Official Book Tour: The Librarian Shoots a Gun

Audrey Scott is more upset for her jilted cousin than for the best man who supposedly disappeared and caused the cancellation of the wedding. That is, until the cops come around looking for him on suspicion of murder. When that very same best man, Foster McGuire, ends up bleeding in Audrey's closet, she has no choice but to try and get him off the hook for a crime he didn't commit. 

Too bad there's too many people, from an irritating homicide detective who's way too attractive for Audrey's own good, right to mob bosses, who don't want to see Foster McGuire tell his story. Audrey is no detective. In fact, she's a children's librarian. However, there's always room for some good old investigation work between story times, and she's going to use the skills she knows to follow a trail that starts with murder and ends with betrayal, with a whole lot of guns in between.

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Amber Gilchrist lives in New Mexico with her husband and five children. She writes mysteries and LDS Romantic Comedies. Under the name Aimee Gilchrist, she writes mysteries and suspense.  She calls her lifetime of jumping from one job to another 'experience' for her books and not an inability to settle down. Amber loves mysteries and a good, happy romance. She also loves to laugh. Sometimes she likes all of them together. 

A fan of quirky movies and indie books, Amber likes to be with her family, is socially inept, and fears strangers and small yippy dogs. She alternates between writing and being a mom and wife. She tries to do both at the same time but her kids don't appreciate being served lunch and told, "This is the hot dog of your discontent." So mostly she writes when everyone else is in bed. 

Amber loves to hear from readers and can be reached at ambergilchristbooks@gmail.com 

If you would like to be added to her newsletter please email your address to be notified about future releases and events!

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~Character Casting~

Audrey

Derek

Alex

Foster

Gretchen

Kyle

~Excerpt~

 I stood, hoping that would make him back up some, since I was now on his level. It didn’t
make him less intimidating. He was still like seventy-two inches taller than me. “I already had
this conversation with Pennyworth.” 

Smith moved close enough that I could have touched him if I raised my hand. My plan
clearly wasn’t working. Now I wished I had remained seated, since he only could have gotten so
close if we were level. I focused my attention on the middle button of his white and blue striped
dress shirt, refusing to give any indication that he made me nervous. I knew a predator when I
saw one, and I knew that weakness made a predator strike. I would show none. 

“What did Pennyworth tell you?” 

“If I see Foster, tell Pennyworth first. You’re trying to send Foster to the big house on a
way train to setupville, blah, blah, blah. Since neither of you are remotely interested in hearing
that I don’t know Foster McGuire, let alone have some deep and abiding relationship with him,
I’m not surprised that you’re doing this shtick, too.” 

“Okay, listen to me, Audrey.” The words were low, intense, and spoken slowly as though
to emphasize every single syllable. I couldn’t help but look up at him. Everything about him was
designed to ensure he wasn’t questioned. “This is very important. For the love of all that is holy,
do not tell Pennyworth first.” 

I raised my eyebrows, shaking off the daze his words and attitude left me in. “Well,
Pennyworth went for the sympathy factor. I guess you’re going in for dramatics.” 

He flinched slightly. At least, I thought he did. It was kind of hard to tell with the
sunglasses and the static features. “I wasn’t trying to be dramatic. I’m just saying. Pennyworth is
my partner. What’s more he’s the senior partner. But he’s about to retire, and a big collar would
be a great way to go out in a blaze of glory. That’s all I’m saying.” 

“What do you care anyway? What if Pennyworth is looking to score a big arrest? It’s not
like Foster’s your friend.” 

He didn’t answer for a long second, and seemed to find something of interest somewhere
to my left. “Let’s just say that I’m a big fan of justice.” 

I had no idea what to make of that. “Okay, Batman. If Foster McGuire comes to me,
maybe I’ll let you know.” 

His mouth twitched. “I suppose that’ll have to do.” 

There was a long moment of silence between us. He looked down at me, his head cocked
to the side like he was considering something. A gust of wind gave me the shivers suddenly,
even though it was brutally hot. The scent of Smith carried on the breeze, like wood smoke and
spices, even though I didn’t have clue where he could have been exposed to open flame.

A woman called shrilly for her twins, unfortunately named Derek and Eric. The kids
ignored her, but Smith jerked his head in her direction as if by compulsion. His upper lip
twitched, but otherwise there was no reaction from him. Not that I could tell, because he was
still wearing those stupid aviator sunglasses. Just like always. 

“Why do you wear those, anyway?” 

He glanced back to me, seeming suddenly surprised to see me. “What?” 

“The glasses. You wear them inside, too. It’s really weird and rebellious. Especially since
everything else about you is so…laced up.” 

The corner of his mouth twisted. I wasn’t sure if it was trying to be a smile or a frown.

Whatever it was, the expression never really manifested. “It’s because…well, it’s because of my
eyes.” 

“Like, they’re sensitive to the sun or something?” 

This time I was pretty sure the twist was supposed to be a smile. “No. They make
people…uncomfortable. I was very aware of the discomfort others were experiencing when they
looked at me, and especially of how memorable that discomfort was. I can’t wear contacts. I
have an allergy to the polymers. It’s just easier to wear the glasses.” 

I cocked my head. I remembered his eyes as being strange, but not so weird as to leave
people with lasting bad feelings. Had I forgotten something? Maybe. Our meeting was a little
fuzzy now. Or maybe it was just him being sensitive. 

“Are you sure that’s why you made them uncomfortable? You are a little…intense.” 

He was silent for a moment and then pulled off the glasses, meeting my eyes head on. For
a second, I was just shocked to find him looking at me so intently. I pulled in a hard breath,
struggling to remain impassive and make a scientific perusal of his eyes. I raised mine, making a
point to take in every detail. The irises were pale and silvery. I remembered that. I hadn’t
noticed the rest, though, in my aunt’s parlor. The color was hardly darker than the whites around
it, shot through with hints of soft bluish lavender and an occasional injection of a darker
cornflower blue near the pupils. Fringed with dark lashes, they were incongruous and, he was
right, strange. A little disconcerting. 

So incredibly beautiful. 

Breath caught in my throat, struggling for some way to release. My temple thumped,
reminding me of the desperate need to inhale. When I did, it was a low gasp, nothing that would
normally come out of my throat. His pupils expanded instantly, darkening his eyes to almost a
normal blue. My pulse thumped violently at my throat, like a wild animal struggling to get out. 

Why did he have to be so hot? Why, why, why? 

I tore my eyes away, desperate to meet anything but his gaze. At some point I’d either
moved to closer to him, or he’d moved in my direction. I didn’t even know which it was. How
did that even happen? I backed away, the pits of my knees banging into park bench. Was I out of
my mind? 

“Well, anyway, I don’t know anything,” I blurted out, practically yelling. It came out of
nowhere, nothing but a lame attempt to get him out of my space before I made myself sorry. 
He blinked, the first overt sign of confusion I’d ever seen in him. Really, of anything at
all, except annoyance.

“Of course.” He stepped away from me. It didn’t read like he was nervous, disconcerted,
as confused as I was. I felt the distance keenly. I repeated not my type a few dozen times in my
head, just to reinforce it. Then added not Mormon in case my type didn’t give a crap if he fit
there.

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Official Book Tour: My Pineapples Went to Houston

Lee Gaitan is a wife, mother, teacher, author and speaker, but above all she is passionately committed to overcoming life’s obstacles, surviving sometimes by the skin of her teeth, but always with humor and optimism. She shares her experience with anyone who will listen with the intent to encourage others to use humor to their benefit.

In the past twelve years Lee has had to deal with more than a healthy helping
of “are you kidding me?” moments. In 2002, she hit rock bottom. It was so bad shelovingly refers to it as a year of “shock and awfulness.” That year her father died,her mother was in the hospital, semi-comatose from grief, and her husband of 22 years lost every penny of their money BEFORE running off to Arizona with his girlfriend, who just happened to be a former stripper. 

That was just the beginning. She spent the next decade struggling with loss and challenges on every front, from finances and family to health and career.

While there have been many bounces up and down over the years, Lee has finally
bounced back and it was well worth the effort. She has happily remarried, working at a job she loves and has published her second book. She even has children on three continents and a granddaughter far too far away!

Connect with the Author here: 

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Heartbreak, Humor and, ultimately, Hope

That’s the message that comes through loud and clear in My Pineapples Went to Houston,  Lee Gaitan’s personal and powerful tale of surviving a decade of relentless chaos and loss. The “shock and awfulness” began in 2002 when her father died, her mother teetered on the brink of a coma and her husband of 22 years secretly lost all their money and ran off with a stripper. And it was all downhill from there!   

 Then one day in the midst of all the chaos—somewhere between loud cursing and crying—she recalled an amusing anecdote she’d heard about pineapples that spoke to her circumstances in such an unexpectedly humorous way that she couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“That moment of laughter was a small epiphany for me. I realized that I had allowed my sense of humor, which had always mitigated the bad breaks in my life and enhanced the good ones, to fall victim to the machete my ex-husband had taken to my life. I determined right then and there that I could no longer permit that. I instinctively knew that humor was the most potent, and just about the only, protection I had at my disposal to survive the crises unfolding around me, and I vowed to keep it alive.”

Told with honesty and insight—and, of course, humor—My Pineapples Went to Houston both inspires and entertains readers and offers hope and encouragement to those struggling with their own “plans gone outrageously awry.”

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Top Ten List

1. Peanut M & Ms
2. Ice cream—I mean, I LOVE ice cream and if I could eat stracciatella gelato in Italy every day, I would be in paradise. I’d also be in an XL muu-muu!
3. Massages—head, body, hands or feet and preferably all of those!
4. DOGS!
5. Music
6. Sleeping in
7. Movies, especially foreign films
8. Eating outside
9. Hart to Hart reruns on The Hallmark Channel, seriously.
10. The Grilled Market Salad at Chik-fil-A—I’m kind of obsessed with it right now, actually. I ate it four times in one week and didn’t tell my husband.

Character Casting

Me—Julia Louis-Dreyfus

Jorge—Andy Garcia

Dick—Vince Vaughn

Snippets

I realized for the first time that enough does not mean meager or insubstantial. It is not the opposite of abundance; rather, it is the very essence of it. Enough is about training our hearts, our minds and our spirits to embrace what we have in front of us, in the present, and trust that for right this minute, it is enough. It is this trust—that we will be given enough in every circumstance of life—that allows us to navigate, one trusting step at a time, from what may appear to be a rather spare present to a richly abundant future, however we may define that.

To view our blog schedule and follow along with this tour visit our Official Event page 

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Great Summer Countdown Blitz - Day 12

Donna Hatch, author of the best-selling “Rogue Hearts Series,” has won writing awards such as The Golden Quill and the International Digital Award. A hopeless romantic and adventurer at heart, she is a sought-after workshop presenter, and juggles multiple volunteer positions and her six children. A native of Arizona who recently transplanted to the Pacific Northwest, she and her husband of over twenty years are living proof that there really is a happily ever after.


Q&A With the Author:

Q.  What is the thing you struggle with the most while writing? And how do you defeat it?

A.  Confidence is a major stumbling block. I always worry that my books aren't good enough and that my latest manuscript--whatever it is--is the most ridiculous, worthless drivel that has ever had the misfortune of being put on a page. I usually overcome it by talking to a critique partner. Reading fan mail sure helps, too.

Q.   What kind of music do you listen to while you write?

A.   I like either classical music or new age--nothing with lyrics or a drum beat. There's a Pandora station called Regency Classical that I like to listen to while I write those first few chapters. It help me create that believable Regency feel.

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"Determined to help her father with his political career, Jocelyn sets aside dreams of love. When she meets the handsome and mysterious Grant Amesbury, her dreams reawaken. But his secrets put her family in peril.                                                 Grant goes undercover to capture conspirators avowed to murder the prime minister, but his only suspect is the father of a courageous lady who is growing increasingly hard to ignore. He can’t allow Jocelyn to distract him from the case, nor will he taint her with his war-darkened soul. She seems to see past the barriers surrounding his heart, which makes her all the more dangerous to his vow of remaining forever alone. Jocelyn will do anything to clear her father’s name, even if that means working with Grant. Time is running out. The future of England hangs in the balance...and so does their love."

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Snippet:

She glanced back at the doorway. He had arrived. With hair as dark as a starless night, a tall figure clad almost entirely in black strode toward them. Something shifted inside her and she took a step back from his presence of power. As he neared, his air of deadliness swept ahead of him like a giant clearing the path. Piercing gray eyes set in his fearsomely handsome face caught and held her gaze as he drew nearer.

She chided herself. Grant Amesbury had protected her. Why everything about him seemed so deadly tonight, she couldn’t explain, but she surely had nothing to fear from him. Firmly wearing the role of hostess, she moved to welcome him. He was dressed in beautifully tailored clothing, as fashionable as the clothes he’d worn the night he’d brought home Jonathan. His new haircut and style gave him Town polish.

“Welcome, Mr. Amesbury.” She sank into a curtsy.

He inclined his head. “You look lovely.” The words fell awkwardly from his lips as if he’d rehearsed them. She doubted he often paid compliments to anyone.

“How kind of you to say.”

He paused and focused on her. Something changed in his expression. He studied her in a way that sent heat from her face clear down to her toes. Oh heavens, if these were the kind of looks he was capable of giving, he clearly was dangerous to ladies, but not in the way she’d thought.

Her attention zeroed in on his lips, and hers tingled in response. Powerless under his stare, she wrenched her gaze from his and nervously touched her brooch as if to assure herself it remained in place, anything to restore her good sense, which had quite literally failed her for a moment.

To view our blog schedule and follow along with this tour visit our Official Event page 

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