This new release sounds fabulous! See below for excerpt.

Jack the Ripper might be in town. But is marriage more terrifying?

In an alternate Deep South in 1890, society reporter Adele de la Pointe wants to make her own way in the world, despite her family’s pressure to become a society wife. Hoping to ruin herself as a matrimonial prospect, she seizes the opportunity to cover the recent Jack the Ripper-style murders for the newspaper, but her father’s dashing new intern suggests a more terrifying headline—marriage.

Dr. Phillip Rawley’s most daring exploit has been arriving at his new home in America in a hot air balloon. A tolerable sacrifice, if it means he can secure the hand of his new employer’s daughter in a marriage of convenience. But Adele works, she’s spirited, and she has an armored pet monkey running her errands. Not only does she not match his notions of a proper lady, she stirs up feelings he’d rather keep in tight control.

With Adele hunting down a headline and Dr. Rawley trying to protect and pursue her, a serial killer is spreading panic throughout Mobile, Alabama. Can Adele and Rawley find the murderer, face their fears, and discover true love?

Amazon: http://bit.ly/SMURAmz

Nook: http://bit.ly/SMURBN

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1pcvD23
Steam Me Up, Rawley board on Pinterest: http://bit.ly/10xPdRA

Official Book Page: http://bit.ly/SMURBook

Excerpt:

Opening

April 8, 1890, Mobile, Alabama

Second Age of Pax Lincolnia

At nineteen years, Miss Adele de la Pointe hadn’t yet figured out everything, but three things she did know. She never wanted to marry, these society parties were an utter bore, and her pet monkey was about as genteel as a roly-poly at a butterfly tea party.

“Put that down.” Adele snatched a doily from Loki’s hairy fist and looked around the sunlit grounds.

Be-ribboned and be-bustled ladies sauntered between tables covered in crisp white linen and half the available lace on the Gulf Coast, but none looked her way.

Whew. No apparent witnesses to Loki’s shenanigans.

She smoothed the doily onto the lawn table, only a tad wrinkled from her monkey’s antics. Antics she must quell were she to survive this affair.

“Loki, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t pull another stunt.”

Her capuchin monkey nuzzled her cheek, and the chinstrap of his oyster-shell helmet chafed her ear.

“Behave,” she whispered. “I can’t lose you, too.”

Every time someone hinted that she should trade in her childhood shoulder pet for the more refined parakeet, her heart lurched, in an if-you-do-I’m-staying-with-Loki warning. Having such a mentally enhanced pet did pose a risk if she didn’t keep him occupied, however.

She wended her way through the ladies, alert for details to immortalize yet another society gathering for the local newspaper. But the subtle snubs and dismissive glances and behind-the-fan whispers followed in her wake.

These same ladies would later scurry over and curry favor, showing off their latest hat or implant or dress. Adele pulled in a deep breath. Chin up.

All right, so society reporter might not be her ideal profession, but it certainly beat the path these ladies valued–landing a wealthy husband. She rubbed the four tattoos vertically aligned on her neck, each denoting her grandparents’ families. These would admit her to such a party without her official role, but the expectation inherent in its ink felt like an itchy reminder. She edged around a table and spotted the hostess simpering at the mayor’s wife. Adele tapped her pen against her lip. Continue reading →