Murder on the Steel Pier
Series: A Tess Mancini Time Travel Mystery
by Rosie Genova
Release Date: March 31, 2025
Genres: An Adult Time Travel Historical Mystery (with cozy noir elements)
Publisher: Two Roses Press
About the Book:
The morning after a blowout thirty-fifth birthday celebration in Atlantic City, crime reporter and party girl Tess Mancini wakes up in an unfamiliar place—1955. Bread is eighteen cents a loaf, Ike occupies the White House, and the Boardwalk is crawling with vintage cars and vintage wise guys. A bewildered Tess is sure of only two things: One, she’s not crazy, and two, the clothes are fabulous. And somehow, she’s living the life of her Great Aunt Theresa, who disappeared decades before Tess’s birth.
In her 1950s existence, Tess is a reporter for the local newspaper, living and working at a boarding house owned by her Zia Antonetta, an Italian immigrant with secrets of her own. Tess also discovers that Theresa has a kid brother, teenaged troublemaker Val Mancini—also known as Tess’s paternal grandfather. Though determined to return to her own time, Tess’s curiosity takes over. What happened to the first Theresa Mancini? And is Tess’s trip through time somehow connected to her aunt’s fate?
But when young Val is accused of murdering a boarding house guest, a Nazi in hiding, Tess ends up with two investigations on her hands, and though desperate to leave the Nifty Fifties, she’s stuck in time until she can prove Val’s innocence. As she searches for answers, she finds allies in a dishy police detective and a suspiciously charming fellow reporter. She also crosses paths with a Mid-Century icon of science—possibly the one person who can help her get back home—but not until she finds a way to keep her grandfather off Death Row.
Because before Tess can get back to the future … she needs to make sure she has one.
Purchase Links Can Be Found At:
https://books2read.com/u/bpVKdz
Excerpt:
Tess, hungover and hazy after her Atlantic City birthday celebration, has awakened in an old-fashioned boarding house instead of her modern hotel. The people there seem to know her, but to Tess they are strangers. Complicating this confusing experience is a voice that cuts through Tess’s thoughts, and she is determined to flee from this disorienting place. She borrows some clothes, throws on a man’s jacket and boots she finds in the house, and decides to walk toward the Boardwalk, taking stock of her surroundings:
I’d ended up in a residential part of AC, as there wasn’t a casino in sight. But there was something else—a pungent barnyard smell of poultry wafting on the air. Were there farms in Atlantic City?
I turned to face the street, and for a moment, my vision blurred. The images in front of me seemed to shift before they came into sharp focus. Parked across the street was an old dairy truck; a man emerged from it, wearing a flat cap and a plaid jacket that was a twin for the one I had on. He carried two metal baskets, and with each step he took, I could hear the clink of milk bottles. Milk bottles? He waved and nodded; in a trance, I did the same.
I stepped down from the curb to cross the street, but waited to let a car pass. It was big, black, high, and round. And old. Years old, like everything else on this street and in that house behind me. What was this place? It wasn’t a movie set because there were no sound trucks or trailers. An antique car show? A man whose dark suit and overcoat fit right in with those old cars tipped his hat to me as he passed.
“Oh, my God,” I said aloud as the light dawned. “It’s like one of those Renaissance fairs.” Only it was a Mid-Century version, and I’d somehow stumbled into it last night in an alcoholic stupor. But that still didn’t explain how these people knew me. Nor my missing clothes, phone, and wallet. I automatically shoved my hands into the jeans pockets, but of course I came up empty. I wouldn’t last much longer without my phone. My life was on that phone.
As I reached the corner, I looked up at an old-fashioned street sign. Bellevue Avenue, (fitting, I thought, given how crazy this was) which intersected with Atlantic. I was heading for the Boardwalk, so I’d just keep going until I could find a taxi. Though paying for it might be a little tricky without any money. Shuffling along in the oversize boots, I was about to cross the street when I was startled by a deep voice behind me.
“Stop right where ya are,” he barked. “Hands outta your pockets. And make sure you turn around slow.”
I did as he said, my hands at my sides and my heart thrumming in my chest. Dressed similarly to the other men I’d seen on the street, he was wearing a gray suit but no tie, his hat pulled down low over one side of his face. At six feet, he towered over me, and his dark eyes and moustache gave him an old movie star quality. I thought fleetingly of the movie star photo I’d seen in The Other Tess’s bedroom. This guy also had thick brows and lashes, but there the similarity ended.
This man’s expression was grim, and when he turned, I choked back a gasp. A satiny white scar ran from his left cheekbone, cutting through his moustache and puckering the side of his mouth. My eyes shifted from the scar and back to his dark eyes. Eyes that were somehow familiar. I felt a small shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. “Just where do you think you’re going?” he asked gruffly.
“Nowhere. I mean, I was trying to hail a cab—”
And then that other voice sounded again. Her voice, excited and a little breathless: Joe! Okay, she knows him. So maybe I could talk my way out of whatever was happening. “So, uh, Joe,” I began, “I really have to be somewhere—”
“I don’t think so.” He took his hand from his suit pocket and flipped open a leather case bearing a gold badge that read “Detective Joseph O’Brien.” Help me out here, Theresa-With-An-H. But she was silent.
I swallowed nervously. “Are you arresting me? I mean, I didn’t do anything.”
He pocketed his badge and then produced another item associated with police officers. “Hands out, please.”
My eyes widened. “Oh, hell no! Are you out of your mind?”
He raised his dark brows. “Such language from a lady,” he said, and before I could utter another word, snapped a set of antique handcuffs around my wrists. “I’m arresting you for the theft of those clothes. You’re coming with me.”
Giveaways:
First Giveaway - Four eBook Copies of Murder on the Steel Pier
Open Internationally
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/30806ff510/?
Second Giveaway - Two Print Copies of Murder on the Steel Pier
Open to US Only
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/30806ff511/?
About the Author:
Proud Jersey girl Rosie Genova is a multi-genre author. Her work includes a Jersey shore cozy series, The Italian Kitchen Mysteries, and the upcoming Tess Mancini Time Travel Mysteries, set in 1955 Atlantic City. She is also the author of standalone suspense and a couple of rom-coms that presently live in her computer files (but are longing to be released into the wild). A former teacher and journalist, Rosie’s non-fiction has appeared in Entrepreneur magazine and The New York Times. The mother of three sons, Rosie still lives in her favorite state with her husband, too many dusty antiques, and a charming mutt named Lucy.
Contact Links:
Website: http://www.rosiegenova.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RosieGenova
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6462450.Rosie_Genova
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Rosie-Genova/author/B00BEKZU5U
Hosted By:
Quill and Ink Book Tours
https://quillandinkbooktours.com/
