Sam Cheever has a Fun New Cozy!

Come to Silver Hills. Where fowl plans can either mean dinner out, or the deadly designs of a chicken-livered killer.

When Vlad’s opponent for the Silver City mayoral race succumbs to fowl deeds, he seriously changes the pecking order in Vlad’s favor. But the victim’s death has made Vlad king of the roost, so the Silver Hills night manager quickly becomes the obvious suspect.

Plucky investigators Flo and Co. are certainly no strangers to Vlad’s evil ways. But they’re also not egg-xactly convinced he did it. So, when Flo learns that the victim, a wealthy local chicken farmer, had been trying to reach her when he was killed, she’s more than a little curious why.

Will their investigation shine a light on a killer’s fowl deeds before he flies the coop? Or will Flo chicken out when the villain threatens to go all cock-a-doodle-do on her bad self? There’s only one way to find out. And you already know what it is… Yep, Flo and Co. are goin’ in, tail feathers high!


Fowl Campaign is Book 8 in my fun Silver Hills Cozy Mysteries. For many of you, your first experience with a Sam Cheever book was Flo Charts, the series prequel.  Lots of things have changed since those first days when Flo and Agnes met and jumped into their first mystery together. New characters have appeared, old characters have grown and changed, and relationships have taken interesting turns. But one thing has never changed throughout this series. Flo’s and Agnes’s friendship. When all is said and done, I believe that’s what makes these books so much fun. Sure, it’s entertaining to see the new and different ways Agnes finds to get into trouble. And yeah, it’s educational to watch Flo navigate through all the challenges and personalities, using a strong intellect, pure old-fashioned stubbornness, and a dose of substitute teacher pluck to solve every problem. But I believe the real gold of the books is in the way the two women get along. Their affectionate ribbing. The respect they have for each other. And the way they have each other’s backs through even the murkiest problems. That’s what makes you feel good as you read the last sentence in every book. Because you know you might be leaving them behind for a minute. But they won’t be alone. And neither will you! All you need to do is turn the page of another Silver Hills book to be right there among friends again. I hope you’ll pick up a copy of Fowl Campaign and join the fun. And if you’re so inclined, drop a brief review on Amazon so that others will know it’s a good book to read. As always, I appreciate you! xx Sam
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When Nothing’s Familiar, Everything Can be Lost – A riveting new paranormal mystery from Sam Cheever

When the boundary between worlds is breached, lives are at risk, balance is disrupted and nothing is the same.

I screeched to a halt, my chest heaving from the exertion of running the length of the tracks, and watched with a horrified gaze as several more of the things slid from the car. I counted a dozen before I stopped counting and started looking for escape options.

It was a trap!

I shook my head even as I had the thought, mad at myself for being so completely drawn into it. I watched them.

They watched me.

Something about them was familiar. Though I was far too agitated at the moment to remember where I’d seen them before.

Or what they were.

The creatures started toward me and I stepped back, my hands coming up and magic sputtering from my fingertips. “Stay back!”

They didn’t even hesitate. In fact, they seemed to move more quickly in my direction. I gathered enough energy to exterminate a room full of Demons and flung it at them, expecting to see them burst into tiny pieces of supernatural ugliness.

They bowed backward when my magic hit them, their shadowy, amorphous shapes bulging outward as the energy hit, and their limbs jerking with the force. The light from my magic flared when it touched them, and then slowly dimmed, seeming to sink beneath their black, lifeless skin.

Instead of exploding into pieces, they seemed energized by my attack. Their eyes glowed brighter as they started forward again.

It was as if they’d absorbed my energy. Like it had made them stronger. The nearest one threw back its head, emitting an ear-splitting shriek that made me cringe away with a cry, covering my ears in self-defense. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and jerked my head up. The center of the leader’s spider-like form split apart in about a ten-inch vertical slash and a thick, silvery mist sprayed toward me from the breach.

I barely slammed up a protective web before the spray bathed me in foul-smelling magic. It sizzled against my web like acid, eating holes through my energy as I watched.

Horror filled my chest. I started to back away, more energy sputtering at my fingertips, even though I knew I couldn’t use it against them.

It would only make them stronger.

The creatures became more agitated as the magic leached from under my skin, merging together into a vibrating pack and surging forward as if they were drawn helplessly toward the power.

At a loss for anything else to do, I turned and started to run.

A bitter breeze shot down the concrete tunnel, bathing my back and legs in sulfurous stink. I stumbled as it burned my skin, leaving behind a film of ice.

My teeth clacked together from the sheer force of the cold, and it was all I could do to keep running as it hit me.

Deg! I shrieked in my mind as I stumbled forward. Where are you?

His silence was more ominous than the raspy breath of the things who rode my heels down the track. Something was very wrong.

First Littleton and then Deg.

Whatever was going on, if I was going to help them, I couldn’t be next. I reached the wide archway leading to the station but couldn’t stop. If I slowed enough to climb back up onto the platform, they’d be on me before I managed to reach the top.

With every stride I took, they covered an area twice what I could. I was seconds away from being overrun.

There was no doubt in my mind that I would die if they touched me.

 

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Mucky Bumpkin – A Fun New Cozy Mystery from Sam Cheever

 

★ ★ ★ ★ ★
“…characters you can’t help but fall in love with … an intriguing, many layered mystery with many twists and turns, and at least one surprising revelation…
I recommend this series and author to anyone who enjoys a good, cozy and fun mystery.”

 

She might be a country girl who loves short shorts and flip-flops, but her life is less defined by her countrified attire, and more by the way she hunts down a deadly killer.

Murder is sinking its hooks into the quiet countryside and dredging up ugly secrets. Deer Hollow is still a quiet little town steeped in Americana and known for its delicious country fare. But being named a top ten place to live just might have inspired an assassin to make the quaint country spot home.
As Joey searches for a killer, her past is dragged from the murky darkness where she’s hidden it. And secrets she never wanted to discover are rising like the stink of manure on a freshly fertilized field.

Excerpt

I’ve always been perfectly aware of my shortcomings as a person.

Mostly.

I consider myself generally a good person. With good instincts about people and a desire to be kind to others unless they’re unkind to me.

But I do have an aversion to pushy people. Which has put me on the wrong side of salesmen of all kinds more than once.

My second least favorite of these is Realtors. Not that being a Realtor is innately bad. It’s just that the act of buying or selling a house is way too much like dealing with used car salesmen for my taste.

Which brings me to my first least favorite type of salesmen.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a car salesman standing on my porch that sunny, cool-ish fall day in the rural area just outside of Deer Hollow, Indiana.

But it might as well have been.

The woman standing in front of Caphy and me had lipstick on her teeth and hair that looked as if squirrels might have built it on her head for nesting. Lucky for her my dog was much more tolerant than I was. Even when she was being none-too-subtly dissed by said lipstick-teethed intruder.

“Oh my! You should chain that beast up.”

The hand on Caphy’s collar tightened briefly as I fought to contain my instant rage. Cacophony, Caphy for short, was about the sweetest animal that ever lived. She was more than my best friend. I credited her with saving my life when I’d gone into the deepest depression imaginable after my parents were killed in a plane crash on our property.

She was also a Pitbull.

And that was all some people saw when they looked at her.

Caphy smiled at the woman, her muscular tail whipping painfully against my leg. She whined softly, quivering with friendly excitement.

“She’s fine,” I told the woman with the squirrel’s nest for hair. “She lives here. Whereas you…” I let my statement trail away, allowing my uninvited guest to gather my inference all by herself.

The woman frowned slightly, moving a purse the size of her extra-large backside in front of her like a shield. “Oh…um…okay. Well.” She extended her hand a few inches in front of her, a white rectangle stuck between two short fingers. “Here’s my card. My name is Penney Sellers. I was wondering if you’re interested in selling your house.”

I blinked several times. “Not in the least.”

As I responded I realized it was true. When I’d initially learned that I’d inherited the family home after my parents’ death, I’d thought I wanted to sell it. Too many painful memories lived within its familiar walls. I still thought I’d sell eventually. But I wasn’t quite ready to make that decision.

I glanced down at the card, grimacing at the obviousness of the woman’s name. “Is Penney Sellers really your name?”

In response she gave me a slightly snotty smile. “I can offer you a premium price. There aren’t many homes in this area of this quality.”

“Not interested. You do know there’s a huge subdivision going up on the south side of Deer Hollow, right?” Of course she knew that. But I was making a point.

“Those houses are fine. But they don’t have the…” She swung her arms toward the pond and the trees. “Ambiance. The setting here is truly spectacular.”

“Thank you. But I’m not interested in selling.” I backed into the house, tugging gently on Caphy’s collar. Her gaze locked onto the other woman who’d taken a step toward the door as if she was thinking about pushing her way inside. A low growl emerged from Caphy’s throat and the hair in front of her tail spiked.

Penney Sellers stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze shooting to the endlessly sweet creature who was giving her fair warning.

But Caphy’s warning didn’t stop the realtor’s mouth from moving. “Do you own all those woods over there?” The woman asked. Her expression was perfectly innocent. But there was a gleam in her eye that I didn’t like.

“Yes. All the way to the big stone marker on Goat’s Hollow Road. 100 acres.”

The gleam flared, making her look positively demonic. “A hundred acres! My goodness. I’d love to talk to you about subdividing the property. We could build a dozen homes and still have sizeable properties.”

“Not interested. Thanks for stopping by.”

“But…”

I slammed the door in her face and locked it. Pressing my ear against the warm wood, I listened for her to climb into her car and drive away before I took a full breath. A soft whine drew my gaze to Caphy. “It’s all right, girl. She’s gone.”

The pibl’s tail snapped sideways once and then she nuzzled me, snorting softly. She was sensitive to my moods, and the alarm I was feeling was no doubt putting her on edge. I couldn’t have explained the panic tightening my chest if someone offered me a thousand dollars to do it.

It was an unreasonable fear. But undeniable.

Nobody could force me to sell my house. Nobody could make me give up my private little wonderland. It was all I had left of my parents.

It was also the place where Caphy and I had grown up. Where we’d run and played, where I’d climbed trees and learned to swim. But the new subdivision was affecting my life in ways I hadn’t expected. When I’d first learned it was coming it had seemed harmless. After all, the three hundred acre plot on the south side of Deer Hollow was miles away from me. The homes were supposed to be decent ones, built on quarter acre lots and not all exactly the same. I reasoned it would be nice to have some new blood in town.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t counted on the other stuff that came with those homes. The constant traffic through town from looky-loos. The noise, mess, and invasion of people who thought the town had been conjured up for their enjoyment.

And the realtors, builders and construction people who clogged the streets and turned the few restaurants Deer Hollowboasted into hotbeds of noise and inaccessibility at meal times.

Still, I could deal with all that.

It was the other thing that had my nerves thrumming like a banjo in the mountains of Kentucky.

The sense of impending doom.

 

BUY LINK:  books2read.com/mucky

 

Mourning Commute – The Funeral Fakers Clean Cozy Mysteries

 

It’s definitely curtains for May’s client. He’s exited Stage Left for the last time. May Ferth just wants to do a good job in her role as fake girlfriend. But there are strange goings on at the funeral. Shifty characters whispering secrets in shadowed corners, and a truly yummy advocate for the dead guy implying that May might have had something to do with his friend’s unscripted exit.

May might be a thirty-three-year-old ex-community theater actress on her second career, but she comes from a family of cops. And, despite her talent for acting, she has a lot more Detective in her than Diva.

The villain thinks he can threaten her and she’ll fold like last week’s panned play. Clearly, he hasn’t read the day’s script changes. May and her little dog Shakespeare are on the case. Though, they might take a little direction from the Private Investigator who believes that May’s client was murdered, and fully intends to prove it.

 

BUY Mourning Commute: https://amzn.to/2OzXQoa

 

I tucked the tiny bottle of fake tears more deeply into my tissue and sniffed daintily, scoping out the assembled crowd of mourners with a practiced eye. My baby blues caught on a handsome, dark-haired man standing back from the rest, and I did one of those embarrassing jerk-away things with my eyes, hoping he didn’t notice me noticing him again.

He totally noticed me.

He’d been staring at me since I’d arrived at the viewing an hour earlier. And his expression was anything but friendly. Somehow my eyes kept traveling to him, though I swear on the life of my spunky Pomeranian, Shakespeare, that it was pure accident.

I wasn’t ogling the mourners.

Really, I wasn’t.

Of its own volition, my gaze accidentally slipped over the spot where he’d been again, and I blinked.

He was gone.

To cover my surprise, I turned to the elderly woman next to me and let my bottom lip quiver. I gave a practiced little sob and squeezed the fake tears in my tissue just as a big hand landed on my shoulder.

I yelped, gripped the tiny bottle as if it was the only thing keeping me from plunging a thousand feet off a bridge to my death, and then yelped again as I shot a stream of faux sadness right into one wide blue eye.

Fake tears ran like the River Jordan down my artificially pale cheek. “Oh!” I exclaimed as I tried to deal with the mess.

I jerked around to eye the owner of the hand and forgot how to speak.

Across the room he’d been yummy, definitely an eight-star performance on opening night. But up close and personal, Mr. Hostile was a solid fifteen stars, with a good three-minute standing ovation added in.

Even with the glare on his face.

I couldn’t help wondering why he seemed so angry with me. Surely it wasn’t because I was ogling him at the viewing of the man who was supposed to be my boyfriend. I gave that one a few moments of thought.

Nah. That couldn’t be it.

Hostile Hottie stuck the hand he’d accosted me with in front of my face, all but daring me to shake it. “Eddie Deitz.”

I blinked. “Huh?” Brilliant, MayBell. Oscar-worthy response.

My poor tissue was swamped with fake tears, and there were more of them trailing down one cheek. I couldn’t seem to get them under control. So, I decided to embrace the dramatic substance of the moment. I quivered my bottom lip and sniffled behind the lump of saturated tissue.

Accepting his challenge, I placed a limp paw into his and allowed it to be pumped. “MayBell Ferth. It’s a pleasure.”

Ugh! I wanted to kick myself. Who says that at a funeral? Jeezopete!

His gorgeous green gaze narrowed slightly, bringing my attention to the thick fringe of black lashes framing his eyes.

I’d do a year’s worth of PiYo classes to have lashes like that. And that was saying something because I hated PiYo with the power of a thousand suns.

“Is there something wrong with your eye?” he asked.

I mopped ineffectually at the fake tears with my soggy tissue. “Um, no, I’m just sad.”

Stupid, May. Stupid.

His expression told me he didn’t believe I was sad out of only one eye. I couldn’t blame him for his skepticism.

 

BUY Mourning Commute: https://amzn.to/2OzXQoa

 

 

USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author Sam Cheever writes mystery and suspense, creating stories that draw you in and keep you eagerly turning pages. Known for writing great characters, snappy dialogue, and unique and exhilarating stories, Sam is the award-winning author of 80+ books.

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Sam Cheever takes you into the Ether with Anna Yesterday…

Enjoy this fun snippet from Sam’s brand new release, Book 5 Yesterday’s Mysteries:

A strange feeling of sadness washed through her. The emotion felt foreign, too intense to be her own and she shivered under its impact. Anna laid the pile of cards on top of the desk. She had no idea what she was going to do with them. It didn’t feel right to throw them away. But they were of no use to anyone outside the Dashery family and there didn’t seem to be anything left of the lineage.

Another wave of sadness swamped her. Anna sat back in the chair, her body turning icy and her gaze blank. She had only an instant to become alarmed before it hit her…the brief, violent vision was like a punch to the gut.

A hostile gaze, squinting with dark intent, and a fearful cry, as disembodied hands snaked out from the fog and grasped her around the throat. She tried to scream but the ghostly grip choked off the sound. The pressure built, causing her eyes to bulge and her head to pound as panic seared through her. She reached up, tried to grip the ghostly hands at her throat, but her fingers slipped through the fog, finding nothing solid to grip.

Unfortunately, the pressure on her throat was very real.

Anna struggled against a deep lethargy and the bone-chilling cold. Something tugged at her arms and a deep, worried voice called her name. The pressure at her throat eased and she felt herself sagging downward, but the cold still infused her bones and the feeling of being lost in the fog was terrifying.

It had to be ether.

How was that possible?

Anna’s gaze slowly lifted to watch a slender, dark figure walk away, its form hidden inside a floor-length, hooded cloak and the blustery mist…

“Anna! Anna, wake up! What’s happening?”

A small part of her recognized Pratt’s terrified question, but Anna couldn’t pull herself free. She watched that retreating form, her mind struggling to recognize her killer.

Ice crept through her body, slowing the beating of her heart. She could almost feel her blood turning to sludge in her veins. Her thoughts turning fuzzy.

The figure in the swirling fog stopped, started to turn, and a hate-filled gaze pierced the ether, hitting her with the force of a blow.

Why? She asked the figure, watching the cruel lips curve upward.

You shouldn’t have done it…Celeste.

Anna frowned. But I’m not

The world spun and a familiar force slammed into her, sending her flying backward, toward a warm glow of light that beckoned her from the ether. She hit the light and it was like a thousand shards of glass ripping through her flesh.

 

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://samcheever.com/blog/tears

Apple: http://samcheever.com/blog/tearsiBooks

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Sam Cheever has a Brand New Mystery – Fatal Assignment

 

A temporary office assignment turns deadly. And Blaise quickly finds herself in a killer’s crosshairs.

Backstabbing, infidelity, greed and power. There’s nothing more dangerous than office intrigue. Blaise continues her search for the perfect career by taking a temporary assignment in an architectural firm. Though she quickly learns that wrangling a proposal team to get to end of project is nearly impossible, keeping everyone alive might just be the hardest thing she’ll ever do.

With the help of her sexy fiancé, Dolfe Honeybun, Blaise is determined to get to the bottom of the body in the elevator. Problem is, with a cast of suspects longer than her To Do list, Blaise is up to her perfectly plucked eyebrows in possible killers. And she might not know who the killer is, but he knows everything there is to know about Blaise.

###

Blaise Runa checked her make-up in the mirror for the last time and climbed out of her car. Her phone rang as she started across the nearly empty parking lot to the ugly brick and metal building squatting alongside the street. The sun was still a vague promise on the horizon and Blaise felt the usual mix of excitement and dread as she approached the smudged glass doors leading to the lobby of the Beck and Poole Architectural Firm.

She tugged her phone from her purse and looked down, smiling at the photo of her newest love, Miss Ivy, the big eared sweet tempered mutt she and Dolfe recently adopted. Blaise punched the Answer button. “Hey, Handsome.”

“Morning, future wife. I couldn’t believe you were already gone when I woke up. Third time this week.”

Blaise pulled a lanyard free of her sweater and lifted the key card on the end, swiping it across the reader to unlock the door. “I have two days to get this proposal together and I’m still missing several pieces. I’m going to have to hit the database hard and try to pull together something for the team to edit.”

Heavy breathing came through the phone and Blaise blinked in surprise. “Are you giving me stalker breath?”

Dolfe’s husky chuckle replaced the breathing, followed by a wet slurp and a tiny yip. “Oh, is that Ivy?”

Another yip. “High, baby! Mama’s got to work today. You be good for Daddy, okay?”

She could almost hear Dolfe rolling his eyes. “You know she’s a dog, right?”

“I’m aware. But she’s my little fur baby too.”

“If she’s your baby then that makes her my baby and I don’t want to claim a baby this ugly.”

Blaise hit the stairs, eschewing the elevator in an attempt to skim the few extra pounds she’d piled on since taking the temporary project management position a few weeks earlier. The building had a killer cafeteria, with the world’s best pastries.

It was going to be the death of her.

“I hope you covered her ears before you called her ugly. She’s very sensitive.”

He snorted. “Sensitive? This little monster thinks she rules the world. She doesn’t have a sensitive bone in her puny little body.”

Blaise grinned. He wasn’t wrong. Ivy might only weigh ten pounds, but she thought she was a lion. “Give her a kiss for me, will you? I’ll see you tonight?”

“That’ll be a hard No on the kiss and a gooey Yes on the seeing me later part.”

“Love ya, babe.”

“I love you too, honey. But I have one more thing to say…”

“What’s that?” Blaise tugged the door open to the office on the third floor where she had a desk and flipped on the light.

“If we’re this monster’s parents, you’re taking the blame for these ears.”

 

BUY LINKS:

Amazon.com: http://samcheever.com/blog/fatalAM

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