ABOUT THE BOOK . . .
HOODOO MONEY (The Stolen Nickel Series, Book 1)
- Publication date: Second Edition - September 21, 2013
- Price: $10.57 (Print), $2.99 (Kindle)
- Format: Paperback, eBook
- Pages: 328
- Dimensions: 6 x 9
- BISAC: Fiction/Suspense
- ISBN: 978-1492330004
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DESCRIPTION
A vicious mugging outside a New Orleans cemetery shakes up author Braeden McKay's quiet, structured world - but that's only the beginning of her misfortune. Accident. Betrayal. Murder. Is Braeden's run of bad luck caused by the nickel her friend stole from the grave of a hoodoo woman? What can she do about it now? She has no idea where the confounded nickel is. Clearly someone, or some thing, is bent on harming Braeden McKay, and it's up to Detective Sanderson Montgomery to protect her while keeping his heart out of the mix. Can love, the very entanglement Braeden wants no part of, be the one force greater than any adversary -- even a hoodoo curse?
WHAT READERS ARE SAYING . . .
Hoodoo Money was
like ice cream. I just couldn't put it down! Every time I looked up from my
Kindle I couldn't fathom why I wasn't in New Orleans, or Galveston. I could feel
the heat, taste the mugginess. AND your mouthwatering descriptions of all those
foods! OMG! Could I get a kitchen, please? I absolutely ate up the ending - and
then it was gone. ~ Jody, Goodreads.com
Is it really a hoodoo curse? Or is there something else that can explain the series of tragedies that dog Braeden McKay's every step after her best friend, Angeline St Cyr takes a nickel from the grave of a hoodoo woman in a New Orleans cemetery? This is an intricate, engrossing romantic suspense. Moving from New Orleans to Galveston it is brilliantly paced with an intriguing, multi-layered plot and a host of well-developed characters. Cleverly written, taut, suspenseful with believable dialogue, some really humourous characters and situations, and not one, but two realistically written heroes. ~ Jill, Goodreads.com
This is the perfect book to curl up with when you have an evening to yourself. Sharon Cupp Pennington's vivid unforgettable characters, intricate plot, humor, drama, and bayou charm will keep you turning those pages. I read Hoodoo Money straight through and it left me salivating for a sequel! ~ G Stewart, Amazon.com
Braeden and Angeline are in New Orleans on a working vacation when Angeline takes a souvenir nickel from the grave of a hoodoo gypsy. What follows next is a twisting and turning tale of murder and love. This will keep you turning pages to get to the end, I sat up late to finish this one. ~ Theresa N, Goodreads.com
Is it really a hoodoo curse? Or is there something else that can explain the series of tragedies that dog Braeden McKay's every step after her best friend, Angeline St Cyr takes a nickel from the grave of a hoodoo woman in a New Orleans cemetery? This is an intricate, engrossing romantic suspense. Moving from New Orleans to Galveston it is brilliantly paced with an intriguing, multi-layered plot and a host of well-developed characters. Cleverly written, taut, suspenseful with believable dialogue, some really humourous characters and situations, and not one, but two realistically written heroes. ~ Jill, Goodreads.com
This is the perfect book to curl up with when you have an evening to yourself. Sharon Cupp Pennington's vivid unforgettable characters, intricate plot, humor, drama, and bayou charm will keep you turning those pages. I read Hoodoo Money straight through and it left me salivating for a sequel! ~ G Stewart, Amazon.com
Braeden and Angeline are in New Orleans on a working vacation when Angeline takes a souvenir nickel from the grave of a hoodoo gypsy. What follows next is a twisting and turning tale of murder and love. This will keep you turning pages to get to the end, I sat up late to finish this one. ~ Theresa N, Goodreads.com
REVIEWS
Love, culture, setting and a brilliantly
crafted mystery plot make this a one-day, can't-set-it-down, page turner. With
heroes to die for and evil lurking from all corners of New Orleans and
Galveston, Hoodoo Money contains all the ingredients for a summer beach read or
a cozy day in front of a fire. Either way, you won't put it down until the last
page. I've read it, I own it, and I don't intend to let someone borrow it for
fear I won't get it back. ~ C. Hope Clark, author of Lowcountry Bribe, Tidewater
Murder, and Palmetto Poison
Romance, the tradition and history of New Orleans and a lead character that's as spunky and spicy as Cajun food all combine to make Sharon Cupp Pennington's book a page turner. ~ Rebbie Macintyre, author of Cast the First Stone and A Corner of Universe
Pennington's book is a breath of fresh air in the genre. Her subtle yet uncompromising characters weave a unique story of unrequited desire, power and lust, which spiral into self-fulfillment, the hope of love, ultimate loss and murder. Every facet of the human condition is painted skillfully across the broad canvas of a vibrant and often dark New Orleans, where curses are weighed on a single nickel - or are they? A pure delight to read. ~ B. J. Kibble, author of Chasing the Wind, Dry Rain, Legion and Cries From the Grave
Hoodoo Money had me turning the pages with enthusiasm and excitement. The characters are great, plot exciting and the romance wonderful. It showcases Southern charm and spine tingling suspense. MY RATING: Outstanding book that will stay on my bookshelf for rereading! ~ Amy Jacobs, Reviewer, MY OVERSTUFFED BOOKSHELF
If you love really evil bad guys, spooky settings, and a story that will keep you wondering all the way to the end, you will love Hoodoo Money! I hope Ms. Pennington has more planned like this book because this book just whets my appetite. ~ Stevi B, Reviewer, MANIC READERS
Romance, the tradition and history of New Orleans and a lead character that's as spunky and spicy as Cajun food all combine to make Sharon Cupp Pennington's book a page turner. ~ Rebbie Macintyre, author of Cast the First Stone and A Corner of Universe
Pennington's book is a breath of fresh air in the genre. Her subtle yet uncompromising characters weave a unique story of unrequited desire, power and lust, which spiral into self-fulfillment, the hope of love, ultimate loss and murder. Every facet of the human condition is painted skillfully across the broad canvas of a vibrant and often dark New Orleans, where curses are weighed on a single nickel - or are they? A pure delight to read. ~ B. J. Kibble, author of Chasing the Wind, Dry Rain, Legion and Cries From the Grave
Hoodoo Money had me turning the pages with enthusiasm and excitement. The characters are great, plot exciting and the romance wonderful. It showcases Southern charm and spine tingling suspense. MY RATING: Outstanding book that will stay on my bookshelf for rereading! ~ Amy Jacobs, Reviewer, MY OVERSTUFFED BOOKSHELF
If you love really evil bad guys, spooky settings, and a story that will keep you wondering all the way to the end, you will love Hoodoo Money! I hope Ms. Pennington has more planned like this book because this book just whets my appetite. ~ Stevi B, Reviewer, MANIC READERS
EXCERPT
Hidden by a uniform
row of tombs, he watched and waited, canvas shopping bag on
the ground near his feet. Unaccustomed to contact lenses, he blinked several
times, then squinted as he raised his camera.
He smiled. Today his eyes were umber, the color of shadow, how appropriate. Beneath the Orioles baseball cap his thick sandalwood hair, a new shade and slightly grayed at the temples, added bogus years to his clever disguise.
Through the camera's view finder, he studied the somber tableau stretched out before him. A mortician's Valhalla, the rows of tombs seemed endless. Path upon narrow path, they formed a macabre latticework of dead-end streets and snaking avenues, permanent addresses to poets and pirates, paupers and pompous politicians.
He panned his camera left. Many of the burial chambers were large and ostentatious, with friezes sculpted into their deep sides and elaborate statuary embellishing their rooftops. The relentless sun bleached their white marble doors, and half-dead grass breached the stone paths leading up to them.
They reminded him of poorly kept yards and poorly kept lives - of long kept secrets at risk of being unraveled.
He tracked the camera forward, where the crypts appeared as shrunken, windowless replicas of local banks and civic buildings, the Garden District's grand mansions. Others resembled the gallant Bastille, surrounded by garish cast iron grillwork, rust staining their concrete foundations. Still others, low rent efficiencies and walk-ups of handmade brick, crumbled with age, corners jutted out as if to snag the attention of the next passerby.
Panning the camera right, he zoomed in until Simone Dubois' grave and the two women filling the viewfinder. Killing the arrogant journalist, Dalrymple, had been easy, even pleasurable. But he had never killed a woman.
The prospect of doing so left him both excited and nauseous.
He smiled. Today his eyes were umber, the color of shadow, how appropriate. Beneath the Orioles baseball cap his thick sandalwood hair, a new shade and slightly grayed at the temples, added bogus years to his clever disguise.
Through the camera's view finder, he studied the somber tableau stretched out before him. A mortician's Valhalla, the rows of tombs seemed endless. Path upon narrow path, they formed a macabre latticework of dead-end streets and snaking avenues, permanent addresses to poets and pirates, paupers and pompous politicians.
He panned his camera left. Many of the burial chambers were large and ostentatious, with friezes sculpted into their deep sides and elaborate statuary embellishing their rooftops. The relentless sun bleached their white marble doors, and half-dead grass breached the stone paths leading up to them.
They reminded him of poorly kept yards and poorly kept lives - of long kept secrets at risk of being unraveled.
He tracked the camera forward, where the crypts appeared as shrunken, windowless replicas of local banks and civic buildings, the Garden District's grand mansions. Others resembled the gallant Bastille, surrounded by garish cast iron grillwork, rust staining their concrete foundations. Still others, low rent efficiencies and walk-ups of handmade brick, crumbled with age, corners jutted out as if to snag the attention of the next passerby.
Panning the camera right, he zoomed in until Simone Dubois' grave and the two women filling the viewfinder. Killing the arrogant journalist, Dalrymple, had been easy, even pleasurable. But he had never killed a woman.
The prospect of doing so left him both excited and nauseous.