M. S. Spencer with MRS. SPINNEY'S SECRET

 

I found an interesting book and decided a need to ask the author a few questions. Here's my interview with M. S. Spencer who just released MRS. SPINNEY'S SECRET

Congratulations on your new book M.S. When did you first get the urge to write?

          I’ve loved to write since I first held a piece of sidewalk chalk! Once I was released for good behavior I wrote on more conventional materials.

What happened to your first ever manuscript?

          Oh, that was funny. I finally finished a full-length novel and had found an agent. It was early in the computer age, so I had only the one printed copy of it. I had put it in the attic because we were moving & my ever-loving husband thought it was trash & threw it out. My daughter was more furious than me 😊.

You're a remarkably forgiving person. What do your family and friends think of your passion for writing?

          They smile indulgently.

That sounds familiar. Have you ever used someone you know as a character in a book?

          Sure—almost every character has something familiar in him or her. It’s all part of one’s experience.

Tell us about MRS. SPINNEY'S SECRET. (the blurb)

What do you do when Hollywood takes over your tiny Maine village to make a movie?

Cassidy Beauvoir, chair of the board of overseers of Amity Landing, is ready to throw the bums out; that is, until she meets Jasper MacEwan, the director of American Waterloo: the Rout of the Penobscot Expedition. It’s instant attraction until a series of deadly incidents threatens their budding romance. Are the attacks directed at the movie crew or the townspeople?

As the two search for answers, the trail leads them to long-held secrets of the worst naval defeat of the American Revolution—including betrayal, murder, and a lost hoard of English gold.

 

Give us an example of a favorite scene. (an excerpt)

Excerpt: The Ghost

“I—” Whatever Jasper was going to say was punctured by a screech. He leapt out of his chair. “Where the hell did that come from?”

She pointed. “Over there. Probably raccoons scuffling.”

Another screech—this time definitely human—brought Cassidy out of her chair too. Jasper muttered grimly, “Digby.” He tripped down the back stairs and loped down the hill, Cassidy hot on his heels.

They found the Toff standing in the gravel road, barefoot, wearing an old-fashioned long, white, ruffled nightshirt. Jasper—who’d had the presence of mind to grab a flashlight—shone it in the fellow’s face. His eyes were wild. He grabbed Jasper’s sleeve and babbled, “Lights, action, roll ’em. Cut…cut. Lights…lights.”

Jasper gently peeled him off. “We’re not filming, Digby. Did you have a bad dream? What’s the matter?”

By this time, the cottages around them had emptied of people and a crowd had formed around the trio. Voices rose above one another. “What’s happening?”

“Who’s caterwauling? It scared my cat!”

“This is not proper Amity behavior. Will you look at the time! It’s almost nine o’clock.” Cassidy recognized the voice of Velma Puddleby, the matriarch of Amity Landing.

Ooh, Digby’s in trouble now!

Digby had barely recovered his composure when he became aware of his audience. He straightened, and his tone grew less shrill and more strident. At a decibel level more suitable for the Broadway stage, he declared: “I have been visited by an unearthly phenomenon. Strange lights. Loud noises”—he pointed a trembling finger at the Spinney roof— “coming from above me. I felt a presence.”

A low hum rippled through the pack. “A presence, you say? Was it freezing cold?”

“Did it moan?”

Digby maintained his dignity. “Laugh if you will, but I was first awakened by a knocking sound—”

“Acorns on the roof.”

“And then a whitish light flashed on and off several times.”

The man who lived across the street stepped between Cassidy and Jasper. “That was me.”

Cassidy introduced him. “This is Graham Rutter.”

Rutter’s bathrobe fell open and he tied it, but not before everyone glimpsed his Captain America pajamas. “I thought I heard a skunk in the garbage and went to investigate. What you probably saw was my flashlight.”

Digby was beginning to falter. “And…and steps on the stairs.”

This finally had an effect. “Hmm.”

“Hmm.”

In the speculative silence, Velma Puddleby chuckled. “Ah, I see you’ve met Snookie then.”

 

Is this book part of a series?

          No. All of my books are stand-alone. Although this is my second novel set in the fictional Maine town of Penhallow. The first, The Penhallow Train Incident, is a murder mystery. Here’s the story:

In the sleepy coastal Maine town of Penhallow, a stranger dies on a train, drawing Historical Society Director, Rachel Tinker, and curmudgeonly retired professor, Griffin Tate, into a spider’s web of archaeological obsession and greed. With the help of the victim’s rival, they set out to locate the Queen of Sheba’s tomb. Their plans are stymied when a war erupts between the sheriff and a state police detective who want to arrest the same man for different crimes. It’s up to Rachel to solve a mystery that includes two more murders, if she wants to unlock the soft heart that beats under Griffin’s hard crust. 

Where can we buy your book? (buy links)

M. S. Spencer

The Wild Rose Press, January 20, 2021

450 p.,  104,000 words

Cozy mystery/Romantic suspense

PG-13

 

Books2Read

Amazon  ITunes   Barnes&Noble   Walmart  

KOBO   Google Play   Thalia  

Goodreads   BookBub

 

It will also be available on Overdrive, Indigo, and other online stores.

Tell us a little about yourself. (bio)

Librarian, anthropologist, research assistant, Congressional aide, speechwriter, nonprofit director—M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents. She holds a BA from Vassar College, a diploma in Arabic Studies from the American University in Cairo, and Masters in Anthropology and in Library Science from the University of Chicago. All of this tends to insinuate itself into her works.

Ms. Spencer has published fourteen romantic suspense and mystery novels. She has two fabulous grown children and an exuberant granddaughter and currently divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

 

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