Giveaway – The Babel Apocalypse by Vyvyan Evans @GoddessFish @VyvEvans

I love apocalyptic novels and great covers. The Babel Apoclypse by Vyvyan Evans has both a great story and a great cover in equal measure. I mean, if the means of communication is lost, I think we all knows how that goes from our own experiences. Welcome, Vyvyan.

Guest blog post by Vyvyan Evans

If you knew an apocalypse was imminent, how would you prepare?

The Babel Apocalypse is set in the near future, the early twenty-second century, when language is no longer learned but streamed from internet in space direct to neural implants (“language chips”) implanted in citizens brains, at birth, governed by lang-laws.

So what could possibly go wrong? Plenty as it turns out. When a cyberattack destroys the language streaming servers in low-Earth orbit, large swathes of the world’s population lose the ability to communicate, at a stroke.

The only person who saw the Babel Apocalypse coming was the last native speaker in the automated world: Professor Ebba Black. Ebba is an heiress, and a hacker extraordinaire. But she had been planning for just such a catastrophe, a global language outage. She set up a secret base, Freetown, and with her team of scientists, established a Language Unplugged protocol: a medical procedure to “untether” human brains from the language chip technology that makes much of humanity entirely dependent on big tech.

In such a near-future landscape, when something akin to ChatGPT is literally embedded inside everyone’s heads, language has become a commodity, and no one actually learns it anymore. This is why a low probability event—a global language outage—is so catastrophic; no one can use language without it being streamed directly into their brains via the internet-of-things ecosystem.

But Ebba is ready. The only problem is that corporate powerplays, money and governmental politics inevitably have made her an outlaw–she is a wanted woman. Hence, Ebba must use skill and daring to stay off the grid. And with the assistance of the loner, Europol commander, Emyr Morgan, they must together figure out who is behind the outage, and how to restore language to humanity, when sinister, global forces are dead set against them.

https://amzn.to/3SlrYGN

THE BABEL APOCALYPSE AUDIOBOOK by Vyvyan Evans

GENRE:  Science Fiction

BLURB

Language is no longer learned, but streamed to neural implants regulated by lang-laws. Those who can’t afford monthly language streaming services are feral, living on the fringes of society. Big tech corporations control language, the world’s most valuable commodity.

But when a massive cyberattack causes a global language outage, catastrophe looms.

Europol detective Emyr Morgan is assigned to the case. Suspect number one is Professor Ebba Black, the last native speaker of language in the automated world, and leader of the Babel cyberterrorist organization. But Emyr soon learns that in a world of corporate power, where those who control language control everything, all is not as it seems. After all, if the mysterious Ebba Black is to blame, why is the Russian Federation being framed for an outage it claims no responsibility for? And why is Ebba now a target for assassination?

As he and Ebba collide, Emyr faces an existential dilemma between loyalty and betrayal, when everything he once believed in is called into question. To prevent the imminent collapse of civilization and a deadly war between the great federations, he must figure out friend from foe—his life depends on it.

And with the odds stacked against him, he must find a way to stop the Babel Apocalypse.

EXCERPT

As I was about to glance back at the voices, a light flickered in my peripheral vision, drawing my gaze upward to the night sky. A soft white glow, high up in the dark. At first it was indistinguishable from the airway lights. But it persisted, the size of a small disk at first, before shifting to red-orange, getting larger. At that point I realized it definitely couldn’t be a hover car. This was farther up, probably low Earth orbit, which explained the initial white. But the shift in coloration—that meant a detonation, producing nitrogen dioxide, which turned deep orange when mixed with air. A gaseous cloud has reached the atmosphere, I thought. I was witnessing a chemical explosion in space large enough to be visible to the naked eye. But what was exploding?

As I continued looking up, the orange grew in intensity until it flared across the skyline, illuminating the entire landscape around me with an eerie red-orange. It was only then that I became aware of the newly hushed silence of the drunken revelers nearby. And the silhouettes of other people too, who had also stopped and peppered the pedestrian corridor. We were all now strange red creatures, watching transfixed in rapt silence as the night sky was on fire. And just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone; the orange light faded back into a deep well of pitch black.

AUTHOR Bio and Links

Dr. Vyvyan Evans is a native of Chester, England. He holds a PhD in linguistics from Georgetown University, Washington, D.C., and is a Professor of Linguistics. He has published numerous acclaimed popular science and technical books on language and linguistics. His popular science essays and articles have appeared in numerous venues including ‘The Guardian’, ‘Psychology Today’, ‘New York Post’, ‘New Scientist’, ‘Newsweek’ and ‘The New Republic’. His award-winning writing focuses, in one way or another, on the nature of language and mind, the impact of technology on language, and the future of communication. His science fiction work explores the status of language and digital communication technology as potential weapons of mass destruction.

Book website (including ‘Buy’ links): http://www.songs-of-the-sage.com

  • Author website: https://www.vyvevans.net/
  • Youtube channel: https://www.youtube.com/@vyvevans
  • Twitter: https://twitter.com/VyvEvans
  • Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Vyvyan.Evans.Author
  • Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nephilim_publishing/
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The Spotlight Is On Black & White by Justin M Kiska @partnersincr1me @JustinKiska

Black & White

by Justin M. Kiska

February 19 – March 15, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Black & White by Justin M. Kiska

Parker City, 1985 . . .

A picturesque spring morning takes a disturbing turn when the frozen body of a young woman is discovered in a field on the outskirts of the city. As Detectives Ben Winters and Tommy Mason arrive on the scene, they have no idea upon what type of an investigation they are about to embark. With no identification, no breadcrumbs to lead them to the girl’s origins, or even a cause of death, they face a daunting task ahead as they take on their latest case.

As the investigation lingers in limbo, a surprise revelation connects it to a mysterious chapter from Parker City’s past. One that Tommy’s own uncle was a part of four decades early as a debonair private investigator working for the venerable Stride Detective Agency, tenaciously searching for the missing daughter of a former diplomat. It’s a connection that binds two generations of detectives in an intricate web of intrigue.

In this captivating new installment of Parker City Mysteries, both investigations unravel simultaneously, forging an unbreakable link between the past and the present. As Ben and Tommy navigate their way through the case, they must confront the truth to a secret that has remained concealed for far too long.

Book Details:

Genre: Police Procedural
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: February 2024
Number of Pages: 300
ISBN: Coming Soon!
Series: Parker City Mysteries, Book 4
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Stepping out of the car, the weather was so nice, Ben left his suit jacket laying on the backseat where he’d tossed it before leaving the station. But, as he always did when he was about to enter a new crime scene, he placed his hand on the Smith & Wesson on his hip. The weight of the cool metal helped to center him so he could focus on whatever he was about to be confronted by. It reminded him how important his work was and the duty he believed so much in. It was thinking like that that earned Ben a reputation of being a Boy Scout. An idealist who truly wanted to protect and defend the people of Parker City. He always wondered how some people could make that sound like a bad thing.

Some of the older members of the department liked to live in a gray area of the law, while Ben tried his very best to always do what was right. It’s when what was right fell into those gray areas that Ben needed to rely on his partner to help make sense of what needed to be done.

Trying to imagine what they’d been called out for he knew no two crime scenes were ever the same. Sure, elements could be similar. There was always a tragedy overshadowing them, but each was unique. Which is why Ben walked into each with a completely open mind and a keen pair of eyes trying to take in every single detail. It was always the details that cracked a case. Which meant one never knew how important the smallest piece of evidence could really be. If something was out of place, it was important until it wasn’t. That’s how he thought. And sometimes-and this was often the more confusing part-the absence of something was just as important. If not more.

“Not putting your jacket on?” The voice of Ben’s partner, Tommy Mason, came from the other side of the car. “I didn’t realize this was a casual crime scene.”

Ben raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

The two were always picking on one another. It’s what they did. It’s what made their friendship so strong. When it came to what to wear as police detectives, there was a continuing debate between the two. Ben felt a suit and tie was most appropriate. Not only did it look more professional and attract a certain level of respect but, with his clean-cut babyface, it helped him look a little older than his thirty years. Though not much. Tommy, on the other hand, saw nothing wrong with wearing jeans and a T-shirt under a leather jacket. While he looked like a cop on one of the popular crime shows on television, Ben always pointed out that that was Hollywood’s version of a police detective. Since Ben technically was his supervisor and commanding officer, Tommy begrudgingly put a tie on every morning. Most days though, he usually left it loose with his collar wide open. Ben still took it as a victory.

Blowing a cloud of smoke into the air, Tommy dropped what little remained of his cigarette on the ground and stamped it out before taking his corduroy jacket off and tossing it back into the car. If Ben didn’t have to wear his jacket at the crime scene, he sure as hell wasn’t going to wear one.

“Doesn’t this feel much less constricting,” he asked with a grin. “And it’s so much easier to get to our guns in the event we’re in danger.”

“Shut up,” Ben said as he started toward the cluster of men in the field.

“I’m just saying. If your life was in danger, it would be so much easier for me to shoot someone to save you–which you know I would do–if I didn’t have to worry about my jacket getting in the way. Those few precious seconds could save your life one day. Natalie would agree.”

Stopping and turning to look at his partner a few steps behind him, Ben asked, “Why exactly do you think it would have to be you saving me and not the other way around?”

“Because that’s just the way it is,” Tommy answered very matter-of-factly. “Think about how many times I’ve saved your life?”

Ben’s forehead wrinkled, a puzzled expression appearing on his face. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m the one that saved you at least two times that I can think of in the last year alone.”

“Clearly we remember things very differently.”

“You’re a pain in my ass. You know that, right?”

Smiling the thousand watt smile for which he was known, Tommy answered, “I like to think that I keep you grounded.”

So was the way of Detectives Ben Winters and Tommy Mason. More often than not, they sounded like an old married couple bickering about one thing or another. Completely devoted to one another, they were closer than brothers. They’d grown up together, gone to school together, joined the academy together, and when the order was given for a new Detective Squad to be created within the Parker City Police Department, they were tapped for the job.

As it was, for the last four years, they were the only two members of the department’s official criminal investigation team. Though Parker City was by no means a hotbed of criminal activity, they’d been involved in several major investigations which rocked the city. Two of which even attracted the national spotlight, making the pair famous for a few minutes. Most police officers could go their entire careers without being involved in the types of cases which had kept them up at night, but the two young men had earned their detective shields through trial by fire.

Catching his foot in a clump of thick weeds, Ben knew if he tripped and landed in the dirt, Tommy would never let him hear the end of it. Thankfully, he was able to quickly regain his balance and keep himself upright.

His hope that Tommy didn’t see the awkward contortion the lower half of his body performed to avoid hitting the ground was dashed when from behind him he heard the sarcasm-laced comment, “As graceful as a gazelle.” Which was then followed almost immediately by the unmistakable sound of something hitting the dirt. Hard.

“Sonofa…”

Ben turned in just enough time to see Tommy jumping to his feet and dusting off his pants.

“Not a single word,” Tommy admonished, vigorously shaking his head. “I’m well aware Karma’s a bitch.”

Deciding to take the highroad, Ben valiantly stifled the laugh fighting to burst free.

“You’ve got a little bit of something there on your…” Ben started, pointing to his partner’s pant leg.

“Shut it!” Tommy said. At which point Ben couldn’t contain himself. The laughter won and overpowered him.

As the two detectives reached the other men standing in the field, they recognized one of the patrolmen as a new officer who’d just recently joined the department and the other was one of Tommy’s least favorite people on the planet, Buck LuCoco. An overweight, lazy throw-back to the days when the police in the city did as little as they needed to. Neither Ben nor Tommy understood how he was still on the force. Or why he wanted to be with his attitude.

“LuCoco, Brown,” Ben said giving the uniformed officers each a quick nod of his head.

“How is it, Buck,” Tommy began, “whenever a body drops in this town, you’re the first man on the scene?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” LuCoco said, mopping his sweaty brow with a wrinkled handkerchief from his pocket. “It could also be that the scumbags in this city do their dirty work at night and since I’m the first one outta the door in the morning, I get the call. Either way, it’s crap. I tell ya!”

“Being that it’s after lunchtime already–,” Tommy began to say before Ben placed a hand on his arm, giving him the signal to let it go.

Then, turning to the younger officer who appeared quite eager to give his report to the department’s chief detective, Ben asked, “What have we got?”

“This is Sam Ruppert,” Brown introduced the man, referring to his notebook. “He’s one of the city’s engineers. He was doing some routine work out here this morning when he found the body of a young female. D.O.A.”

Turning to Ruppert, a tall, beefy guy in a flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots, Ben took his own notebook from his shirt pocket. “Morning, Mr. Ruppert. I’m Detective Ben Winters. You’re with the city?”

“Public Works Department,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Almost fifteen years now.”

“What brought you out here today?”

“The city’s getting ready to do some work in this field and I needed to take a few quick measurements. We’ve been out here every day for the last week. I thought I’d be here and gone in a few minutes. Then I found…” His voice trailed off as he looked away toward something another twenty or so feet away.

“What did you find?”

“A body. She wasn’t there yesterday. I know that for a fact because I was here all day with a couple other guys. We were all over this place. We’d have seen her for sure.”

Pointing at the mound the engineer was staring at, Tommy asked, “Is that the body?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did one of you cover her up or did you find her like that?” Ben asked, referring to the tattered, green checked blanket.

“She was like that,” Ruppert said taking a deep breath. “At first, I thought it was someone in a sleeping bag or something. Thought maybe they’d slept out here last night. Sky was clear. They could see the stars. But when I got close and hollered, there was no… She didn’t move. When I got up close I saw… Geez. I’ve never seen anything like it. This isn’t how I thought my day was gonna go.”

Other than the occasional funeral, it was true, the average person didn’t have much exposure to dead bodies. But there was something in the way the man was acting that made Ben think there was more to the story. He was too shaken up. If one could be too shaken up after finding a dead body on the job.

“What is it you’ve never seen before?” Ben inquired, interested to hear the conclusion to Ruppert’s story.

“Oh, I think you should just see for yourself, Detective” LuCoco said interrupting, a twisted smirk on his fat face.

“What is it, LuCoco? Just tell us.” Tommy had no patience for the man. There was a time he used to hide his contempt, now he didn’t even try. Not that LuCoco was very observant. Or he just didn’t give a damn.

“Sirs,” Officer Brown interrupted, “let me show you.”

Walking the group over to the covered body, Brown knelt down and, using a handkerchief he’d had in his pocket, pulled the blanket back revealing the naked body of a beautiful young woman with dark wavey hair. But something wasn’t right. Not that the naked body of a woman in the middle of a field was right. But in this instance, it was her skin.

“What the hell?” Tommy’s reaction matched what Ben was thinking. “She’s blue.”

Blue wasn’t entirely accurate, but it was pretty close. The skin was a pale hue, almost white. And there was a frosty sheen to it, with small ice crystals visible around her eyes and mouth. Little droplets glistened on her eyelashes.

“She’s frozen,” Brown said, looking up at the detectives.

“It was cool last night,” Tommy said, kneeling down himself to get a better look, “but not cold enough to freeze to death.”

“No. I mean, she’s frozen like a block of ice.”

***

Excerpt from Black & White by Justin M. Kiska. Copyright 2024 by Justin M. Kiska. Reproduced with permission from Justin M. Kiska. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Justin M. Kiska

When not sitting in his library devising new and clever ways to kill people (for his mysteries), Justin can usually be found at The Way Off Broadway Dinner Theatre, outside of Washington, DC, where he is one of the owners and producers. In addition to writing the Parker City Mysteries Series, which includes Now & Then (Finalist for the 2022 Silver Falchion Award for Best Investigator), Vice & Virtue, and Fact & Fiction, he is also the mastermind behind Marquee Mysteries, a series of interactive mystery events he has been writing and producing for over fifteen years. Justin and his wife, Jessica, live along Lake Linganore outside of Frederick, Maryland.

Catch Up With Justin M. Kiska:
JustinKiska.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @JMKiska
Instagram – @JMKiska
Twitter/X – @JustinKiska
Facebook – @JMKiska

 

 

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Giveaway & Review – And The Devil Walks Away by Kevin R Doyle @GoddessFish

https://amzn.to/47UwOAI

And the Devil Walks Away by Kevin R. Doyle

GENRE: Mystery

MY REVIEW

“You going to do anything illegal in there?”

“Don’t worry, counselor. Nothing that anyone’s going to complain about.”

I immediately liked Helen Lipscomb. Two years earlier she had been a by the book homicide detective. She had been pushed out of the police force, ostracized. Now, the thin blue line has gotten even thinner for her.

The serial killer angle is different from the norm. Instead of proving his innocence, Benson wants her to prove his guilt. He resents that someone else is taking credit for his kills.

“Anyone who can so piss off the members of the power structure is exactly who I need.”

Because she is low on funds she takes it on. She will be traveling around the country to find the answers.

Mysteries intrigue me, but lack the intense, fast paced action, and the darkness that drives my own twisted mind. So, to say that And The Devil Walks Away by Kevin R Doyle, seemed a bit slow to me, it may be through no fault of the book or the author. I will say, as the mystery grew I found myself becoming more interested in the outcome.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of And The Devil Walks Away by Kevin R Doyle.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
3 Stars

BLURB: Helen Lipscomb seemingly has nowhere to go but down. Cashiered from the force, ostracized by most of her former acquaintances, and with no real connections left to the community, she’s been getting by as a sort of unofficial investigator, doing piecework for various lawyers and bail bondsmen. Her former life as a homicide detective seems far behind her until a notorious serial killer, locked away and facing the death penalty, offers her the challenge of a lifetime. Not to prove his innocence, but to prove him guilty of even more murders than the authorities suspect, murders for which another convicted man, several states away, is taking credit.

“I think you’re working under something of a misconception,” Benson said. “You’re correct. The authorities suspect me of more slayings than they’ve convicted me of, though even they can’t guess the actual number. But I don’t want you to work to prove my innocence. My guilt has been pretty much firmly established, at least in the three cases that have brought me to death row. Considering all the death sentences I currently face, wouldn’t you agree that would be pretty much a waste of your time and my money to attempt to prove otherwise?”

Helen frowned and glanced at Conroy, whose face remained impassive, before turning back to Benson.

“Then what do you want out of me?” she asked.

Benson smiled, but the expression had no warmth.

“I want you to prove that I’m guilty,” he said in a flat, calm tone. “Guilty of those murders they haven’t yet pinned on me.”

“Excuse me?” Helen was sure she looked as baffled as she felt.

“I thought that was fairly clear,” Benson said. “Someone’s out there taking credit for my work, and I want you to put a stop to it. If I have anything to say about it, no one’s going to get the credit for my work but me.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links

A retired high-school teacher and former college instructor, Kevin R. Doyle is the author of numerous short horror stories. He’s also written four crime thrillers including The Group and The Anchor, and one horror novel, The Litter. In the last few years, he’s begun working on the Sam Quinton private eye series, published by Camel Press. The first Quinton book, Squatter’s Rights, was nominated for the 2021 Shamus award for Best First PI Novel.  The fourth Sam Quinton book, Clean Win, was released in March of 2023.

  • Web site: kevindoylefiction.com
  • Facebook: facebook.com/kevindoylefiction
  • Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6473241.Kevin_R_Doyle
  • Amazon / B&N / Kobo
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Review & Giveaway – The Committee Will Kill You Now by J L Lycette @partnersincr1me

The Committee Will Kill You Now by JL Lycette Banner

The Committee Will Kill You Now

by JL Lycette

January 22 – February 16, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Amazon / KindleUnlimited / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

The Committee Will Kill You Now by J L Lycette is a medical eye opener with fact and fiction interwoven seamlessly. A virtual nightmare medical rabbit hole!

Interns – overworked, sleep deprived…

YOU ARE ENOUGH

I can see how mistakes can be made and the value of a life overlooked. BUT??????? How do you fix something like this? When the interns don’t talk because they know there will be repercussions. Where the hospital covers up mistakes and the work abuse of those that they are responsible for. Doctors playing God. Who are you to tell them….anything. Committees choosing who will live and who will die.

I don’t read a lot of medical books because J L Lycette’s stories are terrifying to me. But forewarned is forearmed…right? How better to protect oneself than knowing the truth.

The characters that stand out to me are Noah and Maddox. Of course, there are others who are pivotal to the story. Noah’s story highlights the moral decisions he will have to make. Will he part of the herd, go along to get along, or do the right thing, exposing the hospital’s negligence? Maddox…now that is something I didn’t see coming, but probably should have, if I had slowed down enough to think it through, but, I couldn’t stop flipping the pages.

There existed a whole other side of the profession…A hidden side…secrets nurtured and ugliness flourished…he’d become of part of it.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of The Committee Will Kill You Now by J L Lycette.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

Synopsis:

The gripping new book from the author of The Algorithm Will See You Now. Based on the true-life rationing of kidney dialysis in 1960s America, a medical intern in 1992 Seattle tries to leave his painful past behind, only to uncover a shocking truth of thirty years prior and the lasting, generational harm of hidden secrets…

After a co-intern dies by suicide, a grieving Noah Meier commits an accidental error. In a desperate move to save his patient’s life, he covertly seeks help from audacious surgical resident Marah Maddox, igniting a bond between them.

When the hospital is suspiciously quick to sweep everything under the rug, Noah turns to his late father’s journal for guidance and makes a chilling discovery, all while trying to stay out of the crosshairs of abusive Dr. Rankel, keen to make an example of Noah. Worse, Rankel clearly has it out for Marah as the only woman in her program.

As the hospital’s patriarchal power structures, and the truth about his father’s past, threaten Noah and Marah’s burgeoning relationship, Noah will have to choose: shoulder his father’s devastating legacy or create his own daring future.

The latest sensational page-turner from physician-author JL Lycette, The Committee Will Kill You Now is a riveting historical suspense about the inner workings of the medical world and the personal struggles of those within it.

A thrilling near-historical drama that exposes the dark side of the medical establishment and a must-read for anyone interested in medicine, ethics, and the human struggle for justice.

Praise for The Committee Will Kill You Now:

“A page-turner with heart, The Committee Will Kill You Now will appeal to both doctors and non-doctors alike, and to anyone who’s ever needed to find the courage to stand up for what’s right.”
~ Hadley Leggett, MD, author of All They Ask Is Everything

The Committee Will Kill You Now Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Medical Fiction, Medical Suspense
Published by: Black Rose Writing Press
Publication Date: November 2023
Number of Pages: 300
ISBN: 9781685133122 (ISBN10: 1685133126)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Black Rose Writing Press

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

April 27, 1992
Seattle, WA

The hospital had a saying—you came to work unless you were dead.

Apparently, being dead on the inside didn’t count.

The latter, which Noah had quipped months ago at intern orientation, hadn’t earned him any points with Dr. Artie Andrews, the Program Director. Although his peers had laughed, and he supposed that mattered most.

Humor, his stalwart companion, was nowhere to be found these days. His pre-med-school self, who’d studied literature and philosophy and naively believed medicine a noble art, had become a distant memory. For interns, the drudgery of bodies had become their entire existence—how much their patients pissed, shit, vomited, or bled. Plato could wax all he liked about the separation of body and soul, but most days, Noah had to struggle to even remember his patients had souls, let alone find time to doctor them. Hell, most days, he was pretty sure his own soul had shriveled up and died a few months ago. It had been somewhere around the halfway point of his internship year, when a patient had died and he’d felt nothing when he’d crossed their name off his list. Only another body.

But he had no time for such thoughts this morning. Noah mentally shoved the memory back into its compartment, physically shoved his notes into the pocket of his short white coat, and headed off the Gen Med ward to make his way to Monday morning Resident Report. It didn’t matter he’d been up all night, mandatory was mandatory.

Before he got two steps from the nurses’ station, the sharp voice of Kathy, the ward secretary, rang out from behind her desk. “Dr. Meier, wait. Sign this before you go.”

Noah suppressed the urge to glance over his shoulder, where he instinctively expected to see Dr. Thomas Meier, gifted surgeon, renowned academic—and his late father. Accepting the chart Kathy shoved under his nose, he signed off on the orders he’d missed on his 6:00 A.M. admission. That’s what sleep deprivation did to you.

Behind him, the never-ending rain of the Seattle winter clattered on the windows, fraying his already heightened nerves. He scribbled his name and the time and date—7:50 A.M., 4/27/92.

He handed the chart back, his body already angling away, but Kathy’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Any update on when Dr. Doherty will be back?”

Noah’s sleep-fogged brain was slow to process her words. “Jasmine Doherty?”

Kathy bobbed her head, the chain attached to her reading glasses glinting as it looped around her neck beneath her permed hair.

Noah squinted at her. A part of his overtaxed brain urged him to catch up with his team or risk being late, something heavily frowned upon, but his curiosity won. “Jasmine’s out?”

Interns didn’t take sick days.

Kathy finished transcribing Noah’s signed orders from the chart and deftly shelved the heavy plastic binder back on the rack before answering with a shrug.

Did this have something to do with the free HIV testing for the homeless project that Noah, Jasmine, and a few of the other interns had been trying to start? The project Dr. Andrews had warned would risk distracting them from their required hospital duties? Had Jasmine gone down to the homeless camp and been delayed? Noah dismissed the uneasy feeling in his gut and said something to appease Kathy. “Maybe she had a family emergency.”

The ward secretary gave him a skeptical glance.

Noah countered with a conspiratorial grin, wielding his familiar shield, humor. “If you don’t already know what’s going on, Kathy, I’m sure you will by noon.”

She rolled her eyes and made a shooing motion with her hands, but he didn’t miss the pleased expression that flashed across her face.

His grin, a shallow thing that didn’t penetrate his hollow core, lingered as he grabbed his coffee and jogged off toward the elevators to catch up with his team, comprising his senior resident, Harper Li, and his co-intern, Colleen Peterson.

Noah found them both outside the University hospital’s east-wing elevators. The early morning light filtered through the stained-glass windows beneath the lobby atrium’s vaulted ceiling, bestowing a halo around them. The sight of his colleagues buoyed his spirits. All he had to do was get through these last few months of internship. Then he’d be able to start practicing more of the medicine he wanted to practice, like bringing free HIV testing to the homeless population. Once they got through internship, they’d become people again instead of indentured servants of the hospital.

From her rumpled scrubs and frizzier-than-usual red hair, Colleen’s call night had been no better than his. They’d been so swamped with admissions he’d hardly seen his co-intern all night. She mumbled to herself, shuffling her index cards. Her freckles stood out on her paler-than-usual face, making her appear even younger than her age, which was somewhere in her mid-twenties. Internship had given the opposite gift to Noah—premature aging. At twenty-eight, gray hairs already sprouted at his temples. Perhaps the only thing he’d inherited from his father, according to his mom, at least.

He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to them. His father had been too much on his mind of late. The staff calling him “doctor” only spiked his lifelong anxiety about not measuring up. After all, Noah hadn’t yet earned the long white coat of a second-year resident.

It was those damn boxes his mom had asked him to help move last weekend out of the attic of her historic, steep-gabled home on Queen Anne hill. The boxes where he’d discovered his father’s old journal. The journal he’d never known existed and had spontaneously grabbed, tossing it in his car even though he told himself he’d never read it. It would be a waste of time —

“You ready?”

Noah dropped his hand from his eyes.

Harper didn’t wait for an answer before pressing the elevator button. By unspoken agreement, they only allowed themselves the luxury of passive motion in the depths of post-call morning exhaustion—when they’d been on duty over twenty-four hours straight and still had twelve hours to go.

While they waited, Noah had to stop himself from attempting to smooth down some of Colleen’s wild hair. Instead, he held up his coffee, and they touched their paper cups together in a silent toast that acknowledged their mutual suffering. The last time he’d tried to touch Colleen’s hair had earned him the outrage of both the women on his team. He’d meant nothing by it, only he’d come to think of Colleen as the younger sister he’d never had and always wanted. He imagined the close bonds he and his co-interns had formed in the pressure-cooker of residency to be similar to siblings.

This past month on Harper’s service had been one of Noah’s most rewarding of the year. He’d found a mentor, instructor, big sister, and friend in her, all wrapped up in one. He didn’t want the month to end, as it would mean moving on to be assigned to a different R3.

Harper leaned close to speak in his ear in a low voice. “The announcements should come any day.”

Noah shot a glance toward Colleen, but she was fretting over her notes and didn’t appear to have heard. His heart rate sped up. Did everyone know how much he wanted an invitation to the prestigious Osler Society? Or only Harper, the first female member and arguably the most brilliant. Did her words mean he had a shot?

There was the national medical honor society, Alpha Omega Alpha, and then there was Dr. Artie Andrews’ Osler Society, or as it was known around the hospital, “the Society.”

Andrews had started it two decades ago, and it had attained near-mythical status at their university teaching hospital. Any intern or junior resident inducted into the Society would get their top fellowship or faculty placement choice. It had been no surprise to anyone when they’d inducted Harper as an intern.

But no one on the outside knew what actually transpired at their meetings. Noah had asked Harper once, but she’d only muttered, “Primum non nocere.”

“First do no harm?” Noah had asked. “But isn’t that what all of Medicine is about?”

“Yeah, but with Artie, it’s… different,” she had said and shrugged. “It’s hard to explain.”

Noah envisioned them all sitting around Andrews’ office, pontificating about the art of medicine and quoting Latin to each other. Pretentious academics. He’d rather let an E.R. nurse shove a 14-gauge I.V. in the back of his hand. But he wasn’t fooling himself. He wanted to be a part of it, more than anything. To belong. To prove it to the one person he never could. His father.

***

Excerpt from The Committee Will Kill You Now by JL Lycette. Copyright 2023 by JL Lycette. Reproduced with permission from JL Lycette. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

JL Lycette

Jennifer / JL Lycette is a novelist, award-winning essayist, rural physician, wife, and mom. Mid-career, she discovered narrative medicine on her path back from physician burnout and has been writing ever since. She is an alumna of the 2019 Pitch Wars Novel Mentoring program. Her first novel, The Algorithm Will See You Now, was a 2023 SCREENCRAFT CINEMATIC BOOK COMPETITION FINALIST, 2023 READER’S FAVORITE BRONZE MEDAL WINNER in the Medical Thriller category, 2023 MAXY AWARD’S FINALIST – Thriller category, and 2023 PAGE TURNER AWARD’S FINALIST – Best Debut Novel category. The Committee Will Kill You Now is her second novel.

Catch Up With Jennifer:
JenniferLycette.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @JL_Lycette
Instagram – @jl_lycette
facebook.com/Author.JL.Lycette

 

 

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Giveaway – The Mark Of The Salamander by Justin Newland @partnersincr1me

The Mark of the Salamander

by Justin Newland

February 12-23, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Mark of the Salamander by Justin Newland

1575.

Nelan Michaels is a young Flemish man fleeing religious persecution in the Spanish Netherlands. Settling in Mortlake outside London, he studies under Queen Elizabeth’s court astrologer, conjuring a bright future – until he’s wrongly accused of murder.

Forced into the life of a fugitive, Nelan hides in London, before he is dramatically pressed into the crew of the Golden Hind.

Thrust into a strange new world on board Francis Drake’s vessel, Nelan sails the seas on a voyage to discover discovery itself. Encountering mutiny, ancient tribes and hordes of treasure, Nelan must explore and master his own mystical powers – including the Mark of the Salamander, the mysterious spirit of fire.

THE MARK OF THE SALAMANDER is the first in The Island of Angels series: a two-book saga that tells the epic story and secret history of England’s coming of age during the Elizabethan era.

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Fiction / Magical Realism
Published by: Book Guild
Publication Date: September 28, 2023
Number of Pages: 256
ISBN: 9781915853271 (ISBN10: 1915853273)
Series: The Island of Angels, 1 of 2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 19

Home at Last

26th September 1580

It was midway through the afternoon watch. On a Monday. It wasn’t any old Monday. It was a special Monday. Not because of an extra beer ration; nor because of the smell of fish emanating from the galley. No – it was because, on that autumn day, nearly all fifty-eight surviving crew members hung over the gunwale, their eyes dripping with expectation and glued to the horizon. On occasion, they glanced up at the topmast and the barrel man as if waiting for a message from the heavens. None came, even after they’d passed the Isles of Scilly. Nor did it come after they passed Wolf Rock. It surely wouldn’t be long in coming.

As the creaking of the sails ceased, the Golden Hind glided serenely through the waters as if drawn forward by a divine wind. Even the gulls stopped squawking. A light rain shower washed the decks. The men gazed at the white flecks on the waves.

Amidst the quiet, a cry went out, and travelled down the mizzenmast, across the poop deck and into the soul of each crew member. “Land ho!”

Nelan stood next to Fletcher, who raised his hands like an Old Testament prophet and cried out, “Oh, my God!” Then he knelt on the deck, hands clasped in a prayer of thanksgiving.

The other hands – all long-haired, heavily bearded, and stinking of piss, ale and perspiration – planted their knees on the deck. To Nelan, that moment felt portentous. It was one of collective bliss in which men of all ranks, natures and ages shared a sublime experience and encountered, perhaps for a few seconds only, the most concentrated religious feeling in the world: that of belonging to each other and to a land. Perhaps they didn’t know it fully, then. Maybe they had an inkling of it, as Nelan did. But at that moment, each of them knew that, through their voyage, their endeavours and their courage, they had unchained the shackles of the past, cut most of the remaining threads of the Gordian Knot of papal suppression, summoned the fresh, clean winds of the future, and set the people of England on a course towards the discovery of themselves and towards an exploration of the world and its peoples.

As the familiar jagged promontory of the Lizard hove into view, the hardy souls who’d survived unimaginable hardships together were stunned to silence. For once, their tongues stopped wagging. Where before they had been vocal in their japes and musical in their jaunts, now they were mute, stilled by the awe and wonder of seeing the distant contours of their land, their England, appear on the horizon. Their journey neared its end. They knew that another would begin as surely as God gave them the grace of another breath. They had not seen this land’s green pastures and gentle slopes for over a thousand days; 1,018, the pilot told them. England. Home at last. They would greet friends they had not seen for two years and ten months. See children who’d grown from suckling babe to infant. Meet mothers who’d given birth in the interim. Comfort wives grown old from the worry, and embrace daughters who’d married during their long absence. They’d clasp hands with their brothers, fathers and sons, and hold them close. Such were the anticipated joys of homecoming. Since they’d set out twice from old Plymouth – once when storms had forced them to return to safe harbour, and later when they’d finally embarked on that fateful day in December 1577 – this was a second coming.

Nelan swallowed hard. He licked his parched lips. While he didn’t expect anyone to meet him on the quay, he remained as excited as the native-born mariners to see old England. She was his home now. She had been a haven for Protestants from all over Europe fleeing the cruel persecution of the Inquisition. He couldn’t go back to Sangatte or Leiden. The angels of the island coursed through his blood and enriched his soul. He belonged to them, and they belonged in him.

From within him there arose a poem of persuasion, a song of softness, a dance of deliberation.

One question hovered on the lips of the crew. But none dared speak it aloud. Not Nelan, and, for once, not even Tom. But it demanded to be asked. The answer would decide their fate; particularly that of the officers and gentlemen and, most of all, of the admiral. He had to be the one to ask it.

***

Excerpt from The Mark of the Salamander by Justin Newland. Copyright 2023 by Justin Newland. Reproduced with permission from Justin Newland. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Justin Newland

JUSTIN NEWLAND’s novels represent an innovative blend of genres from historical adventure to supernatural thriller and magical realism. His stories explore the themes of war and religion, and speculate on the human’s spiritual place in the universe. Undeterred by the award of a Doctorate in Mathematics from Imperial College, London, he conceived his debut novel, The Genes of Isis (Matador, 2018), an epic fantasy set under Ancient Egyptian skies.

  • The historical thriller, The Old Dragon’s Head (Matador, 2018), is set in Ming Dynasty China in the shadows of the Great Wall.
  • The Coronation (Matador, 2019) was another historical adventure and speculates on the genesis of the most important event in the modern world – the Industrial Revolution.
  • The Abdication (Matador, 2021) is a mystery thriller in which a young woman confronts her faith in a higher purpose and what it means to abdicate that faith.
  • The Mark of the Salamander (Book Guild, 2023) is the first in a two-book series, The Island of Angels. Set in the Elizabethan era, it’s an epic tale of England’s coming of age.
  • His work in progress is the second in the series, The Midnight of Eights, the charting of the uncanny coincidences that led to the repulse of the Spanish Armada. Author, speaker and broadcaster, Justin appears on LitFest panels, gives talks to historical associations and libraries and enjoys giving radio interviews and making podcasts. Born three days before the end of 1953, he lives with his partner in plain sight of the Mendip Hills in Somerset, England.

    Catch Up With Our Author:
    www.JustinNewland.com
    Goodreads
    BookBub – @justinnewland
    Instagram – @drjustinnewland
    Twitter/X – @JustinNewland53
    Facebook – @justin.newland.author
    Pinterest – @jnewland0711

     

     

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    This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Justin Newland. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

     

     

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    Review & Giveaway – One Wrong Move by Dani Pettrey @partnersincr1me

    MY REVIEW

    I love a book that starts out strong, with bodies dropping and villains reveling in their handiwork. I love a book with damaged characters that create a second chance for themselves and One Wrong Move by Dani Pettrey fits the bill.

    Christian O’Brady is on a mountaintop, when he receives an urgent call. Tad Gaiman’s gallery has been robbed. I will say that I have nothing good to be said about Tad. He’s a dick, with a capital D!

    Andi, an insurance adjuster and ex FBI, is called in. As soon as she stepped out of her vehicle, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. The past never lets us go and it strikes when Andi least expects it. It leaves Christian with questions of his own, but he believes in his ability to read a person’s characters and he feels Andi is a stand up person, regardless of what his brother says.

    Andi’s best friend Harper comes in like a bat out of hell. Hold on to your hats, because she is a force to be reckoned with. She’s not the least bit shy. I love Riley, Christian’s sister. She is one of my favorite characters. She is an observer. She can find anyone and help anyone disappear. She has me laughing and the part she plays in a reenactment made me laugh at loud.

    “Great. I get to be the victim again.”

    They are a very tight Christian family. The Christian element is not in your face.

    I do see another romance sparking and love is blooming all over the desert. That’s the wonderful thing about a romantic suspense series, we have plenty of characters to get involved with and plenty of mystery to come.

    I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of One Wrong Move by Dani Pettrey.

    Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
    4 Stars

    One Wrong Move

    by Dani Pettrey

    February 2 – March 1, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

    Synopsis:

    Taunting riddles.
    A deadly string of heists.
    Two broken hearts trapped in a killer’s game.

    Christian O’Brady was pulled into a life of crime at a young age by his con artist parents. Now making amends for his corrupt past, he has become one of the country’s foremost security experts. When a string of Southwestern art heists targets one of the galleries Christian secured, he is paired up with a gifted insurance investigator who has her own checkered past.

    Andi Forester was a brilliant FBI forensic analyst until one of her colleagues destroyed her career, blaming her for mishandling evidence. She now puts those skills to work investigating insurance fraud, and this latest high-stakes case will test her gift to the limit. Drawn deep into a dangerous game with an opponent bent on revenge, Christian and Andi are in a race against the clock to catch him, but the perpetrator’s game is far from finished, and one wrong move could be the death of them both.

    Dani Pettrey captivates with…

    “An intense blend of suspense, love, and faith.”
    ~ Booklist

    “Wicked pace, snappy dialogue, and likeable characters.”
    ~ Publishers Weekly

    Book Details:

    Genre: Romantic Suspense
    Published by: Bethany House Publishers
    Publication Date: February 6, 2024
    Number of Pages: 400
    ISBN: 9780764238482 (ISBN10: 0764238485)
    Series: Jeopardy Falls, Book 1
    Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Baker Book House

    Read an excerpt:

    PROLOGUE

    He inhaled the stiff resolution of her death. She’d seen Cyrus. Remembered him. Now he’d need to silence her before she could mention Cyrus to anyone at the gallery. The imbecile should have been more careful, but that’s why he was in play. To assure things went according to plan, to remove anyone who stood in their way, and when it was done, to take out Cyrus and Casey. That he would delight in. Cyrus had been a pain in his rear as far back as he could recall. Casey. He was just a lamb to the slaughter, unfortunate fool.

    Enrique released a smooth exhale, then inhaled the spicy scent of the girl’s perfume wafting on the stiff October breeze—­whistling through the wind tunnel the long row of downtown businesses made.

    Killing her would alert Cyrus to his presence in the States, but, perhaps it would keep him on his toes. Someone needed to.

    Maintaining a good distance from his prey, Enrique followed as she meandered through the shops, wearing one of those recyclable grocery bags slung over her shoulder. A baguette and fresh flowers peeked out of the top. She made another stop, this time popping into a coffee shop. He kept walking, stopping a handful of stores down on the opposite side of the street, and waited, letting the other shoppers meld him into the crowd.

    A cup of coffee in hand, the girl emerged.

    He turned back to look in the storefront before him, waiting until she was far enough ahead for him to resume following. Nearly a fifteen-­minute walk out of town, in an isolated patch of wind-­stirred mesa, sat a two-­story adobe building. Four exterior doors, each with a letter on it. Apartments.

    Watching from behind a copse of trees, he waited while she retrieved her keys from her pocket, opened the bottom exterior door on the right, and disappeared inside. He held back, awaiting nightfall. He glanced at his watch. Not long. He surveyed the building, using binoculars to peer through the sheer curtains of her unit. A light in the bedroom shone, and slips of it spilled from what he could only assume was the adjacent bathroom.

    He smiled.

    The sun dipped below the horizon, and soon darkness shrouded the land. Time to move. Heading around to the back of the building, he found a sliding door to her unit. Easy enough. He jimmied the lock and eased inside.

    Water ran in the bathroom, but a voice carried in song from the other side of the apartment. “Carry on Wayward Son.” Interesting choice.

    He moved with stealth, approaching what he discerned was the kitchen. A teakettle whistled as steam from the open bathroom door filled the space. The girl turned the corner, dressed in a robe, a teacup in her hand. Her eyes locked on his, and panic flashed across her face as the teacup fell and shattered on the floor.

    He smiled. Time to have some fun.

    ONE

    “Wait here,” Cyrus ordered.

    “Why?” Casey asked—­though pawn suited him better. As much as it galled him, Cyrus needed the insipid man. Needed his skills. For now. But when they were done, so was he. “Why?” he asked again.

    Cyrus gritted his teeth. So incessant. He shook out his fists. Only a handful of locations to go and the questions would cease. He would cease. “It doesn’t take two of us to get what we came for,” he said, hoping Casey would accept the answer and let it drop, but he doubted it. “I’ve got this. Two of us will only draw more attention.”

    “Fine.” Casey slumped back against the van’s passenger seat.

    The imbecile was pouting like a girl. And, that knee. Cyrus wanted to break it. Always bouncing in that annoying, jittery way. The seat squeaked with the rapid, persistent motion. He shook his head on a grunted exhale. If Casey didn’t settle . . . if he blew their plans. Cyrus squeezed his fists tight, blood throbbing through his fingers. Too much was at stake. His own neck was on the line.

    He turned his attention to the task at hand. “I won’t be long,” he said, surveying the space one last time before opening the van door. The lot behind them was dead, the building still. He climbed out, his breath a vapor in the cold night air. He glanced back at their van, barely visible in the pitch-­black alley.

    Shockingly, Casey remained in the passenger seat, his knee still bouncing high.

    He shut the van door as eagerness coursed through him. The thrill and rush of the score mere minutes away. Just one quick job and then it was finally time.

    He slipped his gloved hands into his pockets. A deeper rush nestled hot inside him, adrenaline searing his limbs. His fervency was for the kill.

    He moved toward the rear of the restaurant, where the rental rooms’ entrance sat. His gloved fingers brushed the garrote in his right pocket, and he shifted his other hand to rest on the hilt of his gun. Which way would it go? Garrote or gun? Anticipation shot through him. Rounding the back of the building, he hung in the shadows and then stepped to the door and picked the lock—­so simple a child could have done it. But what had he expected of a rent-­by-­the-­hour-­or-­day establishment?

    Opening the door, he stepped inside the minuscule foyer and studied the two doors on the ground level. Nothing but silence. He found the light switch and flipped off the ceiling bulb illuminating the stairwell, then crept up the stairs, pausing as one creaked. He held still, his back flush with the wall, once again shadowed in dark­ness. Nothing stirred.

    Reaching her room, he picked the lock, stepped inside, and shut the door, locking it behind him.

    She was asleep on the shoddy sofa, a ratty blanket draped across her. Getting rid of her now might be easier, but what fun was it killing someone while they slept? And he needed to make sure she had the items.

    He stood a moment, watching her chest rise and fall with what would be her final breaths, then he knocked her feet with his elbow.

    Her eyes flashed open as she lurched to a seated position. She rubbed her eyes. “You’re late.”

    Less chance of witnesses.

    “You have the items?”

    She nodded.

    “Get them. We’re in a hurry.”

    She got to her feet and headed for the bedroom.

    He followed.

    To his surprise, she climbed up on the dresser and reached for the heating vent.

    Huh. She was smarter than he’d expected, yet not bright enough to know what was coming.

    Pulling the dingy grate back, she retrieved a black velvet pouch and a bundle of letters held in place by a thick rubber band.

    “Hand them over,” he said.

    She hopped down and hesitated. “I get my cut, right?” She clutched the items to her pale chest.

    “You’ll get your cut,” he said, wrapping his hands around the garrote.

    She released her hold. Taking the bag first, he slid it into his upper jacket pocket, then slipped the letters into his pant pocket. “Good job.”

    She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing her creamy neck. “Thanks.”

    Restless energy pulsed through him.

    “Are we done here?” she asked, shifting her stance, her arms wrapped around her slender waist.

    “Just about.”

    “What’s left to do?” she asked, her head cocked, and then she stilled. She took a step back. So she’d finally figured it out.

    “No.” She shook her head, backing into the paneled wall. In one movement, left hand to right shoulder, he spun her around and slipped the garrote over her head.

    He’d intended to give her the option—­the easy way with a gunshot to the head or the hard way with the garrote. But the hard way was far more pleasurable, giving him the best elated high.

    It really was a shame. She was a pretty thing.

    Five minutes later, he was back in the van, leaving the body behind.

    “You got everything?” Casey asked as they pulled onto the street, their headlights off.

    Cyrus smiled and handed both items to him. They were a go. The appetite for what was to come gnawed at Cyrus’s gut, but in a good way. It was time to feed the anticipation that had been growing in him for nigh on a year. It was time to scratch that itch.

    TWO

    Christian’s hands gripped the rock face. Granules abraded the tender flesh beneath his nails, leaving them raw. Pushing up on the ball of his foot, he strained, his fingers searching for the crag. Finally, his hand landed on the cold surface—­only three inches deep. On a sharp inhale and slow exhale, he lunged upward—­only the slightest hold kept him from the hundred-­foot drop to the forest below. His foot landed on the next hold, and he settled, his muscles hot in the brisk dawn air. Blood throbbing through his fingers, he shifted the weight onto the balls of his feet.

    Mapping the next route in his head, he leaped for the next hold. Air replaced the solid rock for the breath of a second, and searing adrenaline crashed through him as the hold slipped away. His pulse whooshing in his ears, he slid down, finally grabbing hold of a crag on his rapid descent. His fingers gripped hard—­the only thing holding his body weight and keeping him from the ground far below.

    He examined the cliff, looking for a foothold. Something. Anything. Adrenaline raked through him, quivering his arms. Not good. Time held motionless until he anchored his foot on a narrow ledge, small rocks shifting under the soles of his climbing shoes. He kept his weight on the ball of his foot while scanning for a new route up. He exhaled as he found it, but it was going to require another leap of faith.

    Releasing his hold, he lunged for a more solid handhold. Gripping it, he worked his way up to another ledge—­this one deep enough to settle comfortably onto.

    His breathing quickened by the climb, he turned and pressed his back against the volcanic rock—­cool against his heated and perspiring skin—­and exhaled in a whoosh. Talk about a close one. He smiled. One more adventure down.

    He held for a moment, taking in the morning light spreading across what seemed an endless sky. Man, he loved this view. Narrow shafts of sunlight streamed down through the early morning fog, lighting the yellow-­and-­orange foliage ablaze. Everyone talked about the beautiful fall colors in New England, but for him nothing beat fall in New Mexico, and it was peak season.

    He sank into the silence. Only the occasional chirping of birds in the trees below rushed by his ears on the stiff, mounting breeze.

    The brilliant orange sun rose higher above the horizon, its rays glinting off the rushing water of the swift creek at the bottom of the valley—­chasing away the fading chill of night and replacing it with renewed warmth of the coming day.

    “Ain’t Worried About It” broke the silence with its melody. Who on earth was calling so early? He prayed nothing was wrong. It was the only reason he kept his cell on him while climbing—­in case there was an emergency and his family needed him.

    He shimmied the phone from the Velcro pocket on his right thigh and maneuvered it to his ear without bothering to look at who was calling. “O’Brady.”

    “I need you here now!” Tad Gaiman’s voice shook with rage.

    Why on earth was Tad calling him so early? Why was he calling him, period?

    Tad’s heated words tumbled out. “My gallery’s been robbed!”

    “What?” Christian blinked. There was no way. The security system upgrades he’d installed made it impenetrable, or so he’d thought.

    “Do you hear me? My gallery has been robbed!”

    “I do.” He kept his voice level. Tad was frantic enough for the both of them. “Which gallery?” The man owned three.

    “Jeopardy Falls.”

    The one in their hometown? Crime was nearly nonexistent in their small ranching, lately turned tourist, town of five hundred. “Take a deep breath and calm down so you can focus.”

    “Calm down?” Tad shrieked, and Christian held the phone away from his ear. Even his sister Riley couldn’t hit that high of a pitch. “Did you not hear me? My gallery’s been robbed.”

    “I hear you. Let me call you back.”

    “Call me back? You cannot be serious!”

    “I’m balanced on a ledge on Manzano.”

    “Of course you are.” Tad scoffed.

    “I’ll call you when I’m on the road.”

    “And how long will it take you to get here? This is a DEFCON 5 situation.”

    Christian shook his head. Clearly, Tad had no idea what he was talking about. DEFCON 5 meant peacetime.

    “Christian! How soon?”

    “I need to climb down and make the drive back to town. I’ll see you in an hour.”

    “An hour!”

    “We’ll talk through it on my way in.”

    Scaling down the rock face as fast as he could, Christian reached his vintage Bronco.

    Climbing inside, he clicked on the Bluetooth he’d installed. It’d cost a lot, but in his line of work, he needed to be able to talk while on the road chasing down a case. He shook his head, still baffled that anyone had beat the security system.

    He dialed Tad.

    Normally his drive along the winding dirt roads through the mountains was calming, but not today.

    Tad picked up on the third ring.

    “Okay,” Christian said, swiping the chalk from his hands onto his pants—­the climbing towel too far to reach. “Walk me through it. Did the alarm go off?”

    “The one on the security system you said couldn’t be beat? No!”

    Christian took a stiff inhale. How on earth had someone gotten through the door without the key fob? The fob . . . “Tad, do you have your key fob?”

    Silence hung thick in the air as Christian’s Bronco bumped over the ruts in the dirt road, the drop-­off only inches from his tires. He rounded the bend, and the road—­if it could be deemed one—­widened. “Tad?” he pressed.

    “Okay, fine. I don’t have it.”

    “Where is it?” Christian asked as he headed for the main road that led back to Jeopardy Falls.

    Tad swallowed, the slippery, gulping sound echoing over the line. “I think the woman I spent last night with after the gala took it.”

    “Riley mentioned she might attend the gala, but she couldn’t make it.”

    “It was well attended.”

    “And the woman you mentioned?”

    “I met her at the gala.”

    “She’s not local?”

    “I’ve never seen her before last night.”

    “So she just strolled into the gala?”

    “Yes. It was a semiprivate affair. I sent out invites but welcomed anyone, given it was Friday Night on the Town.”

    Their small town had instituted the night on the town for one Friday a month about a year ago, and it had really drummed up business for the eclectic downtown shops.

    “Let’s shift back to the gallery,” Christian said. “I’m assuming you used Alex’s fob to get into the building?”

    “No. I can’t get in.”

    “Why not?” Christian pulled out onto the paved road.

    “I can’t reach Alex, despite the fact she’s supposed to open this morning.”

    “Okay . . . so walk me through what happened with the fob.”

    “I woke up and that . . . woman was gone, and the fob wasn’t where I’d left it. I searched my place, but it’s not there, so I rushed to the gallery. I stopped at Alex’s place on the way, but no answer. She is so—”

    “Settle down, Tad. Let’s think this through. Do you think Martha would let you into Alex’s place if you explained the situation?” Maybe the landlady would understand. Jeopardy Falls was a small enough town where everyone knew everyone, which was still taking time for him to get used to. To be known. Well, known at what he was willing to show, which wasn’t much.

    “I’m not leaving my gallery. Not until I get inside and see what damage is done. You get the fob from Martha.”

    Christian furrowed his brows. “If you can’t get in the gallery and the alarm didn’t go off, how do you know it’s been robbed?”

    “Because I can see the three front cases through the porthole windows in the door. They’re open and empty.” A sob escaped Tad’s throat, though he tried to cover it with a cough.

    Christian exhaled. “All right. I’ll call Martha, but she might not feel comfortable letting us in.” It was a lot to ask. “Actually, I think in this case, it’s best to have Sheriff Brunswick to reach out to Martha.”

    “That’s a good idea,” Tad said. “Give him a call.”

    “Wait?” Christian tapped the wheel. “He’s not there yet?”

    “No.”

    “Did he give you an ETA?” Maybe Joel was on another call. Their county was large, and with only him and one undersheriff, they had a lot of ground to cover.

    “I haven’t called him yet.”

    Christian’s brows hiked. “You called me before the sheriff?” Where was the sense in that?

    “You put the supposedly impenetrable system in. I want to know what went wrong. And I need you to get me inside if we can’t get Alex’s fob.”

    “Me?” Christian tapped the wheel.

    “You installed the system, so surely you know how to beat it. And, regardless, you’re the one the sheriff calls when they need a locksmith or safecracker on a case. Though you’re quite more than a simple locksmith, aren’t you?”

    Christian stiffened. “Meaning?”

    “Whoever did this obviously had knowledge of the system.”

    “And . . . ?” Christian tightened his grip on the wheel, his knuckles turning white.

    “As far as I’m concerned, you’re to blame.”

    Christian swallowed the sharp retort ready to fly and took a settling breath instead. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

    He disconnected the call before Tad could throw another barb in his direction. He knew all too well how those stinging barbs felt, but this time he was innocent.

    ***

    Excerpt from One Wrong Move by Dani Pettrey. Copyright 2024 by Dani Pettrey. Reproduced with permission from Bethany House Publishers. All rights reserved.

     

     

    Author Bio:

    Dani Pettrey

    Dani Pettrey is the bestselling author of the Coastal Guardians, Chesapeake Valor, and Alaskan Courage series. A two-time Christy Award finalist, Dani has won the National Readers’ Choice Award, Daphne du Maurier Award, HOLT Medallion, and Christian Retailing’s Best Award for Suspense. She plots murder and mayhem from her home in the Washington, DC, metro area.

    Catch Up With Dani Pettrey:
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    Instagram – @authordanipettrey
    Facebook – @DaniPettrey

     

     

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    Giveaway – In The Shadow Of A Dream by Maci Aurora @XpressoTours

    In the Shadow of a Dream
    Maci Aurora
    (Fareview Fairytales, #3)
    Publication date: January 30th 2024
    Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance

    With the promise of finally learning her mother’s secrets, Brinna Fareview and her family gather together. Only somewhere between the truth and lies, Brinna wakes to find she’s trapped in a space in between the world awake and the nightmares of her family. All of them are asleep. Learning she has the ability to move from dream to dream, Brinna tries to find a way out of the dream world, but she’s stuck, unable to fix what’s ailing her family. But then an unexpected thing happens, Lucian Uraiahs, god of day and light, walks into her dream.

    While Lucian decided a long time ago that Brinna Fareview was a blight on his peace, he can’t seem to avoid her. She pops up at every turn, all because his brother is god-yoked to her sister. All Lucian wants is to disappear into the oblivion of the cosmos amidst his shame and guilt, but the unbidden feelings he has for Brinna can’t be contained. When Lucian is stripped of his powers for refusing to bend to his father’s will, he is imprisoned with only his guilt to keep him company. Except when he falls asleep, he dreams of Brinna and somehow becomes the only link to saving her, her family, and his brother from a spell that could destroy them all.

    Brinna and Lucian must work together to uncover the secrets they need to break the sleeping spell, but the longer they share their dreams, the more they realize time is against them.

    Join the Fareviews in book three of the Fareview Fairytales series, In the Shadow of a Dream, to discover the truth that has them trapped behind the hedge.

    Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

    EXCERPT:

    Luc grumbled and turned back to look at the hedge once more, walking its length when he heard women’s voices—sweet and lilting—coming from inside. He stepped back, searching for the elusive entrance.

    “Remember when we were talking to Tarley the other day? About the man in the woods?” Aurielle—he knew her voice—replied.

    “So romantic…” the other said, her voice soft and whimsical. Which left only two possibilities: Luc’s woodland fairy or the other sister, the one with the dark, soulful eyes. “Why are we doing this again?” she asked.

    He wondered which one was with Aurielle and suppressed any hope it might be his singer.

    “Well, I’ve met someone.” Aurielle snapped the words, because the other one seemed to be antagonistic about being dragged out into the woods.

    He grinned at their bickering. Relatable.

    “I have so many questions! You’ve been behind the hedge since–” The sister’s voice cut off abruptly, then she shouted, “The Great Nap Escapade?”

    “So,” Aurielle said, drawing out the word, “you’re doing this for true love. And I promise, Brin, you won’t have to wait long.”

    […]There were words spoken Luc couldn’t discern, followed by Aurielle bursting from the hedge. She called out for Nix and disappeared across the road through the bramble.

    “What if someone comes?” Brinna called, then groaned. “Annoying.”

    He was going to talk to her! He swallowed as he thought about what to say. “Couldn’t agree more.” Luc couldn’t see her; she was still hidden within the hedge.

    She gasped. “Who’s there?”

    “The brother.”

    Her head—like a disembodied apparition—appeared from the hedge, turning to look for him.

    When she saw him, her eyes widened. It was the first time he realized her eyes were gray. “Whose brother?”

    He hummed but said, “Since we’re both on lookout duty, we could make it interesting.” “Who are you, exactly?” she asked, stepping from the hedge.

    Luc’s breath stopped up, caught up by both disbelief and utter excitement. […] “There you are,” Luc said, finally finding his voice.

    She demanded his name.

    “Lucian,” he said, turning slightly toward her, his shoulder leaning against the hedge—a terrible choice. He straightened and wiped the leaves from his shoulder.

    “And you’re not here to meet my sister?”

    “Stars, no,” he said, allowing himself to truly look at her as he shook his head, grateful, suddenly, that Nix asked him to be his unnecessary companion. “That would be my brother. Come closer.” He gave her a slight grin. “I don’t bite. Usually.”

    Her eyes narrowed. “I’m fine right here, thank you.”

    “You know my name, which gives you power. Will you not offer the same?” Though he already knew it, he wanted her to offer it freely.

    “Brinna,” she replied and disappeared back into the hedge.

    “Wait,” Luc called. “Where did you go?” The hedge didn’t have an entrance. “Where are you?” “Here,” she whispered, as if daring him to find her. Despite the low volume, her voice reached him, and he wondered, strangely, if it always would.

    He used his godlight to sneak through the magical threads of the hedge, and his arms passed through, allowing him to grasp Brinna. Using her as leverage, he pulled himself inside.

    She squealed—a cute little sound that seemed as if she was trying to be quiet about it—and stumbled into him, her palms pressed against his chest. Heat seared his skin underneath his clothes where her hands rested.

    “What are you doing?” she demanded. “Unhand me.”

    He did. Immediately. Swiping his hands over the place she’d touched to wipe away the sensation.

    He hated the added impulse of wanting to wrap her up in his arms.

    Ridiculous. He told himself he was curious about this hedge, given he’d never seen anything like it on his Roam.

    He walked deeper into an arched passageway that stretched out in front of him with no end in sight, as if it curled in on itself. Surprised by the muted light inside, Luc glanced over his shoulder, where Brinna now stood framed by an arched entrance.

    She followed him. “What is wrong with you?”

    His internal glow warmed the darkness inside the hedge so he could see her features, which pinched with her frown. He wanted to press his thumb against her mouth, run the pad of it across her lips, but he swallowed the urge instead and looked away.

    “If I keep walking, what will I find?” he asked, ignoring her question for one of his own.

    “The cottage. Where I live.” She paused, then said, “You truly couldn’t see me? That seems… unbelievable.”

    He hummed and looked around. “Perhaps if it wasn’t enchanted.”

    “Enchanted!” She scoffed, an unflattering kind of snort, but Luc found it… cute. “You must be mistaken.”

    He snorted back at her, incredulous. “I am not mistaken. Not about this.”

    “You don’t make mistakes?” She offered a sharp laugh.

    He’d begun to think this—trapping himself in proximity to her—was one. “Absolutely not,” he lied. The very large mistake in his immediate past had nearly cost him his brother, but she didn’t need to know about that.

    “I highly doubt that.” She crossed her arms, her dark eyebrows arching over her pretty eyes. “Now, why are you glowing?”

    “Why is this hedge enchanted?” he countered, realizing he should have doused his godlight so his father wouldn’t know, but he didn’t with her attention finally fixed on him.

    They stood facing one another, the hedge seeming to close in around them. He only needed to take a step, and he’d be close enough to draw her into his arms, lean forward, and kiss her. The shrinking hedge and his overpowering urge to touch her made him feel like he couldn’t take a deep enough breath.

    “How do you get out of here?” The shrinking hedge unnerved him, even if it was an illusion…Then he realized he couldn’t see the opening any longer. It had disappeared. He was trapped.

    “I need to go,” he gasped.

    Author Bio:

    Romance author.

    Lover of stories.

    Maci Aurora has been writing stories since she was a child. When she was eleven, she fell in love with reading Sunfire Historical Romances about girls who made a difference in their lives and still fell in love. In high school, a friend introduced her to Lavyrle Spencer and Judith McNaught, and from there, her writing journey was cemented in telling stories about love. Having already published many novels (all of which are threaded with romance as upper YA and New Adult titles) under the pen name, CL Walters, Maci Aurora wanted to write stories that offered the same attention to story and characters but with additional steam.

    Maci writes in Hawaiʻi where she lives with her husband, their children, and their fur-babies.

    Website / Instagram / Newsletter


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    Review – Homecoming Chaos by D W Brooks @pumpupyourbook

    Title: Homecoming Chaos

    Author: D.W. Brooks

    Publisher: The Reboot LLC

    Publication Date: November 21, 2023

    Pages: 448

    Genre: Romantic Suspense/Contemporary/African American

    MY REVIEW

    Homecoming Chaos by D W Brooks was, all in all, a homecoming that kept me turning pages as the characters developed and the mystery unfolded.

    “Can I buy you a drink?”

    After a quick visual scan, Rachel couldn’t find anything wrong with him,; his only flaw was that he was there.

    I was cracking up from the getgo…But it was all downhill from there for Rachel, and it opened the mystery.

    In the middle of her first night home her mother wakes her at midnight. There is a murder at the lab the family owns and she wants Jamie there.

    Jamie had run as far from home as you could get, avoiding her helicopter mother. Her Homecoming was sure to be Chaos. Her life seemed to invite chaos. She was determined to live her own life this time.

    “…Your mother lives fro drama, your brother dates chaos whenever he can, your sister married into chaos, and you search it out. I should call you Trey Chaos.”

    Detective Nick Marshall is on the case and Jamie revels in her ability to annoy him. I thought it was funny too.

    As the mystery unfolds and I become more familiar with the characters, the pacing speeds up, the danger amps up, and I am eager to get all the answers before something else happens some of the characters I have come to care about.

    I love that the Atlanta are was familiar to me. It’s always fun to visit a place I have been. I love the characters are not your run of the mill characters. They are African American from the wealthy suburbs of Buckhead.

    Secrets from the past are revealed and romance flourishes. I feel there will be more to this story. Will this be a series? I do think it will be fun to spend more time with the family. 🙂

    Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
    4 Stars

    BOOK BLURB:

    Jamie Scott’s life fell apart four years ago when she broke off her engagement, turned down a dream job, and went overseas to run away from her life. Now she’s back, but the reunion is not without problems. She arrives home just in time to attend the soiree her mother planned, but she’s not prepared for what she finds—a dead employee in the parking lot.

    Detective Nick Marshall is assigned to the murder case at the forensics lab owned by Jamie’s family. He meets the headstrong Jamie, but he has a job to do. And his attraction to her… well, he’s a professional.

    Jamie knows the stakes are high. She has to face the past and save her parents’ business while dealing with her family drama and an uncertain future. She also has to deal with Nick, who wants her out of the way of his investigation. But fate keeps throwing them in one another’s paths… and into chaos that they both want to avoid, but neither can seem to escape.

     

    Buy Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iBooks

    Book Excerpt:

    The sound of the flight attendant on the loudspeaker startled Jamison Jones Scott out of her light sleep. Despite having traveled frequently in her lifetime, she still couldn’t sleep comfortably on a plane. The seat location— first-class or economy—didn’t make a difference. The plane was nearing its destination, so the passengers needed to finish filling out their declaration cards. Jamie was returning to Atlanta to stay at her parents’ home with only the clothes on her back, a computer bag, the few items of clothing in her duffel, and a stethoscope. She had nothing to declare.

    Her seatmate appeared to be sleeping through the announcements. Jamie was jealous. The four-year-old in front of her turned around and started babbling excitedly in French. She must have noticed that Jamie was finally awake. With her head still fuzzy from her nap, Jamie couldn’t completely follow the child’s rapid words, but the gist was that she wanted something from Jamie. Something about a playdate? Jamie smiled at the girl and hoped the girl’s mother would intervene. No such luck; she was asleep as well. The child eyeballed Jamie expectantly. Jamie realized she and the seatmate had started this situation by playing with the dark-haired child while they were over the ocean. Now, when she didn’t agree to the latest request, the little girl scrunched up her face to cry.

    “Nous atterrissons bientôt. Elle ne peut pas aller avec vous,” Jamie’s seatmate answered, eyes still closed. “Mais vous pourriez être en mesure de visiter. Je suis sûr qu’elle tu aimerait garder les enfants.” He grinned.

    Jamie gasped while the young girl clapped. This guy had just volunteered her as a babysitter!

    “Je suis désolé, mais il se trompe. Je ne serai pas disponible,” Jamie stated. “Je parie qu’il a une surprise, pour toi.” The child looked at Jamie’s seatmate for her present and clapped again. This reply made him open his eyes.

    “Qu’est-ce que c’est? Qu’est-ce que c’est?” the child asked. Startled, her pregnant mother woke up and turned around in her seat sheepishly.

    I’m sorry, she mouthed. She made her eager daughter turn around in her seat and asked her to leave the other passengers alone. The girl was disappointed, but her mother handed her a shortbread, which made her forget the people behind her.

    Her seatmate smiled, opened his eyes, and said, “I could have given her the stuffed bear I bought. I have a daughter the same age.” He stretched gingerly. “I can’t wait to get home. I’ve been traveling for too long. What about you? Looking forward to getting home?”

    Jamie thought about her return to Atlanta. She hadn’t been home in a while, so she wasn’t sure how she felt.

    Revel in the chaos.

    Revel in the chaos.

    Revel in the chaos.

    Jamie tried to live by this motto for most of her life because her life seemed to invite chaos. She learned to expect—and sometimes encourage—complications. As the plane taxied to a halt, she repeated her motto to herself. This phrase, tattooed on her right hip, particularly applied now.

    The international terminal of Hartsfield-Jackson Airport had changed since she was last there. Her brother, Jonathan, would pick her up at the baggage claim—alone, she hoped, and not sporting a clingy girlfriend. Time to re-acclimate and re-establish family bonds. Dealing with an unknown woman in her face when she wanted to spend time quietly with her brother wasn’t at the top of her to-do list.

    As she waited in line to get through passport control, she thought about how she got to this point—back in Atlanta after several years abroad. She had spent two of those years working with the non-profit organization Doctors Overseas. Jamie worked in several locations, including the Central African Republic. She had her reasons for joining the charitable organization; not all were altruistic, and she kept those to herself during her entrance interview. The horrors she witnessed overseas helped her put her personal chaos into perspective. She realized her issues were nothing compared to what people endured in other parts of the world. This realization allowed her to embrace her job and enjoy what she was doing, despite the frequent threats of bodily harm. To help maintain her sanity while overseas, she traveled a lot and spent six months in Italy working with a designer friend.

    The agent summoning her snapped her out of her reverie. Handing over her passport, she said, “Nothing to declare. Coming back home for my mother’s birthday and Christmas.”

    At the check-in counter, the inspector carefully examined her and her passport photo. Jamison understood the scrutiny. At the time of that picture, she had been at the height of her glamor phase with a history of modeling and a resulting, above-average concern about how she looked. In medical school, she often showed up at rounds with perfectly coiffed hair and more than a swipe of mascara and lip gloss.

    But in Africa, those concerns fell away. Right now, Jamie was makeup-free, and a baseball cap covered her hair. She was still beautiful, but now it was a girl-next-door beauty. Jamie had high cheekbones, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, a straight nose, a square jawline, and her golden-brown skin was still smooth. She wasn’t stomping down runways anymore, as in her past life, because she had shifted her priorities.

    Her mother would hate it.

    “Welcome to Atlanta,” the inspector said as she stamped her passport. “Have a pleasant stay.”

    About the Author

    The author lives in Texas with her husband and children. She enjoys trying to stay in shape, sporadically cooking, reading (still), writing, and working on her blog. She is eternally grateful to the woman who donated a kidney to her over 5 years ago and continues to advocate for organ donation as much as she can.

    Author Links   Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram

    • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
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    Giveaway – Hunted By Proxy by Manning Wolfe @partnersincr1me @ManningWolfe

    Hunted By Proxy

    by Manning Wolfe

    January 15-February 2, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

    Synopsis:

    Hunted By Proxy by Manning Wolfe

    In this lawyer on the run action suspense, can attorney Quinton Bell hang on to his new life as he hides in plain sight?

    Hunted By Proxy takes you on a heart-pounding journey through the life of a criminal defense attorney, whose world, as he knew it, was wiped out by the very client he tried to save.

    Quinton establishes a new life and law practice in Houston and thinks he’s outrun the dangerous adversaries who chased him there. Just as he begins to relax, he receives a mysterious note that proves to him that he’s still in danger and running from a powerful and relentless adversary. But who?

    With each passing moment, the noose tightens, and he must draw on every ounce of wit to outsmart those who still want him exposed, or worse, dead.

    Will Quinton Bell find a way out, or will he forever be a target in a deadly game of cat and mouse?

    Book Details:

    Genre: Legal Thriller
    Published by: Starpath Books, LLC
    Publication Date: January 2024
    Number of Pages: 300
    ISBN: B0CFWWCX7F
    Series: Proxy Legal Thriller Series, Book 2
    Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

    Read an excerpt:

    Quinton heaved a box of thick books onto the conference room table in the new Law Office of Quinton Lamar Bell in Houston, Texas. He’d recently moved to The Galleria area around Westheimer and Post Oak and opened a solo practice. Quinton was now what they called a loop lawyer, one who offices around and outside the 610 Loop. It circled the city from Interstate 10 to Highway 45 to Highway 59 surrounding the downtown high-rises poking out of the ground in the middle of the ring. He had been working downtown for the last year but, seeking distance and maybe a little safety from the legal community, found his perfect new office and began to make it his own.

    Clients were not hard to come by as Quinton had created a reputation on his last big case, a murder involving the defense of his friend and lover, Joanne Wyatt. That seemed a lifetime ago, and he had become a loop lawyer in part to get a fresh start, but also to protect his former firm, Jamail, Powers & Kent, from his past life in New York City. That’s another story, for another day, but it involved Quinton’s pseudocide off the Staten Island Ferry.

    Quinton Lamar Bell was not his real name, it was Byron Douglas, but only he knew that and one other person. A potentially dangerous person. When Quinton had opened his new office, he thought he was the only one on earth who knew he had faked his own death in New York and come to Houston to hide in plain sight. He looked different with a little plastic surgery, and had assumed not only the face, name, and demeanor, but the entire life of a childhood friend. He did so, not because he hated his prior life but because it was too dangerous to live it anymore. Besides, Q, as he’d dubbed his friend and benefactor, no longer needed his name or his face as he had been cremated and sprinkled in the Gulf of Mexico. So, in essence, Quinton had been killed twice, and he wasn’t even dead.

    The new Quinton had worked for a downtown Houston firm at the insistence of his faux father, Judge Sirus Bell, who was also now deceased, in order to establish himself as Quinton. When he’d left the downtown firm, on good terms, he’d agreed to split any profits fifty-fifty on the files that were open prior to his departure. Any new cases were all his, even if they were referred by the old firm. It was generous to Quinton. He’d been supported a great deal by the three women partners in his prior office and would not forget their kindness. It was one of the reasons for the separation and move, to protect them, and to get out of their hair.

    The women’s firm didn’t really want criminal cases running through their office and Quinton didn’t want the firm to get caught in the crossfire, in the event that his past came back to haunt him. And his past did haunt him. He could never go back. He’d broken the law, lied, cheated, stole, and taken Quinton’s legacy as his own. Now, he went through each day hiding in plain sight and living the life of a dead man.

    After Judge Bell’s death, he’d found that he, as Quinton, was the sole heir of the Bell estate. He’d put most of the inheritance into a charitable trust, but had kept one asset, and only one asset. He loved the Bell house in Galveston, a beautiful Victorian home near the beach, that he could not bear to part with. It was the source of many childhood memories with both his friend, Q, and mentor, Judge Bell.

    Giving the bulk of the estate to charity was the right thing to do, but if the authorities found out about his true identity, his altruism would not stop them from charging him with crimes from fraud to murder. Yes, murder. That’s the aforementioned part of the long story for another day.

    With the help of Judge Bell, Byron had stolen Quinton Bell’s persona, deliberately adapted to his new life in Houston, and felt that he had truly escaped the danger he’d left behind. After a while, it felt to the new Quinton like he’d learned another language and was now immersed in it. He actually became the new Quinton Bell, a fusion of his former self and new persona speaking the acquired language as if he’d been born to it. Still, he’d walked on proverbial eggshells every day for months, finally settling in, to what he thought was a fairly safe place.

    That is, until a strange card arrived in the mail at his new office. It revealed his former name, Byron Douglas, shook him to the core, and left him wondering who knew about his past and what they wanted from him. It had been several weeks since the card had been delivered. One side was adorned with a photo of the New York skyline and the Staten Island Ferry. The other side had a cryptic note: “Hello, Byron. I know who you are, and I know what you’ve done. Be seeing you.”

    No demands, no further contact, and no requests of any nature. It was like waiting for the proverbial ‘other shoe’ to drop. Was he going to be blackmailed? If so, why send the card? The sender wanted something, but what? Would Quinton one day be arrested without further notice? Law enforcement wouldn’t send a warning. Who was the sender, and what did they have planned for him?

    “Be seeing you.” It gave him a chill. Waiting to find out was worse than the many scenarios he imagined would flow from his discovery.

    ***

    Excerpt from Hunted By Proxy by Manning Wolfe. Copyright 2024 by Manning Wolfe. Reproduced with permission from Manning Wolfe. All rights reserved.

     

     

    Author Bio:

    Manning Wolfe

    MANNING WOLFE, an award-winning author and attorney residing in Austin, Texas, writes cinematic-style, smart, fast-paced thrillers and crime fiction. Manning was recently featured on Oxygen TV’s: Accident, Suicide, or Murder.
    * Manning’s legal thriller series features Austin attorney Merit Bridges, including Dollar Signs, Music Notes, Green Fees, and Chinese Wall.
    * Manning’s new Proxy Legal Thriller Series features Houston attorney Quinton Bell and includes: Dead By Proxy, Hunted By Proxy, and Alive By Proxy.
    * Manning is co-author of Killer Set: Drop the Mic, and twelve additional Bullet Book Speed Reads.
    As a graduate of Rice University and the University of Texas School of Law, Manning’s experience has given her a voyeur’s peek into some shady characters’ lives and a front-row seat to watch the good people who stand against them.

    Catch Up With Manning Wolfe:
    manningwolfe.com
    Goodreads
    BookBub – @ManningWolfe
    Instagram – @manningwolfe
    Twitter/X – @ManningWolfe
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    Giveaway & Review – Cold Pursuit & Cold Threat by Nancy Mehl #partnersincr1me @NancyMehl1

    Bonus Review for Cold Pursuit by Nancy Mehl

    MY REVIEW

    I was excited when I won a copy of Cold Pursuit by Nancy Mehl.

    River and Troy both had nightmares about their run in with a serial killer and their almost death. They left the FBI behind and started their own private investigation firm in Mehlville (HAHAHA).

    Killers are running amok. One is in prison, one is up front and personal, and one is stalking River from the shadows….waiting.

    One story is told and one story is ongoing. I can hardly wait to see what happens in Cold Threat by Nancy Mehl.

    Amazon

    Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos

    4 Stars

    Amazon / Goodreads

    Cold Threat

    by Nancy Mehl

    January 22 – February 2, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

    MY REVIEW

    I’ll start out by saying, I was hooked on the Ryland & St Clair series right out of the gate. Cold Pursuit lured me in, and I am here for the duration of this trilogy, which will be wrapped up in the summer of 2024. So, let’s get to it…

    The Ryland & St Clair series is Christian fiction. With that in mind, the first book was light on the religious angle, but shared River’s doubts, an element of looking and finding…something. In Cold Threat it plays a bigger part.

    I love a great Prologue, and Cold Threat has one. It starts twenty four years previously with a fire, a saved child, and a snowman ornament.

    River Ryland and Troy St Clair have left the FBI behind, and now have their own private investigation firm. Troy’s father calls with an urgent request. He had been the one to save the girl in the Prologue, and the case was never solved. Now, twenty four years later, the arsonist has come to town.

    They discover that the Salt River Strangler had a partner, and, though Joseph Baker is in prison, his accomplice has his sights on River. We will need to solve the arsonist’s case, before we move on to River’s stalker, though he lurks in the background, watching. I love the tension created on every page, knowing of one ongoing danger from the stalker and the urgent need to figure it out and stop the arsonist to keep more lives from being taken.

    We have plenty of suspects to keep me guessing. There is no real romance, but the attraction between River and Troy grows throughout the story. The feelings are there and it’s just a matter of time before they act on them.

    So I am buckling up, getting ready for the conclusion of the the Ryland & St Clair series.

    Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
    4 Stars

    SYNOPSIS

    Twenty years ago, several people were murdered in Des Moines, and the only evidence left behind was a snowman ornament hanging ominously on a tree in the victims’ front lawns. With a suspect behind bars, the killings have come to an end–or so everyone thought. But now crimes with a similar MO are happening in a small Iowa town, and a local detective believes the killer is back and ready to strike again.

    With little time left on the clock before they have another murder on their hands, private investigators River Ryland and Tony St. Clair must work alongside Tony’s detective father to find evidence that will uncover an evil that has survived far too long. As the danger mounts and the suspect closes in, it will take all they have to catch a killer–before he catches one of them.


    Book Details:

    Genre: Suspense
    Published by: Bethany House Publishers
    Publication Date: January 2024
    Number of Pages: 336
    ISBN: 978-0764240461 (ISBN10: 0764240463)
    Series: Ryland & St. Clair, 2
    Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Baker Book House

    Read an excerpt:

    PROLOGUE

    DECEMBER, TWENTY-­FOUR YEARS AGO

    I watched as fire devoured the house as if it were a living, breathing monster, ravenous for death and destruction. It took effort not to smile as I observed the fire department desperately trying to quench the ferocious flames, the firefighters slipping and sliding on the snow and ice. But winter is no match for me. They would lose this fight. The nightmare has just begun. Inside they will find my Christmas offering. Those whom I’d judged and executed. The beast was at my command and would destroy any evidence that could lead to me.

    “It’s perfect,” she whispered. “I love it.”

    I smiled at her. “It was a long time coming.”

    “But you did it. I’m so proud of you.”

    I had to blink away the sudden tears that filled my eyes.

    “Shouldn’t we leave?”

    I nodded. She was right. At some point, the police would arrive and would most certainly look through the people gathered across the street since many times those who set fires like to watch their creations dance and light up the night. They might even take pictures. This was the only time I felt comfortable hanging around for a few minutes—­before anyone had time to scan the crowd. This was important. The first. My debut performance.

    I’d just turned to leave when a couple of police cars pulled up, lights flashing, their blue-and-red beams cutting through the night and the falling snow. I walked down the street, hidden behind a curtain of white. I stopped to watch as they exited their vehicles. The sight only added to my excitement. Two officers approached the fire department chief. As they talked, another officer stood on the sidewalk, staring at the structure that was being consumed. Suddenly, he shouted and pointed up toward the second floor. I had to walk back to see why. I stood behind a tree, trying not to look suspicious. That was when I saw it. A face peering through one of the windows.

    “Oh no,” she said, her voice breaking. “How did you miss her?”

    The officer who’d spotted the unthinkable began to run toward the front door, but two firefighters grabbed him and held him back while another one grabbed a ladder and put it up against the house. It was clearly a child staring at them, her eyes wide with fear. They tried to climb toward her, but it was impossible. The flames from the first floor blocked their way. I felt a wave of anger. She had defiled my righteous mission. I fought to push back my rage. I had no desire to hurt a child. She shouldn’t have hidden from me. I would have kept her safe. I sighed in frustration. This was her fault. Now all of us would have to watch as she died. There wasn’t anything I could do. I felt the urge to leave, but the police were concentrating on her. No one was focused on the crowd, so I risked staying a minute or two longer.

    Suddenly I heard a shout and saw the police officer who’d tried to enter earlier suddenly run toward the compromised house and through the front door before anyone could stop him. What a fool. The monster I’d created was too strong. Now there would be two additional lives sacrificed. This wasn’t my mission. Only the guilty were supposed to die. I consoled myself with the knowledge that the blame was theirs. Not mine.

    “Maybe he’ll get her out,” she said quietly.

    I didn’t respond. I knew she was upset. I couldn’t find the words to tell her that it was too late for both of them.

    Part of the house collapsed on the other side, away from the window where the child still stood. Everyone watched in horror. Two firefighters started to follow the officer into the house, but their chief called them back. It was clear they were frustrated, yet the chief obviously thought it was too dangerous for them to enter. He’d probably already written off the officer and the child.

    “It’s not your fault.”

    “I know,” I said.

    I waited for the rest of the structure to fall, but as we all watched, the unbelievable happened. The police officer ran out of the house, something in his arms wrapped up in a blanket. A firefighter ran over to take the bundle from him as the rest of the building collapsed. The officer fell to the ground. I could see his burns from here. It looked as if the cloth from his shirt had melted to his skin and part of his dark hair had burned away. Now he would always remember this night. I felt no anger toward him. Truthfully, I was relieved that the child had a chance. I’d still accomplished my mission. This was a lesson learned. I had checked out the couple carefully, and I’d watched the house. Hadn’t seen any evidence of a child. Still, I’d missed something important. I would never make this mistake again.

    She sighed with relief. “I’m so glad she’s okay.”

    A thought suddenly struck me. I hadn’t seen the child, but had she seen me? Was she now a liability to my mission? As soon as the thought came, I dismissed it. She’d been hiding. Trying to make sure I couldn’t find her. She would have been too afraid to look at me knowing I might see her too. Besides, she was so young no one would take her seriously anyway. Even if she had caught a glimpse of me, soon I would look very different. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I was safe.

    The firefighters began treating the girl and the officer until an ambulance roared up. It was time to leave. I pulled my jacket tighter and let the darkness and the dancing flakes shroud me as I slipped away, but not before I glanced at the snowman ornament hanging on the tree planted near the sidewalk.

    As I walked away, I couldn’t help but sing softly, “Frosty the snowman . . .”

    CHAPTER ONE

    DECEMBER, PRESENT DAY

    River Ryland stared at her phone, willing it to ring. Unfortunately, it seemed it didn’t respond well to mental telepathy. The pastor at the church she’d started attending with Tony had taught on faith yesterday. He’d brought up Mark 11:24 and Philippians 4:6. From what she could understand, faith was something you needed before your prayers were answered. As a child, she’d listened to her father preach, but he’d never mentioned anything like that. His sermons had been about sin and judgment. How to stay pure. Which was laughable since he ran off with the church’s secretary and left his daughter, son, and wife behind, humiliated and without any way to survive financially.

    As she continued to eye her phone, she wondered if she should start believing that God would bring more clients to Watson Investigations. Was it okay to have faith for something like that? It was clear that faith was important to God, but she didn’t want to treat Him like some kind of genie in a lamp who would bring her whatever she asked for. What was His will, and what was selfishness? She sighed quietly. Life with God was proving to be interesting.

    She glanced over at her partner, Tony St. Clair, and asked herself the question she’d posed so many times. What was he doing here? She’d had to leave the FBI. Severe PTSD had made it impossible for her to continue working as a behavioral analyst. Tony had been shot by the Salt River Strangler, the serial killer who’d tried to kill her, and was still dealing with some of the aftereffects. Even so, he could have gone back to work. Instead, he talked her into starting this detective agency. They’d only had two cases so far. The results had been positive. One case had to do with teachers at a local high school selling drugs—­something they stumbled across. The teachers were arrested, and the drug trade shut down. No paying client with that one. The other case had been pro bono. They’d solved that too. Thankfully, someone connected with the case—­not their client—­had given them a generous stipend. But how long would that last without some new cases? Was asking herself that question a lack of faith? She really didn’t know the answer.

    Tony’s long legs were crossed, his feet up on his desk. He was leaning back in his chair, writing in a notebook. He reminded her of Benedict Cumberbatch. His curly dark hair was longer than most FBI agents had worn their hair. His long eyelashes sheltered eyes that sometimes looked blue and other times appeared to be gray. Tony was an enigma. A handsome man who never dated. He used to. Before the shooting. There were definitely some women at church who had him in their sights, but he clearly wasn’t interested. Of course, she wasn’t dating either. Didn’t want to. Right now, she just wanted to figure out who God wanted her to be. It was hard to believe He needed a private investigator. She didn’t see that among the gifts listed in the Bible.

    “Okay, God,” River whispered. “I’m asking You to make this agency successful. I thank You for hearing me. And . . .” She gulped. “And I thank You for our new cases.” There. She shook her head. Weird, but Pastor Mason would be proud of her. She jumped when Tony’s phone rang.

    River listened closely. If this was a case . . . Well, Pastor Mason also said something about patience. Surely answers to prayer didn’t happen this quickly. If so, she should have started praying this way a long time ago.

    “Slow down, Dad,” Tony said. “I’m not sure I understand.”

    River was almost relieved that it was Tony’s father. If it actually had been a new case . . . well, it would have freaked her out a little. She began to straighten her desk again, only slightly listening to Tony’s conversation. It seemed to be a little one-­sided.

    Finally, Tony said, “I’ve got to call you back, Dad. Let me talk to River and see what she thinks. You know her mother is ill.” Pause. “All in all, doing pretty good. She has full-­time help now.” Another pause. “Okay. I’ll phone you in a bit.”

    After he hung up, he pulled his feet off his desk and sat up straight in his chair. His blue sweater was the same color as his eyes . . . when they were blue. Why was she paying attention to his eyes? She gave herself a virtual kick in the pants and realized that Tony looked upset.

    “Everything okay?” she asked.

    “No, not really.”

    “Is your dad all right? Your mom?”

    “No,” he said, cutting her off. “They’re fine. And before you ask, my sister’s good too.” He looked away and cleared his throat. Something he did when he was troubled or thinking. Finally, his eyes met hers. “I told you that when my dad was a rookie police officer, before he was promoted to detective, he was badly burned in a fire?”

    She nodded. She remembered the story. It was hard to forget. “He saved a little girl’s life.”

    “Yes. Well, they found two bodies in the house after the fire was put out. The little girl was the granddaughter of the couple. Thank God, Dad got her out in time.”

    “Yeah. Your father’s a hero.”

    Tony smiled. “Don’t say that to him. He won’t put up with it. I also told you that they never found the person responsible?”

    She nodded again, then waited for him to finish. It was obvious what was coming next. She swallowed. Was this just coincidence? Of course, this was Tony’s dad. They couldn’t charge him anything for their services. River should have mentioned in her prayer that they needed a paying case. She didn’t realize God was so literal.

    Trust Me.

    Although she hadn’t heard an audible voice, it was so clear it made her jump.

    Trust Me.

    She swallowed hard. “Uh, he wants us to help him solve a twenty-­year-­old crime?” she said. Why was her voice squeaky? “Why now? I mean, I assume he tried to close this case himself. From what you told me, he’s an excellent detective.”

    “He is, but he’s retiring.”

    “And he wants this solved before he leaves?”

    Tony nodded. “In a way. You see, there were two other similar murders with the same MOs in Des Moines not long after that one. The police arrested someone. Charged him with all three. Dad was never sure they got the right person.”

    “You never told me that.”

    “I never went into details because I thought it was a closed case.”

    “So, your father wants to make certain the case is truly closed before he leaves? It’s still a really cold case. You know how tough they are to solve after so long.”

    “Well, except he says it’s happened again.”

    “In Des Moines?”

    Tony shook his head. “No, up in Burlington, Iowa, where they are now. They moved there years ago because Dad felt it was a better place to live. He was convinced that Des Moines was getting too big. Too dangerous. He wanted a slower-­paced life. A safer place for Mom. Truthfully, I think he had a tough time working in Des Moines. He couldn’t get anyone he worked with to believe they’d arrested the wrong person for those murders.”

    “Wait a minute. So, your dad thinks the killer followed him?”

    He shrugged. “He doesn’t know, although I agree that it seems strange. Look, I know you have questions. I do too. Can you come to Burlington with me so we can write a profile? He wants to see if we can add something to what he has so far.”

    River hesitated a moment.

    “I know you’re thinking about your mom. Sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I can go alone. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot.”

    River shook her head. “You’re not. Now that we have Mrs. Weyland, I may be able to come with you.”

    Hannah, the young woman who had come in to help River’s mother during the day, had quit after finding out she was pregnant. She’d recommended her aunt, who had recently lost her husband. Agatha Weyland was sixty-­three years old and had nursed her husband through Alzheimer’s. When Hannah told her she was pregnant and had to leave her job, Mrs. Weyland had begged her to set up an interview with River. At first, she wasn’t sure if it would work since Mrs. Weyland wanted to move in.

    “I just can’t stay in my house anymore,” she’d told River when they talked. “Too many ghosts. Hannah and her husband love the house and they’ve offered to buy it. I was goin’ to move into an apartment, but if you have a spare room . . .” Her hazel eyes had filled with tears, and River had been touched by her. But would she change her mind and quit once she was stronger? She didn’t want Rose to get used to someone and then have her leave. River’s mother was still dealing with Hannah’s quitting. She had loved and trusted the young woman.

    “I’m not lookin’ for anything temporary,” Mrs. Weyland had said as if reading River’s mind. “I intend to take care of your mother until . . . well, until she no longer needs me.”

    This time it was River’s turn for tears.

    “Oh, honey,” the older woman had said, taking River’s hand. “I know what Alzheimer’s is like. I know how to take care of your precious mama. My Harold was a happy man until the day he died. I learned how to go with him wherever he was . . . and how to be whoever he needed me to be. We were happy, and your mother will be happy too. You have my word.”

    River had really wanted to hire Mrs. Weyland, but she was certain Rose wouldn’t give up another one of her rooms. She’d gotten upset when River and Tony had moved her original sewing space to another room even though they set it up exactly the same. They’d moved things around so River could be closer to her mother in case she needed help during the night. Now she’d have to give up her sewing room completely, even though she never used it. River was prepared for a meltdown. But after spending a couple of hours getting to know Mrs. Weyland, Rose had said, “Can’t we just move the things in the sewing room down to the basement, River? Either Agatha could move in there, or you could move into that room, and Agatha could be right next to me.”

    Although she was more than surprised by her mother’s request, she quickly agreed. River moved into the old sewing room, and Mrs. Weyland set herself up next to Rose.

    “Let me talk to Mrs. Weyland,” she told Tony. “She’s barely had time to get to know my mother. She might feel uncomfortable with me leaving town so soon. How long do you think we’ll be gone?”

    “Why don’t we say the rest of the week?” he said. “I think that’s enough time to create a profile. My father’s already put together a murder book, although I’m not sure how much information he’s been able to get his hands on. Hopefully, we’ll at least have some pictures and reports.”

    “Okay, but if Mrs. Weyland or my mother is uncomfortable . . .”

    “I’ll go alone and bring everything back with me.” He frowned. “I’d really like you to talk to my dad. See if he can convince you the cases are related. I know that’s not what we do when we write a profile, so we’ll be using our ace deductive skills as well.”

    River laughed. “I’ll call Mom now, but you might as well plan on going alone. My mother will probably have a conniption fit.”

    “A conniption fit? Where do you get these expressions? I truly think an old lady lives somewhere down deep inside you.”

    River picked up her phone, stuck her tongue out at Tony, and dialed Mrs. Weyland.

    ***

    Excerpt from Cold Threat by Nancy Mehl. Copyright 2024 by Nancy Mehl. Reproduced with permission from Bethany House Publishers. All rights reserved.

     

     

    Author Bio:

    Nancy Mehl

    Nancy Mehl is the author of more than fifty books, a Parable and ECPA bestseller, and the winner of an ACFW Book of the Year Award, a Carol Award, and the Daphne du Maurier Award. She has also been a finalist for the Christy Award. Nancy writes from her home in Missouri, where she lives with her husband, Norman, and their puggle, Watson.

    Catch Up With Nancy Mehl:
    NancyMehl.com
    Goodreads
    BookBub – @NancyMehl
    Twitter/X – @NancyMehl1
    Facebook – @nancy.mehl

     

     

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