The anticipation mounts for Death at Brookhaven book signing. There is a particular kind of quiet excitement that settles over a bookshop in the hours before a book signing — before the doors open, before the chairs fill, before you find out who walks through that door. I know that excitement from previous book signing tours for my debut novel, Call of the Blackbird, but not yet for this tour. I can already feel the flutter building as Death at Brookhaven heads toward its very first stop: Then and Now Bookshop in Galveston, Texas.
The Generosity of an Open Door
I want to talk first about the bookshop, because independent booksellers don’t get thanked nearly enough for what they do. Then and Now Bookshop saw something in Death at Brookhaven worth putting on their shelves and worth building an afternoon around this cozy mystery — that’s not a small thing to offer a fellow storyteller and I am grateful for their support of this local author. Running a bookstore is its own daily act of faith, and when a shop chooses to feature your book among everything else they could have chosen, it means something. I’m walking in grateful before a single book is signed.
A Chance to Say Thank You
This stop is especially meaningful because it’s where I get to see so many of my ARC readers in person after a long season of traveling— and I’m lucky that so many of them are already friends. These are the early readers who took a chance on an early copy of the book — who read it before anyone told them whether it was good, who left the first honest reviews, who helped carry Death at Brookhaven into the world before it officially arrived. A signing is the perfect excuse to say thank you properly. I fully intend to hug every single one of them.
What’s Going in the Death at Brookhaven Book Signing Tote Bag
If you’re a writer heading toward your own first signing, here’s what I’m packing for Galveston — and what I expect will come with me to every stop after:
- Two good pens (one always runs dry mid-signature, always)
- A small stand or easel for the book, so it’s never lying flat and easy to miss
- Printed bookmarks with the cover art, along with a gentle nudge to leave a review once they’ve finished — reviews matter enormously for a book like this, and most readers are happy to help if you simply ask
- A QR code displayed on the table, linking straight to the ebook, for anyone who’d rather read on their phone or e-reader that same night
- A notepad for names, spelled correctly, especially for personalized copies
- Cash and a card reader, just in case
- Water, and something to eat beforehand — I expect to talk more than I think, and I’ll want the energy for it
None of this is glamorous. But showing up prepared is its own kind of respect — for the bookshop that made space for me, and for the readers who’ll take time out of their day to come find the book.
What I’m Hoping For
I’ve spent years writing in a quiet room, alone with 1960s Oxfordshire and a murder I invented and a cast of characters who, at some point, started making their own decisions about where the story should go. Writing is such a solitary act. You don’t really know if any of it lands until someone else holds the book in their hands — and Galveston will be my first real chance to find out.
I keep imagining the conversations that might happen. Maybe someone will pick up the book, read the back cover, and ask, “Is this like Kate Morton, or Agatha Christie, or Mary Stewart?” I hope so — that’s exactly the cozy mystery feeling I was reaching for. Maybe there will be someone who grew up in England, or spent a childhood moving between military bases the way I did, and we’ll find that particular comradery that comes from having lived somewhere the other person only knows from books. And I have a feeling there will be dog lovers in that room — there always are — and I can’t wait to tell them about Tess: how she came to me broken and terrified in the middle of a road, and how, fifteen years later, she is still the sweetest dog and a good girl.
That’s the whole reason to do a tour like this. Not the stack of signed books at the end of the day, though I imagine that will be lovely too — but the handful of real conversations that happen when a story finds the right reader.
See You in Galveston
If you’re local, I hope you’ll stop by Then and Now Bookshop. Bring a question about Oxfordshire, or Hollywood’s golden age, or a rescue dog of your own. I can’t wait to meet you.