Today, my longtime author friend, Amy Spector, is here on a visit! Welcome, Amy
Thank you, Ofelia, for inviting me to pop over to your blog today!
Happy October! This is a time for all things spooky, and spooky books are my favorite—I should point out that I typoed that as spooky boys before I corrected it. Both are true!—but it’s been some time since I’ve had an October book release.
This year I have two!
Today is officially release day for Findley Black and the Ghosts of Printer’s Devil and I’m super excited to introduce it to the world!
Stripped to the bare bones, Findley Black and the Ghosts of Printer’s Devil is about a lonely man that inherits Printer’s Devil, a purportedly haunted bookstore—raise your hand if, like me, that too is your dream—and his attempts to get laid on Halloween.
It’s a little humor, a little angst, a little spooky, and just a lot of fun.
Printer’s Devil is actually loosely based on a bookstore not far from my house, in German Village in Columbus, Ohio.
In real life, the Printer’s Devil is called the Book Loft, and it’s a 32-room maze of book madness created from several buildings, some of which date back to before the U.S. Civil War.
At different times throughout the years, the buildings held a saloon, a nickelodeon movie theater, with the upstairs rooms occupied by everything from a church, and a school, to an art studio and flower shop—and a whole bunch of other stuff.
If you’re not too many miles of Columbus or passing through, the Book Loft is definitely worth a stop.
If you’re interested in a little Halloween fun, check out the blurb and excerpt below.
Findley Black and the Ghosts of Printer’s Devil
Starting over at thirty-four is harder than Owen Key expected. Lonelier too. There’s Bella, and the odd assortment of kids he’d inherited when a father he barely knew left him Printer’s Devil. But his bookstore employees and his cat aren’t much good when it comes to getting laid.
Findley Black says a lot of things. At least according to everyone at the store. When Owen runs into him for the first time during one of his ghost tours, with his leather jacket and flirtatious looks, Owen finds himself more than interested in what he has to say.
Owen may have been hoping for a one-night-stand, but when Findley asks to stay the remainder of Halloween night in the Printer’s Devil in hopes of seeing the ghost of a serial killer, he finds it hard to say no.
Halloween is a time for ghost stories and trick or treat. But running out of candy is a bad omen, and it’s hard to get lucky when something otherworldly seems determined to ruin your night.
Excerpt:
“And that, my friends,” the guide raised his voice and the noisiness of the group died away. “Was the true story of the murderess Elizabeth Wells and the ghosts of the Printer’s Devil.”
The crowd broke out in applause and Owen stopped in his tracks and turned back.
The shop was supposed to be haunted?
“For those of you not quite ready to call it a night, across the street you’ll see Yearling. Founded in 1809, it’s one of the oldest, continually operating taprooms in the city. The woodwork alone makes it well worth a visit. For anyone interested, show your ticket and get one free drink. I’ll be grabbing a pint myself.”
The group applauded, many yelling their thanks, others wishing the guide a happy Halloween. A few more hanged around to ask questions. Once the crowd had finally dispersed—most headed off in search of where they parked, the others crossing the street to the bar—the guide threw a look over his shoulder, almost as if he’d known Owen would still be there and gave him that wicked smile again.
An invitation? Yeah, definitely an invitation.
When the man turned and started his own slow stroll across the four lanes, Owen gripped the strap of his bag and jogged to catch up.
“Okay if I join you?” A good, neutral start. Just in case what Owen was hoping for was nothing at all like what the other man had in mind.
“Alex was your dad, right?”
No, David Key had been Owen’s dad. Alexander Kemp had just been his father. “Biological. Yeah.”
The guy held out his hand, and Owen shook it. It was rough, with long fingers and Owen tucked that information aside for use later. Again, just in case they weren’t interested in the same thing.
“Findley Black.”
So, this was Kayla’s infamous Findley? “Owen Key.”
“Alex talked a lot about you. He was—”
“Don’t tell me.” Owen had heard the same words about a million times in the last three months. “A good man?”
Findley laughed. It was a sexy laugh. “No. He was an asshole. But an interesting one.”
That made Owen smile. It was refreshing to meet someone with nearly as low an opinion of the man who had sired Owen as he had himself. “Refreshing to hear.”
“Doesn’t mean I didn’t like the guy.”
When they pushed inside, Yearling was as impressive as Findley Black had promised the group. The entire place gleamed, the low light playing off the well-polished cherry wood that covered the floors and walls, the tall-backed booths, and the long bar that ran the length of the wall at the far end of the room. It smelled of wax and alcohol, and of cigar smoke, even though it probably hadn’t been smoked in for close to two decades.
They worked their way through the crowd to the bar and Owen ordered one of the on-tap specials. Findley ordered the same.
At nearly midnight, the place was pretty well full with the weekend crowd and a large group of college students in a celebratory mood, but Findley pointed to an empty, two-top booth pressed up against the front window with a view of the street outside and a sign that read RESERVED. “I have my own spot.”
“Convenient.” Owen wondered if Findley picked someone up after every tour. “No doubt it comes in handy.”
“A perk for sending business their way.”
At the booth, Findley pushed the sign aside before he slipped in and Owen slid in across from him.
“I have a question.” Technically Owen had two questions, but felt are you gay would be best left until later. “How’d you know who I was? It couldn’t have been my looks.”
“No.” Findley laughed again. “Definitely not your looks.”
Alexander Kemp had been a big man, tall, with wide shoulders, square features, and a jet-black mop. Except for his height, Owen took almost exclusively after his mother. From his warm complexion and chestnut-colored hair to his taste in music and gold-brown eyes. And his nose. Owen could not have been more thankful that he’d inherited his mother’s nose.”
“Then how?”
“Micah told me you were closing for him tonight.”
“Of course.” Owen laughed at himself before taking a sip of his beer. He was not much of a beer drinker but this one wasn’t too bad—smokey, with only a hint of sweet.
“Bet I can guess why you decided to join me.” Findley smiled and Owen stilled, mid-sip, an image of fumbling with Findley in a bathroom stall flashing through his mind.
“Why?”
“Elizabeth Wells and the ghosts.”
Ah, that. Owen had nearly forgotten.
You can pick up Findley Black and the Ghosts of Printer’s Devil from you preferred online retailer by clicking the link below:
books2read.com/findleyblack
You can also pick up the book directly from the publisher, and save 20% now through November 2nd.
https://www.jms-books.com/amy-spector-c-224_504/findley-black-and-the-ghosts-of-printers-devil-p-3989.html
Want to read another excerpt? Check out my website below:
http://www.amyspectorauthor.com/standalone/#FindleyBlack
COMING OCTOBER 31st
Thanks for stopping by my post today!
About Amy Spector
Amy grew up in the United States surviving on a steady diet of old horror movies, television reruns and mystery novels.
After years of blogging about comic books, vintage Gothic romance book cover illustrations, and a shameful amount about herself, she decided to try her hand at writing stories. She found it more than a little like talking about herself in third person, and that suited her just fine.
She blames Universal for her love of horror, Edward Gorey for her love of British drama and writing for awakening the romantic that was probably there all along.
Amy lives in the Midwest with her husband and children, and her cats Poe, Goji and Nekō.
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