Monday, October 31, 2016


releases today!


For Your Enjoyment an excerpt!

Becky Meyers, usually a cautious girl, rushed from the hospital to the bus stop, but the next bus that could get her downtown was not for half hour, and she had promised Patrick, her boyfriend, she would not be late. For some reason, no matter how hard she tried, she could not keep that pledge. She simply could not squeeze everything she had to do into one twenty-four hour period. The full-time college student, full-time nurse, and part-time tutor simply did not have enough time and an active social life along with an inability to say no to anyone who needed a favor stretched life thin for the coed.

Today was their first anniversary, and tonight Patrick had planned something special. He had asked Becky to meet him at nine o'clock, at the First Street Nightclub. Amy, her friend, had volunteered to drive her, but Amy had to take double duty at the hospital because several nurses were out with the flu.

Not wanting to let Patrick down again, Becky thought about sticking out her thumb. Fed up with her tardiness, he wanted her to give up some of her projects, or forget their relationship. He had informed her he felt like he came in second, third, and sometimes even fourth on her list of priorities. She loved Patrick, and she wanted to prove to him that she could handle her busy schedule.

She mentally counted the cash in her purse as she made her way to the main road. She'd call a cab if she could find the money. A red Ford Mustang stopped, and the window lowered. Becky bent down to see the driver better.

"Can you give me directions for downtown? My GPS is running me around in circles. I'm all turned around visiting a friend in the hospital and don't want to get lost. Which street will get me there?

"I can show you. I need to get to a club downtown and just missed the last bus.

"Sure, come on. We can help each other."

Becky jumped in with no hesitation.

"Sorry about the seat. A friend spilled oil on the original, and they put this piece of crap in until I get it recovered."

"Such a shame, and in a new car at that," Becky replied. She noticed how uncomfortable and yet how odd the seat felt, but for the short ride, she didn’t care.

"I know what you mean, I just bought this in December, but they assure me it will be good as new."

She sat, happily chatting with the driver, explaining her predicament, and discussing relationships in general. Until, something clicked. Becky suddenly turned in her seat.

"I recognize you. You’ve been in the papers."

Her happy chatter went silent when the driver pulled a knife out from under a coat between them and, with a practiced backhand stroke, plunged the dagger through Becky's stomach, up and into her back. Her mouth and eyes formed perfect circles of amazement and horror. The blade held her body in place like a beautiful butterfly stuck with a pin to a display rack. 

Blood dripped from her mouth, and with one last sigh, her life ceased.

Memories of Murder 
the audio version is due out 
December 20, 2016
Murder & Obsession
the audio version is due out 
January 25, 2017


Wednesday, October 26, 2016


Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields instructs participants to:

Write a complete story in 100 words or less

Beginning, Middle and End

Proofread and Edit

Post and link your Story URL

Include photo prompt and InLinkz code

Take the time to read and comment.

Make. Every. Word. Count.

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey


I gazed through the walkway, an unassuming path that screamed danger. I ignored the warning. My desire for freedom was like an unquenchable thirst. I would allow nothing to stand in my way.

It was my sixteenth birthday and the exact hour of my birth, the moment when we were given the option to join the cult or take the path to the unknown. Did I have the nerve?

Was it courage to want a life that didn't start with a motherhood before my seventeenth birthday? If I didn't make it through the gauntlet, it meant death.

I chose.


100 words
Yolanda Renée © 2017

Read More Flash Fiction Stories HERE!

Monday, October 24, 2016



Sarah Palmer becomes Chairman of the Board as investigations into her husband's death continue.

(UPDATE NEWS – September 21, 20XX) Sarah Palmer, the widow of Michael Palmer, has taken on the role of Chairman of the Board for the Palmer Corporation, one year after the death of her husband. The company, which her husband built from a one-room storefront to a multi-million dollar business resource company, has flourished under the guidance of the former corporate attorney and his best friend, Gerald Kessler. Mrs. Palmer, a graduate of the University of Washington, recently moved back to her hometown of Anchorage, Alaska. Is it possible this talented artist is getting away with murder?

Despite labeling Michael Palmer’s death an accident, official sources have reported that there is an ongoing investigation into the unusual circumstances. Netta Greenwald, Michael Palmer’s aunt, has also hired private investigators to look into her nephew’s death. Mrs. Greenwald claims Michael Palmer wanted to end his marriage, a plan he shared with her just a week before his death.

Thrown clear of the Porsche 918 Spyder, Michael Palmer died of a broken neck when his vehicle careened off the road and into a stand of trees. His young wife, Sarah Davis, had generously presented him with the Spyder after his thirty-eighth birthday luncheon at the Herbfarm Restaurant in Woodinville, Washington.

Estimated speeds were as high as 90 mph, as Palmer broke in his gift, but speed was only a contributing factor. To avoid children exiting a school bus, he swerved off the road, at which point, the vehicle hit a tree and was engulfed in flames.

While experts believe the car’s brakes had malfunctioned, the fire destroyed any evidence of tampering. The question remains: how could a brand new Porsche, just delivered from the showroom floor, not have working brakes? Various local media outlets suspect Mrs. Palmer of foul play, labeling her a black widow seeking full control of her late husband’s millions, as well as the corporation.

Will these questions ever be answered, and justice found for the young entrepreneur? Will Sarah Palmer ever be free of the black widow label? Police Detective Terry O'Conner, believes that the evidence is out there and that while the case has gone cold, secrets never stay secrets forever.

To Be Released

October 31, 2016

Friday, October 21, 2016


October is all about ghosts and goblins and with that in mind, Bish Denham, is here today to discuss her latest release

Thanks for having me on your blog today, Yolanda! I hope this interview will pique the curiosity of your readers regarding my books, The Bowl and the Stone: A Haunting Tale from the Virgin Islands, Anansi and Company: Retold Jamaican Tales, and A Lizard’s Tail.

It's my pleasure, Bish. I love that you're sharing your journey with us!

1.   Can you tell your readers something about why you chose this particular topic to write about?

The Virgin Islands are filled with history. Although there were Native Indian tribes living in the islands, the Taino, Arawaks, and Caribs not much is known about them, so a recorded history began when Columbus sailed through the chain on his second trip in 1493 and name them. Most of what happened after that was not pleasant because it involved slavery. Because of the violent nature of most of that history, the idea of writing a ghost story was not a big leap. There are plenty of ghost stories in the islands. There are also mischievous spirits, called jumbies, that populate folklore.

What appealed to you about it?

Two things appealed to me for writing The Bowl and the Stone. One was I’ve never written a ghost story, and I wanted to give a try. The other was that I wanted to try to capture a way of life that no longer exists.

Why do you think it is different, and your approach is unique?

This story is different because, as far I know, no other children’s ghost story has been written that is set on the island of St. John in 1962. It was a very unique time.

2.   How long do you think about a topic before deciding to write about it?

 It all depends on the topic. Sometimes it can take years, other times I get an idea and just start writing.

Do you have a set of notes or a notebook where you write down topics that appeal before making a decision as to which topic this time?

I have so many three ring binders full of ideas I’m overloaded. I still have ideas going back to high school! And that’s a long time ago. When I do pick a subject, particularly if it’s a novel, I keep a separate binder with dividers where I write down brief chapter summaries, character descriptions, general notes on things I might want to put into the story, research if any, time lines… anything related to the story goes into the binder.

3.   What resources do you use?

     Depending on the story, I generally look for primary sources, autobiographies, histories, encyclopaedias, interviews.

In general and for this book?

For the Bowl and the Stone I didn’t need to do much research because I was a kid living on St. John in 1962. My memory was my primary resource. I also picked my sister’s brain. Being four years older, her memories are stronger in some areas.

4.   Does writing provide you a sufficient income to live on?

No, is sure doesn’t, but then I didn’t really expect it to.

Is it your goal to be financially successful, or do you write and publish solely for the 'satisfaction of sharing your stories'?

Sure, it would be nice to be financially successful, but mostly I decided to self-publish because I wanted to share my stories. Also there was this thing called getting older. I tried very hard for about ten years to go the traditional route, looking for an agent/publisher, but had no takers. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. Maybe the market for my stories isn’t broad enough, or maybe they didn’t like the stories themselves. Whatever the reason I realized I didn’t want to spend any more time spinning my wheels, so in 2013 I took the plunge and self-published my first book, Anansi and Company: Retold Jamaican Tales. Because I was raised in the Virgin Islands I heard Anansi stories growing up and I thought it would be nice to bring some of the stories into the homes of children who have never heard of the mischievous spider. I couldn’t have made that leap if I hadn’t spent the previous six to eight years developing relationships bloggers. They were the ones who encouraged me to try self-publishing. I could/would never have done it with them.

5.   What's the next step for you?

Next step? Once I’ve settled down from my book blog tour I’m going to go back to a novel that’s written but is patiently waiting for editing and revising. It’s a complete departure from my last three books which are middle grade stories with a decidedly Caribbean flavour. A Piece of the Sky is a young adult novel and it takes place in… Tibet. I spent about ten years, off and on, doing research for it. Other works lurking in the wings include two possible sequels to my novel A Lizard’s Tail, a Caribbean retelling of Sleeping Beauty called The Legend of Bay Tree Hill, a middle grade historical novel about the life of St. Anthony of the Desert, and a fantasy that’s rather like Discworld meets OZ. There are some others things biting my heels, but they’re going to have to wait a little while longer. As you can see, I’m kind of all over the place. I don’t have one particular genre or age group that I write for. That’s because I have so interests.

Thanks again, Yolanda, for sharing your space with me.

Thank you Bish, it was a pleasure to learn more about you and your writing journey, especially as it resembles my own. :) Getting older and self-publishing went hand in hand for me. But it also helped me to find a publisher. I hope the same happens for you!


Book Blurb

Pirates. Explorers. And spooky ghost hunters.

It’s 1962. Sam and her best friend, Nick, have the whole island of St. John, in the U. S. Virgin Islands, as their playground. They’ve got 240 year-old sugar plantation ruins to explore, beaches to swim, and trails to hike.

But when a man disappears like a vapor right in front of them, they must confront a scary new reality. They’re being haunted. By whom? And why? He’s even creeping into Nick’s dreams.

They need help, but the one who might be able to give it is Trumps, a reclusive hunchback who doesn’t like people, especially kids. Are Sam and Nick brave enough to face him? And if they do, will he listen to them? 

As carefree summer games turn into eerie hauntings, Sam and Nick learn more about themselves and life than they could ever have imagined.

Available now at

Bish Denham, whose mother’s side of the family has been in the Caribbean for over one hundred years, was raised in the U. S. Virgin Islands. She still has lots of family living there whom she visits regularly.

She says, “Growing up in the islands was like living inside a history book. Columbus named the islands, Sir Francis Drake sailed through the area, and Alexander Hamilton was raised on St. Croix. The ruins of hundreds of sugar plantations, built with the sweat and blood of slave labor, litter the islands. Then there were the pirates who plied the waters. It is within this atmosphere of wonder and mystery, that I grew up. Life for me was magical, and through my writing I hope to pass on some of that magic.”

The Bowl and the Stone: A Haunting Tale from the Virgin Islands, is her third book and second novel. You can find Anansi and Company: Retold Jamaican Tales and A Lizard’s Tail, at

To learn more about Bish, you can visit her blog: Random Thoughts
She can also be found on Facebook
Twitter @BishDenham
And Goodreads

What about you readers, are you an author in search of an agent or publisher. Or a writer trying to find the path that will work for you?

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, October 18, 2016



A dream. That's all, just a dream. I crawled under the blankets and fell into a deep sleep despite the last vision in my head. Sea monsters don't exist. I know that, and yet, I'd swear that I just saw two, except I'm sick, and it's the middle of the night. Nightmare, that's all I saw, a waking dream. The medication that allowed me to sleep had created one doozy of a hallucination.
Green slimy monsters had come up out of the waves and carried off several tourists. They walked right past my patio as I sipped a cup of tea in the dark. Different shades of green on a human-like body with scales and fins, horns, and gills. Large eyes that glowed yellow. I could hear voices, or maybe it was thoughts. I never saw their mouth move except in that kissing fish kind of pout, in and out, in and out. Creepy and fascinating at the same time.
As the sea creatures carried their victims into the ocean, I heard their conversation in my head. Maybe I gave them voices. Isn't that what you do in dreams? The smaller one complained about the weight of his victim, the hours they labored, and the wages they made. Typical drudge worker complaints. I thought it was funny. I'd had some of the same complaints before I made my recent move to the beach. A move I'd worked years for and now that I'd achieved my goal, I was too sick to enjoy it. So goes life; two-steps forward, one-step back.
When I awoke, the sun was high in the sky. Warming rays filled the room. I stretched, threw off the blankets, and stumbled to the patio. Vacationers were soaking up the sunshine, playing water sports, and flying kites. The world looked normal, and I felt almost human. I plodded to the refrigerator for a Diet Coke and drank half the bottle in the first swig. Thirsty, I guess because my fever had finally broken.
I'd moved into my condo three days before and promptly came down with the flu. I hadn't even dipped my toes in the water. But I would remedy that today. Flu or not, I had to at least get some sand between my toes, so shorts and a crop top were put on. That new string bikini would have to wait. I still needed to lose twenty pounds I'd put on during the winter cold up north. I ran a brush through my tangled hair, finished my coke, and hurried outside. The sun on my skin felt healing, but the icy feel of the sand on my toes stopped me in my tracks.
To my shock, I was standing on strands of seaweed. A species that didn't exist anywhere but at the bottom of the sea. The same color green that I'd seen the night before. Only then, it had been hanging off the slimy creatures carrying off the tourists. I shivered and backed into my condominium. Quietly, I slid the patio door closed and double locked it. I closed the blackout curtains, then began moving furniture and unpacked boxes against the door and windows.
I worked up quite a sweat and felt silly. I knew I was overreacting. Monsters don't exist. Confused and exhausted, I fell back onto my unmade bed, curled up, and fell into another deep sleep. So much for sun and sand.
This time, when I awoke, night had fallen. Thirsty and hungry, I ate a candy bar and a bag of chips while I sucked down another Coke. Oh hell, there goes the diet. I didn't turn the lights on, but I did open the curtains and the patio door. Sitting in the dark, I watched the waves and admired the full moon and the dancing light that rolled across the waves. Convinced the flu had warped my mind, I finally relaxed and considered a midnight swim to prove that I wasn't afraid of sea monsters.
Then I heard their voices or was it their thoughts. I'm crazy pure and simple, but I had to listen.
"I can't believe they sent us back for the little girl's teddy bear. Ridiculous."
"They want her to grow up happy. Happy children make happy meals."
"That's so true. Plus when you fill them up with all that processed food, they make the seaweed rolls so much sweeter."
"Speaking of seaweed rolls. Last night, I spotted a cute chubby blonde in the lower unit. Maybe we should grab her, too. I'm hungry, and it is lunch time."
~~ Yolanda Renée © 2016 ~~
769 Words / FCA

I hope you found my story entertaining. I did move to the beach, and I was sick that first week, but I did not see any monsters. However, I was inspired by both the illness and the fact that it's Halloween.
Please read the other entries.
Just follow the link!


Monday, October 17, 2016

Harvest Moon

Home again!
We arrived last night to the harvest moon.

 But awoke to the damage left behind by 
Hurricane Matthew.

The dunes and protective vegetation is gone.

The pier was destroyed.
(sorry for the washed out photo's due to the direct sun)

This is what it looked like before.

The resort is still cleaning up the water and wind damage. 
I'm feeling blessed - my condo was untouched. 

Time to concentrate on Motive for Murder.
My goal is to have it ready for the publisher by the years end.

Hope all your writing goals are falling into place too.
And I especially hope that your home was left as untouched as mine by
Hurricane Matthew!


Don't forget the WEP Challenge is this week!

Did you choose or combine the two?

Friday, October 14, 2016



I'm proud to announce that all 3 books

Will soon be available in AUDIO!

October 31, 2016

Audiobook, MP3 Audio, Unabridged

Piper Goodeve (Narrator)

The trilogy is complete and book 4 is on the way!

For your enjoyment, an unedited excerpt from book 4:

A Detective Quaid Mystery


"Where do you think you're going?" Steven threw the blankets back.
"I'm meeting Elliot for a run on the beach, you know, that thing I do every morning while you continue to dream," Sarah said.
Steven shook his head and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Damn, I miss our cabin in the woods."
"Really?" She finished fastening her hair into a ponytail and faced him, eyebrows furrowed. "Hawaii was your idea. Cabin fever, if I remember correctly. At least that's what you told Frank."
"I was wrong. At the cabin, we spent hours cuddling. Now you're up with the sun, and the bed is cold."
Sarah sat down beside him. "I miss that too."
He pulled her deeper into the bed, his naked body covering hers. Kissing passionately, she molded her body to his.
"Tell you what." She said after she caught her breath. "I'll make it a five-mile run, and after a quick shower, we'll continue." She smiled but pushed him away.
He fell back on the bed and sighed deeply. "Five miles? I'll bet you do fifteen, just to make me wait."
She nibbled his earlobe. "You’re the one determined to get me healthy. I'm doing all I can to fulfill your wish. I promise a quick run. You start the shower, and I'll be right back."
He sighed again but let her go and pulled on a pair of shorts. In the kitchen, he poured a cup of coffee, grabbed the paper from the front porch, and went to the patio to monitor her run. He never slept during her early morning excursions. While Elliott, her bodyguard and running partner, was always at her side, Steven kept his eye on the dunes and the rocks dotting the beach. He didn't expect trouble, but he was ready regardless of the serene setting that Hawaii offered.
They were on private land, with a private beach, but Steven never rested when Sarah was out of his sight. It had only been four months since the last threat, and he wasn't ready to trust there'd be no more. In December, he'd rescued her from a kidnapper, and a sniper determined to put a bullet in her head, but constant nightmares haunted his dreams.
Frank had convinced him to come to Hawaii and consult on a case while continuing the honeymoon. He'd promised Sarah a year of his time, and while he felt guilty for working, Sarah needed the sunshine. Their cabin in the Brooks Range was great, but she had continued to struggle with her health. The warmth of Hawaii changed all that. In less than a month, she was the picture of wellbeing and this new case was close to a solution.
Their suspect had made a huge mistake moving to Hawaii to continue his exploits. The killings had started in Los Angeles, in January, but moved to Hawaii in March. The killer made his victims eat their own body parts, sexually assaulted them, and eventually killed them. This creep's appetite knew only brutality and Frank wanted Steven's help to capture him. They were close and once the case wrapped up, Steven would take Sarah to Paris.
He sipped his coffee and caught sight of her and Elliott coming back up the beach. The phone rang and when he answered, Frank shouted at him. "Where's Sarah?"
"Running. Why?"
"Get her in the house. I'm on my way." Frank yelled.
Steven could hear the roar of a helicopter in the background. "What's happening, Frank?"
"Bardot. Rudy Bardot, Jarrod's brother, is alive. He's our serial killer, and he's after Sarah!"
Steven dropped the phone and grabbed his gun. Barefoot he took off for the beach.
Two seconds too late.
Rudy Bardot rested a sniper rifle on a dune. His targets were in view. Steven sighted the man just as Sarah and Elliott arrived at ground zero.
Before Steven could calm his breathing enough to shoot, a shot shredded the morning's tranquility!
Elliott always ran with his body blocking Sarah's in safety, but the shooter had prepared for that.
One shot and both Sarah and Elliott went down. The bullet had gone through Elliott's shoulder and hit Sarah.
Bardot dropped his gun, pulled a knife, and moved toward his victims. He wanted a souvenir. " Jolies oreilles," Bardot said. (Pretty ears.)
Steven fired . . .
The end!

Well, actually the beginning of book 4.
I hope I've enticed you to start with Murder, Madness & Love
Or if you've already read the trilogy,
I hope I've excited you about the next book
I changed the title from Dark Motives to Motive for Murder.
I've always referred the first three books as my
 Murder Trilogy;
I thought it made sense to make it the
Murder Series
by keeping the word
in all the titles!
Do you agree?