Order THE QUEEN ANNE FOX
Many ways to order:
Amazon: The Queen Anne Fox
Available in print book and Kindle editions
THE QUEEN ANNE FOX is available locally at these fine stores::
WI – Cambridge – Village Pharmacy & Gifts 109 W. Main St.
WI – Fort Atkinson – Hometown Pharmacy, 102 S. Main St.
WI – Fort Atkinson/Busseyville – Burdick’s Greenhouse, W9076 State Rd 106
WI – Janesville – Book World of Janesville 2451 Milton Ave.
WI – Lake Mills – The Vintage Flip, 400 N. Main St.
WI – Watertown – Literatus & Co. 401 E. Main St.
WI – Waukesha – Martha Merrell’s Books, 231 W Main St.
MI – Traverse City – Horizon Books 243 E. Front St.
MI – Petoskey – Horizon Books 319 E. Mitchell St.
IN – Lafayette – Second Flight Books, 2200 Elmwood Ave D7
For a signed copy: send request and $19.00 per book (includes taxes and shipping) to:
Jerol Anderson
PO Box 339
Cambridge, WI 53523
Questions on ordering? Please contact me: jerol.writer@gmail.com
REVIEWS:
I recommend this book.
Jacquelynn Meyers
I read a lot of books in various genres and am always on the lookout for new authors. The best way I’ve found is when a friend who also reads a lot and has some similar tastes recommends an author. And that’s how I found Jerol Anderson.. I just read Queen Ann Fox which is a unique approach to a murder mystery whodunit. The main character has a special skill she uses in solving the crime which I liked. The writing reminds me of gentler times and the book captured my interest throughout.
Best regards,
Jacquelynn Meyers
Reader in Florida
P.S. Just ordered the second book! It should be here soon.
Rosebud Book Reviews
Making books fun again.
The Queen Anne Fox — “Life Changing”
This book has affected how I feel about my parents, both dead nearly twenty years, and how I feel about myself. On one hand it is a page-turner who-done-it, on the other it is a profound experience you will never forget. Here is the voice of one of the nurturing principle characters:
I think the secret of growing up is to create a nurturing mother and father inside your own soul. Takes away a lot of the neediness of the child within us. Then you can react to life and those around you as an adult.
I came across this book by accident. My wife had it from the library and read a few pages. Not a fan of crime stories (a young boy and a prostitute are killed months apart and their bodies left in the same Seattle location) she gave it to me. In the first few pages I discovered the narrator had been called in by the police to help solve the murders because of her ESP powers. Give me a break”
But I read on and there proved interesting parallels between Jessica’s own past and that of the victims. Her grandfather had said, “When a person is under heavy stress you find out what they’re really made of. Everyone returns to what they were at five years old.” She ends up trying to ferret out why her own mother deserted her and what role the disparity between her grandparents (who raised her) plays in her life now. That’s why we are revisiting a grade school. Why she needs mental abilities to get into the real mystery of the book (a mystery within a mystery quality that grabs us like Raymond Chandler’s Phillip Marlow stories).
Then this becomes something we, as readers, need to do about our own lives. A profound moment—one that happens maybe once or twice in our lifetime.
But this is even better than words we understand. It is a concrete experience we ourselves have. That’s the miracle of good fiction or nonfiction. Where does the story go from here? Like life, it can lead anywhere. And when it moves inward we have a mystery we must solve.
And with 20 pages to go, I still did not know who the murder was (though the ending proved totally satisfying).
This is the surprise book of the year for me. Get it. Read it. Think about it. Live it. John Lehman
“Creepy twists and turns all the way, fueled by fascinating characters you won’t forget.” ~Christine DeSmet, Spirit Lake, Hard Shell Word Factory
“The Queen Anne Fox is so chilling you’re afraid to turn the page, and so compelling you have no choice.” ~Liz Hunter, Plain Jane’s Tight End, HSWF, March 2005
“Pretty edge of your seat. I wondered up until the very end. Good stuff.” ~Samantha Niemeyer Proof Reader for Whiskey Creek Press
“This story is full of suspense, danger and unexpected twists. I enjoyed the way Jesse
and David were drawn into the plot and then pulled from one suspect to the next.” ~Sheryl – Coffee Time Romance
Rating: 4 CUPS
Called in to help the Seattle Police Department find the killer of two people who were found murdered the same way, Jessica Tyson is also trying to cope with the loss of her beloved grandfather. Will she be able to use her sixth sense or will the answers evade her before she can solve the case?
David Chapman works for Hoyte Middle School as the school psychologist and was on friendly terms with one of the dead victims. He has become close to Jesse and hopes to help her find out why these people died. But what is David’s connection to both victims?
This story is full of suspense, danger and unexpected twists. I enjoyed the way Jesse and David were drawn into the plot and then pulled from one suspect to the next. This story gives hints of who could have done it or why, but it is not until the end, that the full impact and reasons of why the victims were killed comes to light. This was a very
intriguing and tension riddled story that I thoroughly enjoyed reading.
Sheryl
Reviewer for Karen Find Out About New Books
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance
Interviewer for Coffee Time Romance
EXCERPT:
All she needed was a “sign”.
Eyes burning, Jessica Tyson drew in a deep, stabilizing breath. It didn’t matter what labels people put on the dead woman’s body. Prostitute or not, Ann Smith was somebody’s little girl—possibly somebody’s mother.
Life to Jessica felt as raw as the weather. Though pro-tected under the Aurora Bridge in the Fremont neighborhood of Seattle, the surrounding morning drizzle sliced into her soul. Today she hated police work.
Flying back to Wisconsin last week for her grandfather’s funeral during her finals at Western Washington University had really started her thinking. Just because he was the al-mighty savior-sheriff for forty years of his life didn’t mean she had to follow in his footsteps.
Just two days ago, little Denny Kellerman’s broken body had been left on this hard cement surface on a cold, dark morning—wrapped in a blanket—for strangers to find. Three months earlier the body of Annie Smith was left in a similar soft blue blanket. Identical M.O., broken neck, animal-like scratches to the face.
She braced herself for the onslaught of emotional pain that accompanied a “sign.”
None.
Her gaze followed the thirty-foot cement pillars leering above, supporting Hwy 99. A continual swoosh of cars rushed far overhead; drivers racing to early morning jobs. A re-minder—the rhythm of life goes on.
“You know,” Jesse mused aloud, “as a child I once saw a picture of Atlas maintaining the weight of the universe on his shoulders. That’s what these pillars remind me of. That’s how this whole miserable situation makes me feel.”
Granddad always said, when a person is under heavy stress you find out what they’re really made of. Everyone returns to what they were at five years old.
Was this where she was ologist and was on friendly terms with one of the dead victims. He has become close to Jesse and hopes to help her find out why these people died. But what is David’s connection to both victims?
This story is full of suspense, danger and unexpected twists. I enjoyed the way Jesse and David were drawn into the plot and then pulled from one suspect to the next. This story gives hints of who could have done it or why, but it is not until the end, that the full impact and reasons of why the victims were killed comes to light. This was a very
intriguing and tension riddled story that I thoroughly enjoyed reading.
Sheryl
Reviewer for Karen Find Out About New Books
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance
Interviewer for Coffee Time Romance
EXCERPT:
All she needed was a “sign”.
Eyes burning, Jessica Tyson drew in a deep, stabilizing breath. It didn’t matter what labels people put on the dead woman’s body. Prostitute or not, Ann Smith was somebody’s little girl—possibly somebody’s mother.
Life to Jessica felt as raw as the weather. Though pro-tected under the Aurora Bridge in the Fremont neighborhood of Seattle, the surrounding morning drizzle sliced into her soul. Today she hated police work.
Flying back to Wisconsin last week for her grandfather’s funeral during her finals at Western Washington University had really started her thinking. Just because he was the al-mighty savior-sheriff for forty years of his life didn’t mean she had to follow in his footsteps.
Just two days ago, little Denny Kellerman’s broken body had been left on this hard cement surface on a cold, dark morning—wrapped in a blanket—for strangers to find. Three months earlier the body of Annie Smith was left in a similar soft blue blanket. Identical M.O., broken neck, animal-like scratches to the face.
She braced herself for the onslaught of emotional pain that accompanied a “sign.”
None.
Her gaze followed the thirty-foot cement pillars leering above, supporting Hwy 99. A continual swoosh of cars rushed far overhead; drivers racing to early morning jobs. A re-minder—the rhythm of life goes on.
“You know,” Jesse mused aloud, “as a child I once saw a picture of Atlas maintaining the weight of the universe on his shoulders. That’s what these pillars remind me of. That’s how this whole miserable situation makes me feel.”
Granddad always said, when a person is under heavy stress you find out what they’re really made of. Everyone returns to what they were at five years old.
Was this where she was at five?
Deserted by her mother at three, Jessica learned to create her own comfort inside. She’d have to dig that deep again to find solace now.
She stared across the crime scene at Sergeant Cardon of the Seattle Police Department. His beige trench coat flapped from his shoulders revealing the overweight, round body of a cop who’d had one too many donuts.
“What positive feedback ever comes from this feeling of isolation and desolation of investigating dead bodies? Searching into the negative side of people’s lives?”
“It pays the bills.” Cardon shrugged. “Sorry to hear about your dad. Passing on and all.”
“He was my Granddad.”
“Oh, I thought…”
“My grandparents raised me. Thank you for the concern.”
Her ESP was something that only her loving Granddad had understood. He’d helped her through adolescence to hone it to perfection. And now he was gone. One year to the day af-ter Grandmother’s death.
“Any vibes, yet? What’s all that feel like anyway?”
Jesse stared at what was left of the chalk marks. If she tried to explain, maybe he would lighten up.
“If I meld into the neighborhood where the victim lived, get the feel for those people who surrounded him or her, then while standing at the scene of a murder, I can see it. Watch exactly how it went down.”
“Hm,” Cardon replied.
Jesse couldn’t tell if he digested the information or, more likely, discounted it. After all, he didn’t allow her to expound.
“Well, you know why you’re here.” He shrugged. “Our men at the SPD can’t connect the murders. Same animal-like attack. Signature killings is what they call it at the department. The third body shows up and the killer earns the title of serial killer. We’re looking to you to halt this with your special tal-ent.” He spat out the final words.
“You’re just unhappy with me because I didn’t apply to serve and protect at the SPD right after graduation. Even if I’d considered it, I wouldn’t apply without an invitation.”
“Invitation?” Cardon raised an eyebrow. “Hell, solve this one and maybe the chief will offer you an invite,” he sneered.
Jessica shook her head. It was times like this she was grateful she still worked free-lance and alone. If he’d just stop filling the air with his negative remarks, maybe she could start her investigation.
“Everyone’s a suspect,” he continued. “The parents are number one in my book. Big bucks attorneys and living out on Mercer Island in their mansion. Ne
