My suspense novel The Castle has been nominated for a 2022 RONE Award, an annual competition sponsored by InD’tale Magazine that honors the best books in the Indie and Small publishing industry.

The second round of voting depends on the reading public: you guys. If you feel so inclined, I’d be delighted if you could cast a vote for The Castle. If the novel moves on, the next round of judging involves a group of industry professionals including editors, writers, and professors.

Here’s what you need to do, if you want to participate: You must register at www.indtale.com in order to vote. Once you register, you will be required to click the verification link sent to you via email. Then, decide if The Castle is worthy of your vote.

Voting is open all next week, between April 11-17.

Thank you for your consideration.

Ancient ruins, haunted memories, and a ruthless criminal combine with a touch of mystic presence in this taut mystery about a crime we all must address.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—a six-hundred-year-old pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target. In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEWS FOR THE CASTLE

Midwest Book Reviews

“A deftly written and riveting read from cover to cover, “The Castle” effectively showcases author Anne Montgomery’s genuine mastery of the Romantic Suspense genre.” 

Sara Steven

Chik Lit Central

“A slow burn thriller, mixed in with a touch of mystical realism…A true five-star experience!”

SaraRose Auburn

Writing & Reviews

“A beautifully considered, sumptuous novel from a skilled storyteller.”

Tonya Mathenia

InD’tale Magazine

“Ms. Montgomery manipulates uncomfortable subjects and dark suspense into a gripping tale with hints of romance and humor carefully guiding readers on an informative journey of survival and self-discovery.“

Anu Menon

Thought is Free Book Blog

“Soul-stirring. A brilliant book…Truly a masterpiece.”

Katherine Hayward Pérez

Just Katherine Blog

“I was gripped from start to end.”

Margaret Millmore

Author

“Ms. Montgomery has an almost magical talent to draw the reader into the worlds she creates through her words. Her characters are interesting, vulnerable and strong. While describing the locations in which her books are set, she weaves history with vivid images, immersing the reader in a hard-to-put-down story full of history, beauty and mystery.”

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com
Orders: info@touchpointpress.com
Also from Ingram and major retailers

Get your copy here



Wolf Catcher

“Through meticulous research, Anne Montgomery opens a window on ancient Arizona native Indian culture. Not only does she take us into the carefully reconstructed daily life of the Hopi, but she also cleverly links the past to the present by involving those detectives of the past: archaeologists. I use the term detectives deliberately because their work is not just uncovering the difficult-to-find artifacts but involves combatting looters who, often in a family tradition, try to make an illicit fortune from extremely valuable objects, desecrating sites and knowledge as they operate.

I love Ms Montgomery’s detailed descriptions of Hopi manufacture and lifestyle. The author describes strong characters through whom we learn about interpersonal relationships, religious beliefs and as the title suggests, relationship with nature. It might be a minor detail, but I also got a glimpse of modern Arizona. In all, a very satisfying well written novel, whose plot grips the reader. I don’t cover that aspect for fear of spoilers, but wholeheartedly recommend this excellent novel to lovers of history and archaeology.“

John Broughton

Goodreads UK

The past and present collide when a tenacious reporter seeks information on an eleventh century magician…and uncovers more than she bargained for.

WOLF CATCHER

Anne Montgomery

Historical Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

February 2, 2022

In 1939, archeologists uncovered a tomb at the Northern Arizona site called Ridge Ruin. The man, bedecked in fine turquoise jewelry and intricate bead work, was surrounded by wooden swords with handles carved into animal hooves and human hands. The Hopi workers stepped back from the grave, knowing what the Moochiwimi sticks meant. This man, buried nine hundred years earlier, was a magician.

Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.

REVIEW COPIES OF WOLF CATCHER AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

We all get medical prescriptions from time to time. I did recently, and, as usual, I pulled out the ridiculously long insert with minuscule print explaining all the ways said medication might make me ill, or, you know, kill me.

The two-sided form—that unfolded to the size of an open newspaper and which appeared in multiple languages—indicated side effects might include nausea, vomiting, stomach cramps, headache, thinning hair, cold or flu-like symptoms, dizziness, trouble breathing, difficulty sleeping, and irritability, to name a few. I guess I should have been grateful that death wasn’t included this time, as it has been on previous prescriptions.

I realize the following statement was meant to reassure me:  “Your physician prescribed this for you after considering your overall health and the good it might do.” I’m not sure it made me feel any better, but I took the stuff anyway.

The product, an…um…hormonal vaginal cream—There! I said it!—was meant to calm some pain and irritation from which I’d been suffering.

“This sometimes happens when you’re post-menopausal,” my gynecologist explained, not the first doctor who’s stared at me lately, pointing out my advancing age. “Take it three times a week at bedtime.”

“Yes, ma’am!” I said, with every intention of doing what I was told.  The problem came when I assumed that the plunger was a dose. I took that cream for a week and a half, without noticing the little measuring scale on the side. That prompted me to read the outside of the box where my prescription explained that my dose was one gram. I quickly realized I’d been taking four times the required amount.

As you might expect, I briefly freaked out. I’ve never taken anything with “hormones” labeled on the box. Would I soon be feeling the need to don a pink tutu or perhaps hurl handfuls of brightly-colored sparkles into the air? Or maybe demand a mani-pedi with violet polish and rhinestones?

You might not be taking me seriously, at this point. But as a life-long, not-the-least-bit girly girl, I wondered if the drug might change me. Would I wake up one morning afraid of spiders? Would I discover a new-found love of dainty shoes? Would I lose my love of digging in the dirt for rocks? Might I rethink false eyelashes or check out my butt in the health club mirror in the hope of taking that perfect, backside selfie? Or, egads, might I opt for a Lifetime movie over a football game?

The more I thought about it, the more worrisome the idea became, so I phoned my doctor. A few hours later, her assistant called me back.

“It’s fine. You haven’t done any damage. Just take the prescribed dose from now on,” she said.

Whew! I relaxed, but I still wonder about that stuff in the tube. And, just now, an ad for frilly lingerie has appeared on my computer. For the first time ever, I’m tempted to look.

Hummmm?

(Disclaimer: I made up that last part. Hell! I don’t even wear a bra. I’ll let you know if anything changes.)

The past and present collide when a tenacious reporter seeks information on an eleventh century magician…and uncovers more than she bargained for.

WOLF CATCHER

Anne Montgomery

Historical Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

February 2, 2022

In 1939, archeologists uncovered a tomb at the Northern Arizona site called Ridge Ruin. The man, bedecked in fine turquoise jewelry and intricate bead work, was surrounded by wooden swords with handles carved into animal hooves and human hands. The Hopi workers stepped back from the grave, knowing what the Moochiwimi sticks meant. This man, buried nine hundred years earlier, was a magician.

Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.

REVIEW COPIES OF WOLF CATCHER AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Last year, my mother announced she would be throwing herself a birthday party. The event was a command performance, and, since no one in the family wanted to tangle with Mary Anne, we all dutifully arrived at my mom’s independent living facility outside of Denver in July for the festivities.

My mother arranged all the details, right down to the devilishly delicious chocolate cake, since, like most of us, she carries the chocolate-addiction gene.  When it came time for gift giving, she turned the tables, handing out presents to those in attendance: personal possessions she mostly wanted to give to the grand and great-grandchildren. She was 96.

That night, happy with her efforts, she went to sleep with every intention of not waking up. But the next morning, she blinked her eyes open. As she has every day since. Now it’s not that she’s depressed, it’s just that almost all of her friends are dead. And my dad died in 2019. Then the pandemic hit, leaving her mostly alone in her apartment.

In her defense, she rarely complained. “I read the paper,” she explained. “I watch the news. And I read books every day.” Still, she described the lockdown as worse than the Depression and World War II, times that were awful, but where one was not cut off from most human contact.

Which brings me to today. Though my mother thought her birthday party would be her last project, I now know that’s not true.

“I want you to play Eliza Hamilton,” she said on the phone.

I was half-listening at the time. “Wait. What?”

“I want you to play Alexander Hamilton’s wife. I’ll write the script.”

It seems the people at the home were putting together a series of events in honor of the Fourth of July. My mother had just finished reading My Dear Hamilton, a fascinating account of the life of Eliza Hamilton, the Founding Father’s wife.

I wasn’t sure what to say. While I was in plays as a teenager, that part of my life had been packed away for a long time. That changed a few years back when friends talked me into auditioning for a community theater production of Steven Solheim’s Company. When I was offered the part of the acerbic, hard-drinking, thrice-married Joanne, a job that required singing two solos, a spot of tap dancing, and learning to smoke fake cigarettes, I was rather horrified. Still, when the final curtain call was over and my parents sat happily clapping in the audience, I was glad I took the shot.

“Don’t worry about anything. I’ve got a costume.”

“I’m a lot bigger than you, Mom,” I said grasping for a way to say no.

“And I’ll write your lines.”

I had no worries there. My mother earned a college degree from Penn State University, back when women just didn’t do that type of thing. She was a reporter in radio and print in the 1940s, and is the author of several books of historical fiction. Had my mother been born later, I believe she would have foregone marriage and childbearing and would instead be a governor, or a Supreme Court Justice, or President of the United States.

“You will play Eliza in her sixties, long after her husband died,” she said obviously assuming I wouldn’t say no.

“Um…” I could find no easy escape.

“The event is on June 24^th.”

I was quiet for a moment.

“I need a project,” she said. “This will be the last one.”

I have the impression that, if all goes as planned and I don’t do something horribly embarrassing, she will once again take to her bed following the event, close her eyes, and—satisfied with her life—she will hope to drift off. Though, knowing Mary Anne, I wouldn’t be surprised if there will be more projects in the future.

In the meantime, I will put on my gray wig and 19^th century bonnet and practice my lines.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

The past and present collide when a tenacious reporter seeks information on an eleventh century magician…and uncovers more than she bargained for.

WOLF CATCHER

Anne Montgomery

Historical Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

February 2, 2022

In 1939, archeologists uncovered a tomb at the Northern Arizona site called Ridge Ruin. The man, bedecked in fine turquoise jewelry and intricate bead work, was surrounded by wooden swords with handles carved into animal hooves and human hands. The Hopi workers stepped back from the grave, knowing what the Moochiwimi sticks meant. This man, buried nine hundred years earlier, was a magician.

Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.

REVIEW COPIES OF WOLF CATCHER AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

“Once again the author has created a beautiful story with a powerful message. She took a piece of history and brought it to life.”

Megan Salcido

Wildwood Reads

Find the rest of the review here.

The past and present collide when a tenacious reporter seeks information on an eleventh century magician…and uncovers more than she bargained for.

WOLF CATCHER

Anne Montgomery

Historical Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

February 2, 2022

In 1939, archeologists uncovered a tomb at the Northern Arizona site called Ridge Ruin. The man, bedecked in fine turquoise jewelry and intricate bead work, was surrounded by wooden swords with handles carved into animal hooves and human hands. The Hopi workers stepped back from the grave, knowing what the Moochiwimi sticks meant. This man, buried nine hundred years earlier, was a magician.

Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.

REVIEW COPIES OF WOLF CATCHER AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy where you buy books.

I love rocks. I have collected them my whole life. So, when I was asked to pick a science in college, geology was a pretty easy call. I enjoyed learning about how mountains form and marveled at the tectonic plates that move our continents around ever so slowly. I can’t pass a road cut without trying to identify the colorful sedimentary layers and when I stare at the stars I remember being taught about the solar system and how it formed.

I mention this because after I took three geology courses, the thrill wore off. It wasn’t my love of rocks and minerals that waned, it was how complicated geology had become.

“Today we’ll be talking about cryptocrystalline structures,” my professor said one day in class. He went on to explain complex things I didn’t understand and no longer remember. What I do recall is that I realized I didn’t care. I loved rocks because they were beautiful or fascinating. Perhaps you now think me shallow, but that rocks were pretty was enough for me from then on.

Today, thanks to the Internet, I’m a member of several Facebook pages for mineral enthusiasts. There are thousands of us out there, so I feel a little
better about my rocking addiction. Every day, I look at photographs of lovely specimens from around the world. But recently, things have gotten problematic again.

Take this post, for example: IMO it is a water-worn cobble of plagioclase porphyry: phenocrysts of bladed plagioclase feldspar in an aphanitic basaltic matrix.”

And this one: Mesolite is a tectosilicate mineral with formula Na₂Ca₂(Al₂Si₃O₁₀)₃·8H₂O. It is a member of the zeolite group and is closely related to natrolite which it also resembles in appearance. Mesolite crystallizes in the orthorhombic system and typically forms fibrous, acicular prismatic crystals or masses.

Yikes!

Can’t we just admire beauty without all the scientific mumbo jumbo? One wonders whether the above mineral descriptions are just a bit of braggadocio. Or maybe it’s me. Perhaps, if I’d taken more of those geology classes, I could confidently craft my own long-winded, science-laden description of a clump a beautiful fluorite crystals.

So, do I regret my decision to pass on higher-level geology? Let me think on it.

Doo doo da da doo doo da…

Nope! Pretty works just fine.

The past and present collide when a tenacious reporter seeks information on an eleventh century magician…and uncovers more than she bargained for.

WOLF CATCHER

Anne Montgomery

Historical Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

February 2, 2022

In 1939, archeologists uncovered a tomb at the Northern Arizona site called Ridge Ruin. The man, bedecked in fine turquoise jewelry and intricate bead work, was surrounded by wooden swords with handles carved into animal hooves and human hands. The Hopi workers stepped back from the grave, knowing what the Moochiwimi sticks meant. This man, buried nine hundred years earlier, was a magician.

Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.

REVIEW COPIES OF WOLF CATCHER AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

My sweetie pie and I have a little place in St. Croix.

“Where?” you ask.

Well, she’s one of the US Virgin Islands. St. John, St. Thomas and tiny Water Island—which is mostly uninhabited and remote— are her sisters, but she is the red-headed step child of the group. St. Croix is not flashy and full of nightlife. Travelers don’t come to party. They come to stare at the sea, which, depending on the side of the island you’re on, is peaceful with serene turquoise waters and white sand beaches, or wildly rough and constantly changing, displaying every color of blue you can imagine.

We are exceptionally spoiled because just outside our back porch a vast swath of sea bordered by green mountains and rolling hills entertains us daily: a moving piece of living art.

Onto this canvas each day come the birds. We have spent the last three decades living in Arizona’s Sonoran Desert, so these creatures are different from the ones we’re used to. Everyday, a pair of brown pelicans soars overhead before they fold their wings and dive into the foamy white waves, hoping to snare fish to feed their baby who sometimes flies with them.  

Pelicans resemble prehistoric creatures and perhaps for good reason. Their ancestors go back at least 30 million years, according to fossil records, so they’ve done pretty well on the evolutionary scale. The birds developed a throat pouch that expands when they hit the water. About two-and-half gallons of water rushes in and, if they’re lucky, a fish or two, which get scooped up and gobbled down.

But they only get to keep the meal as long as the frigate birds aren’t around. While these fleet creatures with scissor tails—named after the powerful French Man-of-War sailing ships— can snatch flying fish, tuna, and herring from the surface, unlike other seabirds they don’t have waterproof feathers. So, rather than risk their plumage in the sea, they often attack other birds to steal a meal. Frigates will harass our friends the pelicans, for example, and get them so frazzeled they will throw up their food. But there’s no waste, I promise, because the frigate bird is there to grab the regurgitated fish, snatching the tasty treat in mid-air. Even cooler perhaps, and far less gross, is the fact that frigate birds can fly for months at a time over the ocean and are able to sleep while doing so. How cool is that?

There are also beautiful feral chickens all over St.Croix, birds displaying rust, black, brown, white, and purple-colored feathers, the descendants of chickens that arrived with Europeans five centuries ago. Striking red-combed banty roosters strut about with their harems, plucking bugs and worms from the ground that they ceremoniously give to their hens. The birds are so ubiquitous here that the rooster is the island’s unofficial mascot.

On our last trip, half a dozen chickens would come up to our back porch daily and visit. But this time, not a single one appeared. We wondered why and then spotted an elegant, brown winged bird with a curved beak: a predator that the locals call a chicken hawk. No wonder our feathered friends had fled.

There are other birds—tiny black ones that flit past so quickly you wonder if you imagined them and swift white birds that fight arial battles with one another— but we haven’t been able to identify them yet. All we know is we’re provided with constant avian entertainment each day, a show that makes Netflix pale in comparison.

I’d tell you more—especially about the six-point, white-tailed buck that stared at us from 15 feet away before slipping over a hillside the other day— but there’s an iced glass of sweet, dark rum waiting for me on the porch.

Ah….

The past and present collide when a tenacious reporter seeks information on an eleventh century magician…and uncovers more than she bargained for.

WOLF CATCHER

Anne Montgomery

Historical Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

February 2, 2022

In 1939, archeologists uncovered a tomb at the Northern Arizona site called Ridge Ruin. The man, bedecked in fine turquoise jewelry and intricate bead work, was surrounded by wooden swords with handles carved into animal hooves and human hands. The Hopi workers stepped back from the grave, knowing what the Moochiwimi sticks meant. This man, buried nine hundred years earlier, was a magician.

Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.

REVIEW COPIES OF WOLF CATCHER AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy where you buy books.

People in my household call me Eco Annie. (You know who you are.) The sobriquet comes my way because I take recycling and caring for our planet very seriously.

I was fifteen when the first Earth Day was celebrated, an event coordinated to bring attention to the sorry state of our natural world. Rivers were burning because of the irresponsible dumping of flammable waste, litter clogged our highways, acid rain poured down, damaging forests and water ways and even corroding the steel and concrete on buildings and bridges.

As a kid who grew up at home in the woods, the thought of the massive destruction of the trees and other living creatures upset me. I remember well the day I felt the need to clean the trash from a small stream near my home, and I reveled when the water began to flow free and clear again.

The point is, I worry about our world and what we’re doing to it. The fact that fifty years have passed and we have barely moved forward in protecting our planet is just plain depressing. I mention this so you understand why I feel so strongly about recycling and composting and making Earth-friendly choices in regard to the products I buy.

Which brings me to my current gripe. Why, please tell me, do I have to pay more to be the good guy? Case in point: The other day I went to FedEx to ship a package. The man behind the counter immediately sized up the book I was mailing and pulled out a plastic envelope.

“Oh, wait,” I said politely. “Could I have cardboard instead?” He stared at me for a moment, which prompted me to explain. “I’m trying to quit plastic.”

Now, before you jump on me, I have done my homework. I do understand that both plastic and paper products have their ecological downsides. But, after much thought, I settled on the idea that paper is the lesser of two evils, since it’s much more likely to decompose, taking only two-to-six weeks in a landfill, while plastic bags need 10 to 20 years to degrade, and they release toxic chemicals in the process. When you consider that Americans alone go through hundreds of billions of them every year, you can see why I worry.

Without comment, the man switched the plastic mailing bag with one made of cardboard. I smiled and felt rather virtuous. Then, I paid and got my receipt. I stared at it for a moment and quickly realized that while plastic bags are free, paper mailers are extra. I stared at the row of numbers and noted the tacked-on cost of just under three bucks.

Doesn’t seem right, does it?

Now, I will admit that producing paper products is more costly than plastic. Still, when doing something for the greater good, should we not get a small nod of appreciation from the universe and not an extra fee?

That said, let’s face it. The choice between paper and plastic is fraught with all kinds of costs, both financial and environmental. The best answer, of course, is to carry only reusable bags, which I do at places like the grocery store. But that was not an option when I popped my book in the mail that day. (I will give the grocery stores credit, here, as you can recycle your plastic bags at many of them, but I sense few people take advantage of the offer. Perhaps, we can do better.)

I couldn’t help thinking about Wall-E, the sweet little robot trash collector who spent his days trying to clean up an abandoned Earth, the human inhabitants having fled the biological destruction they caused. Maybe, if we were all a little more like Wall-E, we could get the planet back in order. And perhaps somebody brilliant—I know you’re out there—can come up with a product that is sustainable and Earth friendly and…free.

The past and present collide when a tenacious reporter seeks information on an eleventh century magician…and uncovers more than she bargained for.

WOLF CATCHER

Anne Montgomery

Historical Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

February 2, 2022

In 1939, archeologists uncovered a tomb at the Northern Arizona site called Ridge Ruin. The man, bedecked in fine turquoise jewelry and intricate bead work, was surrounded by wooden swords with handles carved into animal hooves and human hands. The Hopi workers stepped back from the grave, knowing what the Moochiwimi sticks meant. This man, buried nine hundred years earlier, was a magician.

Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.

REVIEW COPIES OF WOLF CATCHER AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy where you buy books.

Sometimes, life can be absurd. Take the day my principal called me into his office.

“There aren’t enough students in your department.”

This I knew as my journalism and communications classes were rather small.

“We can’t pay two teachers if there aren’t enough students.” He clasped his hands together on the desk. Still, I wasn’t worried. After all, I had a degree in communications and I’d been a reporter for almost 15 years in TV and print. My peer in the department did have a background in video editing, though he’d been an English teacher. But, of course, he had seniority.

“You have two choices.”

Uh oh! I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“You can move to another school in the district or you can be a reading teacher.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Reading? I can’t teach that!”

He spread his hands. “Then you’ll have to go somewhere else.”

“I have a history cert,” I said hopefully. “I love history!”

“Coaches teach history,” he said as if that statement made sense.

“You don’t understand…”

“That’s all I can offer you right now. You’ll have to get a reading certification. That’s about 15 credits, but you can teach on an emergency cert right now.”

“But…”

He stared at me.

“I’m dyslexic.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

I liked my school, despite the Title I issues that identified my students as children who lived below the poverty line. But how could I teach reading?

When I was in elementary school, no one tossed around words like dyslexia. If you couldn’t read well you were just stupid and lazy. I was the offspring of parents who both had college degrees. I watched my dad get his master’s when I was eight and my mother was the only women in our neighborhood who had an education and a job. Every morning they read the now-defunct Newark News at the breakfast table and the New York Times during cocktail hour. The West Essex Tribune was also part of their repertoire. Along with my brother and sister, they both loved to read books.

But, for me, the thought of reading for pleasure seemed absurd. I struggled through fifth grade before my parents actually noticed. A D in Social Studies sounded the alarm bells and my parents placed me in a summer school class called Work and Study Skills. There I learned to take notes and be more organized, though I don’t recall anyone ever saying I was dyslexic, nor being tested for reading problems.

Here’s the thing about dyslexia. It looks different depending on who has it. Like autism, it’s a broad spectrum. Some sufferers will never read well. Others have barely noticeable quirks. I’m of the low-level variety. My spelling sucks. I get easily distracted. I turn certain letters around. (I can’t tell the difference between a lower-case d and b if they’re in an unfamiliar word.) I have trouble when I’m stressed distinguishing right from left, which my crew-mates in football found hilarious when, as the referee, I would signal first down or penalties in the wrong direction. Sometimes, I struggle to put the right shoe on the correct foot. And I’m pretty bad with numbers. I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked when one of my news directors called me into his office to inquire about why I kept reading the sports scores wrong every night on the news. After that, I had to write my scores out in words. Yes, it took a lot of extra time which had me sliding onto the news set seconds before the red camera light blinked on, but at least I had a better chance of getting the scores right.

As you can imagine, I felt like a complete fraud the day I stood in front of a reading class for the first time. My students were mostly freshman who read between the kindergarten and sixth-grade levels. My job was to figure out why and make them ready for high school. Sometimes their issues were physical. They had undiagnosed hearing or vision problems. Sometimes they were kids who didn’t speak English. Others had various learning and emotional disabilities. Many came from homes where there were no books or magazines or pencils or paper and where they never witnessed an adult reading anything.

I began taking classes to get my reading certification, and the day I learned about dyslexia was shocking and wonderful. Wonderful, because there was finally an explanation.

I looked back over the adjustments I’d made to improve my reading skills over the years. When I prepared to head off to college the first time, my older brother’s words rang in my head. “You’re to stupid to go to college,” he said. “I bet you 20 bucks you’ll flunk out the first semester.”

Since I would have rather been hit by a truck than let my brother win, I went to work. Through trial and error, I learned that I could never stay up all night to pass an exam. I had to get a good night’s sleep. I had to study for short periods of time every day, beginning a week before a big test. I couldn’t listen to music or be around noise, or I’d get distracted. I had to take lots of notes and always go to class.

I taught reading for about five years and I often pointed out to my students that I had a reading disability. “If I can do it, so can you,” I’d say.

And then some of them would sit up a little straighter in their seats and nod. Turns out believing you can learn to read is the most important step you can take.

The past and present collide when a tenacious reporter seeks information on an eleventh century magician…and uncovers more than she bargained for.

WOLF CATCHER

Anne Montgomery

Historical Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

February 2, 2022

In 1939, archeologists uncovered a tomb at the Northern Arizona site called Ridge Ruin. The man, bedecked in fine turquoise jewelry and intricate bead work, was surrounded by wooden swords with handles carved into animal hooves and human hands. The Hopi workers stepped back from the grave, knowing what the Moochiwimi sticks meant. This man, buried nine hundred years earlier, was a magician.

Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.

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“Anne Montgomery is, in my opinion, a master storyteller…Her writing is at once refreshing, gritty and absorbing and leaves me shocked, concerned for the characters yet satisfied at an amazing novel.”

Katherine Hayward Perez

Just Catherine

Find the rest of the review here.

ANCIENT RUINS, HAUNTED MEMORIES, AND A RUTHLESS CRIMINAL COMBINE WITH A TOUCH OF MYSTIC PRESENCE IN THIS TAUT MYSTERY ABOUT A CRIME WE ALL MUST ADDRESS.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

TouchPoint Press

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—an ancient pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target. In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

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