Release Day Blitz: A Heritage of Death (Reverend Cici Gurule Mysteries, #2) by Alexa Padgett

Tuesday, October 23, 2018

A HERITAGE OF DEATH by Alexa Padgett is available now! Mystery/thriller readers do not want to miss getting their hands on this page-turning read! Find out more about A HERITAGE OF DEATH below and pick up your copy today!

About A HERITAGE OF DEATH

An unconventional woman. A brutal murder. To solve the case, one woman will look for help from beyond the grave…
Cici Gurule wants to pretend her dream is nothing more than a meaningless nightmare. But the bruised and bloodied woman looked alarmingly like her. When a baby turns up on her porch--a baby who was reported missing days before--evidence points to a connection with the woman in Cici's dream, and she can no longer ignore the nighttime vision. Cici and Detective Sam Chastain struggle to follow the garbled evidence, but the killer scores his victim first. Worse, a message pinned to the victim's blouse states, "You're next."
Now, it’s a race against the clock to keep the baby safe and find the murderer before his trail goes cold. Cici's only chance to solve this mystery, before she becomes the next victim, means choosing between her faith and believing a message left by her ghostly twin.
A Heritage of Death is the second novel in a compelling female sleuth mystery series for fans of Ruth Ware and Gilly MacMillan. If you like convention-shattering heroines, vivid Southwest settings, and a touch of the paranormal, then you'll love Alexa Padgett's twisty mystery.
Buy A Heritage of Death and hold on tight for a white-knuckle thrill ride today!
Add A HERITAGE OF DEATH to your Goodreads list here!
Get your hands on A HERITAGE OF DEATH now!

Read an Excerpt from A HERITAGE OF DEATH below:

Something in his voice, or his stare, caused Cici to feel flushed. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be by. I . . . um . . . I have more to tell you now.” Sam stepped into the narrow galley space and squinted out Cici’s kitchen window. “Can I get a drink? Then you can tell me.” Cici grabbed a pitcher of tea from the fridge and poured them each a glass, handing one to Sam. After a sip, she wrinkled her nose and pulled out the agave syrup, adding a thick dollop to her glass. Sam shook his head before she could offer him any. “That’s nasty,” he muttered. “If you must drink it sweetened, why can’t you just add sugar?” She swirled the liquid in her glass. “Because the sugar doesn’t dissolve as quickly as this stuff. That means the last few sips are straight-up sweet.” Sam turned his focus back to the window, studying the sky. “Looks like rain.” Cici peered out the window. “Meh. Those are hail clouds.” Sam chuckled, easing some of the tension that had built in Cici’s neck. But her head still throbbed. “You don’t know that,” Sam said. “Why do you even say that?” “They’re all thick and gray, like snow clouds.” This conversation was inane. Any suggestions, Aci? Of course, her sister was no help. “Or rain,” Sam said. “Rain also needs thick, dark clouds.” Cici crossed her arms over her chest. “We’ll see.” Thunder boomed—a low, harsh rumble—and Cici sighed. Sam smirked. “But you’re not here to talk about my iced-tea drinking habit or the weather. Let me tell you about my dream. It may be nothing, but . . .” Cici shivered. She settled her hip comfortably against the counter. “In my dream, there’s a missing woman. She has a baby with her.” Sam stood to his full height, eyes widening. “I’ve not heard of a case like that.” “Maybe it hasn’t happened yet,” Cici said. She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember the whole thing. Just the part where . . .” She grasped the glass in her hand more tightly, needing the anchor, the reality, so she didn’t slip back into that awful place again. “She’s been hurt by her captor. She has a friend . . . Becky. Becky shows up. Says something about . . .” Cici racked her brain. She’d lost it—that detail. It was important, too. “I don’t know. But Becky takes the baby.” “And leaves the woman—the mom?” Cici nodded. “She’s chained to the wall or floor. Something.” Sam smacked his hands together. “Hold up. You saw this in your dream last night?” Cici nodded. “And tonight. While I was walking the dogs.” Sam sucked his lower lip into his mouth, considering her for a long moment, before asking, “Has that ever happened before?” Cici shook her head. “I didn’t like it.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “It scared me.” “I can tell.” Sam took a step, like he meant to get closer but he stopped. “I haven’t been brought in on a murder case since . . .” Cici inhaled sharply through her nose. Since Cici had nearly died on top of a mountain. And Sam had kissed her. Then ignored her. Sam cleared his throat. He grabbed a pad from his rear pocket. His pencil was missing from the spiral top, so Cici opened the drawer by her hip and offered him a pen. He nodded his thanks, careful not to touch her fingers. “You think these dreams or nightmares or whatever you want to call them are from your sister?” Cici hesitated for a moment. “Yes. She talks to me at the beginning. Not much. Just that I need to see this, understand the situation. That kind of thing.” Sam tapped his pen on the pad, his mouth twisting in a grimace of doubt. Still, he’d been there when her sister appeared in the aspens on the top of that hiking trail. Aci had communicated with him, too, so he wasn’t willing to totally discount her recounting as grief or crazed imaginings. Yet. “Tell me everything you remember,” Sam said, turning on his no-nonsense detective mode. Cici cleared her throat and walked them both through all the details she could. She settled her glass on the counter and gripped the counter behind her, but her mind still tugged at her as if wanting to fall back into that space. She needed to remember something . . . something about who was there . . . “Cici?” She blinked, dazed. “What?” He frowned down at her, concern dancing through his gunmetal eyes. “You okay?” “Um.” She slid to the floor, her mind burning as it echoed with the woman’s.    

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About A PILGRIMAGE TO DEATH (A Reverend Cici Gurule Mystery Book 1)

When Cici discovers a body in the forest, she's shocked to realize the victim's wounds are identical to the ones that killed her sister a year ago. Now she's embroiled in the takedown of a massive criminal operation, and the stakes couldn't be higher…
"A wholly absorbing gumshoe tale elevated by an extraordinary detective" (Kirkus Reviews starred review).
Someone murdered her sister. And shot her dog. The killer won't stop until she's dead, too.
Cici finds a dead body while hiking in the Santa Fe National Forest. The situation deteriorates when she discovers the victim bears similar stab wounds to those that ended her twin sister's life a year ago.
Then, her identical twin sister infiltrates her dreams.
All of a sudden, Cici and her dogs must dodge arrows, bullets, and even a demon truck—all while she grapples with the knowledge that her sister was on the trail of a deep-rooted criminal operation. Worse, her twin's death was much more sinister than a random act of violence.
Now, as she follows the clues her sister drops in her dreams, the criminals want Cici out of the way. Permanently.
A Pilgrimage to Death is a high-octane thriller. Fans of Ruth Ware, J.D. Robb, and Angela Marsons will love Alexa's Padgett's new edge-of-your-seat novel.
Add A PILGRIMAGE OF DEATH to your Goodreads list here!
Get your copy of A PILGRIMAGE OF DEATH now!
 

About Alexa Padgett

With a degree in international marketing and a varied career path that includes content management for a web firm, marketing direction for a high-profile sports agency, and a two-year stint with a renowned literary agency, award-winning author Alexa Padgett has returned to her first love: writing fiction.
Alexa spent a good part of her youth traveling. From Budapest to Belize, Calgary to Coober Pedy, she soaked in the myriad smells, sounds, and feels of these gorgeous places, wishing she could live in them all—at least for a while. And she does in her books.
She lives in New Mexico with her husband, children, and walk-loving Great Pyrenees pup, Ash. When not writing, schlepping, or volunteering, she can be found in her tiny kitchen, channeling her inner Barefoot Contessa.
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