Bone White by Wendy Corsi Staub Book Tour & Giveaway!

April 5, 2017

Bone White by Wendy Corsi Staub with Guest Post & Giveaway!…on Tour April 1-30, 2017

Bone White by Wendy Corsi StaubBook Details:

Series: Mundy’s Landing #3 (Stand Alone)

Genre: Thriller/Suspense
Published by: William Morrow Mass Market
Publication Date: March 28, 2017
Number of Pages: 384
ISBN: 0062349775 (ISBN13: 9780062349774)


In Mundy’s Landing, bygone bloodshed has become a big business. During the rigorous winter of 1666, all but five colonists in the small Hudson Valley settlement died of starvation. Accused of unimaginable crimes, James and Elizabeth Mundy and their three children survived, but the couple were later accused of murder and executed. Left to fend for themselves in a hostile community, their offspring lived out exemplary lives in a town that would bear the family name. They never reveal the secret that died with their parents on the gallows… or did they?

“We Shall Never Tell.” Spurred by the cryptic phrase in a centuries-old letter, Emerson Mundy has flown cross-country to her ancestral hometown in hopes of tracing her ancestral past—and perhaps building a future. In Mundy’s Landing, she discovers long lost relatives, a welcoming ancestral home… and a closet full of skeletons.

A year has passed since former NYPD Detective Sullivan Leary solved the historic Sleeping Beauty Murders, apprehended a copycat killer, and made a fresh start in the Hudson Valley. Banking on an uneventful future in a village that’s seen more than its share of bloodshed, Sully is in for an unpleasant surprise when a historic skull reveals a notorious truth. Now she’s on the trail of a murky predator determined to destroy the Mundy family tree, branch by branch.

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Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

July 20, 2016
Los Angeles, CA

We shall never tell.

Strange, the thoughts that go through your head when you’re standing at an open grave.

Not that Emerson Mundy knew anything about open graves before today. Her father’s funeral is the first she’s ever attended, and she’s the sole mourner.

Ah, at last, a perk to living a life without many—any—loved ones; you don’t spend much time grieving, unless you count the pervasive ache for the things you never had.

The minister, who came with the cemetery package and never even met Jerry Mundy, is rambling on about souls and salvation. Emerson hears only We shall never tell—the closing line in an old letter she found yesterday in the crawl space of her childhood home. It had been written in 1676 by a young woman named Priscilla Mundy, addressed to her brother, Jeremiah.

The Mundys were among the seventeenth-century English colonists who settled on the eastern bank of the Hudson River, about a hundred miles north of New York City. Their first winter was so harsh the river froze, stranding their supply ship and additional colonists in the New York harbor. When the ship arrived after the thaw, all but five settlers had starved to death.

Jeremiah; Priscilla; their sister, Charity; and their parents had eaten human flesh to stay alive. James and Elizabeth Mundy swore they’d only cannibalized those who’d already died, but the God-fearing, well-fed newcomers couldn’t fathom such wretched butchery. A Puritan justice committee tortured the couple until they confessed to murder, then swiftly tried, convicted, and hanged them.

“Do you think we’re related?” Emerson asked her father after learning about the Mundys back in elementary school.

“Nope.” Curt answers were typical when she brought up anything Jerry Mundy didn’t want to discuss. The past was high on the list.

“That’s it? Just nope?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“How about yes?”

“That wouldn’t be the truth,” he said with a shrug.

“Sometimes the truth isn’t very interesting.”

She had no one else to ask about her family history. Dad was an only child, and his parents, Donald and Inez Mundy, had passed away before she was born. Their headstone is adjacent to the gaping rectangle about to swallow her father’s casket. Staring that the inscription, she notices her grandfather’s unusual middle initial.

Donald X. Mundy, Born 1900, Died 1972.
X marks the spot.

Thanks to her passion for history and Robert Louis Stevenson, Emerson’s bookworm childhood included a phase when she searched obsessively for buried treasure. Money was short in their household after two heart attacks left Jerry Mundy on permanent disability.

X marks the spot…

No gold doubloon treasure chest buried here. Just dusty old bones of people she never knew.

And now, her father.

The service concludes with a prayer as the coffin is lowered into the ground. The minister clasps her hand and tells her how sorry he is for her loss, then leaves her to sit on a bench and stare at the hillside as the undertakers finish the job.

The sun is beginning to burn through the thick marine layer that swaddles most June and July mornings. Having grown up in Southern California, she knows the sky will be bright blue by mid-afternoon. Tomorrow will be more of the same. By then, she’ll be on her way back up the coast, back to her life in Oakland, where the fog rolls in and stays for days, weeks at a time. Funny, but there she welcomes the gray, a soothing shield from real world glare and sharp edges.

Here the seasonal gloom has felt oppressive and depressing.

Emerson watches the undertakers finish the job and load their equipment into a van. After they drive off, she makes her way between neat rows of tombstones to inspect the raked dirt rectangle.

When something is over, you move on, her father told her when she left home nearly two decades ago. She attended Cal State Fullerton with scholarships and maximum financial aid, got her master’s at Berkeley, and landed a teaching job in the Bay Area.

But she didn’t necessarily move on.

Every holiday, many weekends, and for two whole months every summer, she makes the six-hour drive down to stay with her father. She cooks and cleans for him, and at night they sit together and watch Wheel of Fortune reruns.

It used to be because she craved a connection to the only family she had in the world. Lately, though, it was as much because Jerry Mundy needed her.

He pretended that he didn’t, that he was taking care of himself and the house, too proud to admit he was failing. He was a shadow of his former self when he died at seventy-six, leaving Emerson alone in the world.

Throughout her motherless childhood, Emerson was obsessed with novels about orphans. Treasure Island shared coveted space on her bookshelf with Anne of Green Gables, The Secret Garden, The Witch of Blackbird Pond

She always wondered what would happen to her if her father died. Would she wind up in an orphanage? Would a kindly stranger take her in? Would she live on the streets?

Now that it’s happened he’s down there, in the dirt … moving on?

She’ll never again hear his voice. She’ll never see the face so like her own that she can’t imagine she inherited any physical characteristics from her mother, Didi—though she can’t be certain.

Years ago, she asked her father for a picture—preferably one that showed her mother holding her as a baby, or of her parents together. Maybe she wanted evidence that she and her father had been loved; that the woman who’d abandoned them had once been normal—a proud new mother, a happy bride.

Or was it the opposite? Was she hoping to glimpse a hint that Didi Mundy was never normal? Did she expect to confirm that people—normal people—don’t just wake up one morning and choose to walk out on a husband and child? That there was always something off about her mother: a telltale gleam in the eye, or a faraway expression—some warning sign her father had overlooked. A sign Emerson herself would be able to recognize, should she ever be tempted to marry.

But there were no images of Didi that she could slip into a frame, or deface with angry black ink, or simply commit to memory.

Exhibit A: Untrustworthy.

Sure, there had been plenty of photos, her father admitted unapologetically. He’d gotten rid of everything.

There were plenty of pictures of her and Dad, though.

Exhibit B: Trustworthy.

Dad holding her hand on her first day of kindergarten, Dad leading her in an awkward waltz at a father-daughter middle school dance, Dad posing with her at high school graduation.

“Two peas in a pod,” he liked to say. “If I weren’t me, I’d think you were.”

She has his thick, wavy hair, the same dimple on her right cheek, same angular nose and bristly slashes of brow. Even her wide-set, prominent, upturned eyes are the same as his, with one notable exception.

Jerry Mundy’s eyes were a piercing blue.

Only one of Emerson’s is that shade; the other, a chalky gray.


Excerpt from Bone White by Wendy Corsi Staub.  Copyright © 2017 by Wendy Corsi Staub. Reproduced with permission from William Morrow Mass Market. All rights reserved.


What books from your childhood reading would you like to bring back? Why?

I love this question, because I launched my career with a young adult novel called SUMMER LIGHTNING.

That was twenty-five years and almost ninety novels ago, and nothing thrills me more than to meet a grown-up reader who brings her own children to one of my events, and tells me how much she loved my books when she was a little girl.

I’ve long-since moved away from writing children’s books, now best known for my psychological suspense novels—the lastest, BONE WHITE, is out this month from HarperCollins. But I am constantly “bringing back” (Um, we’re talking about book hoarding, right? Oh, good!) childhood favorites, even now that I’m no longer actively sharing them with my own two sons, now both in college. Whenever I stumble across a beloved title at a flea market or our library’s annual book sale, I can’t seem to resist snatching it up even if it’s tattered, overpriced, and I already own a dog-eared copy—or two, or five– of the original. Many of those books are wildly popular today, or at least fairly well known, and remain in print.

The Little House books, Nancy Drew, All of a Kind Family, Little Women, and Judy Blume’s books, for example, line bookstore shelves to this day. But here are a few of more obscure beloved titles, some of which I’ve spent years hunting down like one of my own fictional detectives determined to solve a whodunit:


I discovered this book during my college years, while working in an indy bookstore. It was about what happens to a teenaged girl after her mom becomes the first female president of the United States, and she has to give up her comfy life in Boston and move to the White House. I recommended this to countless young readers, and loved it so much that even though I was well beyond the age of its intended audience, I went on to read the sequels WHITE HOUSE AUTUMN and LONG LIVE THE QUEEN and LONG MAY SHE REIGN. Imagine my thrill when this past November, I “met” the talented author herself via some post-election social media bonding!

MEG AND THE MYSTERY IN WILLIAMSBURG by Holly Beth Walker (a ghostwritten pseudonym)

Yes, another Meg—this one, Meg Duncan, the heroine of this abbreviated (alas, only six titles) series about a girl detective. Williamsburg was by far my favorite title, as it combined two of my favorite subjects, mystery and history, with a well-drawn and familiar setting—I’d visited Colonial Williamsburg with my family when I first read it, and have many times since.

HANGIN’ OUT WITH CICI by Francine Pascal

Long before she became famous for her Sweet Valley High series—in fact, long before I ghost- wrote one of them back in the ‘90s as a newly established author!—Francine Pascal published this witty gem of a novel about Victoria, a spirited and all, right, kind of wise-ass New York City teenager, who goes back in time to the World War II years after having a fight with her uptight mom. There, she meets Cici, a kindred spirit who—you guessed it—she later realizes is her mom as the laid-back teen she once was.

THE WINDS OF MARCH by Lenora Mattingly Weber

The author is perhaps more widely recognized for her endearing Beany Malone series, launched in 1943. I read and reread those library books, longing for the few missing titles unavailable even through yesteryear’s inter-library loan. In adulthood, I finally gleefully bought the series in its entirety, re-issued by Image Cascade, along with Weber’s spin-off series about Katie Rose Belford and her family. Also set in Denver, with the Malones as peripheral characters, these books had a slight edge that I appreciated. The Winds of March is my favorite of the Belford books, set against the dreary landscape of springtime that doesn’t feel like spring, and a restless longing to which I could—and can still—relate.

THE HALF SISTERS by Natalie Savage Carlson

This latest title in my vintage collection, along with its sequel Luvvy and the Girls, represents a triumphant ending for me as a literary detective. For years, I had been flashing back to these books, which I borrowed from the library back in the mid-seventies. I still remember my stunned reaction to a plot development in the first book, and it haunted me in fleeting glimpses over the years. I remembered what had happened, and I remembered that the heroine’s name was Luvvy (though not the spelling) and she had a sister named Maudie, and the books were set in the late 1800s or early 1900s. That was it. It drove me crazy. I searched online for years using just that info, altering the spelling of both Luvvy and Maudie, and came up with nothing. And then one day not long ago, there it was! Her name was Luvvy, not Lovie or Lovey or Luvey! I ordered the books from a vintage dealer, and they arrived last week to complete my collection…for now!

Author Bio:Wendy Corsi Staub

New York Times bestseller Wendy Corsi Staub is the award-winning author of more than seventy novels. Wendy now lives in the New York City suburbs with her husband and their two children.

Catch Up With Wendy Corsi Staub On Her Website 🔗, Goodreads 🔗, Twitter 🔗, & Facebook 🔗!

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This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Wendy Corsi Staub and William Morrow. There will be 3 winners of one (1) Print copy of Bone White by Wendy Corsi Staub. The giveaway begins on March 30th and runs through May 2nd, 2017. This giveaway is for US residents only. Void where prohibited by law.

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One Comment

  • Cheryl April 5, 2017 at 11:24 am

    LITTLE WOMEN was also one of my favorite books. Even though my granddaughter is only 6 mos old, I have begun to add books to her “library”, so I will have to check out the other books Ms. Staub mentions! Great post!

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