Saturday, June 15, 2019

There are some big changes coming in Burberry!

Available for preorder - Book 4 of the Lost Souls ParaAgency series.

Sweet Romance. Spooky Mystery. Cozy Good Times.

Welcome to the Lost Souls ParaAgency, where agents work together to ensure the safety of humans and to prevent exposure of the paranormal community.

The Assignment—distract Ally Walker so she doesn't notice all the paranormal changes happening in the small town of Burberry. What better distraction than a mysterious bag of bones.

Sidney and Ally are back in their second mystery adventure and this time they have a cold case to solve.

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Murder and a Texas Brisket

Hey y'all! Let's take a step off of the paranormal cozy train for a minute and follow my non-witch characters, Beanie and Marlin, from Macon, Georgia to Picante, Texas. 

Judging a Texas BBQ competition can be deadly. Read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Beatrice O'Rourke and her eccentric friend Marlin plan a Texas getaway to attend a brisket cooking competition. They no sooner arrive when they learn that, just like the song says, everything in the Lone Star State is big and bright, including murder plots!

When one of the judges turns up dead, it's up to the southern, sassy Beatrice to find the clues and put them together. Can she do it before she and Marlin become the next item on the killer's menu?

Find out in Murder and a Texas Brisket, available now!

Wednesday, January 16, 2019

Character cards. Meet Sidney and Ally.

Here are my inspirations for Sidney and Ally. 

Don't forget to pick up your copy of Lost Souls ParaAgency and the Illusion of a Vampire or borrow from the Kindle Unlimited program.

Friday, January 4, 2019

Do you want to be a Reader of the Month?

Hey, hey happy readers! 

Each month I'll choose one awesome reader to highlight in my newsletter, on Facebook, and to gift a signed paperback. All you have to do is be a subscriber and answer the monthly question.

The question this month is "What is the best book you read in 2018?" 

I'm looking for some awesome book recommendations. 

If you missed this month's newsletter, then send me the answer to but make sure you also subscribe to the newsletter here:

btw - Lost Souls ParaAgency and the Illusion of a Vampire released today. The sale price of .99 will be around for just a week, so make sure to grab your copy today!

Thursday, December 20, 2018

Lost Souls ParaAgency and the Illusion of a Vampire

Hey, hey Happy Readers! LSP 3 is available for preorder now for the special price of 99 cents. We are jumping into Ally's point of view and it's interesting to see how this middle Walker girl just wants her life to stay uncomplicated. Well, the LSP sends in a vampire who's about to complicate it whether she likes it or not.

Read chapter one now and meet Sidney:

Chapter One–The Assignment

A witch needs safety
You shall provide
Go to Burberry
And there you’ll hide

Sidney Cross lazed in the chair across from the Lost Souls ParaAgency’s head honcho and flicked the end of the toothpick clenched between his teeth. He mulled over the assignment Sparsh had read out loud twice—as if vampires needed it read twice—and pulled the piece of timber from his mouth. “That’s not a predictive rhyme from the Council’s seers, is it?”
Sparsh’s hands fluttered into his lap. The piece of parchment didn’t poof into a colorful pile of confetti, which sealed Sidney’s theory into fact. The Council on Crimes Against Humans liked theatrics such as poofs. The lackluster display didn’t fit their style.
Sidney straightened. Sparsh didn’t fluster easy. Finally, something interesting. Wait. He didn’t care about interesting. He cared about making it through the last few weeks of probation to his freedom.
“The agency may need to work outside the confines of the Council for the foreseeable future. Is that a problem for you, Mr. Cross?” Sparsh asked.
Hips on a walrus, that’s not a problem.” Sidney cringed as the words left his mouth. Hips on a walrus? When would Sparsh remove the stupid spell that wouldn’t allow Sidney to say a single curse word? How he missed those colorful expressions. He’d learned so many in the past one hundred and some odd years. Yet, one stupid F-bomb in front of Sparsh’s wife, Tippie, ten years ago and he’d been relieved of his ability to swear like a New York cabbie with a broken air conditioner during a heat wave. The words wouldn’t even manifest as thoughts. Freckled yaks, Sparsh.
The edges of Sparsh’s lips curved into what could almost pass as a smile. Unwilling to allow the man who wore the most ridiculous neckties get the one up, Sidney relaxed into the well-worn leather chair. It smelled of human, weres, and a whole host of paranormals combined. In the early days after he’d been turned, the combination would’ve forced his fangs to pop out. Now rarely anything got his paranormal side excited.
“What’s in it for me?” Not that it mattered, but he didn’t want to go along too easily.
Sparsh opened the top drawer of his desk and removed a black box. Fuzzy ones like that usually held jewelry. “First, we’ll remove the Council’s magical tracking tattoo on your arm. Second, on this particular assignment, you will wear an agency amulet to restore the majority of your powers and allow you to daywalk.”
Sidney’s fingers twitched. Not since the Council had stripped him of his powers and imprisoned him in the early 1900s had he been allowed to daywalk. He leaned forward and ran his index finger across the velvety top of the box. “Not that I’d turn down a chance to stroll on a sidewalk during the day for a change, but aren’t the Burberry Witches Lex’s problem?”
Everyone had heard the rumors about the powerful trio of witches and their even more powerful aunts hiding out in the small town in South Carolina. Calex Dimas, known as Lex by most of those working for and in the LSP, had been sent on assignment a month or so ago to stop a witch from exposing herself and other witches to the mortal world. Somehow that had ended with Lex dating a witch and taking her on as a partner.
“He’s busy.” The dramatic pause that followed meant no chance of an explanation. Sparsh adjusted the knot on his tie. Bright yellow rubber duckies decorated today’s horror. “And it’s only the one Walker witch. Two of the sisters are leaving town with their aunts, and the one left behind needs a watcher. While the Council hasn’t sent an assignment, our own seers have predicted that she’s not as safe as we’d like her to be. I’ll handle any Council issues while you focus on the assignment.”
“And there’s no catch?” When had that ever been the case? He lifted the top of the jewelry box and stared at the leather thong and platinum Celtic knot charm with a small amber gem in the middle.
“Keep both eyes on the witch and don’t let her know you’re there. Simple. If she is in any danger that you can surmise, contact us immediately and I’ll step in.” He leveled his sharp gaze on Sidney. “Don’t get involved on any level other than watching or you’ll deal with me directly.”
No doubt he’d end up with another thrilling curse. Ugh, like being forced to wear ridiculous ties. Was Sparsh forced to wear them by his wife, Tippie? He didn’t think the agency grump wore them willingly.
Anyway, not getting involved sounded effortless enough. He shut the small case with a snap. “I accept.”
Sparsh pushed a file folder across the desk. “Everything you need to know about the Walker sisters is in this dossier.”
He lifted the thick file. Judging by the weight, the witches were either really bad or really good. Either way, he’d dump it the first chance he got. Studying wasn’t his thing. Clipped on the outside was a 3x5 photograph of a smiling blonde woman with intelligent blue eyes. His assignment. Not bad if one liked witches or contemplated getting involved even when they’d expressly been forbidden. “Anything else?”
“Tippie has your details packet with transportation and expense money.” Sparsh raised a heavy eyebrow. “Remember, observe and report anything out of the ordinary. There is no reason to engage with Ms. Walker unless she is in immediate danger.”
He tapped the photo. “Is she in danger?”
Sparsh opened his mouth to answer but his phone trilled and he refocused his attention.
Tippie appeared at the door, shimmering from top to bottom with her silver hair and matching pantsuit. “Mr. Cross. If you’ll follow me?”
The witch wouldn’t be in danger or they’d send a real agent or at least one allowed to act. Sidney pushed his large frame out of the chair and joined Tippie at her station outside of Sparsh’s office. He couldn’t resist her siren call. Literally. She handed him a white envelope.
He sifted through the contents and groaned. “The flick-flack bus? Really?”
“It’s not a punishment, Mr. Cross. It’s part of your cover.” Her smile said differently.
He opened a folded piece of paper. “What’s this?”
“The list of the powers you’ll regain once you put on the Agency amulet.”
He read the list and pointed to the fifth line item. “I can’t glamour but I’ll have my bloodlust. That’s probably not the smartest thing to give back.”
“There are some things that even the amulet can’t control. You’ll have to do that on your own.” The lines around her eyes softened and she sighed. “You’re almost finished with your probation, Sidney. Then you’ll have to control the bloodlust on your own anyway or you’ll go right back to prison. Or worse.”
In this case, the worse didn’t mean a stake in the heart. The Council on Crimes Against Humans would permanently defang him and he’d return to his human form. And the disease he’d outrun for years would also return, allowing him to deteriorate and die in agony. So yes, some punishments were worse than a quick death. Plus, being a vampire suited his style of keeping to shadows and avoiding contact with the rest of the world if at all possible. He could do that for a hundred more years.
He skimmed the rest of the list. Super strength and speed—yes. Ability to shift to mist and glamour—no. Glamour always came in handy to erase minds or persuade a person to do his bidding. But whatever. He didn’t need those powers for a simple observe and report job anyway. The next slip of paper gave a detailed description of his cover. Work-for-hire vagrant passing through town looking for odd jobs. At least he wouldn’t have to change clothes. He rifled through the stack of hundreds, somewhat relieved they didn’t expect him to sleep on the ground.
“There’s a car waiting outside to take you to the bus station.” Tippie turned her attention to her laptop. “Inside is a duffel bag with enough synthetic blood to see you through a week’s time. There’s also a cell phone to call me if you need more.”
Dismissed, he put the amulet around his neck and tucked it under his t-shirt. At the door to the exit he hesitated. Used to only roaming at night and staying in the LSP’s underground training and living quarters during the day, the stark fear of melting in the sunlight smacked against his chest. He pushed the door open and stuck his hand into the light. Warmth grabbed his icy skin and when he didn’t disintegrate into a pile of ashes, relief flooded him. His skin continued to warm.
When he’d been given the choice to become immortal in exchange for giving up something as taken for granted as the sunlight, he hadn’t realized how much he’d miss it. He flexed his arms and with a sting, the Council’s tracking tattoo written in Latin disappeared from his bicep. Double Awesome. The freedom exhilarated him.
A town car with tinted windows pulled to the front drive. A woman in a dark suit with equally dark skin stepped out and opened the rear passenger door. He walked past her to the front passenger door and grinned. “I don’t do back seats. I’ll sit up front with you.”
The woman huffed “vampires” under her breath and rolled her eyes toward the sky. Sidney settled into the soft leather seat and flipped open the file on the Walker witches. Since he had some time on his hands, he’d at least get a read on his assigned Walker witch.
Ally Walker, middle daughter and elementary school teacher, didn’t dabble in the magical arts like her sisters. In fact, the file mentioned in several places that Ally had zero intentions of joining the LSP like her older sister, Amira, or practicing witchcraft under the tutelage of her aunts like her younger sister, Ris.
Her interests and hobbies were listed, and if this were a dating app he’d have already swiped left to move on. Perfect. Boring witch, boring assignment, and boring small town all meant passing the time without incident. He’d ace this and win at probation.

Sidney tossed the file into the back seat and leaned his head back, allowing the sunlight to warm his face. One more month and he’d be a free vampire. Then he’d get lost in a big city somewhere and stay far away from the Council and agencies who’d ruled his life for more than a hundred years.

I hope you're ready to read more!! Happy reading ~Kizzie

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

What is a Lowchen?

In my newest cozy mystery there is a Lowchen. If you are a fan of the Hart to Hart series, then you've seen one. Here is Charlie the dog who played Freeway, a very famous Lowchen.

Photo courtesy of Pinterest but I'm sure it came from ABC, NBC, or Hallmark Studies and has made the rounds to dog lovers everywhere.

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Shared World Q&A and first chapter of Mourning Express

Hey, hey Happy Readers! 

After I sent out my last newsletter with preorder information on Mourning Express, I got a few questions in return. Mostly, what is a shared world and how does it work as a series? I hope this short Q&A helps!

Q - Your book says number three in the series and I usually start from book 1, but you say we can read this series in any order. How is this series different?

A - Most cozy mystery series are written by one author and feature one main sleuth. In a shared world, each book in the series is written by a different author with a different sleuth.

Q - How are they connected if they are all different?

A - The shared world has a few fixed connections. Like with The Funeral Fakers, each sleuth works for a company called Exit Stage Left out of Asheville, NC. Also, each sleuth is a former or failed actress who chooses to use their talents to professionally mourn. They each receive an assignment from their boss, Ruthie Colburn, and from there stumble into a mystery.

Q - So, I don't have to start with book 1?

A - Nope. You can start with book 6 and work backwards. But I definitely recommend starting with book 1, Mourning Routine, since it debuts November 2nd. Unless you've preordered the entire bundle from Sweet Promise Press, you'll have to wait for each book to release on a Friday throughout November and December.

Q - Why should I buy the preorder bundle instead of preording them separately on Amazon?

A - Once the first book debuts this coming Friday, The Funeral Fakers series will only be available from Amazon and in the Kindle Unlimited program. Buying directly from Sweet Promise Press means you can get all the books on November 2nd in a bundle in the format of your choosing. Also, there's a discount to buying direct from Sweet Promise Press. You'll save $10 off of the total purchase price of all six books. That's like getting two books free!! [click here to preorder the bundle today!]

Still not sure if The Funeral Fakers series is right for you? Here's a sample first chapter of Mourning Express that I hope will help make your reading decision easier.

Happy Reading! ~K.M. Waller

Chapter One

Gabriel Medina, special effects makeup artist extraordinaire and my best friend, dabbed goo on my cheek that looked like a mixture between snot and pus. A frown formed between his eyes—one I’d seen at least a hundred times. He regarded the work on my face with a professional eye squint, brushing something oozy near my nose. “Let’s run your lines again.”
A drop of the sludge landed on my bottom lip, and I prayed it wouldn’t work its way into my mouth or I’d be on the way to gag-city. “It’s ‘arrggh’ and ‘ugggh.’ I think I can handle it, Gabe.”
“No sarcasm, Rosie. And don’t forget to drag your left leg. The left, got it? The director is a little high-strung and very particular about zombie limp.” He glanced around the makeup trailer where the other zombie extras were getting final checks for their hair. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “And try to change your voice just a little.”
“There’s no way anyone will recognize me in all this zombie goop.” I glanced in the mirror. The makeup looked as if half my face had been eaten away. It reminded me of the quick and messy decay of my acting career. If only Grammy could see me now. I’d also colored my blonde locks a deep golden brown, gained twenty pounds, and used my legal last name again instead of the stage one my former agent insisted upon. The only people who recognized me now had known me as both the freckle-faced gangly teen from Asheville, North Carolina and the actress I’d become in my mid-to-late twenties.
Gabe wiped his makeup brushes down with a cleaning solution and placed them in his tool kit. Still making a name for himself since he’d won season five of the reality show, Monster Makeup Challenge, being associated with someone the press had coined Disaster Diva Rosalind Devoe could put a stain on his career.
All my other friends from L.A. deserted me at the first sign of scandal. But not Gabe. Best friends since our moms had met on a cheesy soap opera in the late 90s, he was the type of friend who called me on my birthday and the anniversary of Mom’s death. Plus every few days in between.
I grabbed his forearm, careful not to smear the fake blood applied to my hand. “I appreciate you pulling some strings and getting me on the set. Especially since I can’t be more than a few hours’ drive from Grammy. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
A smile worked away the worry on his face, but sympathy filled his brown eyes. “Have the police found any leads on your brother yet?”
A hard sigh escaped my lips making the goo travel from my lip to my chin. How often did a twin turn out to be evil? There had to be a statistical study on this somewhere. And if that study paid a premium price I’d volunteer for it in a heartbeat. “I’m sure Victor’s in some non-extradition country. But I don’t want to think about him right now. I want to work. It feels good to be back.”
I meant that. Even if this particular job meant dragging my left leg through pine needles and North Georgia tick-country as a zombie extra on a low-budget Sci-Fi flick. I loved acting and giving myself over to being another character. I loved being an actress and all the fun that came along with it. Well, used to come along with it. But I could get there again. After my chaotic life settled, I’d get back to L.A. and start over.
A sound check guy came in and twisted wires through my bra and clamped a mic pack around my waist. He lingered a little too long with his hands beneath my tattered shirt, and I lowered my voice and added a bit more southern twang than usual. “You about done there, fella?”
The guy mumbled something unintelligible from beneath a thick, unruly mustache and backed away.
Gabe took a long sip out of a Styrofoam cup and winked at an extra getting her hair teased at the other end of the trailer.
“You’re such a flirt.”
“What can I say? The girls love my interesting choice of career.” He waited until the sound check guy moved on to the next zombie before he started with more questions. His breath smelled of vanilla flavored coffee. “So, we can’t talk about your brother?”
I tugged my shirt back into place. “Nope.”
“The lawsuits?”
I shuddered. “Uh uh.”
“Your living situation?”
I tilted my head from side to side weighing my words carefully. “It’s bearable. You’d be surprised how easy it is to avoid someone who works shifts. I’d prefer you for a full-time roomie, though.”
A P.A. leaned inside the trailer. “We’re doing a rehearsal and the director wants all the zombies on set.”
I winked at Gabe and curtseyed. “Extend to me the most affectionate of well wishes, my good sir.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Don’t screw it up.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Nice.”
I followed three other zombie extras through a maze of trailers to the marked filming location. The sun had yet to come up fully and a chorus of crickets and other nightly insects buzzed near the spotlights that cast a glow on a clearing between tall pine trees. The zombie next to me swatted a mosquito on his arm and the smack against the liquid latex made a squishy sucking sound.
The anxiety of being on set again and the grossness of the costumes had my stomach tied into a knot. I closed my eyes and quietly began my vocal warm-ups to calm my nerves. “Mmmmmmmm Ah. Mmmmmmmm Ah. Mmmmmmmmm Ah.”
The extra beside me nudged me with her elbow. “What are you doing?”
I tried to smile through the latex. “Vocal warm-ups.”
“Should I be doing those too?” Worry clouded her young eyes. She wore a scalp cap with shots of black hair sticking out in messy clumps, making her hair look like it’d been ripped out in chunks.
“Not all actors use them. I like to because it helps keep me calm.”
“Oh, okay. I’m so nervous. This is my first acting job and I don’t want to screw it up.” She fluttered her hands and took an exceedingly large breath. “Who knew that only this morning I’d been bagging down at the Piggly Wiggly, and now I’m in a real movie.”
She began a litany of off-key hums but I interrupted her. “Bagging? You mean groceries?” I took a step back to get a good look at my new zombie friend. “You’re not a working actress?”
Walk-on extras usually didn’t get the full special effects makeup application. And I should know. I’d spent my first entire year in Hollywood with walk on roles.
The guy on the other side of me leaned in. His right arm had been tucked into his shirt to make him appear as if it had been eaten off. “None of us are. Some casting guy drove around town this morning and picked a few people he thought would make good zombies. Where they’d find you?”
A question I did not want to answer. “Hmm.”
The assistant director’s voice boomed over a loud speaker. “Rehearsal’s up.”
“Rehearsal’s up.” The P.A. repeated the announcement and approached us. “Zombies on set. Line up, please.”
The other extras and I lined up in a staggered position at the far end of the clearing. The August humidity surrounded us, and a natural fog layered the ground. Along with the tattered shirt I wore a skirt I’d pulled as far down as possible to cover the back of my thighs. A few drops of sweat formed on my upper lip and I hoped it wouldn’t dislodge the perfectly placed zombie makeup.
I twisted my foot and locked my knee to give it a good drag-like quality. The director, last name Stephenson, who I’d been careful not to cross paths with since arriving, made a semi-circle around us. I’d never met him before, but I didn’t want to take the chance he’d read a few tabloids about Disaster Diva Rosalind.
He backed away slowly, putting several feet between us. “Action,” he yelled.
I started forward, my mouth hanging slack. “Argh, ugh.” Then I switched it up. “Ugh, argh.”
The Piggly Wiggly bagger stayed frozen in place. I wanted to nudge her, but one of the many rules of acting dictated I do my job no matter what until the director yelled “cut.”
It didn’t take long.
“Cut!” Stephenson stormed past me to the frozen extra. “What is wrong with you?”
His condescending tone bit through my anxiety and raised my hackles a bit. I glanced across the camera staging area and caught of a glimpse of Gabe. He slowly shook his head as if to say keep your head down and don’t get involved.
Right. Think of Grammy. Think of the back due rent. Think of the paycheck at the end of the day.
The girl squeaked out an apology. She held her arms out in front of her and woodenly took a few steps forward.
“This isn’t Bride of Frankenstein nitwit. If you can’t walk in a straight line for five lousy minutes, then maybe you should head back to the trailer park where we found you.” The director’s voice echoed in the trees and someone behind me let out an uncomfortable cough.
I glanced around again. No one was going to intervene on her behalf?
I edged my way closer to the girl’s side. She sniffed and held her trembling lips together tightly. I could not abide bullies who made people cry. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gabe waving his arms, but I chose to ignore him. An attempt to reason with the director couldn’t hurt. “Why don’t you give her another chance? She’s pretty new at this.”
He cut his gaze at me but refocused on his target. “So now you’re crying, too.” He threw his arms wide. “I didn’t ask for crybaby zombies.”
“Maybe if you’d hired professionals instead of cheaping out with the locals…” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d fluffed it up. Men like him hyped up the stereotypes that gave anyone associated with Hollywood a bad name. But actresses who argued with directors got the worst rap of them all. I should know this by now.
Stephenson snapped his fingers at the assistant director. My gaze travelled over to Gabe who lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug of defeat. We’d been around the business long enough to know what happened next. Extras who mouthed off got fired. Without pay.
“Replace these two,” he said, pointing at me and the Piggly Wiggly bagger. “Now!”
He turned his back to us, ending any further discussion. Good. I didn’t want to work for a jerk anyway. I wrapped an arm around Piggly Wiggly and guided her toward the makeup trailer. “Let’s get this junk off of us and go grab a few days’ worth of the food from the catering truck.”
We plodded by Gabe and when he opened his mouth, I held up a hand. “Not a word.”
Back at the trailer, I grabbed my phone while I waited in line for the makeup removal process. Gabe would stay on set to oversee the non-fired actors’ zombie goo.
He’d sent me a text. Need gas money to get home?
The three-and-a-half-hour drive had taken a chunk out of my limited funds put aside for job searching. I had needed this quick paycheck to help make rent this month. But I had a few dollars left in my pocket and I’d stretch them to the limit before I’d let Gabe loan me gas money.
I’m good call me later, I texted back.
Before I could put the cell phone in my pocket, it trilled with the ringtone I’d picked out for Grammy’s assisted living facility. They only called this early in the morning for one reason. I stepped out of the trailer to answer the call.
“Hello, Miss Rosie?” The nurse called everyone by their first name and Miss, Mrs., or Mr. It didn’t matter that she was thirty years my senior and I should be the one addressing her that way.
“Hi, Pearl. How are you this morning?”
The sweet nurse appreciated pleasantries before getting down to assisted living facility business.
“I am quite well, and I do appreciate you asking.” A short pause followed. “However, your sweet Grammy is refusing to have breakfast without a show. And you know how important it is to keep her blood sugar regulated.”
I dipped my head in defeat. “Did she eat last night?”
Another long pause. “One of our nursing assistants thinks dinner ended up in Burt Lancaster Jr.’s dog food bowl.”
“I’m across the line in Georgia, but I’ll be there before y’all serve lunch. Thanks for calling.”
So much for loading up on the free food before hitting the road. I changed out of the costume but didn’t wait for the zombie makeup removal. It would brighten my mood slightly if I could cause slight panic on the highway from unsuspecting motorists who happened to look over.

I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror. There had to be a better way to make some fast cash. 

Mark it TO READ on Goodreads!!

Friday, September 21, 2018

Book trailer for Funeral Fakers!

Check out the coolest video for the upcoming Funeral Fakers Mystery series from Sweet Promise Press! Coming in November.

There are some big changes coming in Burberry!

Available for preorder - Book 4 of the Lost Souls ParaAgency series. S weet Romance. Spooky Mystery. Cozy Good Times. Welcome ...