She has published eleven romantic suspense novels,
and has two more in utero. She tells us she is the mother of two fabulous grown children and an
incredible granddaughter. She divides her time between the Gulf Coast of
Florida and a tiny village in Maine. So, take it away, M. S.! Tell us about your newest book, The Pit and the Passion.
Thanks so much,
Rebecca, for letting me talk to your readers about my new cozy murder mystery
romance. The Pit and the Passion: Murder at the Ghost
Hotel, takes place on the
spot where John Ringling began building a luxurious hotel in the 1920s:
Left to slowly disintegrate over the decades, it inevitably came to be called the Ghost Hotel. And what do you find at a ghost hotel? Anyone?
Left to slowly disintegrate over the decades, it inevitably came to be called the Ghost Hotel. And what do you find at a ghost hotel? Anyone?
At midnight, in the darkness of
a deserted hotel, comes a scream and a splash. Eighty-five years later, workmen
uncover a skeleton in an old elevator shaft. Who is it, and how did it get
there? To find out, Charity Snow, ace reporter for the Longboat Key Planet,
teams up with Rancor Bass, best-selling author. A college ring they find at the
dig site may prove to be their best clue.
Although his
arrogance nearly exceeds his talent, Charity soon discovers a warm heart
beating under Rancor’s handsome exterior. While dealing with a drop-dead
gorgeous editor who may or may not be a villain, a publisher with a dark
secret, and an irascible forensic specialist, Charity and Rancor unearth an
unexpected link to the most famous circus family in the world.
The
Pit and the Passion: Murder at the Ghost Hotel opens when Charity Snow, ace reporter for the Longboat Key Planet meets
Rancor Bass. He is preparing a compendium of ghost stories of the gulf Coast
and she is tasked with helping him. Together they interview George the
publisher, asking for all the ghost stories of the Gulf Coast he knew. The one
ghost story he hadn’t heard involved a small child who haunted a restaurant on
Longboat Key. When they go to interview the restaurant staff, they uncover a
hitherto unknown mystery.
Here's an excerpt:
Here's an excerpt:
“I
said, you’re wrong. There has been a
sighting there.”
“In
the Ghost Hotel?”
“N…no. Not exactly.” He seemed reluctant to admit it. “In the
Chart House. It’s built on the site of Ringling’s Ritz-Carlton, isn’t it?”
George put down his cup. “I can’t believe it. I thought
between me and my father we’d heard of every event here on the key.”
Charity leaned forward. “What else do you know about it?”
Rancor looked past her to George. “Got the skinny from the
bartender. It’s a little boy, about seven years old. Kid shows up in the men’s
room fairly regularly. Plays with a toy or just sits there.”
“But
who is he?”
Bass
heaved a sigh, as though her questions were too, too exhausting. “Should make
you wait for the book.”
“Oh,
really?”
After
a tense pause, he grunted, “Waiters call him Tommy T. Consensus is that he was
the son of a carpenter working at the hotel. Fell down an elevator shaft.”
“When?”
“How
do I know? Isn’t that your job? To research and authenticate these stories. I
just happened to hear about it at happy hour.”
Charity
couldn’t help herself. “And what exactly is your
job then?”
“To
put the crap you draft into proper English. I’m assuming you’re incapable of
decent prose, being a reporter and
all.”
She
rose an inch, but George put a hand on her knee. “Easy now.” He gave Bass a
warning look. “Charity is here to help you, yes. However, you are perfectly
free to contribute to the research, provided you have at least two sources for
every item. The way a professional journalist would.”
“Yeah,
yeah. So, what’s next?”
Charity
reflected that she had never disliked a person quite so thoroughly—not even
that first boss who loved to put her down in front of the staff—but she
understood that George’s reference to professionalism extended not just to Bass
but to her. “I want to interview the Chart House staff.”
“I’ll
go with you.”
She
kept her eyes on George. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Bass.”
“Well,
I want to.” He rose and dusted something minuscule from his faded jeans. “I
need a drink. And besides, I can worm more information out of the waitresses
than you can.”
Hateful. Absolutely, positively hateful.
Before
she could come up with a crushing retort, George broke in. “Yes, take him
along, Charity. We’d better get the story quickly—I don’t know when they’re
planning to start demolition.”
Charity
retrieved her cell phone and purse and led the way to her car. Bass regarded it
with dismay. “Are you nuts? I can’t fit in a Mini Cooper.”
She
looked him up and down. “What are you, six one?”
“And
a half.”
Such a child. “You’ll fit.” She got in
and started the engine. After a minute, his feet appeared, then his torso, and
finally his head. He threw his jacket in the back and settled on the seat, his
knees just grazing his nose.
“At
least open the window so an extraneous appendage or two can stretch out.”
“All
right.”
As
they neared the entrance to the Longboat Key Club, a siren started up behind
them. Charity pulled over to let two police cars and an ambulance go by.
They
turned into the club drive. She followed them.
“What
are you doing?”
“I
want to see where they’re going.”
“What
are you—an ambulance chaser?”
“No…a
professional journalist.”
The
ambulance made a left and headed toward the building that housed the
restaurant, but instead of pulling up to the entrance, it stopped in a corner
of the parking lot. Charity drove past and parked in another section. By the
time Rancor had unfolded himself from the seat, she had reached the first squad
car. “Hey, Pete. What’s up?”
The
police officer—a husky man of about forty with the hard, brown skin of a
fisherman—greeted her. “Oh, hi, Charity. Construction crew reported skeletal
remains.”
“Really?
In the Chart House?”
“Nope.”
He gestured at a pile of broken asphalt. “Parking lot. Backhoe started breaking
up the pavement in the southeast section and a sinkhole opened up. The foreman
found bones at the bottom. Called a halt and us.”
“Mind
if I tag along?”
“Nah.”
Two
medics were working on something in a deep pit. One of them looked up. “Hey,
Pete, I think we’re gonna need a specialist.” His face was tinged an
unattractive green.
“You
okay, Carl? What kind of specialist?”
“Forensics.”
He turned away. They heard gagging.
The
other EMT added, “And maybe one of those physical anthropologists. Or a
dentist.” He helped Carl up and they climbed out of the pit.
“How
come?”
He
laughed. “’Cause from the looks of this joker, he’s been around a looonnnng
time.”
Charity
ached to get a look at the thing but knew Pete wouldn’t let her until they’d
secured the scene. Rancor apparently felt no such compunction. He marched past
the policemen and peered into the hole. Turning to Charity, he yelled, “I think
we’ve found our ghost.”
a
Buy Links:
Wild Rose Press: https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/5533-the-pit-and-the-passion-murder-at-the-ghost-hotel.html
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-pit-and-the-passion-m-s-spencer/1127750685?ean=2940158925351
Thank you, M.S. for being my guest and introducing us The Pit and The Passion. Any comments or questions for M. S.?
Thank you, M.S. for being my guest and introducing us The Pit and The Passion. Any comments or questions for M. S.?
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