Death at Thornburn Hall Book Blog Tour, Excerpt, and Giveaway #LoneStarLit

November 30, 2017 Blog Tours, Giveaways 1


A Drew Farthering Mystery, #6

  Genre: Historical British Mystery / Suspense
Date of Publication: November 7, 2017
Number of Pages: 336

Scroll down for the giveaway!

Investigating a suspicious accident leads Drew on a path that points to international intrigue and ever-growing danger

Drew Farthering arrives in idyllic Scotland for the 1935 British Open at Muirfield, hoping for a relaxing holiday with his wife, Madeline, and friend Nick. But death meets him once again when Lord Rainsby, their host at Thorburn Hall, is killed in a suspicious riding accident–only days after confiding in Drew his fears that his business partner was embezzling funds.

Thorburn Hall is filled with guests, and as Drew continues to dig, he realizes that each appears to have dark motives for wanting Rainsby out of the way. Together with Madeline and Nick, he must sort through shady business dealings, international intrigue, and family tensions to find a killer who always seems to be one step ahead.


“Amateur sleuthing at its finest!”–Fresh Fiction Review

“Another great mystery headed by the charming Drew Farthering and his intelligent wife, Madeline. There is murder, mystery, intrigue and a little romance, which makes Death at Thorburn Hall a most enjoyable read . . . The plot has twists, turns and a few surprises throughout the story. Deering is at her best when penning Drew Farthering mysteries.”–RT Book Reviews
“This sixth series entry will delight Agatha Christie fans.”
Library Journal




EXCERPT: Chapter One, Part One

From Death at Thorburn Hall by Julianna Deering


Madeline Farthering gripped her husband’s arm a little more tightly as they made their way through the mass of people crowding Waverley Station, certain that if they were separated in this chaos she’d never be able to find him again. Drew said something to her, but she could only shake her head and shrug.

He repeated whatever it was he had said, but the crackling announcement of a delayed train arrival blaring through the station made it impossible to make out.

She pressed closer to his side. “What did you say?”

By then the announcement had ended, and her shouted question drew the attention of several passersby. A blush heated her cheeks.

Drew’s gray eyes were warm and laughing. “Having fun, darling?”

She pursed her lips. “Not yet. Is Edinburgh always like this?”

“It’s a fairly busy place most of the time, I expect, but people come from all over for the tournament.”

She smiled, enjoying his excitement. “I’ve always wanted to see the British Open.”

“The Open, darling,” he corrected. “Ever and always, the Open.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” She managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve been to our Open, the U.S. Open, and I’ve been to the PGA. They started a new tournament in Georgia, too. Last year.”

“Ah, yes, at Augusta. I remember reading about that one. Well, if they’re still having it in the next year or two, perhaps we’ll toddle on over to the States and have a look. How would that be?”

She beamed at him. As much as she loved her husband and his beautiful country, she sometimes missed the sounds and sights of her native land. “That would be—”


Madeline blinked, and she and Drew both turned toward the heavily accented voice.

“Monstrous,” the man repeated, this time on a heavy sigh as an elderly porter, obviously ill at ease, looked at him. “And yet it must be borne, must it not?”

He was somewhere in his late thirties, tall and slender, with a pencil-thin mustache and a look of pale tragedy about him. An actor or artist, Madeline decided. His ivory silk suit was flawless and quite expensive. He must be extremely successful. Either that or he had a wealthy patron. She couldn’t decide exactly what sort of accent he had. Perhaps Russian.

“Can you believe, madam,” he said, catching her eye, “I come here to this great country to escape oppression and corruption, and what do I find?”

Yes, the accent was definitely Russian. Madeline shook her head. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

He opened his mouth and then stopped short, a look of pure delight suddenly on his face. “Ah, you are American, no? I am certain such things never happen in your country.” He swept the stylish hat from his pomaded head and held it over his heart. “Not to so heavenly a creature as you, madam.”

There was only the slightest tension in Drew’s smile. “Is there some way we might be of help?”

“You are too kind, sir, but I fear there is no help to be had.” Again the foreigner heaved a tragic sigh. “One can only grieve and carry on.”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” the porter said, a Scottish burr in his voice and his rheumy eyes anxious. “We have looked everywhere. Once the train has emptied, we’ll make another search and send it along to you the minute it’s found.”

The Russian pursed his lips. “And what until then? I present myself for dinner this evening looking as if I have just come from the jungle? From being three weeks lost at sea? It cannot and must not be done.”

“But, sir—”

“Misha! Misha!” A portly little woman in her mid-fifties waved from a few feet away and then bustled up to them, puffing with exertion but still triumphant. “Look what I have,” she singsonged, and she presented the foreign man with a small leather toiletry case.

The porter heaved a sigh of relief as the Russian clasped the case to his chest with one elegant white hand and used the other to bring the woman’s heavily ringed fingers to his lips. “Oh, madam, once again you have saved me from utter ruin.”

“Will there be anything else, sir?” the porter asked as the woman stood simpering.

“That will be all, my good man.” The Russian gave him what could only be described as a regal nod of dismissal, and then he faltered when the old man stood looking expectantly at him. “Ah, er . . .” He patted his breast pocket and looked with some distress at the woman. “I hesitate to trouble you, madam, but it seems . . . uh . . .”

She looked at him for a moment, obviously puzzled, and then realization dawned in her eyes. “Oh. Oh, yes. Yes, of course.”

She popped open her beaded handbag and rummaged through it, finally coming up with an assortment of small coins that she pressed into the porter’s gnarled hand. “There you are. We’re so sorry to have caused you any bother. My husband had accidentally put it with our things. Such a silly mistake, isn’t it, though it does look rather like his. But no harm done in the least. You’ve been a great help.”

The little man touched his fingers to the brim of his blue cap and then wove his way into the crowd.


(Click to read Chapter One, Part Two, on 12/3/17, on A Page Before Bedtime blog’s tour stop)



JULIANNA DEERING (also writing as DeAnna Julie Dodson) has always been an avid reader and a lover of storytelling, whether on the page, the screen or the stage. This, along with her keen interest in history and her Christian faith, shows in her tales of love, forgiveness, and triumph over adversity. A fifth-generation Texan, she makes her home north of Dallas with three spoiled cats and, when not writing, spends her free time quilting, cross stitching, and watching NHL hockey. Her series of Drew Farthering mysteries set in 1930s England debuted from Bethany House with Rules of Murder (2013) and is followed by Death by the Book and Murder at the Mikado (2014). Dressed for Death (2016), and Murder on the Moor and Death at Thorburn Hall (2017). She is represented by Wendy Lawton of the Books and Such Literary Agency.

One Winner Will Receive the Full Drew Farthering Mystery Series!
November 28-December 7, 2017
(U.S. Only)

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