Dream Stalker by Nancy Gardner (Audio review) with a GIVEAWAY!
Now her daughter is falsely accused of murder, and the only way to clear her
would be for Lily to enter the dreaming mind of the real killer, risking
confrontation with the deadly Dream Stalker.
Can Lily summon the courage?
Purchase Links:
Amazon | Reedsy | Goodreads | āAudible | āApple Play
Read an excerpt:
Chapter 1
Salem, MassachusettsāOctober 1, 2013
I stumbled through the early morning fog blanketing Salemās Gallows Hill, hurrying to the oak tree that my maternal grandmother, Sadie MacAskill, loved. When I was a child, sheād taught me that witches like ourselves derive energy from working with green, growing plants and trees. I could still feel our arms stretched around the oakās trunk, listening for the pulsing power within it.
āFeel Mother Earthās wisdom rising,ā sheād said.
Iād never needed wisdom more. The plan Iād cooked up with an old friend had gone terribly wrong. Kitty was supposed to bring my estranged daughter, Sarah, to dinner. Sarahās favorite dinner, creamy chicken pesto and pasta, was baking in the oven when I got the call.
āKitty hasnāt come home, and Iām not ready to see you without her. I may never be ready,ā Sarah said, her voice cold and unforgiving. She hung up before I could reply.
When I called her back, she refused to answer. If my husband, Sam, had still been alive, heād have known what to do. But heād died two years ago.
It was long after midnight when I threw the cold casserole down the disposal and crawled into bed. When sleep proved impossible, I paced the empty rooms of our Chestnut Street home until dawn, then grabbed the nearly empty bottle of homemade dandelion brandy as an offering to Nanaās spirit and rode my Vespa to the park atop Gallows Hill.
Exhausted and headachy, I forgot to watch my step and tripped over a rock. I managed not to fall, but the bottle flew out of my hand. I watched it shatter, watched the last golden dregs seep into the grass. I felt like I was watching my relationship with my daughter ebb with it.
As I dropped shards of glass into the nearby trash can, the wind seemed to whisper that I didnāt deserve to find the wisdom I needed. Iād failed Nana, and Iād failed my daughter.
āEnough self-pity.ā I pulled my leather jacket tighter and scurried past the crumbling pavilion and rusting flagpole to the ancient oak. Once again, I pressed my cheek to the rough bark, closed my eyes, and waited. The bark pulsed. A crow landed in the branches above me, cawing and shaking loose a shower of dead leaves. I opened my eyes, and for a moment, Nanaās face wavered before me. Then she was gone, leaving me with my questions unanswered.
My cell vibrated. Who would call me this early? Sarah? Kitty with an explanation? I checked the screen. Neither. Honey Campbell, my landlord and a good friend. She owned the building on Pickering Wharf where we both ran our businesses. Her barbershop took up the first floor. My herbal studio, Healing Thyme, sat above it.
āHi, Honey. Whatās up.ā
āThought youād want to know your friend, Kitty, came looking for you,ā Honey said in her soft Scottish brogue. āAnd bye-the-bye, she looked like shite. She stumbled off toward Moeās. You might yet find her there.ā
Two months earlier, Kitty had stopped me on the street. Iād taken her for a panhandler and almost turned her away. Then she said, āLily, donāt you remember me? My parents took us to New York to see West Side Story. We had the best time.ā
Weād shared a cup of coffee and Kitty shared her story. Sheād been a high school biology teacher until sheād been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimerās. The disease had taken everything from her: her teaching career, her home, her reason for living. Sheād ended up lost on the streets.
Things had taken a turn for the better for Kitty when she found a permanent bed at St. Bridgetās Homeless Shelter and, because of the doctor who volunteered his services there, Kittyās memory was making a remarkable improvement.
āThanks, Honey. Iām on my way.ā I dashed back to the Vespa, strapped on my helmet, and started the engine. Usually, the thrum of the engine beneath me and the slapping rhythm of my braid tapping against my back soothed me. Not this morning. I pressed the throttle and hurried to Pickering Wharf, determined to find out what had gone wrong last night.
***
Excerpt from Dream Stalker by Nancy Gardner. Copyright 2021 by Nancy Gardner. Reproduced with permission from Nancy Gardner. All rights reserved.
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GIVEAWAY:
This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Nancy Gardner. There will be TWO (2) winners for this tour. Each of the Two (2) winners will receive a $10 Amazon.com gift card (US, UK, & Canada residents). Plus, BONUS! Winners that reside in the US will also receive a physical copy of Dream Stalker by Nancy Gardner. The giveaway runs November 1 through December 5 2021. Void where prohibited.
Thanks so much for your thoughts! I think this is a book I'd really enjoy. It's so intriguing!!
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