Phyllis Entis's Blog

I'm not alone in feeling as though this year has lasted forever. The only good thing about the limitations on social gatherings has been the added time freed up for writing.

In January 2007, ASM Press released my textbook, Food Safety: Old Habits, New Perspectives.

In January 2020, ASM Press returned the copyright to my thirteen-year old book to me, giving me the green light to revamp, update and republish the book for the general public.

Today, I am pleased to announce that TAINTED. From Farm Gate to Dinner Plate, Fifty Years of Food Safety Failures is now available for Amazon pre-order. If you prefer a different ebook format, or would rather read a "real" book, don't despair. TAINTED will be available in paperback and in all ebook formats.

Here is a short excerpt from Chapter 15. See No Evil

It was a chocolate lover’s nightmare. The lab was stacked to its acoustical tile ceiling with cases of Christmas Santas, Easter eggs, and Easter bunnies, and we couldn’t so much as nibble an ear. Even the broken crumbs were off-limits. Nor were we tempted to indulge. The novelties had been manufactured by Regent Chocolate and were suspected of containing Salmonella Eastbourne.

I was working in the Winnipeg, Manitoba regional lab of Canada’s Health Protection Branch (HPB) when news of the Salmonella outbreak broke in January 1974. One week later, on February 1st, the FDA announced a voluntary recall of Regent’s foil-wrapped chocolate balls. Because the manufacturer was located in Ste-Hyacinthe, Quebec, more than 1,400 miles [2300 kilometers] away, we didn’t expect to become involved in the investigation. When a dispute arose between company management and government investigators over how much of the chocolate should be recalled, the HPB decided to test every single batch of Regent’s chocolate products stored in warehouses across Canada.

Our lab was responsible for checking all of the suspect chocolate that was stored in warehouses in Manitoba and Saskatchewan. We didn’t find Salmonella in any of the samples that we tested, but some of the other regional labs struck paydirt. Ultimately, the company was forced to recall its entire outstanding inventory – a total value of $6 million. The cost of the recall, and the damage to the company’s reputation, was a body blow that broke Regent’s financial back and forced it into bankruptcy protection.

Pre-order TAINTED now and it will be delivered automatically to your Kindle reader or Kindle app on December 2, 2020.

Follow me for updates on how to order TAINTED from other ebook retailers.

The Blue Moon Caper
Now available on Amazon for pre-order at US$3.99, with a release date of December 6, 2019


SET AND FORGET
If you are interested in reading about Damien and Millie’s latest caper as soon as it is released, place your order now and receive an automatic download to your Kindle reader or Kindle app on December 6th.

A TASTE OF THE ACTION
Here’s a snippet from Chapter Three to whet your interest.
We climbed up 12th Avenue, turned left onto Dolores, and set a brisk pace for the last block. Millie was winded by the time we reached the corner of 11th and Dolores, and I gave her a minute to catch her breath before opening the front gate to Casa Encantada.

Millie preceded me up the flagstone walk, climbed the four steps to the front door and pressed the doorbell. I could hear the four-note ‘Big Ben’ chimes ringing from somewhere inside. The sound of yapping dogs emanated from an upstairs window as we waited for our client to answer the door.

After a minute or so, I reached past Millie and gave the doorbell an emphatic double hit, which triggered a second round of barking from the dogs, but nothing else.

Millie and I looked at each other. “Now what?” I asked.

“Maybe she’s napping and didn’t hear the bell?” Millie offered.

“She would have to be dead not to have heard that racket,” I replied.

As the words left my mouth, Millie turned away from the door. “Let’s check around back,” she said.

We followed the flagstone path that led along the north side of the house next to an ivy hedge that separated Durocher’s property from her nearest neighbor. As we dodged stray branches from the unpruned ivy, Millie stopped and sniffed the air. “I think I smell smoke,” she said, and broke into a jog.

I was right behind her as we reached an irregularly shaped stone patio. The smell of smoke was stronger here. I peered through the glass of the French door at the rear of the house. The door led directly into a large kitchen, which was filling with smoke. Turning my head to scan the room, I spotted the source. The oven of a large gas range had blown open, and was belching dark grey smoke. Through the haze, I could also see a skillet on top of the range, its contents on fire.

“Kitchen fire,” I called out to Millie.

“Any sign of Malvina?”

“Still looking,” I shifted my position to get a better look at the rest of the kitchen. The smoke wasn’t as dense away from the range. I saw a shoe lying toe-up, its sole pointed in my direction, then a second shoe next to it.
“She’s in there,” I called out. “On the floor, probably out cold. I’m going in.”

“Wait, Dick.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Millie remove a scarf from around her collar. She raced over to a hose bib protruding from the side of the house, drenched the scarf, and wrung out the excess water before handing it to me. “Get help,” I told her, as I tied the wet scarf over my nose and mouth, bandit style.

The door was locked. I looked around for something to smash the glass, and found a large rock in the back corner of the yard. The single-pane window broke easily, and I was able to reach through the opening and release the latch.

Taking a deep breath and holding it as long as I could, I raced inside the kitchen to where Malvina Durocher lay. She was half under the table with one arm draped over the seat of a chair, as though she had toppled over while seated. I skirted the table, bent over and, grabbing her under the armpits, I dragged her out from under the table.

Fighting the smoke and the urge to breathe deeply, I struggled with my burden until, coughing and drenched with sweat, I made it through the door and out onto the patio. Once clear of danger, I bent over, hands on my knees, gasping for breath. I saw Millie running toward me and motioned her to check on Malvina. “I’ll be okay,” I rasped between coughs. “How is she?”

Millie knelt beside the unconscious woman, pressed her fingers to Malvina’s neck, and put her ear to Malvina’s chest. “She’s alive! I can feel a pulse and she’s breathing.”

OLD FRIENDS, NEW DANGERS
You’ll reconnect with some old friends in The Blue Moon Caper, including Bruno Caravaggio, everyone’s favourite sidekick, who gets himself into some serious trouble this time around. Gus is back, too, and a couple of characters from the The Green Pearl Caper make cameo appearances.

This isn’t “same old, same old” though. There are new villains for Damien and Millie to contend with. New challenges for them to overcome.

The Blue Moon Caper

"I'll march my band out, I'll beat my drum" - lyrics from Don't Rain on my Parade (Funny Girl)

I am one of those people who - happily or otherwise - is afflicted with the tendency to channel musicians inside my head.

Today's guest artist is the great Barbra Streisand, in her role as Fanny Brice.

One of the most difficult chores for me as a self-published novelist is marketing. Selling myself - more specifically, my work - to the world.

I grew up in an era and in a family in which modesty about one's accomplishments was the norm. Bragging or boasting was frowned upon. Blowing one's own horn, or beating one's own drum, was discourteous. It just wasn't done.

But to be a successful author - to actually sell my books to strangers - I had to learn to promote myself. To learn that it is okay to brag about my accomplishments.

Today, strange as it still feels, I am beating my own drum.


This juried award was bestowed in recognition of The Gold Dragon Caper, fourth of the Damien Dickens Mysteries.

I am grateful to the readers and writers who nominated me for this award, and to The Authors Show for sponsoring this annual competition.

Today was Launch Day for The Gold Dragon Caper, fourth book in the Damien Dickens Mystery series.

My new release is available at Amazon for Kindle Unlimited, and for direct purchase in ebook and paperback editions.

mybook.to/tgdc

Here is the short Prologue, followed by Chapter One

Prologue

“NO!”

I watched, helpless to intervene, as he raised his gun. He fired once, and Millie crumpled to the ground. Turpin turned to face me. “I warned you,” he said. “I promised you’d be sorry.”

Part One - No saying dark enough

Chapter One
February 18, 1983

I sat bolt upright, my heart pounding against my ribcage, cold sweat running in rivulets down my chest. Turpin’s final words reverberated inside my skull, and I was panting as hard as if I had run a four-minute mile. I waited for my breathing and my pulse to return to normal, then carefully swung my legs over the side of the bed. Millie stirred in her sleep. “Dick,” she mumbled, “is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing, honey,” I told her. “I had a bad dream. Go back to sleep.” I pushed myself to my feet and walked into the bathroom to splash cold water onto my face. My sweatpants and sweatshirt were draped over a chair in the bedroom. I shrugged my body into them, pulled on an old pair of athletic socks, and shoved my feet into the ratty sneakers laying on the floor by the bed. The walls were closing in, and I needed to get out. I retrieved my Smith & Wesson 29 from under my pillow, checked its load, and slid it into my shoulder holster. Grabbing my ski jacket from the hall closet, I disarmed the ‘at home’ setting on the security alarm and opened the apartment door. Hershey, our three-year old Labradoodle, raised his head and whimpered. “You stay here,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Stay with Millie.” I reset the alarm, locking the door carefully behind me as I left.

My ’78 Celica was sitting at the curb under a bright street lamp. I circled the car, wincing at the rust spots pockmarking the ice-blue paint. A cursory inspection revealed no new damage: no slashed tires, no key scratches, no spray-painted graffiti on the windshield. I unlocked the door, climbed in and started the engine. It was barely 3:00am, and the roads were clear of traffic. I drove mechanically, not caring where I was heading. With no memory of how I got there, I found myself at the foot of Iowa Avenue, where it dead-ended by the Boardwalk. I parked and locked the car, climbed a set of steps, and started walking. Trying to empty my mind of thoughts, I focused my eyes on my feet, and my ears on the wood-deadened thunk of my sneakers on the Boardwalk’s planks. A cold gust of wind slapped my cheeks, helping to clear the dregs of the nightmare from my brain.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. I opened the Dickens Detective Agency in the mid-1970s, and was on the verge of drowning in paperwork when Millie Hewitt walked into my office and into my life. Within a few days, she’d brought the workings of the front office under control, enabling me to focus on the needs of our small portfolio of clients. I wondered at the time how she knew I needed help, and how she managed to survive on the pittance I could afford to pay her.

Julius Augustus III, ‘Gus’ to his friends, has been both my client and my attorney from the day I opened up shop. Last year, Millie finally revealed that Gus, an old friend of her late parents, was the one who had sent her to my rescue, and had supplemented her income until my struggling detective agency was out of debt. Gus was Best Man, and his wife was Matron of Honor when Millie and I were married in September 1979. He and Zoe remain our closest friends.

Three years ago, we were on top of the world. By the summer of 1980, the Dickens Detective Agency had brought a complex investigation to a successful conclusion, and we were amply rewarded by our client. Millie and I acquired a new puppy, and were talking about buying a house. But in besting Derek Turpin during the course of that assignment, we’d made a dangerous, vengeful enemy, and the last three years had been a slow descent into hell.

The first sign of trouble arose when we applied to our bank for a mortgage. We had accumulated enough cash for a down payment, and our multi-year retainer contract with Sutherland Enterprises was more than sufficient to cover the monthly mortgage installments on the house we had found. Nevertheless, our bank turned us down flat. We tried our luck with several other banks and mortgage companies, without success. After some discreet poking around, Millie learned that the word on the street was ‘No.’ Any institution accepting our loan application would incur Turpin’s wrath. We resigned ourselves to the situation, and approached the management of our block, The Carver Hill Apartments, about moving into a larger unit. That’s when the second shoe fell. Not only were we refused, but we were told we must get rid of our dog or face eviction.

After several weeks of searching, we finally settled for an apartment on Atlantic Avenue, one floor above Caravaggio’s Pawn Shop. It wasn’t the best of neighborhoods, but it was the best we could do. The area was noisy, the local crime rate the highest in Atlantic City, and a steady stream of homeless men and women littered the sidewalks and alleys. On the other hand, there was plenty of free parking behind the building, and our friend, Sophia Caravaggio, gave us a good deal on the rent. I knew I could count on Hershey, a 60-lb labradoodle who looked twice his weight, to keep Millie safe when I wasn’t around to protect her. Hershey is a gentle giant, but potential assailants don’t know that, and Millie has trained him to respond to a ‘protect’ command by baring his teeth and growling.

Finding living quarters was only the start of our problems. Millie is a whiz at running background checks, the bread-and-butter of our business. The work is time-sensitive. Employers can’t wait forever for reports on potential new hires. City and county officials became less and less cooperative whenever she visited their offices to examine public records, often entangling her requests in unnecessary red tape and delays. We started losing business to our competitors. Turpin’s protégé, Duke Zyklos, was able to jump to the head of every line, and scooped up our most lucrative clients.

Then there was the harassment. Again and again, our office was broken into. Trashed, despite the sophisticated security locks and alarm systems we had installed. Our cars were targeted by vandals at least once a week, and our insurance premiums quadrupled. Worst of all, we began to receive threatening phone calls at random times both at the office and at home.

Turpin’s relentless persecution was taking its toll on our marriage as well. Day by day, it became harder to deal with the stress. Day by day, our squabbling intensified. Brick by brick, a wall of resentment was rising between us. A wall that was becoming increasingly difficult to breach.

A gust of wind jostled me out of my reverie. When I looked up, I was facing the ghostly remains of the Steel Pier. Once a major tourist attraction, it had fallen on hard times. A couple of years back, its buildings were converted into warehouse space by the owners of the Resorts International Hotel & Casino. Last December, the Pier was destroyed by fire. There were murmurings of arson in the aftermath of the conflagration, but no evidence was found, and the fire was ruled accidental. I stared at the sad remnants of the Steel Pier. Fire-blackened wood beams still lay scattered over the sand, casting eerie shadows in the predawn light. Twisted steel pylons, which once had supported the weight of the wood superstructure, poked feebly above the troughs between the waves.

Another gust of wind sent pages of a discarded newspaper cartwheeling down the boardwalk. One of the sheets came to rest against my leg. Mechanically, I bent over to pick it up. ‘Iconic Gold Piece Stolen from Las Vegas Casino,’ the familiar headline trumpeted in heavy black typeface. Beneath, in smaller type, I read, ‘Reward offered for return of Gold Dragon nugget.’ Millie and I had talked about the heist the day before. Half-joking, she’d suggested this was a job for Team Dickens, if only we weren’t half a continent away. There had been a wistful undercurrent in her voice, and I hadn’t known how to respond. I crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

The chilly night air had cleared my head. I turned on my heel and started walking back to where I had left the car. The Resorts International complex loomed ahead on my right, reminding me of the first time Millie and I had crossed swords with Derek Turpin. The Boardwalk was changing, I realized. Atlantic City was changing. Casinos were taking over, and glitz was the order of the day. I passed the former location of one of the Boardwalk’s venerable resort hotels, the Marlborough-Blenheim, torn down a few years ago to make way for the Bally Park Place. The clinks and bells of the slot machines wafted out of Bally’s main entrance, providing a clamorous counterpoint to the peaceful lapping of waves against the sandy shore. The Boardwalk Regency, which had opened the same year as Bally’s, announced its presence a block ahead, the first tentative rays of sun glinting off its gilt-framed windows. I passed Boardwalk Hall, home to the annual Miss America Pageant, and one of the few remaining landmarks from my youth. A couple of minutes later, I was back at my car.

I slid behind the wheel and thought about our situation. About our lives. Our future. Last summer, Turpin had tightened the thumbscrews by filing complaints against me with the New Jersey licensing board. He claimed I had threatened him, and had vandalized his office. That I had tried to run his car off the road. All lies, of course, but it made no difference. Four of the five members of the board owed their positions to his influence. Despite Gus’s best efforts on my behalf, the board found against me, suspending my Private Investigator license for six months. Although Millie’s license was untouched, at least for now, it wasn’t enough to salvage our reputation or our business. We were down to just one steady client and the occasional walk-in. Even Gus had been forced to switch to another detective agency, out of concern that my involvement on behalf of his clients would prejudice their cases.

Reaching into my hip pocket for my billfold, I slid my PI license out of its compartment, and stared at the word ‘SUSPENDED’ stamped diagonally across it in red ink. The suspension was due to be lifted in a couple of days, but I wasn’t hopeful. Turpin would find a way to have it extended. Again, I heard the voice from my nightmare - Turpin’s voice - echoing inside my skull, mocking me, “I warned you,” the voice repeated. “I promised you’d be sorry.”

With a sigh, I returned the defaced license to my billfold, and reached down to retrieve a piece of paper, which had fallen to the floor. Taking care not to damage its threadbare creases, I unfolded the three-year-old note and stared at it as though seeing it for the first time. The sheet held a three-word message, printed in block letters and underscored with a heavy double line. It read, ‘YOU’LL BE SORRY!’ and was signed, DJT.

I looked across the street at the old Ritz-Carlton Hotel, another doomed Atlantic City landmark. Owned by Derek Turpin, who lived and worked on the penthouse floor, the structure was slated for imminent demolition. After years of wrangling, arm-twisting, and bribing politicians, Turpin had finagled approval to raze the Ritz and replace it with a new casino/hotel. I stared up at the grand old building and came to a decision. Starting the Celica’s engine, I slipped the car into gear and went home to Millie.

I'm serious.

I really mean it.

I don't want you to buy my books. I don't want to twist your arms, talk your ears off, and clutter your Twitter and Facebook feeds with unwanted 'Buy my book' posts.

I don't want you to buy my books if ...

Read the rest of the article at Gone Writing

Thank you, Lauren Pierre, for allowing me to share this Ultimate Indie Authors! interview on my goodreads blog

Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):
Hi everyone! Today I’m very lucky to be interviewing Phyllis Entis, author of the Damien Dickens Mystery series. Phyllis, thank you for agreeing to this interview. Before we get started, tell us a little about yourself and your background. When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?


Phyllis:
In my first professional incarnation, I was a food safety microbiologist. After I graduated from a full-time job at the lab bench to a position behind a desk, I spent a fair bit of time reading and writing technical reports, articles for scientific journals, and other work-related material. I realized that most of the reports I had to digest were so heavy on jargon that they were essentially unreadable. When I wrote my first book - a lab manual - I made a conscious effort to avoid jargon, and to write in a style that would be more accessible to my audience. I believe that was the moment when I realized that I was a writer who happened to be a scientist, rather than a scientist whose job included writing.



Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):
Wow! So do you write part-time or full-time?


Phyllis:
My husband and I are retired, but I wouldn’t say that I am a full-time writer. My current day job is our puppy, who we adopted last February.



Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):
Aw, that’s sweet. What does your production schedule look like? How long does it take for you to finish a book once it’s started?


Phyllis:
I released my first two books in 2015 - The Green Pearl Caper in the spring, and The White Russian Caper in the fall. The third book, The Chocolate Labradoodle Caper, released in October 2016, about eleven months after the second book. The first book took about a year to write and edit. I started the White Russian while I ‘shopped’ the Green Pearl to agents. When I realized that I needed to take matters into my own hands, I released the Green Pearl on Amazon. By then, I was about ready to begin revisions to the White Russian - hence the relatively short gap between the release dates of the first two books. I didn’t start to write the Chocolate Labradoodle until after the second book was released, and put it aside for a while after three false starts. I am hoping to pick up the pace a bit on the production of book #4.



Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):
Can you tell us a little bit about your book(s)? (No spoliers!)


Phyllis:
I write a mystery series. My protagonists are a husband-and-wife team, Damien and Millie Dickens (they married between the first and second books), who are based in Atlantic City, New Jersey. The series began in 1979 and is now in the early 1980s. I like to vary the settings, and readers will find themselves traveling with Millie and Damien to Vermont, Florida and even Montreal. I’m planning a new side trip for the next book.



Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):
Sounds interesting! So where do you ultimately get your information or ideas for your books?


Phyllis:
From all over. The major settings are all places where I’ve lived or that I’ve visited. Some of the characters are made up out of whole cloth; others are based on people I’ve met. One of the plot lines in the Chocolate Labradoodle draws on my experiences as a food safety microbiologist.



Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):
What do you feel you bring to the table that is different from other mystery writers?


Phyllis:
Well, my science background, for one. My family’s east-European roots, for another. And an adult life spent living in and traveling in a lot of different places.



Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):
That’s great! You mentioned earlier that you self-publish (Whoohoo!). What is your publishing process like?


Phyllis:
My initial strategy was to maximize royalty share by using Amazon’s exclusive Kindle program for ebooks. I published a paperback edition using CreateSpace. However, I found that a significant portion of my potential initial audience (i.e., friends and family) used Kobo (in Canada), or Nook readers, and were unable to access the ebook. After my second book languished on Amazon for a couple of months, I decided to change my approach. I allowed the 90-day exclusivity period to lapse for both books, and broadened my exposure by publishing on Smashwords. This allowed me to reach Nook, iBook, and Kobo users, as well as library customers (via OverDrive). I also found a narrator who was willing to work on a royalty-share basis to produce an audiobook edition for the first two books, which are available on Amazon, Audible and iTunes. I published my third book on both Amazon and Smashwords, in addition to continuing to use CreateSpace for the paperback edition. I haven’t yet initiated production of an audiobook edition of The Chocolate Labradoodle Caper.



Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):
Do you believe in writers’ block? If so, how to you cope with it? If not, what’s your diagnosis/solution for lack of creativity?


Phyllis:
I experience writer’s block from time to time, so I know that it’s real. There’s always a letdown once a book is finished, edited and published. I try to take a few weeks off - give my characters a vacation, so to speak. When I feel my fingers getting itchy, I start to kick around plot ideas with my husband during our daily walks. I also talk to myself (a lot) and to the puppy. As the ideas begin to coalesce, I feel the characters coming alive inside my head; I start to hear their conversations and feel their emotions. That’s when I know I’m ready to start writing again.



Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):
What was your favorite childhood book? What is your favorite current book?


Phyllis:
The first books I remember devouring were the Nancy Drew, Cherry Ames, and Judy Bolton series. My cousin and I used to spend summer afternoons sitting outside reading. We would each choose a book (we both owned the complete collection of Nancy Drew) and start it from the beginning. Judy and I were fast readers, and our reading sessions evolved into informal competitions as to who would finish her book first. Periodically, one of us would ask the other what page she had reached. Although we both could devour a Nancy Drew in a single session, Judy almost always finished first. These days, I still read a lot of mystery series, mostly books by Louise Penny and Jacqueline Winspear. But the book that had the greatest emotional impact on me was Still Alice, by Lisa Genova. My late father suffered from Alzheimer’s, and Still Alice helped me to better understand what he had experienced.



Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):
Do you have any advice/tips for aspiring mystery writers and/or writers in general?


Phyllis:
Read, read, and read some more. Do a heap of reading in your own preferred genre, but also sample other types of writing. As you read, think about how the author has structured the story, shaped the paragraphs, and the sentences. Think about what you like in the writing and what you find irritating. And write. It doesn’t matter whether you write flash fiction, memoir, short stories, or letters. Just write. Let the words flow and save the editing for later. If you can, find a writing group in your area. It doesn’t have to be a formal class; it can be just a group of people who want to share ideas and experiences. Start a diary or a blog and write. Find fellow writers on Facebook or at your local library, and WRITE.



Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):

How can readers discover more about you and you work?


Phyllis:
I recently set up my own website, Gone Writing (phyllisentis.wordpress.com). It’s still fairly spartan, but there is a Welcome page, a short bio, a page that lists my published books, and a blog. I also have an author page on Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/Phyllis-Entis/...) and on goodreads (https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...), and a Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/DamienDicken...). Readers can send me a direct message via Facebook or goodreads. I promise to respond.



Ultimate Indie Authors! (Lauren):
Is there anything else you would like to add that I haven’t included?


Phyllis:
I am about to start on the first draft of the next book in the Damien Dickens Mysteries series. Puppy permitting, I am hoping that this one won’t take a year to complete.

THE GREEN PEARL CAPER: A DAMIEN DICKENS MYSTERY is on special this weekend at Smashwords for just $0.99.

Visit the Smashwords page of The Green Pearl Caper and use Coupon Code ST68C to take advantage of this Thanksgiving weekend special.

Offer expires November 28th, so act now.

The Green Pearl Caper is a Library Journal SELF-e Selection.

The following is an excerpt from my November 22, 2016 blog post at Gone Writing. Please follow the link to read the complete article.

Today, I am basking in the afterglow of a wonderful review of The Chocolate Labradoodle Caper that appeared on the blog site On My Kindle. Please follow the link and discover why Charity Rowell-Stansbury called The Chocolate Labradoodle Caper. A Damien Dickens Mystery her "...favorite book in the Damien Dickens Mystery Series thus far."

Buoyed by the encouragement I've received from On My Kindle and other readers, I am now hard at work plotting Damien and Millie's next adventure. Wish me luck!

I always had an excuse: a manuscript to complete, a manuscript to edit, a new book to plot. The idea of building a website had as much appeal to me as the thought of my next mammogram.

I've been putting it off for almost a year. Last month, I ran out of excuses. The third book in my Damien Dickens Mysteries series was on the market. I was between plots, and needed something to take my mind off the election ads. It was time to tackle the website.

The first decision was where to build. I looked at Wix, but decided on Wordpress. I was familiar with the Wordpress tools, as I had used Wordpress to host my old food safety blog, eFoodAlert. They have a plethora of free templates, and offer a static home page - all I needed for a relatively modest website.

Once I decided on a template, it took just a few hours to design and populate the site with a Welcome page, a short bio, a page for my books, and a blog page. And, magically, Gone Writing was born.

To celebrate the birth of my latest writing offspring, I am offering a free e-copy of my first novel, THE GREEN PEARL CAPER: A DAMIEN DICKENS MYSTERY, to the first 50 people who visit the site and either leave a comment or complete the pop-up form to subscribe to my monthly newsletter, Damien Dickens News. This celebratory promotion is in effect until the end of November.

I hope to see you over at Gone Writing very soon.

It's taken about a year, but the manuscript for my third novel, THE CHOCOLATE LABRADOODLE CAPER is in the hands of my beta-readers.

Rather than sitting and waiting anxiously for feedback from my loyal critics, I have decided to celebrate by offering an audiobook TWO-FOR-ONE SALE. Here is how it will work:

1. Purchase an audio download of The White Russian Caper: A Damien Dickens Mystery from Amazon, Audible or iTunes.

2. Forward to me the email you receive from their website that confirms your purchase. My email address is "phyllisentis(at)gmail(dot)com"

3. I will give you a free audio download of THE GREEN PEARL CAPER: A DAMIEN DICKENS MYSTERY.

It's that simple, folks. But, act now, because this offer turns into a pumpkin at the end of Labor Day weekend.

Watch for the release of THE CHOCOLATE LABRADOODLE CAPER in all ebook formats and in paperback during the first half of October. An audiobook edition will follow.