Would you sign yourself into the loony bin if it meant you might be murdered? On the lavish estate of mogul Bernard Leigh, there lurks a secret. It is the Roaring Twenties, the Jazz Age, the dawning of the modern era. World War 1 is over. American prohibition is in full force, and Leigh House, once a lavish, private home, is now a sanitarium for the wealthy. Florian Valentine Flix, a veteran of the war, is one of the patients at this health-oriented resort. He has signed himself into this place by feigning illness. But why? Only after a murder is committed on the grounds of the historical B.S.T. Leigh House, or Beastly House as it is jokingly known, do the real reasons for his presence as a patient come to light. Detective Phalen Archer has been assigned to the case. The officer is delighted, but he is confused at his buddy's presence at Beastly House. Together, Flix and Archer go after the killer, but will the murderer escape? Beastly House is a 1920s detective mystery story that immerses the reader in the Roaring Twenties and is the first in the Cupid/Archer Mystery Series, a historical, fun series of murder mystery books set in the early 20th century. Follow this amateur sleuth and detective as they set out to solve this fun whodunit and unmask the killer!
About the Author: I'm Joni Green, author of fiction and illustrator of children's books. My settings are as varied as the American landscape. My works of fiction cover a wide range of topics and themes. From ugly, racist attitudes to the humble kindness of strangers, from unavoidable tragedy and defeat to the unconquerable human spirit that rises from the ashes of chaos, from peace to war, from undying love to utter madness, I delve into the human soul and reveal glimpses of the frail and mortal character of Man. The settings are sometimes gritty and surreal, sometimes, simple and small town. My children's books are full of entertaining and unique illustrations geared to making learning fun. ABOUT THE AUTHOR I have been a reader for as long as I can remember. I smile at the picture my mind's eye paints: a skinny kid dragging a hardback copy of 'Anna Karenina' to the beach. Yes, that was a beach read. I remember losing a copy of Marcel Proust's 'Swann's Way' in a campground on the Outerbanks. While I mourned its lost, I was surprised to find it lying on a sink in the cinderblock bathhouse at the Salter Path Family Campground a few days later. My sister ribbed me for days that somebody had returned it because it was such a boring read no one would ever keep it. (I got the book back, but sadly, that campground is no longer in existence. So many fond memories. So many good people who visited there year after year.) I was into the classics as a kid. It may sound painstakingly boring, but I wanted to learn from the best the world had to offer. It was a rich education - Hemingway, Faulkner, Steinbeck, and scores of others. I went to an estate sale as a teenager. There in the corner of that musty old house was an old gunmetal manual typewriter. It stood on a little table with wheels and 2 spring-levered leaves that folded in or out. I was lucky enough to get it. I still have that old thing, though I never use it. I keep it for what it symbolizes. In the age of touch pads and such, it's nice to see the old mechanical type hammers lined up in their neat row, each with their slug of metal type on the end. Like I said, it's nice to look at. For the actual typing, give me touch pads and laptop keyboards. I leave you with this invitation to step inside my world.