Showing posts with label Tracy Weber. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tracy Weber. Show all posts
Thursday, December 13, 2018
eBook Deals: Grab the First Five Books of the Downward Dog Mystery Series on Sale, Starting at $0.99!
Everyone loves a deal! for a limited time, grab the first five ebooks of the Downward Dog Mystery Series by Tracy Weber while they're on sale!
Wednesday, April 11, 2018
Happy #NationalPetDay!
For so many of us, our pets go beyond an animal presence in our lives; they are our children, extended members of our family who bring our soul love and nourishment.
To celebrate our pets this National Pet Day, I wanted to take a look at some of our fabulous books that celebrate the bonds we have with our pets--even as they help us solve crimes!
Join veterinary technician Carrie Kennersly, owner of the new Barkery & Biscuits Dog Bakery, as she and her canine companions navigate the mysteries of murder.
The latest release in the series, Pick and Chews, is now available for pre-order!
Looking for more Linda O. Johnston mysteries that feature dogs? Check out the Superstition Mystery series!
Join Cameron Cripps-Hayman and the rest of the Metamora Action Agency as they solve crimes, aided by their canine companions.
The latest release in the series, Fatal Festival Days, is now available for pre-order!
Read if you like: Yoga, German Shepherds, and cozy mysteries
Join yoga instructor Kate Davidson, her German Shepherd Bella, and boyfriend Michael as they solve murder after murder.
The latest release in the series, Pre-Meditated Murder, is available now.
Read if you like: Photography, animals of shapes and sizes, and cozy mysteries
Join animal photographer Janet McPhail and her cadre of animal companions as they solve murders.
The latest release in the series, Shepherd's Crook, is available now.
Read if you like: Tarot, talking cats, and cozy mysteries
When her own life is threatened with a double dose of danger, Ruby begins to wonder if she's being played for a fool. Luckily, she has Aphelia and Brandon—sibling black cats with a talent for tarot—and a feisty pitbull friend who all lend a paw in collaring the culprit before Ruby finds herself taking her final cat nap.
The first release in the series, Fool's Moon, is available for pre-order now!
The latest release in the series, Fatal Festival Days, is now available for pre-order!
Join yoga instructor Kate Davidson, her German Shepherd Bella, and boyfriend Michael as they solve murder after murder.
The latest release in the series, Pre-Meditated Murder, is available now.
Join animal photographer Janet McPhail and her cadre of animal companions as they solve murders.
The latest release in the series, Shepherd's Crook, is available now.
Bonus! Available in November:
When her own life is threatened with a double dose of danger, Ruby begins to wonder if she's being played for a fool. Luckily, she has Aphelia and Brandon—sibling black cats with a talent for tarot—and a feisty pitbull friend who all lend a paw in collaring the culprit before Ruby finds herself taking her final cat nap.
The first release in the series, Fool's Moon, is available for pre-order now!
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
Goodreads Giveaway: PRE-MEDITATED MURDER
Head over to Goodreads and enter to win 1 of 5 copies of PRE-MEDITATED MURDER, the fifth book in the Downward Dog Mystery series, by Tracy Weber!
Hurry! Contest is open January 9 - January 17, so enter now!
Hurry! Contest is open January 9 - January 17, so enter now!
Friday, January 5, 2018
Scenes of the Crime: A Guest Post from Tracy Weber
In my newest Downward Dog Mystery, Pre-Meditated Murder, Kate and crew take a trip to the town of Cannon Beach, Oregon for … Well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise! I do, however, want to share some photos of this sweet little town on the Oregon Coast and the locations that inspired the scenes in the story. Enjoy!
Cannon Beach is best known for glorious beaches and an amazing rock formation called Haystack Rock. No trip to Cannon Beach can truly begin before my German shepherd pup, Ana, and I put our paw prints in the sand.
Haystack rock is a basalt monolith that provides home to colorful sea gardens perfect for exploring at low tide.
Or, if you're an athletic German shepherd like Bella in the series, you can spend your vacation time chasing tennis balls. Ana was happy to be Bella's body double for this photo.
The city itself is filled with quaint shops and delicious restaurants.
I re-imagined this courtyard for some of the book’s pivotal scenes.
There’s also a pet store. (What dog-related mystery would be complete without one?)
A stairway like this plays a role in the mystery…
And a key event takes place in Whale Park.
Wouldn’t this be a great place to hide a body?
No trip to Cannon Beach would be complete without a photo at my favorite statue. Hopefully Ana and I will be together for annual photos for many years to come.
There’s much more of Cannon Beach in the book, as well as humor, social dialogue, and a bit of a love story. I hope that you grow to love this quaint coastal town through the pages! Enjoy!
***
If Kate Doesn't Act Fast, the Only "I Do" in Michael's Future Will Be at His TrialYoga instructor Kate Davidson is ready to marry her boyfriend Michael, so she’s disappointed when a special dinner doesn’t end with a proposal. But disappointment turns to dismay and outrage as she learns the real problem: Michael is already married and his estranged wife is blackmailing him.
When his wife's body is found—by Kate and her dog, no less—Michael is strangely unable to remember where he was the night she died. Since Michael has no alibi, Kate steps up to uncover what happened. What she walks into is a tangled web of deceit, obsession, and immigration fraud . . . with Michael trapped in the middle.
Praise for the Downward Dog Mystery Series:
A Fatal Twist:
"If you’re a fan of yoga, dogs, childbirth and murder cases, then Tracy Weber's A Fatal Twist is just what the fertility doctor ordered."—The Seattle Times
Karma's a Killer:
"Weber's clever assemblage of suspects is eliminated one by one in her entertaining novel."—RT Book Reviews
Karma's a Killer continues Tracy Weber's charming series."—The Seattle Times
"[Weber's] characters are likeable and amusing, the background is interesting, and the story is ultimately satisfying."—Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine
"Weber keeps readers guessing and populates the action with plenty of kooky characters."—Mystery Scene
"Crazy, quirky critters and their odd yet utterly relatable human counterparts make Karma's a Killer an appealing story. But when you add the keep-you-guessing mystery with both laugh-out-loud one-liners and touching moments of pure poignancy, the result is a truly great book!"—Laura Morrigan, national bestselling author of the Call of the Wilde Mystery Series
"Tracy Weber's Karma's a Killer delivers on all fronts—a likably feisty protagonist, a great supporting cast, a puzzler of a mystery and, best of all, lots of heart. This book has more snap than a brand-new pair of yoga capris. Pure joy for yoga aficionados, animal lovers ... heck, for anyone who loves a top-notch mystery."—Laura DiSilverio, national bestselling author of The Readaholics Book Club Mysteries, two-time Lefty finalist for best humorous mystery, and Colorado Book Award finalist
"Yogatta love this latest in the series when Kate exercises her brain cells trying to figure out who deactivated an animal rights activist."—Mary Daheim, author of the Bed-and-Breakfast and Emma Lord Alpine Mysteries
Tracy Weber is author of the award-winning Downward Dog Mystery series. Her first book in the series, Murder Strikes a Pose, won the Maxwell Award for Fiction and was nominated for the Agatha Award for Best First Novel. A certified yoga therapist, Tracy is the owner of Whole Life Yoga, a Seattle yoga studio, and she loves sharing her passion for yoga and animals in any way possible. Tracy and her husband Marc live in Seattle with their precocious German Shepherd pup Ana. When she's not writing, Tracy spends her time teaching yoga, trying to corral Ana, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. Visit her at TracyWeberAuthor.com.
Monday, December 25, 2017
My Christmas Gift to you: Chapter 1 of Pre-Meditated Murder
Merry Christmas, everyone! Without further ado, I present to you the first chapter of Pre-Meditated Murder. It officially releases on January 8, but it is available for pre--order now! Let me know what you think!
I slipped through the restroom door, leaned my back against the counter, and tried—unsuccessfully—to slow the pounding in my chest.
Dad’s voice echoed inside my head. Take it easy now, Kate-Girl. Remember what Rene told you. You have to act like everything’s normal. You don’t want to ruin tonight for Michael.
Almost three years after his death, Dad was still right. Tonight wasn’t about me. At least not just about me. It was Michael’s night, too. Or it would be, provided I didn’t die of heart failure.
Public restroom or not, I could think of worse places to die. The floor’s shiny black marble was spotless. A trio of lavender-scented candles cast dancing light beams across the matching countertop. The purple blooms of a phalaenopsis orchid cascaded from a dark green plant in the corner. The place even sounded inviting, thanks to soothing classical music floating through hidden speakers.
Normally, I would have been enchanted by the room’s painstaking ornamentation. Not today. Today, I was too busy trying not to hyperventilate to revel.
My adrenaline-laced anticipation surprised me, especially since I’d spent almost a year avoiding the very conversation Michael and I were about to have. Then again, maybe I was worked up because I’d been avoiding it for so long. Until recently, I’d had no idea how important our future was to me.
Maybe a relaxing breath practice would help me calm down. I closed my eyes and inhaled, mentally coaching myself as I would one of my yoga students. Inhale and slowly count to four. One, two, three, four. Exhale, one, two …
A few cycles later, my heartbeat slowed. The chattering of my monkey mind subsided. My hands were still trembling too hard to touch up my makeup, so I picked stray dog hairs off the black cocktail dress I’d borrowed for the evening and ran a comb through my shoulder-length hair. I smiled to make sure lipstick hadn’t coated my teeth, pinched my cheeks to give them some color, and headed back to join Michael at our table.
Every part of SkyCity, the Seattle Space Needle’s upscale restaurant, had been designed to seduce multiple senses. The heels of my three-inch stilettos sank into the lobby’s lush oriental carpet. Notes from a baby grand piano caressed my eardrums. Swirls of color burst from a Chihuly painting, exploding the piano’s overture on canvas. A kaleidoscope of scents arranged and rearranged themselves in my nostrils, creating a fluid collage: garlicky pasta Alfredo, musky perfume, the sweet floral bouquet of deep red roses.
For most Seattleites, dinner at SkyCity was reserved for special occasions. For practically broke small business owners like Michael and me, the experience might be once in a lifetime. But man, was it worth it. SkyCity served more than delicious food. It provided unparalleled atmosphere and a rotating, panoramic view of the entire city.
Any other evening, I would have been glued to my seat for every one of the forty-seven minutes it took for the restaurant to complete a full rotation. Any other evening, I would have been transfixed by the view: toy-like rooftops, tiny ferries, the stark lines of the Olympic Mountains. Any other evening, I would have been drunk on the surroundings before I took my first sip of champagne.
This evening, however, I’d barely noticed any of it. I hadn’t even tasted the pasta I’d picked at for dinner. I was too preoccupied. Waiting. Waiting for Michael to stop pretending that we were here to celebrate my thirty-fourth birthday. Waiting for him to pull out the jewelry bag that Rene had spotted him carrying two days ago. Waiting for him to ask me to marry him.
Michael stood and pulled out my chair, grinning. “You were gone for an awfully long time. I was about to send in a search party.”
“Sorry about that.”
I glanced at him over my wine glass as he nodded discreetly to our waiter. On a bad day, Michael was pretty darned handsome, and today was far from a bad day. His sexy, blue-green eyes sparkled. The tailored suit he wore accented his broad shoulders and six-foot-tall frame. Curly brown hair brushed delightfully above his ear lobes, as if daring me to nibble them. Unmentionable body parts tingled. If Michael didn’t hurry up and give me that ring soon, I might consummate our engagement before the proposal.
I grinned. Now wouldn’t that give new meaning to SkyCity’s 360-degree view.
“Care to let me in on the joke?” Michael asked.
“Sorry. Nothing. I was just thinking about how happy I am.”
As if on cue, a line of wait staff approached our table. One carried a huge ice cream concoction enveloped in a thick dry-ice fog. Another brandished a bottle of my favorite bubbly and two crystal champagne flutes. The rest surrounded our table in a black-and-white semicircle. Conversations around us grew muted as people stopped eating to watch the theatrics. I felt my face redden. Leave it to Michael to embarrass me with a grand gesture.
Michael grinned like a madman; a cork popped through the air; the entire restaurant burst into song.
“Happy birthday to you …”
Huh?
Ten seconds later, I blew out the candle and watched as the wait staff disappeared. The other diners resumed their conversations.
I surreptitiously picked through the ice cream, hoping to find buried treasure. Nothing but frozen dairy products and chunks of rich dark chocolate. No diamond lurked in the bottom of my champagne glass, either. My unmentionables stopped tingling, replaced by an awkward unease. Could Rene have been wrong?
Michael leaned across the table and clinked his glass against mine. “Happy birthday, Kate. I hope you’ve enjoyed it.”
The smile I flashed back felt so stiff, it could have been molded from plastic. “Tonight has been wonderful, Michael, truly. The flowers, the dinner, the champagne …” My voice trembled. “Everything.”
Michael frowned, confused. “What is it? Don’t like the dessert? The reviews said it wasn’t too rich, so I asked for extra dark chocolate.”
“It’s delicious, Michael.” I lifted the spoon to my mouth, but pasta with garlic sauce threatened to leap for my throat. I laid the spoon back on the table.
“It was that damned birthday song, wasn’t it?” Michael grumbled. “I should have known better. I know how you hate it when people make a fuss over you. I just thought … well, I thought it would be fun.”
“It was fun,” I assured him. “And the dessert is awesome. It looks like an erupting volcano.” Tears burned the back of my eyes. If I didn’t get out of this restaurant soon, I might erupt right alongside it. I looked pointedly at my watch and waved to get the waiter’s attention. “It’s almost eight. We should leave soon to pick up Bella.”
“Already?” Michael didn’t hide his disappointment.
“The twins have been fussy lately. I promised Rene we wouldn’t be out late.”
I lied. My German shepherd, Bella, suffered from significant separation anxiety, so I never left her alone for more than an hour or two. Michael already knew that Rene was dog-sitting tonight. What he didn’t know was that Bella’s visit was supposed to be a sleepover. Rene had insisted, claiming that my engagement night would be significantly more romantic without a furry, hundred-pound bed hog.
Make that supposed engagement night.
Michael didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue. “Before we go, I have something for you.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, foil-wrapped box stamped Trinity Jewelers.
In that moment, the entire world seemed to freeze. I would have sworn that the Space Needle stopped spinning. I was so excited—so relieved—that I didn’t grasp the significance of the box’s flat, three-inch-square shape.
Michael slid it across the table. “Go on, open it.”
My hands trembled again, but I managed to unwrap the paper, ease the top off the box, and gaze down at—
A necklace?
A simple gold heart suspended on a delicate chain. A locket.
Michael reached across the table and opened it. Two tiny pictures were nestled inside. On the left, a grinning Michael. On the right, Bella. “I know you don’t wear much jewelry,” he said, “but I wanted to give you something special. This way Bella and I will always be close to your heart.”
The necklace was gorgeous. Breathtaking, really. Michael had obviously put a lot of thought into the gift. Normally, I would have been stunned—in a good way.
But tonight wasn’t supposed to be normal.
The tears threatening my eyes spilled down my cheeks. “It’s exquisite.”
Michael dropped the necklace back into the box and took my hand. “Kate, honey, what’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird all night. I’m starting to get worried.”
“Nothing. It’s just that …” I swallowed. “I thought you were giving me a ring.”
At first Michael looked confused. “A ring? In a necklace box?” Then his face turned ashen. “Oh.”
Disappointment flashed to embarrassment, which I covered up by pretending to be angry. “Oh? That’s all you have to say? Oh?”
Michael opened his mouth, then closed it again without speaking.
The silence between us echoed like a shot to the gut, but it felt significantly more painful. The waiter eased next to Michael, slid the bill onto the table, and scurried away.
“I’m sorry, Kate,” Michael said. “Really, I am. I didn’t mean to disappoint you. But what made you think I was proposing tonight?”
I stared at the tablecloth, wishing I could disappear underneath it. “Rene went shopping for the twins at Westlake Center on Thursday.”
Michael groaned and rubbed the crease between his eyebrows.
I pointed at the box. “She saw you walk out of Trinity’s carrying this. We both assumed—” My voice cracked.
The restaurant’s energy—or at least my experience of it—shifted. The room grew quiet. Sympathetic eyes burned the back of my neck. The dry-ice fog surrounding my uneaten dessert threatened to suffocate me. I gripped the seat of my chair with both hands, willing myself not to bolt.
“Kate, I will propose to you someday, I promise. But not tonight. I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
Michael refused to look at me.
Deep inside my gut, I knew that I shouldn’t keep pressing. If I kept pressing, Michael’s explanation might change our relationship forever.
I pressed anyway.
“Michael, what aren’t you telling me?”
His jaw trembled. “You know I love you, right?”
I did.
I loved Michael, too. More than I’d ever loved anyone, except maybe Bella. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to say the words back. “Out with it, already.”
Michael stared at the floor for what felt like an eternity. When he looked up again, his eyes were wet.
“I’m sorry, Kate. I’m already married.”
Tracy
All four books in the Downward Dog Mystery Series are available at booksellers everywhere!
CHAPTER 1:
Dad’s voice echoed inside my head. Take it easy now, Kate-Girl. Remember what Rene told you. You have to act like everything’s normal. You don’t want to ruin tonight for Michael.
Almost three years after his death, Dad was still right. Tonight wasn’t about me. At least not just about me. It was Michael’s night, too. Or it would be, provided I didn’t die of heart failure.
Public restroom or not, I could think of worse places to die. The floor’s shiny black marble was spotless. A trio of lavender-scented candles cast dancing light beams across the matching countertop. The purple blooms of a phalaenopsis orchid cascaded from a dark green plant in the corner. The place even sounded inviting, thanks to soothing classical music floating through hidden speakers.
Normally, I would have been enchanted by the room’s painstaking ornamentation. Not today. Today, I was too busy trying not to hyperventilate to revel.
My adrenaline-laced anticipation surprised me, especially since I’d spent almost a year avoiding the very conversation Michael and I were about to have. Then again, maybe I was worked up because I’d been avoiding it for so long. Until recently, I’d had no idea how important our future was to me.
Maybe a relaxing breath practice would help me calm down. I closed my eyes and inhaled, mentally coaching myself as I would one of my yoga students. Inhale and slowly count to four. One, two, three, four. Exhale, one, two …
A few cycles later, my heartbeat slowed. The chattering of my monkey mind subsided. My hands were still trembling too hard to touch up my makeup, so I picked stray dog hairs off the black cocktail dress I’d borrowed for the evening and ran a comb through my shoulder-length hair. I smiled to make sure lipstick hadn’t coated my teeth, pinched my cheeks to give them some color, and headed back to join Michael at our table.
Every part of SkyCity, the Seattle Space Needle’s upscale restaurant, had been designed to seduce multiple senses. The heels of my three-inch stilettos sank into the lobby’s lush oriental carpet. Notes from a baby grand piano caressed my eardrums. Swirls of color burst from a Chihuly painting, exploding the piano’s overture on canvas. A kaleidoscope of scents arranged and rearranged themselves in my nostrils, creating a fluid collage: garlicky pasta Alfredo, musky perfume, the sweet floral bouquet of deep red roses.
For most Seattleites, dinner at SkyCity was reserved for special occasions. For practically broke small business owners like Michael and me, the experience might be once in a lifetime. But man, was it worth it. SkyCity served more than delicious food. It provided unparalleled atmosphere and a rotating, panoramic view of the entire city.
Any other evening, I would have been glued to my seat for every one of the forty-seven minutes it took for the restaurant to complete a full rotation. Any other evening, I would have been transfixed by the view: toy-like rooftops, tiny ferries, the stark lines of the Olympic Mountains. Any other evening, I would have been drunk on the surroundings before I took my first sip of champagne.
This evening, however, I’d barely noticed any of it. I hadn’t even tasted the pasta I’d picked at for dinner. I was too preoccupied. Waiting. Waiting for Michael to stop pretending that we were here to celebrate my thirty-fourth birthday. Waiting for him to pull out the jewelry bag that Rene had spotted him carrying two days ago. Waiting for him to ask me to marry him.
Michael stood and pulled out my chair, grinning. “You were gone for an awfully long time. I was about to send in a search party.”
“Sorry about that.”
I glanced at him over my wine glass as he nodded discreetly to our waiter. On a bad day, Michael was pretty darned handsome, and today was far from a bad day. His sexy, blue-green eyes sparkled. The tailored suit he wore accented his broad shoulders and six-foot-tall frame. Curly brown hair brushed delightfully above his ear lobes, as if daring me to nibble them. Unmentionable body parts tingled. If Michael didn’t hurry up and give me that ring soon, I might consummate our engagement before the proposal.
I grinned. Now wouldn’t that give new meaning to SkyCity’s 360-degree view.
“Care to let me in on the joke?” Michael asked.
“Sorry. Nothing. I was just thinking about how happy I am.”
As if on cue, a line of wait staff approached our table. One carried a huge ice cream concoction enveloped in a thick dry-ice fog. Another brandished a bottle of my favorite bubbly and two crystal champagne flutes. The rest surrounded our table in a black-and-white semicircle. Conversations around us grew muted as people stopped eating to watch the theatrics. I felt my face redden. Leave it to Michael to embarrass me with a grand gesture.
Michael grinned like a madman; a cork popped through the air; the entire restaurant burst into song.
“Happy birthday to you …”
Huh?
Ten seconds later, I blew out the candle and watched as the wait staff disappeared. The other diners resumed their conversations.
I surreptitiously picked through the ice cream, hoping to find buried treasure. Nothing but frozen dairy products and chunks of rich dark chocolate. No diamond lurked in the bottom of my champagne glass, either. My unmentionables stopped tingling, replaced by an awkward unease. Could Rene have been wrong?
Michael leaned across the table and clinked his glass against mine. “Happy birthday, Kate. I hope you’ve enjoyed it.”
The smile I flashed back felt so stiff, it could have been molded from plastic. “Tonight has been wonderful, Michael, truly. The flowers, the dinner, the champagne …” My voice trembled. “Everything.”
Michael frowned, confused. “What is it? Don’t like the dessert? The reviews said it wasn’t too rich, so I asked for extra dark chocolate.”
“It’s delicious, Michael.” I lifted the spoon to my mouth, but pasta with garlic sauce threatened to leap for my throat. I laid the spoon back on the table.
“It was that damned birthday song, wasn’t it?” Michael grumbled. “I should have known better. I know how you hate it when people make a fuss over you. I just thought … well, I thought it would be fun.”
“It was fun,” I assured him. “And the dessert is awesome. It looks like an erupting volcano.” Tears burned the back of my eyes. If I didn’t get out of this restaurant soon, I might erupt right alongside it. I looked pointedly at my watch and waved to get the waiter’s attention. “It’s almost eight. We should leave soon to pick up Bella.”
“Already?” Michael didn’t hide his disappointment.
“The twins have been fussy lately. I promised Rene we wouldn’t be out late.”
I lied. My German shepherd, Bella, suffered from significant separation anxiety, so I never left her alone for more than an hour or two. Michael already knew that Rene was dog-sitting tonight. What he didn’t know was that Bella’s visit was supposed to be a sleepover. Rene had insisted, claiming that my engagement night would be significantly more romantic without a furry, hundred-pound bed hog.
Make that supposed engagement night.
Michael didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue. “Before we go, I have something for you.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, foil-wrapped box stamped Trinity Jewelers.
In that moment, the entire world seemed to freeze. I would have sworn that the Space Needle stopped spinning. I was so excited—so relieved—that I didn’t grasp the significance of the box’s flat, three-inch-square shape.
Michael slid it across the table. “Go on, open it.”
My hands trembled again, but I managed to unwrap the paper, ease the top off the box, and gaze down at—
A necklace?
A simple gold heart suspended on a delicate chain. A locket.
Michael reached across the table and opened it. Two tiny pictures were nestled inside. On the left, a grinning Michael. On the right, Bella. “I know you don’t wear much jewelry,” he said, “but I wanted to give you something special. This way Bella and I will always be close to your heart.”
The necklace was gorgeous. Breathtaking, really. Michael had obviously put a lot of thought into the gift. Normally, I would have been stunned—in a good way.
But tonight wasn’t supposed to be normal.
The tears threatening my eyes spilled down my cheeks. “It’s exquisite.”
Michael dropped the necklace back into the box and took my hand. “Kate, honey, what’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird all night. I’m starting to get worried.”
“Nothing. It’s just that …” I swallowed. “I thought you were giving me a ring.”
At first Michael looked confused. “A ring? In a necklace box?” Then his face turned ashen. “Oh.”
Disappointment flashed to embarrassment, which I covered up by pretending to be angry. “Oh? That’s all you have to say? Oh?”
Michael opened his mouth, then closed it again without speaking.
The silence between us echoed like a shot to the gut, but it felt significantly more painful. The waiter eased next to Michael, slid the bill onto the table, and scurried away.
“I’m sorry, Kate,” Michael said. “Really, I am. I didn’t mean to disappoint you. But what made you think I was proposing tonight?”
I stared at the tablecloth, wishing I could disappear underneath it. “Rene went shopping for the twins at Westlake Center on Thursday.”
Michael groaned and rubbed the crease between his eyebrows.
I pointed at the box. “She saw you walk out of Trinity’s carrying this. We both assumed—” My voice cracked.
The restaurant’s energy—or at least my experience of it—shifted. The room grew quiet. Sympathetic eyes burned the back of my neck. The dry-ice fog surrounding my uneaten dessert threatened to suffocate me. I gripped the seat of my chair with both hands, willing myself not to bolt.
“Kate, I will propose to you someday, I promise. But not tonight. I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
Michael refused to look at me.
Deep inside my gut, I knew that I shouldn’t keep pressing. If I kept pressing, Michael’s explanation might change our relationship forever.
I pressed anyway.
“Michael, what aren’t you telling me?”
His jaw trembled. “You know I love you, right?”
I did.
I loved Michael, too. More than I’d ever loved anyone, except maybe Bella. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to say the words back. “Out with it, already.”
Michael stared at the floor for what felt like an eternity. When he looked up again, his eyes were wet.
“I’m sorry, Kate. I’m already married.”
Tracy
All four books in the Downward Dog Mystery Series are available at booksellers everywhere!
Monday, November 27, 2017
Dedications, Gratitude, and Appreciation, Oh My!
The Monday after Thanksgiving seems appropriate to share my intense gratitude for all of the people who have helped me on the path to publication for my newest book, Pre-Meditated Murder. Even though it's not out until January, the individuals mentioned below helped me over a year ago, meaning that this thanks is well overdue. To all of the people who help me every day of this life, I probably don't say it enough, but I appreciate you!!
Dedication:
To my precocious German shepherd pup, Ana. Thank you for filling my days with laughter and my nights with warmth.
Acknowledgements:
The longer I write, the more I realize that writing is a team sport.
Thanks, as always, to editor Sandy Sullivan at Midnight Ink and freelance editor Marta Tanrikulu. Your insights and feedback both amaze and humble me. Thanks also to my agent, Margaret Bail, and editor Terri Bischoff at Midnight Ink. I am grateful that you were willing to take a chance on this newbie author five years ago. Without you, my series would still be gathering dust at the bottom of my closet.
Special thanks to Jane Gorman, Brandy Reinke, and Renee Turner, who helped me understand the complex process of immigration and the particular challenges faced by immigrants coming to the United States from Mexico. Any errors are solely my own.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the town of Cannon Beach, Oregon, which is one of my favorite places in the world. I took some liberties with the Sand Castle Festival, including moving it to autumn instead of early summer, but the loveliness of the town is unchanged. I hope to retire there someday.
My husband, Marc, gets extra kudos for designing and maintaining my author website, as well as for listening to all of my grumbles and supporting me through all of my challenges. Ana Pup, the new canine love of my life, gets my eternal gratitude for keeping life interesting.
Finally, thank you to all of my readers, who keep me glued to the keyboard even when I feel like giving up. I write for you.
Tracy
All four books in the Downward Dog Mystery Series are available at booksellers everywhere!
Monday, August 28, 2017
I Think She was Murdered
Note from Tracy:
I've spent the last eight days soaking up the sun and vacationing at the site of my next Downward Dog Mystery, Pre-Meditated Murder. The visit inspired me to tempt you with an excerpt. Enjoy!
Pre-Meditated Murder releases January 8, 2018.
Pre-Meditated Murder releases January 8, 2018.
We followed the shoreline back toward Cannon Beach. I swung Bella’s leash in my right hand while she herded waves on my left. By the time we reached the rock wall at Arcadia State Park, the tide had gone out enough that we could walk around it without getting wet. Now that it was almost noon, small groups of matchstick-sized people wandered the beach. Some of them were walking toward us.
I reached for Bella’s collar, but stopped. A few hundred feet ahead, a colony of seagulls—dozens of them—dotted the shore. Bella’s eyes begged me.
Please? Just one more run?
Why not? One of us should be having fun. “Okay girl. Go get ‘em!”
Bella galloped after those birds like a cheetah after a gazelle. It was ridiculous, really. All of us—human, canine, and seabird included—knew that Bella would never catch them. But that didn’t diminish anyone’s fun. When Bella was about fifteen feet away, the birds took off in unison, flew a hundred feet down the beach, and landed, still in formation. Bella skidded to a stop, let out a single, loud bark, and tore after them again.
May as well give up, hunter dog.
I reached out my arms and yelled, “Bella, come!”
As trained, Bella turned a one-eighty and ran back to me at full steam.
Three hundred feet … two hundred … one hundred … “Bella, slow down!” I yelled. I repeated the command three more times in a rapid-fire panic. “Slow down! Slow down! Slow down!”
Bella didn’t hear, didn’t understand, or—more likely—chose not to listen. She launched through the air, collided with my chest like a hundred-pound bowling ball, and knocked me flat on my sitting bones for the second time in thirty minutes. A quick German shepherd chin nibble later, she ran a quick circle around me and chose a new destination: a Jenga-like stack of driftwood piled up against the cliff.
I spit out a million tiny particles of sand. “Bella, come!” I commanded.
No response.
I stood, brushed the wet sand off my bottom, and trudged toward my dog. “Bella, knock it off and get over here! Leave it!”
Bella pretended to be deaf.
What on earth was she so interested in? Half-eaten hotdogs? Urine from a particularly studly Golden Retriever? A seagull corpse?
Bella stopped sniffing and commenced digging.
I groaned. It had to be a dead creature of some kind. Bella couldn’t digest real food unless it was incubated in expensive prescription enzymes. I imagined scooping up undigested seagull parts and groaned louder.
“Bella, I said come!”
Not even an ear twitch. This level of disobedience was unusual, even for her.
I broke into a jog. When Bella wanted something this badly, it was a sure bet that I didn’t want her to have it. I skidded to a stop next to my recalcitrant canine and clipped the leash to her collar. “That’s enough girl. Leave it.”
She ignored me.
I tightened the leash and made my voice especially stern. “I mean it.”
Bella refused to move.
Whatever she’d found, it was infinitely more interesting than a five-foot-three-inch yoga teacher.
Bella channeled her inner Ricky, grabbed onto something and pulled, exposing a woman’s tennis shoe.
“Seriously, Bella?” I grumped. “This much drama over a shoe?”
Then I looked closer and gagged.
The shoe was attached to a foot. A foot that was attached to a caramel-skinned ankle. A caramel-skinned ankle wearing a starfish ankle bracelet.
Oh God, no.
Bella had unearthed a body—a woman. She was buried, facedown, in an obviously man-made mountain of driftwood, seaweed, and sand.
I wish I could say I was horrified. I wish I could say I screamed like a scared little schoolgirl. I wish I could say I vomited like I did the night I found my friend George’s body.
But I didn’t. I simply stood there, thinking the same words over and over: not again.
I clawed through the rocks, unearthed the broken body’s left wrist, and forced myself to feel for a pulse. Her fourth finger was bare, except for a band of lighter skin where her wedding ring used to be. I suppressed the urge to run off to warn Michael, pulled out my cell phone, and dialed 911.
“Hi. My name’s Kate Davidson. I found a woman’s body. I think she was murdered.”
All four books in the Downward Dog Mystery Series are available at booksellers everywhere!
Tracy Weber is a certified yoga teacher and the founder of Whole Life Yoga, an award-winning yoga studio in Seattle, where she currently lives with her husband, Marc, and precocious German shepherd puppy, Ana. She loves sharing her passion for yoga and animals in any form possible. When she’s not writing, she spends her time teaching yoga, trying to corral Ana Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. Tracy loves connecting with fans. Find her on her author web page or on Facebook.
Tracy Weber is a certified yoga teacher and the founder of Whole Life Yoga, an award-winning yoga studio in Seattle, where she currently lives with her husband, Marc, and precocious German shepherd puppy, Ana. She loves sharing her passion for yoga and animals in any form possible. When she’s not writing, she spends her time teaching yoga, trying to corral Ana Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. Tracy loves connecting with fans. Find her on her author web page or on Facebook.
Monday, July 24, 2017
Pre-Meditated Murder: An Excerpt
By Tracy Weber
All four books in the Downward Dog Mystery Series are available at booksellers everywhere!
Tracy Weber is a certified yoga teacher and the founder of Whole Life Yoga, an award-winning yoga studio in Seattle, where she currently lives with her husband, Marc, and precocious German shepherd puppy, Ana. She loves sharing her passion for yoga and animals in any form possible. When she’s not writing, she spends her time teaching yoga, trying to corral Ana Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. Tracy loves connecting with fans. Find her on her author web page or on Facebook.
Hi all! I'm heads down this month promoting my second audiobook and writing my sixth mystery, so for this week's blog, I decided to share an excerpt from my upcoming Downward Dog Mystery. Pre-Meditated Murder releases January 8, 2018. The excerpt has not gone through Midnight Ink's editing process yet, so please forgive any errors.
I put Alice back into the carrier and followed Rene to the sidewalk. I would have kept chiding her all the way to the car, but when we were a few steps away from the street, Bella froze, halting my forward motion and practically dislocating my shoulder. “Bella, knock it—” I stopped mid-sentence.
Something was wrong.
Bella stared straight ahead, teeth exposed, ears pricked forward. The guard hairs along her spine stood on end like the quills of an angry porcupine. Low growls rumbled from deep in her chest.
“What is it, sweetie?” I kneeled next to her and followed her gaze. It was locked on a man who was standing—or rather skulking—in a dark, narrow alley across the street. He wore a camouflage baseball cap.
“It’s him,” I whispered.
Rene glanced left to right. “It’s who?”
The stranger looked up and we made eye contact. For the first time, I got a good look at his face. Dark hair. Tan, weathered skin. Light blue, almost icy, eyes. He turned and bolted down the alley.
As to what happened next, I can only plead temporary insanity.
“Rene, stay here.” I ordered. I thrust Bella’s leash into her hand and broke into a run, determined to catch the suspicious stranger.
“Where are you going?” Rene yelled to my back.
I ignored her and shoved past an elderly woman. “Excuse me.” I dodged to the right and twirled past a young mother pushing a stroller. “Sorry!” I leapt over a low bench and landed—hard—on the edge of my right foot. Pain jolted from my ankle to my knee. I recovered my balance and kept running, but the camo-capped man ran faster. He was getting away!
I didn’t think. More importantly, I didn’t look. I acted on pure instinct. I darted off the curb and into the busy street. The driver of a black pickup truck slammed on his brakes.
The next three seconds passed with petrifying clarity. The horrified expression on the driver’s face; the ear-piercing screech of locked tires against pavement; the chemical smell of burning rubber; the sour taste of adrenaline. I gaped down at my knees, or more accurately at the truck’s bumper, which had stopped an inch from my legs. The driver leaned out his window and yelled, “Jesus, lady! Watch where you’re going!”
“My fault!” I yelled. I started running again.
Across the street, down the alley, and out to the sidewalk on the other side. I skidded to a stop, lungs heaving, and whipped my head back and forth.
The suspicious stranger had vanished. Tracy Weber is a certified yoga teacher and the founder of Whole Life Yoga, an award-winning yoga studio in Seattle, where she currently lives with her husband, Marc, and precocious German shepherd puppy, Ana. She loves sharing her passion for yoga and animals in any form possible. When she’s not writing, she spends her time teaching yoga, trying to corral Ana Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. Tracy loves connecting with fans. Find her on her author web page or on Facebook.
Monday, June 26, 2017
Presenting the audiobook version of A KILLER RETREAT!
July marks the official launch of my second audiobook, A Killer Retreat! Although the official launch is in July, it's available for purchase on Audible now. Join me at the Facebook launch party on July 13 at this link!
If you're interested in receiving a free Audible copy of the work in exchange for an honest review, please e-mail me at Tracy@WholeLifeYoga.com. In the meantime, Enjoy the excerpt below. In this installment, protagonist and yoga teacher Kate Davidson finds herself on the wrong side of the one-way mirror in the suspect interview room.
#
Sergeant Bill took copious notes, nodding and smiling encouragingly. After fifteen rambling minutes, I completed my spiel.
“Well,” he said, closing his notebook and laying down his pen. “I think we’re about done here.”
“You mean I can go?” It couldn’t possibly be this easy. I never got away with anything.
He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
Relief washed over me like water in a warm shower. For once, luck and the universe were on my side. I stood up, eased to the door, and rested my hand on the doorknob. Only two more steps and I’d be free. My mind chattered, nervously narrating each action in a silent monologue.
OK, Kate, you’re almost there. Stay calm and don’t blow it. I took a deep breath. Turn the knob to the right. The latch clicked and released. Open the door. The hinges squeaked open; a cool breeze caressed my cheeks. As I glanced through the doorway, the empty hall beckoned me—coaxed me toward freedom.
Step one foot forward, and—
“You know, there’s only one thing I don’t get about your story.”
The melodic lilt in Sergeant Bill’s voice had completely evaporated.
Tension spread from my toes to my scalp. I tried to suppress—or at least camouflage—a mounting sense of panic. I took a deep breath and turned to face him. Sergeant Bill leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers laced together. He didn’t look at all friendly.
I forced my lips into a smile and tried to look innocent.
“What’s that?”
“Why is it that six different witnesses say you threatened to strangle the victim this morning?”
Sergeant Bill wasn’t smiling anymore. Then again, neither was I. We stared at each other in silence.
#
All four books in the Downward Dog Mystery Series are available at booksellers everywhere!
I hope you give the book (audio or written) a try, and love it!
Tracy Weber
Tracy Weber is a certified yoga teacher and the founder of Whole Life Yoga, an award-winning yoga studio in Seattle, where she currently lives with her husband, Marc, and precocious German shepherd puppy, Ana. She loves sharing her passion for yoga and animals in any form possible. When she’s not writing, she spends her time teaching yoga, trying to corral Ana Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. Tracy loves connecting with fans. Find her on her author web page or on Facebook.
Monday, May 22, 2017
What’s In a Name?
by Tracy Weber
Like many authors, I sometimes struggle when choosing names for my characters. Some (usually the recurring cast members) are kind enough to introduce themselves. Kate, Bella, Michael, and Rene are all perfect examples. Others are more elusive, forcing me to resort to a variety of name generators. Dale Evans, the goat lawyer in A Killer Retreat and Karma’s a Killer, was created that way, in spite of his famous namesake.
Like many authors, I sometimes struggle when choosing names for my characters. Some (usually the recurring cast members) are kind enough to introduce themselves. Kate, Bella, Michael, and Rene are all perfect examples. Others are more elusive, forcing me to resort to a variety of name generators. Dale Evans, the goat lawyer in A Killer Retreat and Karma’s a Killer, was created that way, in spite of his famous namesake.
Names have great power. When I was young, someone told me that Tracy meant “courageous one.” I’ve drawn strength from that during life’s most difficult challenges. I recently learned that the actual meaning of Tracy is “fighter” or “more powerful one.” I can live with that, too. After all, names color who we are and how we relate to our world. I’m happy to go down as a powerful fighter.
I should have remembered that when I adopted my canine companions.
My first German shepherd, Tasha, was the inspiration for Bella, the German shepherd in my Downward Dog Mystery Series. Tasha was named after Tasha Yar, the head of security in Star Trek: The Next Generation. She took her role very seriously. She chased yoga students away from my business, thus ending forever her career as yoga studio greeter dog. Only the members of her most trusted inner circle were allowed to cross our front doorway, and strangers were viewed through a dark lens of watchdog suspicion. She fully embodied my car’s bumper sticker: Back Seat Barker.
When Tasha passed, I honored her by adopting a new love. I named my new pup Ana, short for Ananda, which is the Sanskrit term for “unending joy.”
 |
| Tracy and Tasha, the Back Seat Barker |
When Tasha passed, I honored her by adopting a new love. I named my new pup Ana, short for Ananda, which is the Sanskrit term for “unending joy.”
I completely failed to consider what unending joy might look through the eyes of a puppy.
 |
| Ana Pup Conquering the World |
Ana was a crazy, exuberant, razor-toothed terror. She was fearless, intelligent, and able to escape all confines to get what she wanted. By her four-month birthday, I’d vowed to name my next dog Coma. As she’s entered adolescence, she’s calmed down significantly (barring, of course, an evil squirrel sighting.) She greets every stranger with a full body wiggle, sloppy wet kisses, and an invitation to follow her home.
 |
| Tracy and Ana, Calming Down but Still Happy |
People often exclaim upon meeting her, “She’s so happy!”
And she is.
I’m pretty sure if a burglar breaks down our door, Ana will flop on her back and beg for a belly rub. I can live with that. I wanted a dog filled with joy, and I got a dog filled with joy. I adore her.
I won’t, however, be adopting Ana’s bulldog friend any time soon.
Seriously? ChewBarka? What on earth were his owners thinking?
Pet lovers and fellow authors, how do your characters and loved ones live up to their names? Please leave your stories in the comments below.
Tracy Weber
All four books in the Downward Dog Mystery Series are available at booksellers everywhere!
Tracy Weber is a certified yoga teacher and the founder of Whole Life Yoga, an award-winning yoga studio in Seattle, where she currently lives with her husband, Marc, and precocious German shepherd puppy, Ana. She loves sharing her passion for yoga and animals in any form possible. When she’s not writing, she spends her time teaching yoga, trying to corral Ana Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. Tracy loves connecting with fans. Find her on her author web page or on Facebook.
Tracy Weber
Tracy Weber is a certified yoga teacher and the founder of Whole Life Yoga, an award-winning yoga studio in Seattle, where she currently lives with her husband, Marc, and precocious German shepherd puppy, Ana. She loves sharing her passion for yoga and animals in any form possible. When she’s not writing, she spends her time teaching yoga, trying to corral Ana Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. Tracy loves connecting with fans. Find her on her author web page or on Facebook.
Monday, April 24, 2017
Judging a Book by Its Cover
by Tracy Weber
It’s time to admit it. I suffer from OCPD—Obsessive Compulsive Planning Disorder. I hadn’t even finished writing my first book, Murder Strikes a Pose when I started preparing to query agents. I took classes, read dozens of blog articles, and attended a host of information sessions. In the end, I left with two key takeaways:
1. Check your spelling. Agents will toss your manuscript in the garbage if you spell their name wrong.
2. Your manuscript must have a fabulous first line—a single sentence that will hook the reader in twenty words or less.
Writing my book’s first line became an obsession. I sweated and angsted and wrote and rewrote. I finally created something perfect: a pithy first sentence that would simultaneously hook the reader, draw them into the story, and introduce them to the voice of the novel’s protagonist.
But all of that angst and hard work will be for nothing if readers never crack open the book. That’s where the cover comes in.
The design of my book’s cover started with my author website. My webmaster (aka husband) and I discussed the site’s design for months. I wanted it to illustrate some key elements of my mysteries; he wanted a professional-looking page that wouldn’t take him a hundred years to create. We finally agreed that the site would contain:
· Bright, happy colors that captured the lighthearted tone of the work
· An illustration that quickly showed two important components of the series: yoga and dogs
· Recognizable landmarks of Seattle, the city in which the series takes place
· A feeling of playful mischief between the two main characters: Kate, a quirky yoga instructor, and Bella, her horse-sized German shepherd.
That decided, my husband hired artist Nicole Alesi who developed this web banner.
My publisher agreed. When Midnight Ink purchased the first three books in the series, they hired Nicole to design the book covers. The cover art she created for Murder Strikes a Pose is below:
I have to admit, I love it.
So imagine my surprise when I read my first one-star review. The reviewer said that my writing was “lovely; fast paced and vivid,” and that mystery readers would like the book. So why did she give it a single star? In spite of the word “murder” in the title, she thought that the book was a romance, not a mystery. Evidently, she doesn’t like reading about murder.
The second surprise came a few weeks later at my first book signing. Several people paused at my table, glanced at the cartoon cover, shrugged, and walked away saying, “Oh, it’s a kid’s book.”
So much for that all-important first line.
I still adore my covers, as do most of my readers. I know many people have started the book specifically because they were drawn in by its bright, happy design. The covers of the rest of my series are substantively similar: Same light, bright cartoon characters; same illustration of the setting in the background; same sense of mischief and play between the two main characters.
But now we include crime elements. In my newest book, A Fatal Twist, it’s the outline of a body. Hopefully it's large enough for people to notice.
What makes you decide to read a book? Cover? Title? First line? Please share your thoughts below.
Tracy Weber
All four books in the Downward Dog Mystery Series are available at booksellers everywhere!
Tracy Weber
Tracy Weber is a certified yoga teacher and the founder of Whole Life Yoga, an award-winning yoga studio in Seattle, where she currently lives with her husband, Marc, and precocious German shepherd puppy, Ana. She loves sharing her passion for yoga and animals in any form possible. When she’s not writing, she spends her time teaching yoga, trying to corral Ana Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. Tracy loves connecting with fans. Find her on her author web pageor on Facebook.
Monday, February 27, 2017
Of Life and Birth and Mysterious Journeys
By Tracy Weber
I never wanted to have children of my own. Scratch that. I had a passing urge in my twenties. I got a cat and it went away. I do, however, enjoy helping other mothers and mothers-to-be. Still, it’s hard to authentically advocate how much prenatal yoga can help with childbirth and recovery when you’ve never been pregnant, much less given birth.
So I did the only think I could think of to learn about the childbirth experience: I became a doula.
At least on paper.
I’ve taken doula training twice. I never thought I’d actually end up in a delivery suite, but I figured the more I knew about childbirth, the more I could be in help my students plan for it. I was immediately struck in the training by how strong people’s opinions were about the “right” way to give birth. The topic seemed to be as contentious as recent presidential elections. But I digress….
I graduated and integrated my learnings into my prenatal yoga classes. A student even asked me to attend her birth, but she needed an emergency c-section, and I wasn’t allowed in the surgical suite. Years went by. I forgot everything I ever learned about being a doula, except as it related to my yoga classes.
Then my best friend got pregnant and told me that she thought she should have a doula at her first birth. I agreed. Hiring an experienced doula was a fabulous idea.
“You don’t get it,” she said. “It has to be you.”
Gulp.
I tried to convince her that I was utterly incompetent. I assured her that that she could hire thousands of doulas who would be better than me. She refused to consider anyone else. So back to doula school I went.
Attending that birth will always be one of the greatest highlights of my life. My friend’s labor was a difficult one, over twenty hours long. I was, as I’d feared, pretty much incompetent. But my friend didn’t seem to mind. And I’ll never forget her son’s hand reaching toward me as he entered the world.
So how did I connect that experience with murder? I didn’t. At least not directly. But I was moved by the stories I’d heard in training, perplexed by the controversies, and transformed by my own experience bumbling through such an important life event. And of course my protagonist, Kate, would do anything for her best friend, Rene. So when Rene became pregnant with twins in A Killer Retreat, I knew I’d eventually write about her birth.
The result is A Fatal Twist.
I hope you read and enjoy it.
Tracy Weber
All four books in the Downward Dog Mystery Series are available at booksellers everywhere!
Tracy Weber
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