Great Escapes Blog Tour for Seas the Day

I am delighted to share that my Great Escapes Book Tour is from April 22-May 1. I hope you’ll meet me at these destinations to learn more about my new series–and there’s a giveaway!


April 22 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

April 22 – A Blue Million Books – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

April 23 – I’m All About Books – SPOTLIGHT

April 23 – Mysteries with Character – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

April 24 – Jane Reads – GUEST POST

April 24 – The Book Decoder – REVIEW

April 25 – Here’s How It Happened – SPOTLIGHT


April 25 – Teresa Trent Author Blog – SPOTLIGHT

April 26 – Literary Gold – CHARACTER GUEST POST

April 26 – Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

April 27 – Christy’s Cozy Corners – REVIEW, GUEST POST

April 27 – StoreyBook Reviews – REVIEW

April 28 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – REVIEW 

April 28 – A Wytch’s Book Review Blog – REVIEW, CHARACTER INTERVIEW

April 29 – Dee-Scoveries – SPOTLIGHT

April 29 – The Pulp and Mystery Shelf – SPOTLIGHT

April 30 – Diane Reviews Books – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST

April 30 – eBook addicts – SPOTLIGHT

May 1 – Ruff Drafts – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

May 1 – View from the Birdhouse – SPOTLIGHT

Silver Falchion WINNER!

Something amazing happened! CONFOUND IT won a Silver Falchion Award at Killer Nashville 2019. The field was tight, and I honestly didn’t expect to win among such stiff competition. I nearly didn’t hear my name called by category announcer Charley Pearson.

I floated up to the podium to get the award. Gosh, it was so super. Here it is nearly three weeks later, and I still get misty-eyed thinking about that beautiful moment.

So grateful for all the readers, fans, judges, and KN staffers who made this wonderful conference possible. It was a life moment for me and one I will always cherish!

Dreamed It

Justice for the dead and solace for the living is Baxley Powell’s creed, but she faces uncharted territory in this sixth book of the Dreamwalker Mystery Series. The Suitcase Killer has struck again, only this big city menace is now a problem for Baxley’s hometown. As that investigation heats up, a local woman is reported missing. The sheriff orders Baxley to work the missing person’s case.

Listening to the dead is familiar ground for Baxley but finding a missing young lady isn’t in her skill set. Besides, her dreams rarely follow a timeline. With the clock ticking, can this crime consultant discover a way to reach the living?

Her main source of help in the afterlife, a mentor named Rose, is unavailable. Instead, Baxley must rely on her wits and her Native American boyfriend, Deputy Sam Mayes, to find leads. Each shared dreamwalk and energy transfer binds them closer together, creating another issue. Mayes wants to marry Baxley but it isn’t that easy. They’re hampered by their community roles in opposite ends of the state.

Baxley juggles the pressure of two high-profile cases, a determined suitor, and expanding her limits. One thing is certain. Without her extrasensory sleuthing, the missing woman will die.

Excerpt:A sudden jolt propelled me to consciousness. I gazed upon a vast darkness and wheezed air into my lungs. Time passed as I steadied my breathing and slowed my racing heart. Flat on my back, I took stock of my situation.

Numb limbs indicated an extended dreamwalk, but I had no memory of any such excursion. I’d spent a quiet Sunday evening at home with my daughter and Sam Mayes, my Native American boyfriend, who was down from North Georgia for the weekend. I’d gone to sleep in my own bed and awakened here, wherever here was. Was I alone? I called upon my flagging energy to do a life signs scan. Using my extra senses, I virtually ranged out from my prone position. Mayes was to my immediate left, and from his low energy levels, as wiped out as I was. He was a dreamwalker, same as me. And from the cold energy pressing against my leg, my ghost dog watched over us. He’d bark on the spirit plane if someone or something approached, though my scan assured me we were alone. The void in my memory worried me. My debilitated condition pointed to an extrasensory event, but danged if I remembered contacting a spirit on the Other Side. Strange, because I remembered every other dreamwalk I’d ever made. Why not this one?

So much for me being an expert on the paranormal. Just when I thought I had the hang of my unusual profession of communicating with the dead, it socked me in the teeth. Crossing over to the spirit realm was something I did often, but the veil between the living and the dead nearly won this time. This had been no ordinary dreamwalk.

Instead of it being a spirit-only event, somehow our bodies had also undergone the shift. That defied the laws of physics, but here we were, body and spirit. Impossible and yet my reality. Tears misted my eyes, and I blinked to sharpen my vision. A woodsy aroma filled my nose, so we were outdoors. The darkness suggested it was night. My thoughts drifted into a self-healing meditative trance focusing on the breath. Gradually, clarity returned. As numbness yielded to tingling nerves, sensation seeped into my rigid body. Fatigue rolled in next, and with it, the riptide of bone-deep exhaustion. Despite my weariness, I took heart. This reaction was normal after an extended dreamwalk. Oliver lapped happily at my face, his whip-thin tail wagging his entire ghostly form. Good dog, Oliver, I managed as I joined him on the spirit plane. While here in spirit only, I still maintained awareness of my physical surroundings. My ghost dog materialized as a misty image of a jet black Great Dane, his body aquiver with happiness. Earlier this summer I rescued Oliver from virtual chains and too-tight collar at a haunted house. No amount of urging had prompted him to the afterlife, and his essence attached to mine. At this bereft moment, I was delighted by his presence. Oliver showed us the way home through the drift, I realized. It wasn’t the first time he’d rescued me, and I owed him so much already.

Despite my dry-as-cotton mouth, I cooed over him while I tried to pinpoint my location. Stars twinkled overhead, framed by tall oaks and pines. Not my treetops, not my yard. I heard a moan to my left. Felt the urgency as Mayes whispered my name.


With a final rub of the ears for Oliver, I integrated fully into the physical plane.

Mayes whispered again, his tone deeper and freighted with authority. “Bax. You okay?”

“Yeah.” I managed. “What happened to us?”

“Got no clue.” Sam Mayes had become a fixture in my life, though I’d only known him for three months. I wished I was in his protective arms right this very second.

“I feel like I got run over by a truck,” I said. “Last thing I remember is getting ready for bed.”

“That’s right.” His voice roughened. “I shared your toothpaste before we crawled under the covers.”

My face heated as memories surfaced. “I remember the before-sleep part fine, but between there and here is a big, fat zero. Except for Oliver. He guided us home through the drift.” I tried to sit, but my limbs weren’t fully responsive yet. I remained prone.

“I have the same mental gap. I believe we were taken, body and spirit, from your house.” Hearing the words made it real. The impossible had happened. Nothing else explained our physical displacement, the prolonged recovery time, and the shared memory gaps.

My teeth ground together as I made another connection. “Unless some other entity kidnapped us, my money’s on Rose. Her abilities go beyond the possible. I’ve never met another spirit entity as powerful.”

Allegedly, my otherworld mentor, Rose, worked undercover in the spirit realm, but she claimed to be an angel. Seeing her dark, powerful wings had made a believer out of me. That physical manifestation, her ability to do impossible feats, and her total hold on me proved she was more than a powerful spirit. She’d banished demons, fetched folks from beyond the point of no return, wrestled with selkies, quelled spirit rebellions, and more. Trouble was, Rose kept changing the rules of our association.

By sheer willpower, I managed to draw one hand close enough to study in the starlight. From the faint glow of my watch, it was three a.m. The rose tattoo on my hand was still there. Rose put three tattoos on my body to indicate the hours of my indenture to her. Rats. If she’d gone to the trouble of kidnapping us and erasing our memories, her prominent brand indicated I still owed her the hours of my life I’d willingly exchanged during life-or-death situations of loved ones.

That’s right. Rose charged for her supernatural favors, and I’d begged for her help three times. Each time the terms had been the same. A favor in exchange for an hour of my life. I’d agreed due to the dire nature of the situations, but darn-it-all if I wanted Rose to collect. With her rule-bending nature, I could turn into a mass murderer or worse on either side of the veil.

“I keep reminding you, Rose is not your friend,” Mayes said.

“Maggie Toussaint’s ability to craft growing, exquisite tension couched in interpersonal relationships, revelations, and the fine line between the Other Side and waking events enhances another story that is hard to put down: one which will attract and please both mystery readers and those seeking a walk on the wild side of paranormal abilities. Dreamed It crafts a tense, outstanding whodunit that will keep readers involved on both an emotional and an investigative level, right up to the story’s riveting conclusion.” –Diane Donovan, Midwest Book Review

“Dreamed It is a carefully crafted tale of murder and the paranormal with a unique protagonist in the person of dream-walker and amateur sleuth Baxley Powell.” Diane A.S. Stuckart, NYT bestselling author (as Ali Brandon) of the Black Cat Bookshop Mystery series “Dreamed It is a suspenseful page-turner that you won’t be able to put down.” –Nancy J Cohen, Author of the Bad Hair Day mysteries

“The very first paragraph flings you into the paranormal subplot of Dreamed It. Baxley and her boyfriend, Mayes, wake up after an extended dreamwalk that neither remembers taking. Who did this to them and why? Baxley’s powerful otherworld contact, Rose, is not answering and cannot be found. Mayes is preparing to return home from his visit when Baxley is called into work. A suitcase with a body in it has been found. Mayes knows of the Georgia cases relating to a serial killer known as the Suitcase Killer and requests permission from his sheriff to stay and assist. The impetus to solve the case ratchets up when a local woman goes missing. Dreamed It continues Baxley’s story as she learns her dreamwalking powers and her heart. This is a well written series that has continued to surprise and engage from the very first book. I can’t wait for more stories.” –Pat Dupuy as seen on Goodreads

“This is a wonderful series. The paranormal aspect is written well and captivates you from the get-go. The characters are interesting and engaging. This latest offering is one you won’t be able to put down! I voluntarily reviewed an advance reader copy of this book.”—Karen Kenyon on Goodreads

“This is one of my favorite series. The author has created dimensional characters that I have come to care deeply about. I find myself thinking about Baxley, Sam, Baxley’s daughter Larissa, and all the secondary characters when I’m not reading the books. Another thing I like about this is, the paranormal aspects are plausible. It requires very little suspension of disbelief to get caught up in Bax and Sam’s dreamwalks, or in Bax’s conversations with the dead people she delivers messages to, or the crime victims she helps. There is a good balance of mystery, interpersonal relationships, day-to-day living, and romance. Wherever Baxley is, is a place I want to be. I am always pleased to see a new Dreamwalker mystery, and this one did not disappoint. I am enjoying watching Bax’s and Sam’s relationship progress, and seeing Bax settle into her powers I’m envious of her support team, and her relationship with 10-year-old Larissa. I appreciate how she treats Larissa like a person, giving her a safe place to grow up, but not sugarcoating the realities of life. Baxley is someone I wish I could hang out with. I hope this is a long-running series.” – Denise Zendel on Goodreads

“I very much enjoy this series. It is just enough “out there” while still being grounded in a familiar reality. The characters are developing nicely (believably) with each story. This one was particularly creepy with so many women being the victims and the manner of their deaths. The final countdown was hair raising.” –Elizabeth Dodd on Goodreads

Lindsey and Ike Mysteries

Series: Lindsey & Ike Novella Series, Anthology
Publisher: Muddle House Publishing
Release Date: Nov 14, 2017
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Available Formats: eBook, eBook and Print
Digital: 9780996770668
Hardcover: 9780983361404
In this three-novella anthology, an amateur sleuth and her dog return home to a town of secrets … and murder.

“Really, Truly Dead”
Lindsey McKay has no intention of being Sheriff Ike Harper’s girlfriend when she returns home with her dog to bail out the family newspaper, but Ike has his eye on her. The murder of a local judge proves to be a boon for the newspaper, but the bad news hits when her father’s arrested for the crime. Will saving her father’s life cost Lindsey hers?

“Turtle Tribbles”
The Turtle Girl, a college intern named Selma Crowley, begs newspaper editor Lindsey McKay to write about the theft of turtle eggs from their nests. Lindsey agrees but asks for more proof. Selma disappears and is soon found dead. Lindsey blames herself because she demanded concrete proof, so she noses into Sheriff Ike Harper’s investigation. Can she discover the truth before time runs out?

“Dead Men Tell No Tales”
Newspaper editor Lindsey McKay’s small town is rocked when a suspicious hunting accident proves to be premeditated murder. Sheriff Ike Harper vows to get his man and keep Lindsey safe. Only, the more Lindsey and Ike dig, the more questions they uncover. People aren’t what they seem. If only a dead man could tell tales.

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Turtle Tribbles

Series: Lindsey & Ike Romantic Mystery Series, Book 2
Publisher: Muddle House Publishing
Release Date: May 1, 2017
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Available Formats: eBook
Digital: 9780996770644

In Book 2 of the Lindsey & Ike Novella Series, newspaper editor Lindsey McKay must decide if she’s ready to take the next step with her boyfriend, Sheriff Ike Harper. He’s anxious for her to move in, but she worries something is missing. Meanwhile, the Turtle Girl, a college intern named Selma Crowley, begs Lindsey to cover her turtle story. Someone is stealing federally protected loggerhead turtle eggs off a Georgia barrier island, and it has to stop.

The earnest young woman convinces Lindsey of the story’s potential, and the next day Lindsey ferries to the island to see the nests and take photos. Selma promises she’ll have tangible evidence of the theft on Friday, but the revelation doesn’t occur. Worse, Selma’s missing, and no one’s seen her since Wednesday evening. Because she demanded proof from Selma for the newspaper story, Lindsey blames herself for the intern’s disappearance.

When Selma’s body is discovered, Lindsey vows to get justice for Selma and her turtles. Selma’s tribbles are over, but the tribbles are just beginning for Lindsey and her trusty sidekick, Labrador retriever Bailey.

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© Copyright 2017 – Maggie Toussaint

“I’ve got turtle tribbles,” an athletic young woman said.

“Come again?” I glanced up from the ad log I’d been wrestling with to see a visitor in my office doorway. I waved her in as I tried to remember her name. Selma Crowley, our Turtle Girl, a summer posting coveted by college interns. Each of the Georgia barrier islands had students who monitored the yearly loggerhead turtle migration to our shores and subsequent egg hatching.

She perched on the edge of a chair. Her bright blue eyes matched the skin tight tank she wore over running shorts. From her boyish haircut to the rings on both second toes, this gal set her own style.

Selma made a funny face. “Oh. Sorry, Miss McKay. I forget everyone wasn’t raised with geeky parents in suburbia. Mom and Dad are whacko about Star Trek everything. I grew up on a steady diet of the TV shows, movies, and Trekkie conventions. The episode about tribbles is my favorite.”

I closed my laptop and reached for a pad of paper. “Please, call me Lindsey, Selma. We’re not big on formalities here at the newspaper. What are tribbles, and what do they have to do with our endangered loggerheads?”

“Tribbles are adorable space creatures, but they multiply faster than rabbits. Just like the TV show, my tribbles are out of control. I desperately need your help.”

I sat in stunned silence. No way was she talking about space creatures on the island, was she? There would’ve been sightings of spacecraft. Unless they were sneaky and were just here for our turtles. Crazy possibilities spun through my head. Selma and her boss could’ve called the TV networks in Savannah or Jacksonville to break this story. Instead, they’d chosen our small weekly? The skeptic in me raised its ugly head.

I settled on what I hoped was a professional expression of interest. “You’ve got alien creatures in the turtle nests? Do you have photos?”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to alarm you. Substituting tribble for trouble is a bad habit I picked up ages ago. So far, I haven’t seen aliens, but we can’t rule them out either.” Selma shook her head, her expression glum. “I don’t exactly know who or what is causing the tribble, I mean trouble, but eggs are disappearing from the turtle nests. It happens every year, but this year’s been the worst ever.”

Disappointed, I absently rolled my pen in my fingers. “So we may or may not have aliens on the island, but we positively have fewer turtle eggs?”

“You got it.”

It wasn’t much of a story, except for an earnest young woman’s word that eggs were disappearing. “You sure it’s not natural processes?”

“Real sure. When raccoons, feral hogs, or fire ants invade a nest, they don’t cover everything back up. But, the nests with the missing eggs look undisturbed.”

“How do you know anything’s missing? Do you have a device like ground penetrating radar to detect the eggs?”

“All you have is a geeky kid’s word. I know when the turtles lay their eggs because of the crawl marks on the beach. I dig up each new nest to make sure it isn’t a false crawl, then cover up the eggs and mark the location. We’re still early in the nesting season, but more nests should’ve hatched already. I dug up two of the first nests I marked before I decided to come over here.” She passed me her hot pink cell phone and showed me the images of sandy holes. “Look at the photos. No eggs.”

All I saw was a sandy pit in each image. Was there a story here? If the egg theft didn’t pan out, I could slant this into a nature piece about turtle nesting. “I’d like copies of relevant images, including those of an egg hatch for the story, and your permission to use them.” She nodded eagerly. I hated to bust her bubble, but this question had to be asked. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but could you have missed the hatch?”

“Nope. I hit the beach first thing every morning and monitor the nests after dark each night. If turtle eggs hatched, I would see the signs. Eggshells would be cracked and left behind. The sand from the nest to the sea would be full of turtle tracks. The nests would look disturbed. I didn’t see any of that at those locations. It’s like the eggs got beamed into outer space.”

I leaned back in my chair and briefly contemplated the domed ceiling light. No way was I writing a headline about turtle-egg stealing aliens. I needed an angle for this story, or else I should encourage Selma Crowley to leave. Time was always in short supply now that I ran the Gazette.

Though it was technically my family’s newspaper, I was editor in chief. Daddy had retired last fall, and Mama lit out for seminary after their divorce. So the newspaper became mine, and I loved the work, loved telling people’s stories. Selma’s tribbles appealed to me, but I needed more from her. Sometimes it was a matter of asking the right questions.

“You mentioned this happened before,” I said, returning to the missing egg puzzle at hand. “Are there historical records of empty nests I can report?”

“The last two turtle girls made notes about nests that didn’t hatch, but only last year’s gal documented that eight of the no-hatch nests were positively empty. The previous year, several nest markers went missing, which dropped them out of the count, so the stats don’t reflect those occurrences.”

“Eight out of how many?”

“The number of nests on my island are usually a hundred or so. As you may know, turtles return to the same beach every time they lay eggs. I’ll scrounge up the data and email it to you.”

I sensed she was holding back. Time for me to tighten the screws. “I need concrete facts for the paper, Selma. I can’t report on feelings or impressions.” And I certainly couldn’t report on aliens with transporter machines. “Why would anyone steal turtle eggs?”

“Because there’s a black market for the eggs. Some claim they’re an aphrodisiac, while others say they’re a delicacy. With about a hundred and twenty eggs in each nest, a poacher can pocket several hundred dollars off the theft of one nest.”

Black market. Egg heist. I was starting to get an idea of where this story could go if it got legs. “Can you use a hidden camera to catch the thief in the act?”

“Too many nests to monitor. They’re along the entire length of the beach. That’s a couple of miles.”

Disappointed, I blurted out the first thought in my head, unfiltered. “Too bad we don’t have drones to keep watch or something.”

“Too bad we can’t afford armed drones to shoot poachers,” Selma said. “They have no right to do this.”

The cute little blonde had a bloodthirsty bent. Interesting. “What can be done about this issue? Who have you notified?”

“Only my co-workers, my boss, and a wildlife agency contact know about the thefts. We didn’t want the news getting out at first, but my boss gave me the go-ahead to contact you for an article. Dr. Jernigan said it would be cheaper to scare the thief away than it would be to prosecute him or her.”

Hmm. I didn’t like being used, but I was in the business of selling papers. A photo of this pretty girl on the beach would be eye-catching. Unless we had a deluge of homicides or other major news, there was no reason her picture couldn’t be above the fold on page one.

“Do you have a plan going forward?” I asked.

“Sure do. I’m in the process of removing the traditional markers from the nests. First, I have to record all of the nests’ GPS coordinates in my phone and in my spreadsheet. If that thief doesn’t already know where the nests are, he or she will have a lot of digging to do to find eggs.”

“What do the nest markers look like?”

She showed me an image on her phone of a small wooden stake. Not much of a thing, really, but if you knew what to look for, the stakes reveal the location of the nests.

“That should stop your thief all right. Anything else?”

“The wildlife folks have been monitoring ferry passengers for a few days. They’re especially interested in people who might suddenly carry a duffle bag or cooler on or off the island. According to apprehension reports elsewhere, stolen turtle eggs are usually transported in plastic bags inside a container. They’ve made a list of folks who carry these containers infrequently on our ferry. They have a way to detect the eggs, but I can’t talk about that yet.”

“Why not?”

“Until they catch the thief, I’m sworn to secrecy. They don’t want to tip anyone off. The goal is to get this poacher, not send him or her underground for a few weeks.”

A secret. All my journalistic instincts were firing as I scribbled down her words. This could be big. If I was this excited about the story, everyone else would be too. I flashed a bright smile her way. “I’d love to see the nests firsthand. Let’s set a time for me to catch the ferry over to the island this week. What’s a good day for you?”

Selma waved off my question, her lilac nails catching the light. “My schedule is flexible. You tell me when you want to come.”

Sooner was always better in my book. “Let’s plan for tomorrow. I’ll take the early ferry. Meanwhile, send me the stats from past years on turtle nests and counts. Oh, and I’d love a quote from your boss. Will you share her phone number with me?”

A few minutes later, I had Dr. Jen Jernigan’s number at the university, and Selma had my business card tucked in her hand.

Once she left, my office manager, Ellen Mattingly, joined me. “I heard most of that. You believe her?”

I shrugged. “What’s not to believe? She thinks aliens are stealing her turtle eggs to light up their nights.”

“I’d love it if someone lit up my nights,” Ellen said, “but mostly nighttime is about getting my three kids out of my bed. At least you have a boyfriend, though I haven’t heard an Ike report recently.”

Sheriff Ike Harper had swept me off my feet when I moved home last fall. I enjoyed his company and our extracurricular activities, but I valued my independence too. “He’s still pressuring me to move in with him and his son.”

“I don’t see why you’re resisting the idea. You’re at his place all the time, or else Alice Ann is staying with his son. Why not go all in on the Ike train?”

Indeed. Why couldn’t I move in with him? I’d pulled out a suitcase several times, but I’d never packed a thing. Something about our relationship wasn’t to my liking. Darn if I knew what it was.


Book 4 Dreamwalker Series

Series: Dreamwalker Series, Book #4
Publisher: Camel Press
Release Date: Aug 1, 2017
Genre: Paranormal Mystery
Available Formats: eBook and Print
Hardcover: 9781603815932
Amateur sleuth Baxley Powell is on vacation at Stony Creek Lake in the north Georgia mountains. Her parents, best friend, and ten-year-old daughter are camping with her. Almost immediately, a young man’s body is found beside the lake. Strangely, there’s no apparent cause of death. The local police have heard about Baxley’s skill at closing unusual cases, and at their urging she agrees to help.

Her psychic sleuthing leads the police to a halfway house. There they encounter eight comatose victims and an odd man named Jonas, who also has supernatural abilities. Baxley senses Jonas cruelly drained their life force energy. Jonas escapes, taking the sheriff as a hostage. Deputy Sam Mayes, a Native American, leads the manhunt, and he keeps Baxley close, knowing she’s the key to capturing this powerful criminal.

Baxley’s paranormal talent of dreamwalking, which she uses to traverse the veil of life, draws the unwanted attention of beings believed to be Cherokee folklore. Jonas stole a treasured artifact from them, and they want it back. They hold Baxley’s best friend and two others because they know Baxley can help them. As the clock ticks, Jonas taunts this crime-fighting duo and proves to be a wily adversary.

With the body count rising, Baxley and Mayes realize they are up against an entity who appears to be invincible. Do they have the power to subdue an energy vampire, turn the tide of evil, and save the day?

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© Copyright 2017 – Maggie Toussaint
Suddenly the air felt wrong in this tranquil setting, as if it was too heavy to draw into my lungs. These cops were searching for a suspect. Not my problem. Except I had a sinking feeling it would become my problem.

All three dogs howled at the siren, and Larissa, bless her, tried to quiet them.

Loggins scowled and stepped off the boat toward Charlotte, tablet tucked under his arm. He was taller than me and looked former-professional-athlete solid.
I felt a tug on my elbow and jumped.

Deputy Duncan gestured toward the path leading back to our camp. “Come with me, ma’am. We have cruisers meeting us at your campsite for transport.”

My feet grew roots. The fishing rod bobbled in my hands. “I’m not leaving my daughter or my friend. We’re traveling together. If you need someone to vouch for my character, call Sheriff Wayne Thompson down in Marion.”

“You’re in our database as his consultant, and we’ve already got a call in to him. This is a routine precaution. For your safety as well as ours—”

“Gun,” Deputy Loggins yelled from behind me. “She’s got a handgun in her waistband.”

“Hands in the air,” Duncan said, weapon drawn. “Now.”

“But I can explain.”

“Hands up.”

A millisecond later, my Beretta was gone, my pockets emptied, and my arms were tightly clenched behind me. In the second before I totally locked down my extra senses, I got an inkling of the cop’s mental state. Neutralize the threat. Protect my partner. Assess the danger level. Contain the situation.

Fear threaded through his laser-focused thoughts, along with excitement. I needed to do some fast talking before the situation escalated further. “I can explain the gun,” I began again, twisting around to search Deputy Duncan’s face. “Sayer’s visit last night spooked me. I didn’t want to be unarmed if he strolled by today. I have a carry permit.”

Maddy charged the deputy, barking like she’d cornered an armadillo in the yard. In slow motion, flecks of dog spittle flew everywhere—on me, on the deputy. The man behind me shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. Was he reaching for his gun again?

“Mom!” Larissa shouted.

“No!” I yelled at the deputy, who had drawn his weapon. “Don’t shoot!”

Doggone It


Series: Dreamwalker Series, Book #3
Publisher: Five Star / Cengage
Release Date: October 19, 2016
Genre: Paranormal Mystery
Available Formats: eBook and Print
Also republished as Author Edition May 2020 in eBook
Muddle House Publishing
Dreamwalker Baxley Powell can’t remember the last time she had such a crappy weekend. A twilight encounter with a ghost dog left her numb and disoriented, her dreamwalker abilities are wiped out, and the sheriff just summoned her to a double homicide.

With no access to the spirit world, Baxley bluffs her way through the crime scene where a movie star’s assistant and a charter boat captain were strung up and bled dry. In a haunted house, no less. Figuring out who killed these people will be a real challenge without her ability to speak to the dead.

Just when Baxley thinks her powers are returning, her dreamwalks malfunction. With the sheriff pushing her to solve the case quickly, Baxley teams up with a dognapping medium to boost her powers.

Suspects include the captain’s good-for-nothing brother, the assistant’s replacement, and, of course, his stalker. All of Sinclair County is on edge, and the media circus isn’t helping. At stake are the movie’s funding, the sheriff’s job, and Baxley’s senses.

Can Baxley safeguard her abilities and solve the case before the killer strikes again? Haunted houses, lost pirate treasure, conniving in-laws, supernatural baddies, and a determined ghost dog test amateur sleuth Baxley Powell’s mettle in Book Three of Toussaint’s Dreamwalker Series.

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© Copyright 2016 – Maggie Toussaint
I stared at my best friend, alarmed. “We’re going in the haunted house? Count me out. I didn’t sign on for breaking and entering. I can’t do that. I’ll lose my job as a police consultant.”

Charlotte shone her light on the weathered façade of June’s Folly. “No breaking required, Baxley. The front door is open.”

I added my beam to hers. Sure enough, the paneled door with the centrally located doorknob gaped on its hinges. “Dang. You’re right. Still, this place belongs to someone. We don’t have the right to stroll inside. We’ll be trespassing.”

“Just a peek inside. If the ghost is here, it should repel us at the door, or so goes the legend. Speaking of ghosts, is anyone talking to you? Maybe shaking some chains or speaking in French?”

“All I’m hearing is a desperate reporter.” Cautiously, I touched the banister to see if it was secure. It was. I used the railing for support as I carefully trod the rotten, squeaking steps. Drifts of thickened air stirred my hair and sighed through the pines.

Charlotte halted. “You hear that?”

Her voice sounded too high. “The wind?” “Chains clanking. And a sad, mournful song in another language.”

“Truly?” I heard nothing of the sort. Was Charlotte’s imagination getting away from her? Was there a ghost?

Charlotte sank to the porch decking, her gear clunking as she landed heavily on her rear. “I, uh, need a minute.”

“Okay.” I sat on the top step beside her. Other than feeling dread and a shiver against the elements, I seemed normal with no sign of sensory overload. I marveled that I was still functioning. A little maturity and a little extrasensory training and I had a whole new perspective on this place.

“Don’t you feel it?” My friend’s teeth chattered. “I’m freezing.”

I estimated it was nearly eighty degrees and humid enough for spiders to dance on the air. Puzzled, I touched Charlotte’s arm. Her skin felt cold to the touch. Ordinarily, Charlotte would be griping about the heat and the humidity. Something was crossing her wires. “Look at you! Working those earlier ghost sites must have unleashed a latent talent.” I gazed at her with frank admiration. “You’re the ghost detector tonight, Char. I’m not picking up anything.”

“Are you looking?”

She had me there. “Nope. I don’t want to have to call my father to come get me again. That would be embarrassing.”

“I thought you were doing this to prove yourself as a full-fledged dreamwalker.”

“My main thought is that you have your answer to the ghost question. Chains and mournful singing support the drowned slave legend. Time to go home.” “There’s more to this, I know it,” she insisted. “Help me prove it. You can handle whatever it is I’m feeling. I haven’t passed out or anything.”

Charlotte had called me out. Worse, she was right. Just because I never heard ghosts before was no reason not to listen for this one. My talents and my shielding abilities were much more finely tuned now. I’d been talking to the dead for months. I didn’t have to let childhood fears dictate my actions. And, the sooner I gave Charlotte what she wanted, the sooner we could go home. With that, I closed my eyes and opened my senses to the night. Immediately, I plunged into a freezing fog bank.

Hot Water

Hot Water by Award-Winning Author Maggie Toussaint

Publisher: Muddle House Publishing
Release Date: March 25, 2013, First Edition; Second Edition March 5, 2019
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Available Formats: eBook
Digital: 9780999705407

Something evil lurks in this town of secrets.

Solving Mossy Bog’s first fire fatality could net police officer Laurie Ann Dinterman the promotion she desperately wants. When the state arson investigator arrives to take over the case, Laurie Ann is assigned to give the man everything he needs while keeping him alive. The fact he’s the sexiest man ever to hit town shouldn’t make a difference.

Hot on the trail of a serial arsonist, Wyatt North demands justice for his partner, the arsonist’s first victim. He’ll find the murderer or die trying—no matter how distracting the tall, lithe figure of his local partner is.

As the investigation zeroes in on a suspect uncomfortably close to Laurie Ann’s life, her cop instincts conflict with her feelings for Wyatt. Worse, the arsonist will do anything to protect his identity. Can Laurie Ann accept the truth in time…or will she and Wyatt go up in flames?

Book 2 in Maggie Toussaint’s Mossy Bog Romantic Suspense series pairs a cop and an arson investigator on the trail of a serial killer. For fans of Jayne Ann Krentz, Sandra Brown, and Karen Harper.

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© Copyright 2013 – Maggie Toussaint
Before Laurie Ann sat down again, the chief stepped out of his office and waved her over. She hurried across the narrow squad room, wondering if she’d forgotten to sign an incident report again. Had she missed an important meeting?

Worse, had Rawson’s court case ended early and she was off the arson case? She hoped not. She hadn’t downloaded her pictures of the scene yet or scanned her site sketch. She was bummed she’d missed James Brown’s autopsy, but at least his clothes had been sent to the lab for examination. If she could find the murder weapon, that promotion would be hers for sure.

“Sir?” Laurie Ann asked when he gestured her toward the chair across from his desk.

The chief settled his bulk into the creaky leather chair. “I’ve got the arson investigator holding on line three. He wants to talk to us together. You ready?” She nodded, her curiosity rising. This would be the first arson investigator she’d met. The fires around Mossy Bog and Tidewater County didn’t ordinarily attract outside attention.

Chief Tyler activated the speakerphone button. “Mr. North, I have Officer Dinterman with me in the office now.”

“Good,” North said. “Dinterman, I expect to hit the ground running when I arrive tomorrow at one p.m. I expect a briefing package with the case files and autopsy report. We’ll head out for a site tour following my review of the records. Oh, and I need all records of fires in your area for the last two years.” His deep, gravelly voice reminder her of a gunslinger, but his request loosened a bolt of panic through her bloodstream.

She exchanged a worried glance with her chief. “We don’t get called out to every fire. I’ll have to ask the fire department for those records. And the coroner’s finalizing the autopsy report.” She had other responsibilities and patrol duty tomorrow. How would she manage to collect all this information in time?

“Anything you want,” the chief said. “We’ll have those materials waiting for you when you arrive.”

“That will do it. See you folks tomorrow,” North said.

The line went dead, and Laurie Ann shifted in her seat. “He asked for a lot of information,” she began, feeling her way through the swamp of red tape. The man probably rode roughshod over anyone foolish enough to get in his way. “But I’ll make it work.”

The chief nodded. “I’ve got pressure from the top to give this guy whatever he needs, so I’m assigning your patrol shifts to Calucci. You’re assigned full time to the arson guy. We need to keep him happy, understand? Wyatt North tells you to jump, you do it, no questions asked.” She fought back a rush of excitement. With only one directive to follow, she could easily meet North’s deadline. And if he was such a by-the-book guy, she’d still have time after-hours for her scrap metals project.

“Got it.” She rose from her chair. “I’ll get started.”

“Oh, one more thing, Dinterman. That task force you put together, I’m handing that over to Harlow. I don’t want you to think about anything but this arson investigator for the next few days. Scrap metal theft is a low priority compared to catching a serial arsonist.”

Her excitement fizzled. This was her baby. “I can keep up with the task force, sir. It won’t take that much time.”

“I’ve seen how many calls you get on that. Too time-consuming for you right now.”

“This North must be the governor’s son or something,” she muttered. “Or something.”

He eyeballed her. “You’re the best we’ve got. I’m counting on you.” The unspoken message came through crystal clear. Don’t screw up.

She squared her shoulders. “I’ll do my best.” Her best. Would it be good enough for Mr. I-want-everything-right-now? Darn straight. She’d be the best babysitter he ever had.

Muddy Waters

Muddy Waters by Award-Winning Author Maggie Toussaint

Publisher: Muddle House Publishing
Release Date: February 5, 2019
Edition: Second Edition
Illustrator: Polly Iyer
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Available Formats: eBook
Real estate broker Roxie Whitaker is juggling skittish clients, an anxious bride, and her wayward brother. She’d very much like to sell some property, soothe her friend’s wedding jitters, and knock some sense into her party-boy brother’s head. Meanwhile, she needs a date for the wedding. In walks Sloan Harding, the town’s former bad boy and now an Atlanta security expert, and Roxie believes he’s the answer to her dreams.

Sparks fly as he escorts her to the wedding and asks her advice about his property. While he’s home, Sloan hunts for his missing inheritance. Sloan’s search uncovers family secrets and painful memories. To make matters worse, someone in the shadows is after his inheritance, someone who will do whatever it takes to walk away with the fortune.

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Muddy Waters wins Best Book of the Week from LASR

“Great book, wonderful mystery and a red hot love story underlying it. Roxie and Sloan really mix it up in and out of the bedroom and that is what makes for a great romance. You can’t ask for more than that now can you?” – Mary Gramlich, THE READING REVIEWER

“Toussaint’s book is a delightful, contemporary romance spiced with a mystery that keeps you guessing whether the Harding fortune exists or if it was jut a figment of a drunken imagination. Sloan and Roxie’s relationship unfolds in a natural way that draws the reader into their story. And the barriers between them and happily ever after are so organic to their personalities and their past that the reader truly wonders if these two will be able to work it out.” – Keena Kincaid, author of ENTHRALLED.

“Toussaint pens a pleasant read for a nice fall afternoon. With its home realty and repair subplot, the author obviously knows her stuff.” – Cindy Himler, ROMANTIC TIMES”

“Fantastic Read! Maggie Toussaint does an amazing job of foreshadowing as she weaves together a tapestry of suspense, mystery, small community life, and love while bringing into clear focus the overt and covert conflicts both Roxie and Sloan try to resolve. Ms. Toussaint’s writing style with superb imagery, exquisite description, and a touch of humor make Muddy Waters enthralling reading. Muddy Waters satisfies that hunger for a love that promises a happy-ever-after.” – LONG AND SHORT REVIEWS

“Five stars! A great book! I read Muddy Waters in one sitting because I didn’t want to put it down. You’ll feel the same way. The Georgia background rings true, with its small town clannish-ness, everyone knowing everyone else’s business, and never accepting that a leopard can change its spots or a miscreant should be allowed to live down his past.” – Reviewer Icy Snow Blackstone

“Muddy Waters is a fascinating story about Roxie and Sloan who both have ancestral history that intertwines as the story moves on. I thought Maggie Toussaint wrote the characters with believability that captures the hearts of readers.” – Emily, SINGLE TITLES

“Muddy Waters was a great read and I can’t help but think of it time after time even after I’m done. Toussaint’s writing is crisp and easy to read. The plot is tight, filled with plenty of twists and turns that keep the reader on their toes. One of the most endearing aspects of the story is how Toussaint captures the authenticity of small town America, giving delicious depth to the setting and characters.” – Stephanie Burkhart, author of THE GIVING MEADOW

“Five Stars! Muddy Waters is another great read from award winning Maggie Toussaint. Small town setting and attitudes color the story and carry the plot to its conclusion. You won’t want to put it down until you reluctantly turn the last page.” – Amazon Reviewer JJD

“Maggie Toussaint’s Muddy Waters is a romantic suspense novel that draws the reader into the story from the first page with the pull of the tide against the Georgia coast. This is a fun read and a delightful break from some heavy tomes.” – Nash Black, author of HAINTS


© Copyright 2010 – Maggie Toussaint

Each night he’d felt the tidal pull of the coast and the woman.

He’d known he could unlock the sexual energy that shimmered pulsed around her. They’d been magic together. He’d had great sex before, but it had never consumed him like this. He needed to see her, to fill his head with her fragrance, to drown in her tropical gaze, to hear her sigh out his name.

He wanted to sit in her cozy kitchen again. To have her take care of him, to eat the food she’d prepared for him. He loved that blue kitchen. He shook his head sadly.

“I’m losing it, bud,” he said to Mac.

Mac thumped his tail energetically.

It probably wasn’t any news to his dog that Sloan was losing it. Mac knew everything. Mac had run right into Roxie’s arms the first time he’d seen her. Mac didn’t have any embarrassing family history to overcome. Mac had taken one look at the woman and decided that he wanted her.

A man could learn a lot from his dog.