Monday, June 8, 2026

Sconed to Death (A Crochet and Crumpets Mystery) by Betty Hechtman ~ Cozy Mystery

 

Sconed to Death (A Crochet and Crumpets Mystery) by Betty Hechtman

About Sconed to Death:

 

Cozy Mystery

2nd in Series

Setting - Indiana

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Severn House

Publication date ‏ : ‎ June 2, 2026

Print length ‏ : ‎ 224 pages

Hardcover ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1448318629

ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1448318629

Digital ISBN-13: 9781448318636

Audiobook ASIN: B0GH2HY42

ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8228941519

ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0GS74NJGP

goodreads badge
A brand-new series from the queen of culinary cozies. Full to the brim with crochet, crumpets, and crime!
The perfect ingredients for murder . . .
Annie Hart has transformed the yarn shop she inherited into a thriving business and tea shop. Now she needs to sell it so she can move back to LA. She just has to ensure that young Toby Swanson is kept on as the supplier of their famous scones. Annie decides to secretly enter Toby in a new reality TV cooking show. But his application video takes a deadly twist when Annie and her business partner, Gray, discover a body on the beach while filming. Even worse, it looks like the young woman had been enjoying Toby’s cherry scones and the shop’s rose tea before her death. With the help of her misfit group of local yarn artists, can Annie find a killer and save her reputation?
Readers who love super cozy culinary mysteries will eat up this new charming cozy mystery series.

About Betty Hechtman:

 

Despite completing a Fine Arts degree, all Betty Hechtman ever wanted to be was a writer. She wrote a weekly column in her college newspaper and later wrote magazine and newspaper pieces, along with short stories and a prize-winning screenplay. She has published over thirty books across four cozy mystery series, all of which have yarn craft. She lives with her family in Southern California 

Author Links:


Purchase Links:



TOUR PARTICIPANTS:

June 1 – Jody's Bookish Haven – SPOTLIGHT
June 1 – Sarah Can't Stop Reading Books – REVIEW
June 2 – Christy's Cozy Corners – AUTHOR GUEST POST
June 2 – Salty Inspirations – CHARACTER GUEST POST
June 2 – Sarcastically Yours, Jen – SPOTLIGHT
June 3 – @bibliophile_foodie - REVIEW
June 3 – Twirling Book Princess – SPOTLIGHT
June 4 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT
June 4 – Ascroft, eh? – AUTHOR INTERVIEW
June 5 – Books, Ramblings and Tea – SPOTLIGHT
June 5 – Reading, Writing & Stitch-Metic – AUTHOR GUEST POST
June 6 – Boys' Mom Reads! – SPOTLIGHT
June 6 – Reading Is My SuperPower – AUTHOR GUEST POST
June 7 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW
June 7 – Sarandipity's – CHARACTER INTERVIEW
June 8 – The Mystery of Writing – CHARACTER GUEST POST
June 8 – Sapphyria's Book Reviews - SPOTLIGHT

great escapes virtual book tours logo

Have you signed up to be a Tour Host? Click Here to Find Details and Sign Up Today! Want to Book a Tour? Click Here

        

This post contains affiliate links.
If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you.
Thank you for supporting Sapphyria’s Books.

The Haunting of Emily Grace by Elena Taylor ~ #Suspense #Paranormal #Horror ~ @Elena_TaylorAut @partnersincr1me

The Haunting of Emily Grace by Elena Taylor Banner

THE HAUNTING OF EMILY GRACE

by Elena Taylor

May 25 - June 19, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

About the Book:

The Haunting of Emily Grace by Elena Taylor

An eerie suspense novel, in which a grieving woman takes a job at an isolated mansion only to become wrapped up in the curse that seems to have befallen its eccentric owner.

Emily Grace has endured the worst loss imaginable. But can she survive a remote manor haunted by more than just memories . . .?

Drowning in grief, Emily Grace has lost everything: her home, her friends, her career. Only one lifeline remains—a job working for an eccentric millionaire. Along with his wife, he’s been building a mansion on a secluded island surrounded by a harsh and unforgiving sea. But when she disappears under mysterious circumstances, Emily Grace is hired to finish the project.

Locals believe the house is cursed, but their warnings go unheeded as Emily Grace works to rebuild her life. After what she’s been through, nothing can scare her—except perhaps the attention of a handsome man offering more than friendship. And yet, there’s something strange about this solitary fortress. Accidents. Mishaps. Ghostly whispers through the surrounding forest, footsteps when she’s completely alone . . .

Is there truly a curse or is the ethereal specter in the window an omen of something more sinister?

This spooky standalone from phenomenal crime author Elena Taylor will have readers sleeping with the light on for weeks! With vibes of Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, fans of Riley Sager and thrillers with light horror elements will love The Haunting of Emily Grace!

NOW IN PAPERBACK!

Praise for The Haunting of Emily Grace:

"Taylor doesn’t just conjure suspense—she dissects it, peeling back the fragile layers of identity, memory, and trust until nothing feels safe. The Haunting of Emily Grace is deeply unsettling in all the best ways."
~ Carter Wilson, bestselling author of Tell Me What You Did

"Beautifully evocative and atmospheric, The Haunting of Emily Grace is a one-sitting read. I couldn't put it down."
~ Lisa Hall, bestselling author of suspense

"gut-tightening suspense"
~ Edward J Leahy, author of the Dan Brady and Kim Brady mysteries

Watch the The Haunting of Emily Grace BookTrailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Suspense with a touch of light paranormal/horror
Published by: Severn House
Publication Date: May 21, 2026
Number of Pages: 288 pages
ISBN: 9781448318889 (ISBN10: 1448318882), Paperback
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Severn House

Read an Excerpt:

ONE

Over the Water

Grief is a scab that I can’t stop picking at, no matter how hard I try. It pokes at me now as I sit in my truck on the deserted ferry dock, surrounded by dense morning fog and waiting for the boat to take me across an expanse of dark water to a house rumored to be cursed.

My fingers trace a photograph taped to my dashboard. My hand trembles, likely from an empty stomach or sleeplessness, as both are constant companions. But I outline the beloved face, forever frozen, like a precious object in amber. Lost to me in the real world, calling to me from the next.

The ferry slides into the dock in front of me with a bump against the pilings. A lone figure moves across the empty deck, while an old, grizzled seaman stays inside the tiny wheelhouse. One captain and one first mate.

Tying the ferry off with ropes thicker than my arm, the mate’s actions are practiced and steady. He lowers a ramp and waves me forward. Ever so slowly, I roll across the water, fighting against holding my breath—the superstition I’ve clung to my entire life every time I cross a bridge. The thirty-minute sail to Salish Island, and tiny Monk’s Rock where my new job awaits, won’t allow me the indulgence, so I might as well continue to breathe despite my need to cling to anything, even a silly belief, to keep me safe.

After parking the truck as the mate directs, I wait as he shoves bright orange chock blocks around all four wheels, as if, without a barrier, my vehicle might drive itself into the sea.

I open my door a crack; our eyes meet. “Can I get out?”

“Of course.”

The first mate is rugged, with an air of confidence like he’d be good in a crisis. Smooth skin on his cheeks. Bright, inquisitive eyes. Broad shoulders visible under the bulky uniform of dark green waterproof overalls and a yellow slicker.

He holds out his hand as I step out. “Careful. Parts of the deck can be slippery when it’s this wet.”

Electricity flies between our fingers, and I pull away as if he poses a threat. I don’t want to feel desire. Intimacy is dangerous. But what does it mean that I’m looking at men again?

He gives me an odd look. “We’ll be underway in a few minutes.” He walks back to the ramp, where two men unload a battered white cargo van. The three of them quickly stack boxes to one side, lashing them in place. No doubt provisions for an island that’s home to five hundred hearty souls—and me. At least for the time it takes to complete the finish carpentry in one enormous house.

I’d once been a very good carpenter. Before my life exploded into hospitals and medical visits, overwhelming helplessness and all the endless paperwork connected to dying. Since then, I’ve done a poor job of putting myself back together. The rough pieces of grownup life refusing to fit a new pattern now that I’m alone.

My mentor Bill Thomlinson had started this project less than a week ago but fell and broke his leg in multiple places. After he came through the surgery, metal pins in place, he convinced the homeowner to take a chance on me.

“You need this,” he said to me over the phone, his voice surprisingly strong for someone coming out of anesthesia. “I’m done watching you flail. This job can save you. Don’t let me down.”

Now I stand on the deck of a private ferry while the engines roar out a steady vibration under my feet, and wonder if I’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Crossing to the rail, I pin my eyes where the horizon must lie out beyond the mist. Clouds above and waves below. Indistinguishable from each other because of the heavy air, thick like smoke. My stomach lurches at the thought of everything that swims underneath my feet and the unknown depth of the sea.

Breathe in . . . breathe out . . . focus on the future. Focus on the work.

All I know about the job ahead of me is that the original carpenter vanished, forcing the owner, Cameron Lang, to bring in someone else, but then Bill ended up with pins in his leg. Given that I haven’t slept in so long that I shouldn’t be trusted with power tools, I hope that whatever the curse is, it doesn’t come in threes.

When I feel like I’m losing my mind, it helps to ground myself with something physical, so I grip the hard, cold rail in my hands. No matter how much ending my life is a viable choice, some small part of me refuses to let death win again.

The fog brightens, and we cross a physical line in space, plunging into a blue so pure it hurts my eyes. I gasp and grip even tighter as the sky separates from the water, which now spreads out below me in an endless black void.

“Not quite got your sea legs?” The first mate watches me with barely disguised curiosity.

Salt spray traces tears down my cheeks. I must look like I’m crying. “I didn’t expect to come out of the fog so abruptly.”

“It does that sometimes. Now you see it, now you don’t. No matter how often we sail through a bank, it always feels like magic.”

“I can imagine.”

He lingers nearby. Maybe there’s little to do once the ferry is underway. Although small talk is beyond my ability, part of me longs to hear his voice again, even if I say things that sound insane.

The temperature drops as we head further out to sea.

We’re soon dodging between uninhabited land masses. “Some of these islands are so low they disappear in high tide.” He gestures to the slopes of land. Rocky outcroppings just under the surface. Dangerous, like unexploded mines in the sand.

Panic rises. The water below us taunts me—my troubles will be over if I simply fall into a watery grave. The voice becomes louder and more insistent that I should do something I can’t take back. To keep my mind off the words in my head, my eyes search for the defiant piece of US rock thrusting out of Canadian waters. If I can make it back to dry land, I can get through another day.

“That’s what you’re looking for.” The first mate’s breath tickles my ear as he comes closer, speaking over the hum of the engines, the slap of water on the hull, and the cry of seagulls. My gaze follows his arm to the far-off outline of Salish Island, where Monk’s Rock perches off the northern-most end, tethered to each other by the narrowest of bridges.

“Take this.” He presses a business card into my hand. “Just in case.” Under his name is a single word, handyman, and a phone number.

“Adrian Han?” I look up, his eyes capturing mine. “I thought you were the first mate.”

“I’m a lot of things.” His words are casual, but something reflects in his expression, an emotion I can’t put my finger on.

“You might realize at some point there’s a project you need help with. Nothing against your skills. Everyone needs another set of hands once in a while.”

“I have a helper.”

“Chuck, yeah. I’ve worked with him before.” His tone is carefully neutral.

My new boss made the arrangements for Chuck to help me with anything that requires two people. Am I going to regret his choice?

“How do you know why I’m here?”

Adrian’s carefree expression returns. “Emily Grace Turner. Carpenter. Here to finish the End of the World.”

It’s a jolt that he knows anything about me when I’ve worked so hard to become invisible. He reads me again, and his tone turns reassuring. “It’s a small town—people talk.” He gestures toward the wood rack that fits over my camper shell and the bumper sticker: Proud Member of the Carpenter’s Union. “Plus, your name was on your ferry registration.”

I chuckle for thinking his words are sinister until a darker emotion, one that looks like fear, crosses his face. “That house—” His lips purse as if he holds something back. “Just call if you need help. Anytime.”

The island takes clearer shape, and Adrian returns to the wheelhouse, his absence palpable, as if a physical hole remains in the air after he’s gone.

He’s taken his fear with him, except for the small part he’s left behind with me.

***

Excerpt from The Haunting of Emily Grace by Elena Taylor. Copyright 2025 by Elena Taylor. Reproduced with permission from Elena Taylor. All rights reserved.

 

 

Meet the Author:

Elena Taylor

Elena Taylor spent several years working in theater as a playwright, director, designer, and educator before turning her storytelling skills to novels. Her first series, the Eddie Shoes Mysteries, written under Elena Hartwell, introduced a quirky mother/daughter crime fighting duo.

With the Sheriff Bet Rivers Mysteries, Elena returned to her dramatic roots to bring readers more serious and atmospheric novels. Located in her beloved Washington State, Elena uses her connection to the environment to produce tense and suspenseful investigations for a lone sheriff in an isolated community. The third in the series, Kill to Keep, launches summer 2026.

The Haunting of Emily Grace is Elena’s first standalone suspense novel.

Her favorite place to be is at Paradise, the property she lives on south of Spokane, Washington, with her equines, dogs, cats, and hubby.

Catch Up With Elena Taylor:

www.ElenaTaylorAuthor.com
TheMysteryOfWriting.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @ElenaTaylorAuthor
Instagram - @ElenaTaylorAuthor
X - @Elena_TaylorAut
Facebook - @ElenaTaylorAuthor

 

Tour Participants:

Click through the other tour stops for can’t-miss reviews, insider interviews, exclusive guest posts, and more chances to win!

Click here to view the Tour Schedule

 

 

Enter Where Secrets Whisper and Shadows Linger...

This giveaway is hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Elena Taylor. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
THE HAUNTING OF EMILY GRACE by Elena Taylor | Gift Card & Book

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

This post contains affiliate links.
If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you.
Thank you for supporting Sapphyria’s Books.

Bad Decisions Make Good Lovers by Wanda Violet O. ~ @RABTBookTours #RABTBookTours #BadDecisionsMakeGoodLovers #WandaVioletO


Bad Decisions Make Good Lovers by Wanda Violet O.


(Sanctum Black 2): A Razor's Edge Enemies to Lovers BDSM Erotica Short


Erotica

Date Published: June 12, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press



Sanctum Black. Rules Marley can follow. Boundaries she won’t cross. Until Lucan…

Marley’s built her life on control. Sanctum Black is the only place she feels safe enough to let go. No names. No past. No attachments. Then Lucan walks in and shatters every one of them. He sees through every wall she’s built and takes exactly what she’s too afraid to give. One night was supposed to be enough. It isn’t. Because now he wants more than her submission… he wants her. And walking away might break her…

Lucan doesn’t believe in coincidence, and he definitely doesn’t walk away from something worth keeping. Marley thinks she’s in control, but he knows better. She’s been hiding behind rules instead of facing what she really needs. Him. Claiming her means crossing lines that can’t be uncrossed, inside Sanctum and out, but once he decides she’s his, there’s no backing down. Marley isn’t a game or a temporary escape. She’s everything. And Lucan doesn’t lose what belongs to him.


Excerpt


Copyright ©2026 Wanda Violet O.

Marley

I slipped through the unmarked door next to the rear entrance of the art gallery, nodding to the security guard, who recognized me despite my elaborate mask. The transition from bright city lights to the subdued glow of the gallery always felt like crossing a threshold between worlds. Tonight, I needed that separation more than usual. The workday had left its residue on my skin, a film of expectations and responsibilities that clung despite my shower. Sanctum Black waited below, promising the only freedom I truly trusted.

“Good evening, Ms. Marley,” the attendant murmured, his eyes never quite meeting mine. Only first names mattered at Sanctum Black, and only the first name of our choosing. I could be anyone I wanted to be.

I offered my keycard to the attendant. He scanned it at the elevator and the doors slid open silently. “Your usual table is ready. Enjoy your evening.” He offered no other pleasantries.

I nodded politely before stepping into the elevator, the doors closing as I turned. The car descended smoothly. When the doors opened to the main lounge, I welcomed the subtle jazz playing through hidden speakers. Sanctum Black represented the only truly safe place in my life. Confidentiality was not a suggestion here. There were hard penalties for even acknowledging anyone you’d met at Sanctum on the outside. The privacy appealed to me more than even the physical release I never failed to receive.

Black velvet stretched across the walls, muffling sound and creating a soothing feel to the atmosphere. The amethyst sconces cast their violet glow in hypnotic patterns. I inhaled the soothing scent of lavender.

Clear rules protected everyone here. I needed that. No one judged at Sanctum. No one got into the club who hadn’t been completely and thoroughly vetted. And no one talked. Ever.

Outside these walls, my life consisted of endless decisions. Even personal relationships became battlegrounds at times. But here, consent was explicit and spelled out beforehand. Desires were stated plainly. Limits were respected absolutely. And for a brief moment, I could surrender to someone, if only in small measure.

I moved deeper into the room. A hostess appeared at my elbow, her approach silent on the thick carpet. “Welcome back,” she said, with a polite smile and escorted me further inside.

The corner table offered the perfect vantage point to see the room so I could… watch. I loved how people interacted with each other here. The dynamics fascinated me on a purely intellectual level. Some of the most powerful men and women in the world frequented Sanctum Black. When provided a place offering complete and guaranteed anonymity, the true nature of these people came through.

Unfortunately for me, I didn’t number among the rich and powerful people here. I’d helped out Mr. Price, the owner of the club, a couple of years ago. My membership was an expression of his gratitude.

I settled into a velvet chair behind the low table, allowing myself to sink into its embrace. I set my leather play bag at my feet next to the table.

A server approached almost immediately, carrying a crystal tumbler on a black lacquered tray, the amber liquid inside catching fragments of the purple light. “Your Macallan 18, neat,” he said, placing it on the obsidian coaster. Another gift from Mr. Price each time I visited.

“Thank you.” I tried to always thank the staff. Mr. Price had been kind to me. The first sip, as always, warmed me all the way down in the most pleasant way. This small pleasure settled me.

Though the club was relatively quiet tonight, the room filled as regulars occupied their usual territories while newcomers gravitated toward the central bar.

A man I recognized, but had never met personally, occupied a leather armchair near the east wall, one leg crossed casually over the other. I knew him only as Lucan. Anything said about him usually only happened in hushed whispers in private.

I noticed Lucan was paying more attention to me tonight because every time I looked up at him, his gaze was pinned me. Unlike the careful poise most patrons maintained, his posture suggested coiled energy, barely contained. Dark hair fell just slightly out of place above eyes that seemed to take in everyone and everything around him. I’d had patrons stare at me before, but nothing like this man. He looked at me like he wanted to possess me. Or maybe, like he already owned me and waited for me to catch up and get the message.

This time when our gazes connected across the room, I didn’t look away and he didn’t back down. I had a brief moment to wonder if I might have somehow stepped into a trap. I usually kept pretty much to myself, only occasionally seeking out a professional at the club to scene with in private. As was the way of the people here, that unspoken request was usually honored and no one approached me.

Lucan ignored that unspoken protocol. His stare was direct. Unwavering. It held none of the polite distance that formed Sanctum’s foundation. He watched me with such focused intent that I felt my skin warm under invisible fingertips.

 

About the Author:

Welcome to Wanda Violet O.'s world of bedtime fantasy, where you'll find a variety of sexy creatures ready to drink their fill. Wanda specializes in extreme kink. Monsters, BDSM role play... she's got it all. Come take a look for yourself!

 

Wanda on Facebook

Wanda on Goodreads

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15

 

Pre-Order Today:

Amazon


RABT Book Tours & PR

This post contains affiliate links.
If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you.
Thank you for supporting Sapphyria’s Books.

Saturday, June 6, 2026

IYSH by Greg Price ~ @RABTBookTours #RABTBookTours #IYSH #GregPrice #Fiction


IYSH by Greg Price


Fiction

Date Published: 04-17-2025



In 1940, Leo Butlion, a young Jew studying to be a medical doctor in Koblenz, Germany, has his future plans disrupted when Nazi forces destroy his family and their business. His heroic escape and commitment to survive drive him to overcome the greatest test man could ever encounter. Ivy Jacobson, a deformed yet highly talented fashion designer, works in a textile factory in Liege, Belgium that is ransacked by Nazi invaders. She escapes their brutality and meets Leo. Leo explains the Hebrew word IYSH which means "champion" and together they agree to persevere and champion the cause no matter how difficult it becomes. Their heroism and tenacity unfold in dramatic fashion as they are captured, separated and sent to concentration camps where their future survival is unclear. The story develops from WWII until the Yom Kippur War in 1973 which takes place in Israel.

Read an Excerpt:

A week later, as roll call is coming to an end, a woman standing close to Ivy begins coughing and heaves clots of blood that splash onto the white frost at her feet. She is so weak she struggles to stay on her feet. She staggers for a moment and then stumbles forward onto the woman in front of her. The weak, sick woman has no strength left, and falls backwards onto Ivy. Ivy instinctively reaches forward to catch her, but is late in getting to her. The weight of the sick woman falls directly onto Ivy’s left arm. As Ivy catches her, she feels the leather strap snap under the woman’s weight. The prosthesis falls to the ground, making a crunching noise as it hits the frost.

Ivy’s first reaction is to camouflage the prosthesis lying on the ground, and she falls onto it, pulling the woman on top of her. “Karen, help me,” is Ivy’s desperate call. Karen notices the whole event, and reacts quickly by falling on top of the two women. A guard pushes his way past the rest of the women, and storms towards them, “Get up! This is no place to lie down!” The rasping command spreads fear into the three women lying on the frost.

They don’t look at the guard and Karen tries to crawl over Ivy and reach for the prosthesis. However, the guard notices the straps sticking out from under the sick woman’s waist. As Karen picks it up, the guard sticks his huge black military boot out and tramples her fingers into the frost. She screams with pain, but does not let go of the thongs, hoping she can hide the prosthesis and the thongs under Ivy and the sick woman. Karen kicks at the guard’s knee high boots, and he doesn’t feel anything. She is trying to distract his attention and allow Ivy to hide the prosthesis.

“What’s this?” The guard kneels down looking at the thongs, and pulls them towards him. He stands up and holds the prosthesis shoulder high. Bewilderment is the first expression he portrays and then a smirk filters over his face. He looks directly at Ivy who lies on the cold frost. She rolls over face down onto the frost

and starts sobbing, knowing that after all she had been through, she has now been found out. Karen crawls towards her on all fours, leans over her, and tries to console her. “Ivy, we must be strong, they won’t hurt us. Be strong, please.” Karen knows she is talking to herself as well, and that the words are futile. This has to be the end for both women.

“Get up!” shouts the guard as he kicks Ivy and Karen. He leaves the sick woman who is unable to move, blood still pouring out of her mouth as she coughs. “I said get up! Are you also deaf, woman!” The statement cuts into Ivy’s heart like a sharp, piecing hot iron.

Karen is the first one on her feet, and she leans over to help Ivy. The guard reacts with a swift thrust of his right arm against Karen’s back that sends her crashing to the ground. “She can get up on her own! Let’s see her do it.” Turning to Ivy, he shouts hysterically at her, “Get up, woman, or must I shoot you now!” Ivy gets to her knees and falls again. Her strength is sapped by fear and anguish. By now, fear and heartache flood both their hearts. For Ivy, it is all over. Surely they will kill me is all she can think of. Oh, why did this have to happen now? She shakes on her feet as she sobs, cradling the left stump in her right hand. Why God, why? The guard grabs Karen by the neck, and pushes her brutally towards the back of the ranks. “We will teach you to betray the Wehrmacht, slut. There is only one way to teach you a lesson, and everyone else!” By now, the guard is so angry at the fact that a woman has concealed her prosthesis from the army, he is prepared to vent this on Karen.

The matron, who is standing on the platform, doesn’t care what the guard does to Karen. Then she points to Ivy, who is still on her knees trying to get up, and commands another guard in a callous fashion, “Bring me that heap of misery!” Ivy is terrified. Her body shakes as she tries to walk through the prisoners towards the matron. As she reaches the platform, Ivy stands in front of the matron, her head is down looking at the ground because she is unable to face her executioner.

“So, you have been hiding this from us all this time!” The words slam into Ivy’s heart as she stands shaking, knowing that this is to be her impromptu trial. “How long have you been like this?” Ivy cannot bring herself to reply. Through the tears, she looks up at the matron.

The matron struts to her desk and drops into the chair. She pays no attention to Ivy, who stands in front of her shaking. Ivy has no control over her emotions anymore, and the anxiety and terror that encases her heart causes her to soil herself. She stands in front of the matron still holding her left stump in her right hand.

Ivy’s fate is in the hands of this plump round-faced matron who, during the years at the camp, has never showed mercy to anyone. Surely Ivy’s punishment will be worse than Karen’s. Oh, God, please help me, I am this way because of you, please God, please, begs Ivy under her breath as she stands trembling from fear.

“How long have you been like this?” inquires the matron for the second time. Ivy tries to straighten up, and she wipes the tears from off her checks. Then she reaches down to her torn dress, and uses it to wipe her nose. She croaks out the words, “Since birth.”

“Then how in tarnation did you get into this camp, and hide this from us all the time!” The matron explodes in anger and slams her fist on the desk as she speaks at the top of her voice. “Do you know what they do to deformed people in the Third Reich?” The question thunders in Ivy’s ears. She knows all too well what happens to them, and she realizes that this is the eventual road she will have to go once the matron is finished with her.

It is too much for Ivy, and her knees cave in under the mental pressure, and she leans forward to hold onto the desk as the gravity of the situation swoops over her.

“Do you know that I have no choice but to follow orders and shoot you?” The uncouth matron, who shows no pity on Ivy, mouths the death knell. With the emptiness of a hangman, she speaks them to Ivy, as if to say, you are done for. “Please, Matron, please,” says Ivy as she sobs, desperately pleading for her life to be spared. She can get nothing else out. Her throat dries up, and her mind is swimming as the overpowering fear avalanches its way into her heart. She falls to her knees under the strain and pressure and hangs onto the edge of the desk, breaking out into a heart wrenching sob.

“Adjutant, get in here!” shouts the matron. This must be the final decision for Ivy, as she realizes she will now be dragged out to the courtyard and shot in front of the other prisoners. She tries to stand up and face the last few minutes of her life with at least some dignity.

The adjutant walks briskly to the matron’s desk and stands to attention, waiting his instructions. To her amazement Ivy hears the words, “Get me this woman’s file.” The adjutant pulls at Ivy’s right arm, and looks at her number, does an about face, walks out of the office, and returns a few minutes later with a brown manila file.

The matron reaches for the file and casually flips it open. Her eyes fall on a letter addressed to her from Captain Willem Langford in the Textile factory in Berlin where Ivy has worked. A frown creases her brow as she holds the letter towards the light.

The matron drops the letter on her desk and speaks to Ivy in a condescending manner, “You seemed to be of some use to this Captain Langford, what did you get up to there? I suppose you were more than a designer, or do I read this incorrectly?” Ivy is insulted by the remark, and for the first time she stares at the matron, this time in indignation. “I don’t know what you mean. I did what I was told, and that’s all.” She gathers enough courage to make her next point very

clear, “Contrary to your thinking, Captain Langford is an honorable man, and a fine officer. As for me, I’m your prisoner, and have never been abused by him.”

“Captain Langford, this is Matron Von Eck at Ravensbruck Concentration Camp.”

“Yes, Matron, what can I do for you?” Langford is cordial and to the point. “I want you to think back to when you had a prisoner working for you. Her name was Jacobson, she was…”

The matron can say no more as Langford immediately interrupts her. “Yes, I remember her, Matron. She did the Wehrmacht excellent service, even as a prisoner.” There is a moment of silence before Langford speaks again. “Matron, it was the last day she worked for us. The moment I found out she had one hand, I sent her back to you. This was also the day that General Gruber visited the factory, and gave us orders to start a new production line for the next phase for the war. It was when I was discussing the new designs with her that I found out she was deformed.”

Langford uses his superior rank on the matron and reacts to her question, “I wrote to you the day I transferred her back to you. How come you are calling me now about this woman?” The question is direct and places the matron on the defensive.

“Something has come up, and she is involved in it. I needed to get clarification from you.” Her answer is evasive and almost works.

Langford again decides to use his rank, and in an unprecedented manner, commands the matron. “I will need her very soon again. In fact I am looking for workers with such talent right now, and instructing you to do nothing with her. I will contact you within the month, and arrange her transfer back to this factory. Is that understood?”

The matron has no choice but to obey the officer who is much higher in rank than her. She also realizes that there is nothing she can do to Ivy. That is her instruction, and she had better take care of Ivy, or she will be held accountable by her superiors if anything happens to her.

The matron replaces the receiver, scowls as she shuffles the papers back into Ivy’s folder, and bellows, “Jacobson, get back in here, now!”

As Ivy walks back into the office expecting to hear her death sentence, to her amazement, Ivy hears the matron growl at her as she struggles to say, “Return to your barrack. Let me be clear on this, if you ever flaunt your deformity to anyone, or on any guard, I will personally take great delight in punishing you. Do you hear me?”

Ivy does not answer her. She turns around and walks out of the office. As she leaves, she looks up at the sky. It is grey and miserable that morning. But, now there is a ray of sunshine peeping through a gap in the clouds. She takes hold of her left arm and says through the tears of relief, “IYSH”.


About the Author:

 

 Greg Price is a writer, human resource expert and an ordained minister. He has traveled extensively throughout the world and shares his experiences by translating them into literary characters who inspire and motivate the reader. Greg immigrated to the United States from south Africa and currently lives with his wife in Mississippi.


Contact Link:

Facebook


Purchase Links:

https://mybook.to/IYSH

Amazon

Barnes and Noble


RABT Book Tours & PR

This post contains affiliate links.
If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you.
Thank you for supporting Sapphyria’s Books.

Friday, June 5, 2026

The Diva Hosts a Murderer (A Domestic Diva Mystery) by Krista Davis ~ #CozyMystery

 

The Diva Hosts a Murderer (A Domestic Diva Mystery) by Krista Davis

About The Diva Hosts a Murderer:

 

The Diva Hosts a Murderer (A Domestic Diva Mystery)

Cozy Mystery

19th in Series

Setting - Old Town, Alexandria, Virginia

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Kensington Cozies

Publication date ‏ : ‎ May 26, 2026

Print length ‏ : ‎ 336 pages

Hardcover ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1496743482

ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1496743480

Digital ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1496743503

ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0FP7LXJ8C

Audiobook ASIN B0FVW9XKRW

goodreads badge

Old Town Virginia’s entertaining guru and occasional sleuth Sophie Winston – a young Martha Stewart in the making – juggles Fourth of July fireworks, a houseful of guests, and homicide in the latest Domestic Diva culinary mystery from New York Times bestselling author Krista Davis.

With a big crowd descending on her Northern Virginia home, it’s a good thing event planner Sophie Winston is an expert at entertaining. Whipping up patriotic pastries is as easy as pie for her, though meeting the man her widowed Aunt Melly just impulsively married in Las Vegas is a little more awkward. Especially when Melly’s longtime, now-heartbroken secret admirer is there too, which could lead to some fireworks.

But the house party really gets explosive when Sophie’s favorite tour guide falls victim to a killer—and evidence points to Sophie’s own father. Will DNA really incriminate her dad? And what’s the real story with her new uncle-by-marriage and the mysterious pal he’s brought along with him? Some of the secrets Sophie’s discovering are raising flags—and while the police department casts suspicion on her father, she has to declare her independence as a detective to find the real culprit, and serve justice along with her red, white, and blue cupcakes . . .

Includes delicious recipes, fabulous decorating tips, and easy entertaining hacks!

About Krista Davis:

New York Times bestselling author Krista Davis writes the Domestic Diva Mystery series. Krista lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia with two cats and a brood of dogs. Her friends and family complain about being guinea pigs for her recipes, but she notices they keep coming back.

Author Links:


Purchase Links:


TOUR PARTICIPANTS:

May 25 – Christy's Cozy Corners – CHARACTER GUEST POST
May 26 – Jody's Bookish Haven – SPOTLIGHT
May 27 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT
May 28 – Ascroft, eh? – AUTHOR INTERVIEW
May 29 – Books, Ramblings, and Tea - SPOTLIGHT
May 29 – FUONLYKNEW - RECIPE
May 30 – Reading Is My SuperPower – RECIPE
May 31 – Books1987 – SPOTLIGHT
June 1 – @bibliophile_foodie - REVIEW
June 2 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST
June 3 – Reading, Writing & Stitch-Metic – REVIEW
June 4 – @review_thick_and_thin – REVIEW
June 5 – Sarandipity's – CHARACTER INTERVIEW
June 5 – Sapphyria's Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT
June 6 – Guatemala Paula Loves to Read - SPOTLIGHT
June 7 – Melina's Book Blog – REVIEW _________
great escapes virtual book tours logo

Have you signed up to be a Tour Host? Click Here to Find Details and Sign Up Today! Want to Book a Tour? Click Here

        
This post contains affiliate links.
If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you.
Thank you for supporting Sapphyria’s Books.