

Karen L. Syed, President, Echelon Press LLC
http://www.echelonpress.com

or

Karen L. Syed, author of Devlin’s Wicked Wish
http://tinyurl.com/kls-dww-smash  (FREE)
Twitter: @echelonpress

or even

Karen L. Syed, President, Echelon Press LLC
http://www.echelonpress.com
author of Dark Shines My Love
http://tinyurl.com/kls-dsml-kindle

Click Cover to Dwnload FREE eBook

See how easy that is? If you are really clever you can turn your titles into buy links, but I like to use tinyurls in case there is a formatting issue, they can see what the links should be and I don’t miss out on potential sales. And it’s okay to make your sig lines a bit clever. After all, you are trying to attract people to t he information and clever works.

So here is your chance. Post your signature line in the comments here and at the end of the day I will choose the most cleverly implemented sig line and the winner will get a $5.00 Gift Certificate as my special Halloween treat (cause candy is bad for your teeth.)

So tell your friends to drop by this post for their chance to win.

Who Wants to be a Brain Surgeon? (Guest Blog: Ella Grey)

When I was little I wanted to be a brain surgeon, or a gardener. Only when I turned fifteen did I start thinking about being a writer.

The author, Christopher Pike, inspired me. I remember reading his Last Vampire series and falling in love with the character he created. It was the first time I’d read a vampire story and it wasn’t all doom and gloom. Sati is content about being a vampire, she kills to survive and she doesn’t really let it bother her, and she’s funny. Not funny ha-ha, but witty.

I want my characters to be like that. Even if I write a supernatural character like Molly O’Brien, giving her a sense of humour makes her more human. Easier to identify with.

Click Cover to Buy

My character Rachel is human (mostly) who’s caught up in a supernatural situation.

A Difficult Decision (Rachel’s story) is available in multiple eBook formats from Quake’s Electric Shorts line. The first five of six installments are currently online for sale.

She came to London to find her brother. She ended up finding trouble.

Rachel Valentine isn’t the world’s most conventional girl. She ran away from a boarding school run by nuns to find her missing brother. The daughter to a government spy, she’s learnt a few of the tricks of the trade, but even she isn’t prepared for the story she’s about to hear.

It seems Rachel has a secret she didn’t even know she had and her brother has been dragged into a turf war. The only person she can trust is someone she doesn’t even know

Thanks to Karen for hosting me.

You can read my first post on this tour at http://authorthomasamo.blogspot.com/

Once Upon a Crime (Bookstore Spotlight by Carl Brookins)

Just down the street from Nicollet Avenue on Sixth Street, is an unremarkable three-story brick building of apartments. Its back door faces a poorly lit, unevenly paved alley, with a couple of narrow parking spaces. The basement houses two retail establishments with neon advertising in the half-windows. Over one flight of stone steps is a dark canopy covering steps that lead down half-a flight to a room filled with floor to ceiling shelves. The wooden shelves are crowded with books.

Nearly all of the 60,000+ books are works of crime fiction. This is the home of Once Upon A Crime, Minneapolis’s award winning premier mystery book store. It has been so for twenty-four years. Present owners are Gary Shulz and Pat Frovarp, two of the most knowledgeable people in the field. If you need a specific book, chances are they’ll have it. If they don’t have it they can usually get it for you.

If you’re looking for something in the field to read, Pat or Gary will ask you some leading questions and promptly point you to authors/books that are almost guaranteed to fill your needs.

I asked why they would invest in a bookstore of all things and Gary said he needed a change after 30 years and Pat suggested that the former owner, Steve Stilwell was ready to retire. The store filled an important need, therefore should be rescued. So, for nine blissful (their word, not mine) years P & G have done just that, admirably filling the mission and meanwhile, picking up a few important awards along the way.

The mission of Once Upon a Crime, along with breaking even financially, is to promote local mystery writers and to maintain as comprehensive a backlist as humanly possible. Along the way they love exposing great midlist authors that readers might miss.

Awards? Yes, they’ve managed to collect a few, in 2009 CrimeSpree Magazine’s favorite bookstore award and “Best Hole in the Wall,” from Metro Magazine. Then just this year, Mystery Writers of America awarded Once Upon a Crime a Raven.

Among the many crime fiction writers who have commented:

Author PETER MAY said: “Pat and Gary are two of the nicest and most knowledgeable folk on the subject of mysteries that you are ever likely to meet!

Along the way, Pat and Gary have experienced some interesting events. They got married at the store a few years ago, and more recently acquired Shamus, a three-year old Store Dog.

Author WILLIAM KENT KRUEGER said: “I think OUAC is a really good bookstore because they usually know what I want to read even before I walk into the store. And even if they aren’t exactly on target, by the time I walk out, I’m always happy with what they’ve convinced me I should have wanted when I came in.”

Next year the store will celebrate 25 years in business and the tenth anniversary of WRITE OF SPRING, a massive annual one-day gathering of local authors, readers and assorted hangers-on. WRITE OF SPRING is a terrific event and lots of fun besides. An anthology of short crime fiction will debut at about the time of the tenth. The stories are all written by past attendees with profits from sale of the anthology to be donated to local Memorial Blood Centers.

Author ELLEN HART said: “All indie bookstores have a specific character. OUAC is no different. It’s cozy, funky in a Minnesota kind of way, comfortable, and always welcoming. It’s not only a good bookstore, it’s a great one because the people who run it (Pat & Gary) love books and share that passion with their customers.”

Although, because Pat was already working there and Gary was a frequent customer, the store lost two good customers when they bought the place, their dedication, hard work, and expertise has made the store a warm and welcoming place for authors and readers alike.

Along with WOS, of course, Pat and Gary host many book events for visiting and local authors. The schedule can be found at their website, http://www.onceuponacrimebooks.com/.

Their phone number is 612-870-3785, and their email address is onceuponacrime@earthlink.net. Next time you are up our way, drop by and join the thousands who find warm and welcoming hosts behind that door under the canopy.

Carl Brookins:

Before he became a mystery writer and reviewer, Brookins was a faculty member at Metropolitan State University in Saint Paul, Minnesota. He has reviewed mystery fiction for the Saint Paul Pioneer Press and for Mystery Scene Magazine. His reviews appear on his own blog and on several other Crime Fiction blogs and Internet sites. Brookins is an avid sailor and has sailed in many locations across the world. He is a member of Sisters in Crime, and Private Eye Writers of America. He can be found touring bookstores and libraries with his companions-in-crime, The Minnesota Crime Wave. He writes the sailing series featuring Michael Tanner and Mary Whitney,(Devils Island)  the Sean Sean private investigator detective series,(The Case of the Great Train Robbery), and the Jack Marston academic series. (Reunion) Several short stories published by Echelon Press are available for download.