Today I'm hosting a virtual blurb blitz stop that features 2 suspense novels by Joan Hall Hovey: The Abduction of Mary Rose and Night Corridor.
Joan will be awarding
a piece of Micmac jewelry - silver dreamcatcher earrings (her main character
learns she is of Micmac ancestry) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour
(US & Canada). For a chance to win, leave an e-mail address with a comment below. And for more chances to win, visit other tour stops and leave comments there.
Bio
and links:
In
addition to her critically acclaimed novels, Joan Hall Hovey's articles and
short stories have appeared in such diverse publications as The Toronto Star,
Atlantic Advocate, Seek, Home Life Magazine, Mystery Scene, The New Brunswick
Reader, Fredericton Gleaner, New Freeman and Kings County Record. Her short
story Dark Reunion was selected for the anthology investigating Women,
Published by Simon & Pierre.
Ms.
Hovey has held workshops and given talks at various schools and libraries in
her area, including New Brunswick Community College, and taught a course in
creative writing at the University of New Brunswick. For a number of years, she
has been a tutor with Winghill School, a distance education school in Ottawa
for aspiring writers.
She
is a member of the Writer's Federation of New Brunswick, past regional
Vice-President of Crime Writers of Canada, Mystery Writers of America, and
Sisters in Crime.
Blurb for The Abduction of Mary Rose:
A suspense novel interwoven with threads of
romance and paranormal.
Imagine discovering everything you believe
about yourself to be a lie. And that the truth could stir a killer from his
lair.
Following the death of the woman she believed
to be her mother, 28-year-old Naomi Waters learns from a malicious aunt that
she is not only adopted, but the product of a brutal rape that left her birth
mother, Mary Rose Francis, a teenager of Micmac ancestry, in a coma for 8
months.
Dealing with a sense of betrayal and loss, but
with new purpose in her life, Naomi vows to track down Mary Rose's attackers
and bring them to justice. She places her story in the local paper, asking for
information from residents who might remember something of the case that has
been cold for nearly three decades.
She is about to lose hope that her efforts
will bear fruit, when she gets an anonymous phone call. Naomi has attracted the
attention of one who remembers the case well.
But someone else has also read the article in
the paper. The man whose DNA she carries.
And he has Naomi in his sights.
Review quotes for The Abduction of Mary Rose:
"…Ms. Hovey's talent in creating
characters is so real, you feel their emotions and their fears. You want to
yell at them to warn of the danger . . . and you do! Your shouts fall on deaf
ears . . . and you cry! The best suspense writer I've ever read!
Beth Anderson, Author of Raven Talks back
"...Alfred Hitchcock and Stephen King
come to mind, but JOAN HALL HOVEY is in a Class by herself!…"
J.D. Michael Phelps, Author of My Fugitive,
David Janssen
"…CANADIAN MISTRESS OF SUSPENSE…The
author has a remarkable ability to turn up the heat on the suspense… great
characterizations and dialogue…" James Anderson, author of Deadline
Blurb for Night Corridor:
At 17, Caroline Hill was torn from the boy she
loved by her tyranical father. Then they took her child. Finally, her grasp on
reality.
Now, after nine years in Bayshore mental
institution, once called The Lunatic Asylum, Caroline is being released.
There will be no one to meet her. Her parents
who brought her here are dead.
They have found her a room in a rooming house,
a job washing dishes in a restaurant. She will do fine, they said. But no one
told her that women in St. Simeon are already dying at the hands of a vicious
predator. One, an actress who lived previously in her building.
Others.
And now, as Caroline struggles to survive on
the outside, she realizes someone is stalking her.
But who will believe her? She's a crazy woman
after all.
Then, one cold winter's night on her way home
from her job, a man follows and is about to assault her when a stranger
intercedes.
A stranger who hides his face and whispers her
name.
Review quotes for Night Corridor:
"…another winner. I highly recommend it
to any lover of suspense, mystery, romance, or thriller. You’ll not only race
through this book, but clamor for more works by this talented and polished
author. Aaron Paul Lazar, author of Healey's Cave
"...The mystery and suspense in this
novel is outstanding, truly top notch, in the vein of Mary Higgins Clark,
but—dare I say—even better? - In the Library
"…intricately plotted and the ending will
surprise even the most devoted mystery and susense reader. Gripping suspense. –
Sandy Heptinstall - Whispering Winds Reviews
Excerpt for Night Corridor:
October 1973
He noticed her as soon as he walked
into the bar. She was sitting with another girl, a blond; pretty, he supposed,
but his attention was riveted on the dark-haired one. He ordered a beer and
took a table in the far corner where he had a good view, while he himself was
safe from watchful eyes. She had satiny hair to her shoulders, high cheekbones,
was slender in a silk print top, black slacks, like a woman on the cover of a
magazine. She was laughing at something the blond said, flashing perfect white
teeth and his heart tripped. She's the one, the voice told him. Excitement
surged through him as he recast her in the movie that for years now, replayed
endlessly on the screen of his mind.
When the two women rose to leave, he
left his unfinished beer on the table and casually, so as not to draw attention
to himself, followed them outside. She had put on a jacket and it shone bright
white in the lights from the parking lot.
After chatting briefly, the two
girls gave each other a quick hug, then parted and went to their respective
cars, parked a good distance from one another. There was a rightness to it.
They might just as easily have come in one car, or parked closer to one
another. But they did not. The stars were finally lining up in his favor.
He came up behind her as she was
fitting the key in the lock of the red Corvair. "I'm Buddy," he said
softly, so as not to frighten her. Despite his best intention, she whirled
around, eyes wide. "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. What do you
want?"
He felt the smile on his face
falter. A mask, crumbling. "I just want to talk to you."
"Fuck off, okay? I'm not
interested."
With those words, her beauty
vanished, as if he'd imagined it. Her mouth was twisted and ugly.
Disappointment weighed heavy on him. Anger boiled up from his depths.
"That was wrong of you to say
that to me," he said, still speaking quietly.
Belying the softness of his voice,
she saw something in his eyes then and he saw that she did, and when she opened
her mouth to scream, he stuck her full in the face with his fist.
She slid down the side of the car as
if boneless. He caught her before she hit the ground, then dragged her around
to the other side of the car, blocking her with his own body in case someone
saw them. Not that he was too concerned. If anyone did see them they would just
figure she was his girlfriend and that she'd had one too many. But there was no
one in the lot. Even her friend had already driven off.
He lowered her limp form to the
ground while he hurried round to the driver's side and got the key out of the
door. He put on his gloves, and opened the passenger door. After propping her
up in the seat, he went back around and slid into the driver's side. Then he turned
on the ignition and the car hummed to life.
Shifting the car into reverse, he
backed out of the parking spot. He gave the wheel a hard turn and she fell
against him, her hair brushing his face and filling his senses with her
shampoo, something with a hint of raspberry. He pushed her off him and her head
thunked against the passenger window. A soft moan escaped her, but she didn't
wake.
He drove several miles out of the
city, then turned left onto a rutted dirt road and stayed on it for a good ten
minutes. Spotting a clearing leading into the woods, an old logging road no
longer used, he eased the car in, bumping over dips and tangled roots. He went
in just far enough not to be seen from the road on the off-chance someone drove
by, but also taking care he wouldn't get stuck in here. The headlights picked
out the white trunks of spruce trees, spot-lighting the leaves that seconds
later receded into blackness, as if this were merely a stage set.
Beside him, the woman moaned again
then whimpered, her hand moving to her face where he had struck her. Blood
trickled darkly down one corner of her mouth and her eyes fluttered open. He
knew the instant she sensed him there beside her, like the bogeyman in a
nightmare.
Except she was awake now. When she
turned to look at him he felt her stiffen, could see in her eyes that she knew
she was in big trouble. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
"Who are you?" she
croaked, more blood leaking from the corner of her mouth, eyes wet with tears.
"What does it matter?"
"Please…please don't hurt me.
I'm—I'm sorry for what I said to you. I shouldn't have. If you want to… I mean,
it's okay. You don't have to hurt…"
His fury was like lava from a
volcano and his hand shot out, the back of it shutting off her words in mid-sentence.
"Shut up, whore."
She was crying hard now, heavy,
hiccupy sobs, helpless, terrified. But her tears meant nothing to him. She was
right to be afraid. He slid the knife from its sheath that hung on his belt and
let her see it.
"Oh, God, no please…" She
was choking on her tears, wriggling away from him, trapped, like a butterfly on
the head of a pin. He smiled when she reached for the door handle on her side,
and then drove the knife into her upper arm. She screamed and he wound his
fingers into her hair. "Be quiet," he said, while she held her arm
with her other hand and wept like a child.
As he had wept. As he wept still.
"You can't get away," he
said. "There's no place to go."
Readers, remember to leave an e-mail with your comment below if you'd like a chance at winning the earrings.
