Silver Spider - A Paranormal Murder Mystery Romance - Fantasy - LGBTQ+ #PNR #ParanormalRomance #MurderMystery #Fantasy #LGBTQ+

Lena Austin is here to tell us about Silver Spider, a paranormal murder mystery romance - fantasy and LGBTQ+.

Read on for details...

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A Paranormal Murder Mystery Romance

Fantasy / Romance / LGBTQ+

Date Published: June 5, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

The secretive Duke of Aberystwyth has invited Madge Majesty to a murder mystery party, but he's the first victim!

Madge is a harpy, mystery writer, and amateur sleuth with a nose for murder. At her side is her faithful chauffeur, Hayden, who is a telekinetic ex-thief -- and a confirmed bachelor.

Now it's up to Madge to solve the whodunit. Her suspects are a motley assortment of inverts and very nervous heterosexuals, all of whom have more than just their sexual foibles to hide. Is it the cross-dressing vampire, the packless werewolf, the voyeuristic doctor, the gargoyle majordomo, or the promiscuous man who seems bent on getting everyone into his bed, including Hayden?

Excerpt

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2026 Lena Austin

"Madame?"

Madge Majesty looked up from her study of the papers spread on her lap and across the seat of her beloved 1912 Rolls Royce Silver Ghost Limousine. "Yes, Hayden?"

"Madame, Dunraven Castle is but perhaps half an hour away. You requested a warning." Hayden had lasted years longer than any of her other drivers, so he knew he was liked, but wasn't fool enough to take advantage of that knowledge. Harpies were not creatures to take lightly.

"Hmm. So I did." She gathered up her papers and stuffed them into her leather case. Wearily, she pulled on the gloves she'd laid to the side and put on the ridiculously large hat with an immense array of feathers decorating it. "There. I'm properly adorned." She huffed out an unladylike breath, as much as her corset would allow. "I'd give a great deal to be back in Greece where the fashions were sensible."

Hayden quirked a smile at her. "But not warm, Madame. Wales in winter is considerably chillier." As if to emphasize his point, the wind rattled the Rolls with no respect for the craftsmanship that went into it.

"I'm very sorry I agreed to be the Duke's hostess for this mystery party. Why didn't I refuse and stay in our lovely townhouse in London, where I could enjoy a party or write as I pleased?" Madge rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Ah, well, what's done is done. We'll make the best of the weekend and be toasting our toes in front of the home fires soon enough."

"I've never been to a mystery party, Madame. How does one throw a party for a mystery?"

"Very simple. It's all in this box." Madge patted the locked strongbox beside her. "There are clue cards and the basic plot for me to follow. This one is perfect for a winter game, called The Santa Clause. Who wouldn't love to murder a solicitor or two now and again?" She shrugged. "I certainly would, upon occasion."

Hayden retreated into silence and returned his attention to maneuvering her precious new car through the few treacherous roads that Wales bothered to have at all. The ex-thief was not fond of anyone who had anything to do with the law. He was officially rehabilitated, but a mere ten years of service as her driver didn't negate a lifetime of running from authority. An extremely careful and quiet man by nature, he was -- in Madge's opinion -- the perfect companion, much better than a twittering peahen of a lady's maid.

The car lurched and slid to one side on a patch of icy mud, throwing Madge against the door. She bore it in stoic silence. Hayden wouldn't understand how much they needed the money provided by this weekend of enforced merriment. Everyone was writing books in this day and age, and she wouldn't say the money she earned was paltry, but it certainly didn't allow for a lavish lifestyle. In fact, if the truth were known, Hayden was the only employee she could afford. Thus, while on their jaunts -- often paid by those who wished for a bit of fame and glamour to rub off on them -- Hayden served as chef, chauffeur, lady's maid, and man of all work.

Since it suited her to be knowledgeable about subjects many men hadn't even the stomach for, Madge pulled out of her case one of the few books where the great Sigmund Freud appeared to change his mind on the subject of anxiety and inhibitions. Madge grinned to herself. She did love humor, especially when humans meant to be serious. "Of course we all have inhibitions, moronic little man."

Her mumble caught Hayden's attention. "Why do you bother with that mumbo-jumbo, Madame? He thinks everything has to do with sexual congress!"

"Hmm, yes, well, he does have certain prejudices, doesn't he? I'm not aberrant because I enjoy sex, and I seriously doubt the way your mother changed your nappies has anything to do with your homosexuality. Do be forgiving, dear. He's hopelessly addicted to cocaine, and trapped in a repressed society."

Sadly, everything she said was true. "You'd know more about repressed societies than I, Madame. I'm only a poor human, after all." Hayden gave her one of his infamous Mona Lisa smiles -- a smile that showed no teeth but implied much more than mischief while keeping well into propriety. Bless him, he never stepped a toe out of line publicly, unless called upon to do so.

Madge, on the other hand, had no compunctions about showing her fangs, even when she covered her retractable dagger-like talons with silk gloves. The pointed ears peeking out of dark curls and her Grecian looks marked her as a foreigner in a land notable for its snobbery, but Madge saw no need to bother hiding herself. Well, all right, she hid the wings. Blasted things got in the way if she didn't, but that was for her convenience and not propriety. She was what she was -- an expatriate harpy who told a good story and occasionally found cause to use her bloodthirsty nature to solve a mystery.

The irony was, no one ever thought to accuse her of the murders because harpies weren't known for subtlety when it came to killing. Madge acknowledged the legend with twisted lips, and didn't bother to remind anyone that she was free and no longer the slave of the Furies.

Framed by snow clouds the color of a pigeon's breast, Dunraven Castle hove up from the surrounding hills like a fairytale. Beautifully situated and scrupulously maintained by a trust none of the Duke's wastrel ancestors could touch, it was a welcoming sight in the gathering gloom of dusk. Thanks to the road conditions, if you dared call the deeply rutted mud tracks by the same noble word the Romans used for their craftsmanship, they were hours late. They'd missed tea in their haste to make up time, and now her stomach rumbled audibly. "Have we time for a biscuit, Hayden?"

"Was that your stomach, Madame? Surely I thought we were about to have a storm." Hayden pretended to study the sky very seriously. At the same time, his hand reached back imploringly. "I'd love a bikky, thank you. No doubt I've missed the servant's dinner, and I've no mind to make do with a bit of cold chicken and some bread until morning."

Chuckling wickedly because he knew she always insisted he sit with her at table, forestalling any foolish matchmaking attempts, Madge handed him a large shortbread biscuit from her hamper, and they munched companionably. Finally, the car traversed the bridge atop the dry moat and passed through the portcullis into the courtyard of Dunraven.

"Just do me one small favor, Madame?" Hayden did not move from the seat to open her door.

"So serious! Very well, what is it?" She thought she knew, but made him ask.

"Let's try not to let this weekend become a real murder mystery?" His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and she imagined under the proper driving gloves of his profession, his knuckles were white. Poor thing, he really had suffered at the last mysterious weekend, and had ended up incarcerated for three days until Madge had proven to everyone's satisfaction that another had committed the deed. For poor Hayden, it had been a truly miserable occasion.

Madge patted his shoulder. "Buck up, Hayden. I'm planning nothing more than a game all weekend. After all, what could happen in the Duke's presence?"

 

About the Author

Someone cursed Lena Austin with "may you have a life so full you'll have many tales to tell your grandchildren." Lena's a "fallen" society wench with a checkered past. She's been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba -- she's got a lifetime of "Research material!"

Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won't listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something?

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

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

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Mean Cuisine - Supernatural Murder Mystery - and a Giveaway #Mystery #MurderMystery #Supernatural #SupernaturalMurderMystery #Giveaway

Wendy W Webb is here to tell us about her supernatural murder mystery Mean Cuisine.

There's also a great giveaway.

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Wendy will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Beluga Stein is taking a cooking class and it's a real killer. This time she's traded her signature loud muumuus for ill-fitting chef attire, including a toque the size of her ego.

A well-liked chef is found dead and it's up to Beluga and her feline familiar, Planchette, to investigate. There's no recipe to follow, only the hope that her erratic psychic ability will hit the spot. Is a supernatural entity stirring up trouble, or something far more dangerous?

Beluga and Planchette can't stand the heat, but there's no way out of this kitchen while murder is the main dish.

Read an Excerpt

Beluga Stein’s Diary

The evil smell lingers.

Even with all the windows in the house open, the doors cracked a notch, the attic fan going full blast, and Planchette’s tail fanning his face like he was Egyptian royalty preparing for personal delivery of a peeled grape, the odor of exploded eggs clings to everything like a sock stuck to the back of a shirt by static cling.

Alas, there is no magic laundry cloth to separate one thing from another. So for now I’ll have to live with sulfuric fumes and pretend I like them. Or at least pretend they weren’t there even after the water long since boiled out of the pot and left the eggs all alone. My choices are severely limited.

Not that I didn’t consider Tanya’s suggestion to move into a hotel room for the night. I did. Briefly. But my reputation in this small town precedes me, so the various housing entrepreneurs said. In rather unkind tones, I should add.

So what if my reservation for three included a surly goat, a cat with an attitude, and myself? Emerson, while a gifted goat in many ways, has not yet mastered opening a mini bar. Planchette has little interest in watching expensive in-room movies unless there’s a female cat in the leading role, and I’ve been housebroken for months now. So why not take us for the night?

Honestly, people can be so rigid.

To: Food-Co

From: Culinary Program

Re: Weekly Purchase Order

—Wheat flour, 100 lbs.

—All purpose flour, 100 lbs.

—Sugar, 50 lbs.

—Butter, 50 lbs.

—Eggs, 4 cases

—Body bag, 1

About the Author:

Wendy W Webb (aka one of the many Wendy Webbs) has published dark fantasy short stories and novels, co-edited anthologies, and has had productions of stage and radio plays. After a hiatus as a doctoral student of emergency management and as a disaster responder, she welcomed the return to fiction with The Wild Rose Press writing the gothic Widow’s Walk, and two updated books in the Beluga Stein supernatural-humor-murder mystery series, Bee Movie and Mean Cuisine. Sunbury Press under the Milford House imprint published the paranormal, travel, “memoir,” Eye of the Gargoyle. She adores her husband; two dogs, one of which turns on iTunes whenever Wendy leaves her office; dry red wine; theatre; and travel as long as she doesn’t see anymore ghosts!

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mean-cuisine-wendy-w-webb/1007879485

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Mean-Cuisine-Beluga-Stein-Mystery/dp/1509259279

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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You Can Leave Your Hat On - Cozy Mystery-Murder Mystery #Mystery #CozyMystery #MurderMystery

Deanndra Hall is here to tell us about her cozy murder mystery You Can Leave Your Hat On.

Read on for details...

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Title: You Can Leave Your Hat on Author: Deanndra Hall Genre:  Cozy Mystery/Murder Mystery Release Date: February 17, 2025 Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

Another vision. Another crime. And the millions behind it.

Reluctant and (unfortunately) well-known psychic Maisey Friedman is in dire need of a break—a little rest and relaxation. Going on a girls' trips for the weekend will help her decompress and forget all the turmoil she's been embroiled in. After all, fancy dresses, Derby hats, and mint juleps with her friends can cure the blues.

But when she mistakenly places the wrong flowy hat on her head, Maisey regrets all of her weekend frivolity. Seeing a middle school teacher being thrown from a bridge to her death catapults Maisey and her husband, Aaron, into yet another murder investigation. This time, the key players just might be a little too powerful for Maisey and Aaron. A well-connected and corrupt murderer is one enemy the Friedmans don't want to tangle with. Can they find justice for the innocent teacher before time runs out?

AMAZON 

The next instant, she was lying on the pavement, staring up at the sky, with Cherilyn on one side of her and Carly on the other. “Maisey? Maisey! Are you okay? Hey, Maisey, honey, are you all right?” Carly was yelling, as though Maisey were deaf.

“You don’t have to scream. I can hear you,” Maisey whispered, groggy. She lay there for a minute before she managed to say, “Oh, no.”

“Oh no what? Are you sick and didn’t tell us?” Cherilyn barked.

“No. It’s happening again.” How, she wasn’t sure, but it was.

“What’s happening?” Carly asked.

“I saw … somebody. And something. But I don’t understand. I bought this hat new. It shouldn’t …” When she’d struggled to sitting, she picked up the hat, and her heart fell into her shoes. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Cherilyn demanded.

“This isn’t my hat. I picked up somebody else’s hat. It’s not mine. See? It’s got a really, really narrow ribbon for a band. Mine had a wide grosgrain ribbon. Shit, shit, shit. This is somebody else’s hat, and somebody died while they were wearing it.”

Carly planted her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I were.” Maisey struggled to stand, so Cherilyn and Carly helped her.

Deanndra Hall is a working author living in the far western end of the beautiful Bluegrass State with her husband of over 35 years and small menagerie of weird little dogs. When she’s not writing, she’s editing. When she’s doing neither of those two things, she’s having dinner with friends, spending time with family, kayaking, eating chocolate, drinking beer or moonshine, or looking for something that she put in the wrong place and can’t seem to find (which is pretty much everything she owns).

Amazon | BookBub

Thanks so much for reading today's post. Hope you enjoyed it!

Follow me on Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tina-donahue

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You Can Leave Your Hat On - Cozy Mystery-Murder Mystery #Mystery #CozyMystery #MurderMystery

Deanndra Hall is here to tell us about her cozy murder mystery You Can Leave Your Hat On.

Read on for details...

____________________

 

 

Title: You Can Leave Your Hat on Author: Deanndra Hall Genre:  Cozy Mystery/Murder Mystery Release Date: February 17, 2025 Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

Another vision. Another crime. And the millions behind it.

Reluctant and (unfortunately) well-known psychic Maisey Friedman is in dire need of a break—a little rest and relaxation. Going on a girls' trips for the weekend will help her decompress and forget all the turmoil she's been embroiled in. After all, fancy dresses, Derby hats, and mint juleps with her friends can cure the blues.

But when she mistakenly places the wrong flowy hat on her head, Maisey regrets all of her weekend frivolity. Seeing a middle school teacher being thrown from a bridge to her death catapults Maisey and her husband, Aaron, into yet another murder investigation. This time, the key players just might be a little too powerful for Maisey and Aaron. A well-connected and corrupt murderer is one enemy the Friedmans don't want to tangle with. Can they find justice for the innocent teacher before time runs out?

AMAZON 

The next instant, she was lying on the pavement, staring up at the sky, with Cherilyn on one side of her and Carly on the other. “Maisey? Maisey! Are you okay? Hey, Maisey, honey, are you all right?” Carly was yelling, as though Maisey were deaf.

“You don’t have to scream. I can hear you,” Maisey whispered, groggy. She lay there for a minute before she managed to say, “Oh, no.”

“Oh no what? Are you sick and didn’t tell us?” Cherilyn barked.

“No. It’s happening again.” How, she wasn’t sure, but it was.

“What’s happening?” Carly asked.

“I saw … somebody. And something. But I don’t understand. I bought this hat new. It shouldn’t …” When she’d struggled to sitting, she picked up the hat, and her heart fell into her shoes. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Cherilyn demanded.

“This isn’t my hat. I picked up somebody else’s hat. It’s not mine. See? It’s got a really, really narrow ribbon for a band. Mine had a wide grosgrain ribbon. Shit, shit, shit. This is somebody else’s hat, and somebody died while they were wearing it.”

Carly planted her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I were.” Maisey struggled to stand, so Cherilyn and Carly helped her.

Deanndra Hall is a working author living in the far western end of the beautiful Bluegrass State with her husband of over 35 years and small menagerie of weird little dogs. When she’s not writing, she’s editing. When she’s doing neither of those two things, she’s having dinner with friends, spending time with family, kayaking, eating chocolate, drinking beer or moonshine, or looking for something that she put in the wrong place and can’t seem to find (which is pretty much everything she owns).

Amazon | BookBub

Thanks so much for reading today's post. Hope you enjoyed it!

Follow me on Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tina-donahue

Please feel free to share the post via FB, Bluesky, Linked In, and more...share buttons at the bottom of this post :)

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