The Spotlight Is On A Bad Bout Of The Yips @partnersincr1me @08025writes

A Bad Bout of the Yips by Ken Harris Banner

A Bad Bout of the Yips

by Ken Harris

March 6 – 31, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A Bad Bout of the Yips by Ken Harris

PI Steve Rockfish’s morning meeting was supposed to focus on a case of straightforward harassment. Two clients had purchased a miniature golf course and instantly became victims of vandalism and projected intolerance.

But as the team investigates, a neighborhood’s bigoted knee jerk reaction to a new sapphic-owned business, is in fact a laser focused plan of intimidation. Before anyone can yell FORE!, violence litters the front nine after Rockfish uncovers the real perpetrator, their actual motive, and dangerous accomplices.

Soon, an old nemesis returns to raise the stakes with plans of revenge and domination. Now facing a battle on two fronts, Rockfish finds his allies thinning at the worst possible time, and recklessly goes on the offensive.

The back nine takes Rockfish and McGee on a frenetic ride from a corporate boardroom, across cyberspace, and to the 19th hole where a long overdue showdown will change everything for the partners, for better and worse.

Book Details:

Genre: Crime Fiction
Published by: Black Rose Writing
Publication Date: March 2023
Number of Pages: 356
ISBN: 1685131530 (ISBN-13 978-1685131531)
Series: The Case Files of Steve Rockfish – 3
Book Links: Amazon | BLACK ROSE WRITING

Read an excerpt from A Bad Bout of the Yips:

CHAPTER ONE

You’ve reached Rockfish & McGee, Investigative Specialists. At the tone, leave your name and message. Someone will get back to you. [Beep]

Jawnie stared down at her phone, annoyed. She hung up the call after the office’s message ended and slid the phone into her messenger bag. With a proper receptionist comes a proper voicemail message. It’s about time. Where the heck is everyone? Rockfish could be out doing God knows what, but what about Lynn? Maybe she’s in the can after an extra spicy lunch? Jawnie laughed to herself. There were a thousand and one reasons Lynn couldn’t get to the phone. Don’t go all Rockfish at once.

The sun had slipped behind the clouds on a mid-Thursday afternoon when Jawnie walked down the endless row of marble steps in front of the Baltimore County Government building. She had submitted her final report regarding former county employee Harvey Henderson, who had been sitting at home on disability from a leg injury suffered while on the job. Henderson ran a bulldozer at the county landfill. That was until he fell off the equipment and reportedly injured his leg.

Jawnie loved this type of case. She conducted a couple of surveillances to find out Henderson’s daily schedule and then one final, quick outing to snap a few pictures from a safe distance. Jawnie followed Harvey and his mistress down to the town of Laurel and out on the Rocky Gorge Reservoir, where the couple spent the day attempting to wake-board. The day served as a twofer and the future ex-Mrs. Henderson would gain the information needed to win her freedom without spending a dime.

At the bottom of the steps, she pulled her phone back out, and double checked the time. Five after two and still no notifications. Apparently, nothing of importance had transpired while she was in the meeting with the County Commissioners. Her car was across the street in the paid lot, and she glanced up from the screen. Jawnie felt flush and concern filled her brain. The green Kia Soul remained parked at the corner, blocking a hydrant. Her heart kicked it up a notch.

The damn thing hadn’t moved in the hour and a half while I was inside. Jesus Christ, I don’t need this shit today. Or any day. Fuck.

Three times today since leaving her condo, the Kia coincidently found itself parked nearby, always within eyesight. The odd shaped vehicle and the color stood out. Amateur hour or someone who clearly wants me to notice. Jawnie gritted her teeth, glanced both ways, and then kept her head down as she jogged across the street. She walked through the small lot until she found her Subaru and slid behind the wheel. She pulled around to the exit gate and paid the attendant. A second later, the arm rose, but the car didn’t move. Thoughts of the Kia had Jawnie lost deep in her mind.

What Would Rockfish Do? Probably tell me to go on the offensive, concern be damned. Well, I’m definitely not going to pull sideways in front of this guy, jump out and confront him, that’s for sure. People are crazy these days and with my luck I’d end up TikTok famous #KarensGoneWild. Okay, let’s see if I’m imagining things. Maybe give him a little I see you action instead.

Jawnie turned left onto Pennsylvania Ave and sped up. At the end of the block, when she was right alongside the Kia, she held her breath and cut the wheel. The Subaru hung a hard right onto Baltimore Ave and missed the Kia’s left front fender by only a foot. Enough to make him take notice. She straightened the wheel and exhaled. Her eyes shot to the rearview mirror. The Kia followed suit but was losing ground as she pressed down on the accelerator. The car remained a block back when Jawnie turned right again. Her eyes flickered from the front windshield to the rearview, expecting to see the Kia at any second, but it never appeared. Or at least that she noticed. Her grip on the steering wheel grew tighter.

Did I lose him? Was he some civilian who flew into road rage when I almost hit him and then gave up once his blood pressure came down? No. I definitely saw that car multiple times today.

Half an hour later and back in Anne Arundel County, Jawnie received an answer to her question. She spotted the Kia two cars back at a traffic light. Alright McGee, you aren’t imagining things. Let’s figure out who this driver is.

“Hey Siri. New note.”

“What do you want it to say?”

“Dark green Kia Soul Maryland Plate 555-RJ4K.”

“Ok, I’ve created your note. It’s called Dark green Kia Soul Maryland plate 555-RJ4K.”

I’ll call Michelle at DMV to run it as soon as I get back to the office. The favor may cost me a drink or an actual date, but it will be worth it to know who he is. Hopefully, the name will ring a bell. The last thing I need is a fresh surprise.

Jawnie was only a mile from the office but took the Kia on a short sight-seeing tour of Linthicum Heights. See exactly how dedicated the driver was to their mission. First stop was Fairway Car Wash. Jawnie got in line behind the others and when it was her turn, she lined up the front left tire to the guide and selected the Supreme.

A tapping on the driver’s side glass caught her attention. “Hands off the wheel, ma’am.”

Jawnie looked down. White knuckles. Her hands slid off the wheel and fell to her lap as the car jerked forward. She tried to relax and think calmly as the conveyor pulled her forward. Each stage coated the windshield with a different chemical and blocked the view. Because you don’t see him, it doesn’t mean he’s gone. Maybe he’s hiding behind that iHop, but with a simple line of sight as you exit the car wash? What’s next? Mario’s? She had dry cleaning that was overdue to be picked up. Big ass empty lot there, nowhere to hide and nowhere to street park. As she exited the car wash, the track gave way. Her hands returned to the wheel. Jawnie waved off the man, wanting to finish drying the Subaru with an armful of hand towels. I’m good, no thank you, she mouthed as she cracked the window and slid out a five-dollar bill.

Mario’s was four lights further down the road and by the third red light, the Kia emerged from the background. Jawnie could feel the sweat building on her lower back. A single drop formed on the side of her face. She lifted her arm and wiped away the drop with her sleeve. Mario’s came up on the left and Jawnie put on her blinker. No need to attempt some big ruse at this point.

Five minutes later, she exited Mario’s with her dry cleaning hung over her left shoulder and iPhone held in her right, ready to capture the moment for posterity’s sake. Jawnie took the picture before the guy could raise his newspaper in a piss poor effort to hide his identity. She unlocked the Subaru and hung her clothes on the back hook. She got in and slammed the door. A combination of the force and noise caused her to jump.

Goddamnit! WWRD? I should have done something proactive after the meeting back at the county building. Jawnie reached into the center console. She chose her weapon of choice and speed walked to the Kia. Deep breath, deep breath. Look and act like you belong here.

The man was blond, with very short hair. Maybe balding. She couldn’t tell with the slight window tint. When he spotted her approaching, the newspaper went back up. Jawnie snapped another picture before sliding the phone into her back pocket. She tapped on the window. The early edition of the Baltimore Sun didn’t move.

She rapped her knuckles a second time. Harder, louder. This time the paper came down and the man’s eyebrows went up. He reached over and lowered the window, roughly two inches, before speaking.

“Can I help—”

The mace streamed through the opening as if she was an Olympic crack shot. The creeper didn’t see it coming and Jawnie didn’t stick around to see the after-effects. She could hear his screams, interlaced with every curse word in the book by the time she slid behind the wheel. Her death grip returned, and she rocketed out of Mario’s parking lot without a clear destination in mind and a little less rubber on her tires.

The Subaru ended up in the parking lot of a Wawa, a good half mile down the road. Jawnie parked behind the convenience store. She pulled up the note she made earlier with the Kia’s license plate and added the photos. At the bottom of the note, she dictated the man’s description in two sentences and returned her phone to the cup holder.

Jawnie exhaled and didn’t move. How long had it been? Three months? Maybe a little longer. Well, kid, it was an enjoyable ride. I look forward to the next extended period of calm. Maybe today showed I’m not built for this line of work. Her mind went back to the night on Rockfish’s front lawn. Porbeagle’s gun. The sound of the shot. The smell of burning cotton as the bullet passed through the material of her oversized sweatshirt. Fixing middle school laptops out of my garage doesn’t sound so bad now. Granted, no one’s launching a streaming network based on that show, but then again, I don’t have to look over my shoulder every time I leave the goddamn house. Jawnie stopped rubbing her hands and dropped her head into them. The tears flowed freely.

She didn’t remember how long she remained parked next to the dumpster, but when she felt she could make it back to the office without having a complete emotional meltdown, she shifted into drive.

***

Excerpt from A Bad Bout of the Yips by Ken Harris. Copyright 2023 by Ken Harris. Reproduced with permission from Ken Harris. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Ken Harris

Ken Harris retired from the FBI, after thirty-two years, as a cybersecurity executive. With over three decades writing intelligence products for senior Government officials, Ken provides unique perspectives on the conventional fast-paced crime thriller. He is the author of the “From the Case Files of Steve Rockfish” series. He spends days with his wife Nicolita, and two Labradors, Shady and Chalupa Batman. Evenings are spent playing Walkabout Mini Golf and cheering on Philadelphia sports. Ken firmly believes Pink Floyd, Irish whiskey and a Montecristo cigar are the only muses necessary. He is a native of New Jersey and currently resides in Virginia’s Northern Neck.

Catch Up With Ken Harris:
KenHarrisFiction.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @08025writes
Instagram – @kenharrisfiction
Twitter – @08025writes
Facebook – @kah623
Twitch – @kenharrisfiction

 

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaway entries!

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – Thorns At Sunrise by Janeen Ippolito @XpressoTours


Thorns at Sunrise
(Janeen Ippolito)
Publication date: March 23rd 2023
Genres: Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult

A young queen. Her imaginary friend. A kingdom on the verge of death.

She believes she’s crazy.

Queen Usilea has a secret–and he lives in her mind. Ever since she was six years old, her imaginary friend has been her closest companion, and her arranged marriage has been a great dread. When she learns her betrothed and the royal family have suddenly died, she feels obligated to attend the funeral in the foreign land of Absteph–and perhaps learn more behind their mysterious passing.

He only wants the truth.

Petar endures great pain to protect those he does not remember. His only solace is a shadowy woman who he loves–even though she denies that he exists. When a terrible tragedy occurs in his kingdom, that mysterious woman is his only hope of bringing justice to light. For the cage that imprisons him grows harsher every day, and he is losing the fight.

But there are thorns at sunrise.

Brought together on the barest thread of reality, Usilea and Petar must discover what really happened to the royal family. But Petar’s time is running out. Soon not even a Mender like Usilea will be able to save him.

This YA romance features a gender-swapped Sleeping Beauty in an original fantasy world on the brink of doom.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

Her imaginary friend was playing a new trick on her. This time, she would discern his meaning.

Usilea set down the quill on the paper, frowning at the words mocking her from the page. She pressed her lips together in thought. Thorns at sunrise? What could it mean? What was her mind trying to tell her?

“What do you think of my riddle?

As usual, the voice didn’t come from within her mind directly, but somewhere outside. Yet were she to glance around, all she would perceive is the vaguest sensation of shadow and soul in the periphery of her vision.

And so, she refrained from looking. Instead, she focused on the words she had written, words he had spoken into her mind at some point in the night.

I think … you’re afraid.

“And what am I afraid of, goldenbird?” Amusement teased the edges of his words. She had known her friend was a male since the first time they had met, whenever that had been. Sometime after her sixth year. “Tell me, you who know me so well.”

I know you as well as I might any figment of my imagination.

“Likewise. That is not the answer to the riddle.”

A sigh escaped her. Usilea leaned back in her cushioned chair and rubbed the tense area around her eyes. You are afraid of being lost. You are afraid of being found. You are afraid of darkness, and you are afraid of light.

No answer came from the voice in her mind. A faint smile curved her lips. He only withdrew like that when she was right and he was bewildered. She had learned that pattern over the years as they had conversed. He liked keeping his mysteries, while he equally delighted in unveiling the mysteries of others. A curious behavior for her imaginary friend.

A strange, stabbing sensation pierced through her musing.

What did it imply about her that her closest friend wasn’t real?


Author Bio:

Janeen Ippolito writes about misfits who defy expectations, whether in fairy tale, steampunk fantasy, urban fantasy, humorous paranormal romance, or poetry. She also spreads wordtastic joy in her work as a fearless book strategist, nonfiction author, and coach. In her spare time, she swordfights and posts cute animal memes.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram


GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
>


  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

The Spotlight Is On The Queen’s Gamble by Nicole Sanchez @NazareaAndrew

We’re so excited to share the release of Nicole Sanchez’s THE QUEEN’S GAMBLE! Check out the gorgeous series and get your copy today!

Title: The Queen’s Gamble

Author: Nicole Sanchez

Genre: Romantic Fantasy

About The Queen’s Gamble:

No matter what move she makes, there will be consequences.   Daphne Hale has transformed from pawn to queen. Or has she?   Daphne’s caught once more between the man she loves and the man who seeks to own her. Estranged from Essos and forced to cater to Galen, Daphne fights to navigate the dangerous waters of the Trials as she moves closer to the seemingly inevitable endgame – marriage to the man who murdered her.   As the Underworld itself trembles with unstable power and Daphne’s own magic weakens daily, every move could be her undoing. To protect those she loves, Daphne must go along with the charade. But no one ever won a game of chess by resigning.   This reborn goddess may be in check, but it’s her move.

Get Your Copy!

Catching Up with the Series:

The King’s Game

The Royal Gauntlet

Exclusive Excerpt:

“Don’t pull this shit. You know why I locked you morons in that cabin a million years ago? It’s because I knew that, when it came down to it, you were meant to be. There is no one in all of Solarem or on the face of Earth or in the Underworld that can bring my brother to life the way you can, same as he’s the only person who can possibly have the patience for you. You bring out the best in each other. Your journey together has been long and hard, but it’s not over. So don’t you dare give up on him. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Because when it came to you, he never gave up. He pushed and pushed and pushed to get you back, so push for him. Fight for him.”

About the Author:

Nicole Sanchez has been writing stories on any scrap of paper she could get her hands since before middle school. She lives in New Jersey with her high school sweetheart and love of her life along with their two quirky cats. When she isn’t writing or wielding the Force, she can be found traveling the world with her husband or training for her next RunDisney Event.

Connect with the Author:

Facebook | Instagram | Bookbub

  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – Castelon by Alyssa Roat @XpressoTours @alyssawrote

Castelon
Alyssa Roat
(The Wraithwood Trilogy, #3)
Publication date: March 15th 2023
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

Fifteen hundred years of Arthurian legend come to a head in the final installment of The Wraithwood Trilogy.

The sword of legend, ancient magic, and a dead man’s secrets-together they could save Brinnie’s world or end it forever.

Brinnie barely escaped Mordizan with her life. Battered and broken in body and soul, she knows she’s running out of time. And though she has discovered the identity of Mordred’s bane, no one knows where to find the legendary weapon.

To discover the truth, she and Marcus must journey to Castelon and seek the aid of the Council. However, their actions at Mordizan brand them as enemies and war criminals. Between Mordred’s armies engaged in full-scale war and the political machinations of the Council, Brinnie struggles to balance the battlefield and the courtroom while estates fall before Mordred’s wrath.

As magic ravages her own body, threatening her survival, the allure of ancient, forbidden power grows brighter. And only one man holds the knowledge of the weapon that could destroy Mordred once and for all-a man they buried in the gardens of Wraithwood.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

EXCERPT:

“A portal. Anything. I’ll take a bicycle at this point.”

Dad frowned, leaning on his hands on the oval table, and barely looked up from the maps. “You’re not ready.”

She clenched her fists and resisted the urge to lean against the opposite side of the table. That would just prove his point.

A few wizards circled the work surface along with Dad, moving pieces, making notes. Most likely advisors or military leaders—probably not people she should be questioning his judgment in front of, but what choice did she have?

“I’m walking, I’m standing—”

“You’re hobbling and wobbling.” He straightened and waved a hand at a young man standing at attention along the wall of the office-like space. “Take her back to her room, please.” He gave her a stern look, accentuating the dark circles under his eyes, no doubt caused by the weight of bad news no one would tell her. “I’ll come see you in an hour. Where’s Marcus?”

“I don’t know.” Her tongue took over with more impertinence than she’d ever leveled at him before. “I imagine he has better things to do in the middle of this war than make sure I don’t leave my room.”

A few of the wizards shot each other uncomfortable looks. Dad sighed. “One hour, Brin. You can survive that long.”

She followed the stiff young man back to her room, trying not to pant too much from the simple exertion of walking through the halls.

Two days of consciousness had made for two days of monotonous pain heightened by the urgency stirring in her gut. She had to get back to Wraithwood. She had to find Excalibur. She had to stop this war, this slaughter, the destruction she had caused.

When Marcus wasn’t hovering over her like an anxious mother hen, he’d been spending every moment in Dirklon’s—admittedly limited—library. Finding nothing. But Dad banned her from accompanying Marcus even there.

“You go book crazy,” Dad had said. “I’ll find you climbing some shelf or forgetting to eat for a whole day in a research frenzy.”

She wanted to protest that she didn’t do that. Except that she definitely did, and had, done that. More than once.

So instead of book crazy, she went stir crazy, with nothing to think about but pain.

Sometimes the magic in her veins ran hot, sometimes cold. Sometimes it seemed to push against her skin, threatening to explode. She dared not explore the deep, roiling mass within her like an acidic sea.

“Here you are, my lady.” The young man gave a jerky bow.

She focused, only now realizing they had stopped. “Thank you.” She pushed open the wooden door and shut it behind her, slumping against the surface, her scant muscles feeling like gelatin.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t wander.”

She scowled at Marcus where he leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed.

He pushed to his feet and scanned her face. Unlike Dad’s, his expression was soft. “Brinnie. Please. There’s nothing we can do right now.”

“So much for agreeing to a road trip.” She winced at her own sharp tone.

“I’m still on board.” His tone remained even, unaffected by hers. “After you take time to rest and heal.”

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away. “I need to do something. Something to keep my mind—” She didn’t finish. To keep my mind out of that dark place. To keep it from returning to the dungeon, the battlefields, the screams…

He placed gentle hands on her shoulders. “I know.”

She took a shuddering breath. His unexplained voice in her mind, another mystery, should have concerned her, but it soothed her thoughts. She sighed and leaned against him for support.

“Should I tell her?”

Her head snapped up, almost knocking him in the chin. “Tell me what?”

“Whoa.” He steadied her, expression sheepish. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. How about you sit down first?”

She eased herself into the bedside chair. If she sat on the bed, she would be sucked into sleep. And she didn’t have time for that. “What do you know?”

He sighed. “Things aren’t…great at Wraithwood.”


Author Bio:

Alyssa Roat has worked in a wide variety of roles within the publishing industry as an agent, editor, writer, and publicist. She is the managing editor at Mountain Brook Fire. She has held positions as the publicity manager for publisher Mountain Brook Ink, an associate literary agent at Cyle Young Literary Elite, an editor with Sherpa Editing Services, and a freelance writer with hundreds of bylines in local, national, and international publications. She holds a B.S. in Professional Writing from Taylor University. She would love to connect on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram as well @alyssawrote.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram


GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway


  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – Archenemy by Christina Bauer @XpressoTours @CB_Bauer

Archenemy
Christina Bauer
(Angelbound Xavier Trilogy, #1)
Publication date: March 9th 2023
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

Ancient Egyptians. Powerful gods. Lost loves. And one badass warrior with wings.

Welcome to the beautiful land of ancient Egypt… only it may not stay so lovely for long. The chaos god, Set, plans to destroy the human world. Fortunately, the angel Xavier has the perfect plan to imprison Set and fast. Even better, Xavier can enact his scheme alone… which is just the way he likes it. No partners. No complications. No problems.

Suddenly, a gorgeous woman materializes. Calling herself Camilla, she declares she’s from the future. All of which is strange enough, but things soon go from bad to weird when Camilla announces that she and Xavier must work together—it’s the only way to defeat Set.

Wow, does Xavier ever hate thatidea.

The warrior angel decides on a strategic retreat. In other words, Xavier works to avoid Camilla at all costs. Turns out, that isn’t so easy. This mystery woman has set Xavier’s blood on fire in a way he’s never felt before. No matter how hard he tries, Xavier simply can’t desert her.

But is Camilla another element of Set’s destructive chaos magic… or is she Xavier’s only chance to save both himself and humanity?

Angelbound Xavier Trilogy
1. Archenemy
2. Archnemesis
3. Archangel

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

EXCERPT

ARCHENEMY

MEETING CAMILLA

XAVIER

I slap on my best smile. “How about you put the knives down? We can talk.”

“I’ve got the weapons,” says Camilla. “I’m leading the conversation. You’re here because you want to join Horus’ party.”

“What makes you say that?”

“We have records in the future, Xav. Horus only held the same party every night for a few thousand years. Visiting him is a waste of time.”

“What makes you say that?”

Camilla shoots me a deadpan stare. “Seriously? You’re going to make me say it?”

“Say what?” I shouldn’t be enjoying this banter so much, but I do.

“Horus is a pompous, drunken brat. His mommy taught him the spell to imprison Set. Horus did nothing but repeat the incantation.”

“Meaning?”

“If we want to reinforce the Red Pyramid, then the person we need to see is Isis herself.”

“I made a promise. I’m seeing Horus first.”

“Well, I’m on a tighter timeline.”

“Then, visit Isis yourself.”

“She doesn’t know me. You’re coming along.”

I purse my lips. “I don’t see any reason why we must—” At that moment, the ground rumbles beneath our feet. I raise my pointer finger. “That’s a regular earthquake.”

“False. This part of the world does get earthquakes. That is Set getting loose and making my point that we must work together and fast.”

“Says the woman with the poisoned blades.” I sigh. “Much as I’ve enjoyed seeing you again, I’m off to visit Horus now.” I shoot her another smile. “Are you going to stab me?”

Camilla bobs her head as she considers. “No.” She flicks her wrists, making the blades retract into holsters that must on her forearms. “But I’m not giving up, either. I call for ceremonial combat again.” She pins me with a hungry look.

Now, I could just cast my spell and head off to see Horus. But that really was an amazing kiss. So, I ask the obvious question.

“What kind of combat are we talking about?”

Camilla strolls toward me, pausing when our mouths are a breath apart. I cup her face in my palms and pull her in for another kiss. This one is a slow tasting. Heat pours through my core.

Camilla slides her hands up my shoulders. Everywhere she touches me, there’s a trail of fire on my skin. She soon moves her fingertips onto the very spot where my wings meet my back. The sensation is beyond erotic.

Suddenly, a sharp pain zings across my shoulders. Camilla is pinching a particular spot on my wings. I’d felt a slight scratch when Camilla touched my neck before, but nothing like this. My legs turn watery beneath me.

“What magic is this?”

“Nerve pinch. It only works on lower-level angels.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know how it functions, I only know that it works. You came up with this move during the great Hellscape Rebellion of 1632.”

And with those strange words rattling around my head, the world around me starts to fade. My body goes limp.

I lose consciousness.


Author Bio:

Christina Bauer thinks that fantasy books are like bacon: they just make life better. All of which is why she writes romance novels that feature demons, dragons, wizards, witches, elves, elementals, and a bunch of random stuff that she brainstorms while riding the Boston T. Oh, and she includes lots of humor and kick-ass chicks, too.

Christina graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School with BA’s in English along with Television, Radio, and Film Production. She lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.

Be the first to know about new releases from Christina by signing up for her newsletter: http://tinyurl.com/CBupdates

Website / Facebook / Instagram / Twitter / Newsletter / Blog / LinkedIn


GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway


  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – The Rebirth by V P Evans @XpressoTours

The Rebirth
V.P. Evans
Publication date: March 16th 2023
Genres: Adult, Suspense, Thriller

A traumatized father seeks justice for his son’s death.

A fallen man seeks atonement for his mistakes.

A cryptic path hides all the answers.

And so much more …

For the past decade, Mark has been living like an alcoholic druggy, loathing himself for not having the power to protect his son from the hands of these goddamn monsters.

For the past decade, Jason has been living a reclusive life, doomed by his enemies to spend the rest of his bland days in isolation till the illness seizes his last breath.

For the past decade, Mark and Jason haven’t seen each other.

But everything is about to change …

A murder brings them together tonight, trapped among the streets of Chicago in the search for redemption by following a mystical path that could unlock the darkest scandal in history. As the path unrolls secrets buried in works like these of Nietzsche, Plato, and Aristotle, the shadiest aspects of the human soul come to the surface, and soon both men realize that those who are hunting them, closing by with each passing minute, are equally dangerous with the ghosts of the past …

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

PROLOGUE

Thursday, March 16, 2023

10:49 p.m.

Chicago, Illinois

His time was up. He knew it. The bullet to his stomach had already soaked his pants with blood, and he could feel the warmth of it running into his shoes.

He staggered among the tall trees, pressing a hand over the hole, but that only pushed the blood out faster between his fingers. He managed a few more steps, as though his body still believed it could survive—but he collapsed. His cheek scraped against the wet grass. Damp leaves froze his face. A bug jumped out of the ground, tickling his nostrils.

His gaze climbed up the thick, naked tree branches. Far to the north, along Lake Michigan’s shoreline, vibrant lights fought to master the night sky, and eminent towers of steel and glass waved from the Loop.

Thrusting with his legs, he lugged his body toward the lake’s edge. Less than ten feet away.

Wet muck soaked his white shirt. His arms shoveled the ground, spoiling the blanket of green with deep, muddled brown lines. His hands sank into the soil, molding balls of dirt and grass in each fist.

A muffled chuckle echoed from behind. The man who’d shot him stepped closer.

Dermot Walsh always knew it would end like this—a lifetime of countless crimes had inscribed his name on a great number of bullets, but each had missed him.

Till now.

Maybe this disturbing feeling wasn’t exactly fear, but a sick curiosity about the person who’d end his days.

He tried to roll his body over. The bullet burned, twisting in his gut. But the pain couldn’t hold him back. He had to see his executioner. He pushed his body up and finally turned.

Pitch darkness consumed Burnham Park. Scattered pale lamps barely lit the hulking hitman who was approaching slowly, gun raking in his left hand. His chest suffocated in the tightly fitted suit—the buttons ready to hurl and his buff arms almost tearing the fabric apart.

“Who are you?” Walsh tried to ask. The blood had filled his throat, and he coughed some of it over his chin.

The hitman kneeled over him. His face lacked color, and hair including eyebrows or a beard. He was just a soulless, fey, creepy figure shrouded in the shadows.

“Mr. Walsh.” The ghost’s voice was clear, steady. “We gave you everything, but you wanted more. For years we’ve waited to repay your vanity.”

What? Those words … how could they be true? In his thoughts, a single name popped up—Jason.

Something happened. The hitman raised his head, then scurried off, somewhere into the park.

Walsh’s bleary vision offered nothing more than faint images: his BMW parked nearby. Through the half-opened, smashed rear door, the last member of his personal security detail was hanging, attempting to grab the gun in front of him. The other two were already corpses.

Who was he? Walsh wondered. Harry? Jorge? It was impossible to recognize the man under the mask of dripping blood.

“Ha, ha, naughty little piggy,” the bald hitman snickered, marching over to the bloody-faced man.

Confused about what he’d just heard, Walsh thrust a hand into his jacket pocket, searching for his cell phone.

He grasped it. He tried to—ugh, he didn’t have the strength. Unable to pull it completely from his pocket, he struggled to type the message. The screen was barely visible. His eyes were burning. All he could see was a white fog.

He touched the screen with his fingers, but he couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t even say if he was typing or if this whole attempt was just an illusion of his frigging mind.

He strived to focus, but with each passing second, his senses surrendered to the cold hug of death.

He had to make it. This was his only shot at naming his murderers.

The mouth of the hitman’s gun made a dull sound as he pulled the trigger, taking the life of the bloody-faced man.

Walsh didn’t have any more time. He hoped he’d keyed and sent the drafted message, though he feared he hadn’t.

Steps gouged the ground as the hitman was pacing toward him.

Walsh directed his eyes toward the lake. Its special beauty had always been a comfort to him, and now its peaceful waters were calling him with their serene song of silence. Gritting his teeth, he funneled every scintilla of his remaining strength into moving his damn hand. He couldn’t flex it, so he stretched it all the way to the right till it touched the cold water. He felt the need to groan, but air refused to enter his lungs. He plunged his hand into the water and opened his palm wide, praying that the cell phone had actually reached the lake, carrying the faith that the night wouldn’t end with his death. Instead, his death would be the beginning … Jason.

The hitman stood before him, winking and aiming his gun mockingly.

Then a thick cloud enveloped Walsh’s body.

Author Bio:

Wandering around small towns and cozy villages in faraway lands, V.P. Evans tastes the manifold flavors of this planet and, somewhere down the road, finds himself charmed by the few who live passionately or disappointed as darkness surrounds societies and people. He then sits down and starts to write.

Website / Goodreads / Bookbub


GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway


  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – Faking It With The Grump by Kate O’Keefe @XpressoTours @kateokeeffe4

Faking It With the Grump
Kate O’Keeffe
(Second Chance Café, #1)
Publication date: March 14th 2023
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

He’s grumpy, boring, and thinks it’s okay to wear a suit and tie to a smalltown bar full of lumberjacks. But when I kiss him? Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting THAT.

Harper Cole

It’s one thing to be dumped by the huge Hollywood star you thought you were going to marry. It’s quite another to move back to the small town you’re both from.

As a booby prize for being shown the door by Dex Ryan, everyone is trying to set me up with their son, their nephew, or their long-lost cousin’s gardener. Either that or they’re throwing me pitying looks that say, “You’re a big loser.”

I’m not going to put up with their patronizing sympathy anymore.

So, when I spot new-guy-in-town Christopher Young, I set out to make him mine. Or you know, pretend to make him mine. I’m still in a horrible funk over Dex, and Christopher is an uptight grump. Not exactly my type.

The fact that despite appearances, he’s gorgeous and doing weird things to my blood pressure doesn’t mean a thing.

Really.

Not. A. Thing.

Christopher Young

Hunter’s Creek, population next to nothing, is the reason I work all the time. I’m solely focused on buying the town’s lumber mill so I can go back to NYC and get my big promotion. This small town is a means to an end. Nothing more.

That is until the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen superglues her lips to mine in an unexpected and very public way. She’s not the kind of woman I usually go for with her boho dress and ankle boots, but that kiss…

I’m disappointed when she comes up for air and tells me it’s all for show. But if Harper Cole wants me to be her fake boyfriend while I’m here in town, who am I to turn her down? Being attached to a local might ingratiate me to the townsfolk and make my job that much the easier.

After all, dating Harper can only be make believe. Nothing more. Not when my entire future is at stake.

Faking It With The Grump is a grumpy-sunshine, opposites attract, fake relationship romance set in the small town of Hunter’s Creek, Washington. It’s the first book in the new Second Chance Café series. Each book follows a different sister’s love story and can be read as a standalone novel or as part of a series.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

She looks suddenly nervous. “Okay, here’s the thing. I kind of told some people today that you and I are…well, that we’re…”

When she doesn’t complete her sentence, I lean in and ask, “You and I are what?”

She glances around nervously before she says, “Dating.”

I straighten, shocked.

As my brain tries to comprehend what she just said, I blink at her a few times.

I need clarification. In my experience, beautiful women don’t usually go around telling people they’re dating you without your knowledge.

Well, not sane, beautiful women, anyway.

“Did you say you’ve told people you and I are dating?” I ask.

She nibbles on her lip, reminding me of a rabbit. It only adds to her appeal. Despite my concern, she’s confirmed she’s not exactly sane. “I did warn you it was weird.”

“That’s true, you did. But that doesn’t explain why, exactly.”

She clasps her hands together, clearly uncomfortable.

I’m overcome with the strangest sensation, wanting to reach out and place my hand over hers to reassure her it’s okay.

I don’t.

She takes a breath. “I know this makes me sound crazy. And I’m not crazy. Really, I’m not.”

Said no crazy person ever.

“I don’t know if you recognize me or know what happened, but even if you don’t, I really, really need you to pretend to date me because—”

Wait. Pretend?

Her eyes dart to something behind me, and before I fully realize what’s happening, she’s pushed the bar stool to one side, closed the distance between us, a decidedly wild look in her eyes.

“Everything all right?” I ask her tentatively.

“Okay if I kiss you?” she murmurs out of the corner of her mouth.

I blink at her. “Now you want to…kiss me?”

She nods, her eyes darting behind me and then back to my face. “That okay with you?”

This gorgeous woman who smells like a meadow, the double threat, the woman who only just told me she wants to pretend to date me, now wants to kiss me.

As confusing as this situation may be, I’d be an idiot not to leap at this.

“Sure,” I tell her, the thought of having her soft lips pressed against mine making my belly clench.

It would appear she’s not a woman to be told twice.

Immediately, she pulls herself up onto her toes, places her hands at the back of my head, and before I can utter another word—like “why?”—she leans in toward me and kisses me.

I don’t move for fear this is some kind of mirage. Not that I think mirages are all that common in Washington, what with it not being a desert. But seriously, this sort of thing doesn’t happen to me a whole lot. Or, you know, ever.

And I’ll be honest, as far as kisses go, it’s easily the most surprising of my life, hands down. One second, she’s explaining to me why she wants me to fake date her, and the next she’s kissing me, like it’s no big deal at all.

The problem is, for me to kiss someone like Harper Cole, it should be a big deal.


Author Bio:

USA TODAY Bestselling Author Kate O’Keeffe writes exactly what she loves to read: laugh-out-loud romantic comedies with swoon-worthy heroes and gorgeous feel-good happily ever afters. She lives and loves in beautiful Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand with her family and two scruffy dogs. When she’s not penning her latest story, Kate can be found hiking up hills (slowly), traveling to different countries, and eating chocolate. A lot of it.

Visit kateokeeffe.com to sign up to her newsletter and you’ll receive a FREE romcom.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub


GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway


  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – The Phantom Glare Of Day by M Laszlo @GoddessFish

The Phantom Glare of Day by M. Laszlo

GENRE: Historical (Metaphysical) Fiction / Coming of Age Fiction

BLURB

In this trio of novellas, three game young ladies enter into dangerous liaisons that test each one’s limits and force them to confront the most heartrending issues facing society in the early twentieth century. The Phantom Glare of Day tells of Sophie, a young lady who has lived a sheltered life and consequently has no idea how cruel public-school bullying can be. When she meets Jarvis, a young man obsessed with avenging all those students who delight in his daily debasement, she resolves to intervene before tragedy unfolds. Mouvements Perpétuels tells of Cäcilia, a young lady shunned by her birth father. She longs for the approval of an older man, so when her ice-skating instructor attempts to take advantage of her, she cannot resist. Not a month later, she realizes that she is pregnant and must decide whether or not to get an abortion. Passion Bearer tells of Manon, a young lady who falls in love with a beautiful actress after taking a post as a script girl for a film company—and is subsequently confronted with the pettiest kinds of homophobia.

EXCERPT

London, 29 September, 1917.

In the dead of the night, Manon returned to her hotel suite and lay down in bed. Please, no more nightmares.

At dawn, she had a terrible dream.

A long, plump, phallic, pulsating Zeppelin approaches the city.

Like every other tenant, she exits Chelsea Court Hotel. Alas, as she races past one of the refuge islands rising above the thoroughfare, she trips and falls.

From all directions, meanwhile, various artillery units open fire—and the terrific cacophony of battle roars and blasts and rumbles and bawls.

As the shell-shocked crowds rush down into the neighboring tube station, a lady beggar approaches. “Stay where you are,” the wretched woman tells her. “It’d be your destiny to perish during a tribulation such as this.”

In time, a fragment of what looks to be the Zeppelin’s rudder plummets into the park not thirty feet from the place where Manon stands.

And now she looks up to find that a torrent of flames has engulfed the airship’s nose.

As the doomed Zeppelin drifts this way and that, the bittersweet-orange blaze spreads down the length of the passenger gondola.

With an awful hiss, the airship’s carcass descends toward her and then . . .

She awoke from the dream, quite certain that she must be tangled up in the gondola’s guy-ropes. Blinded by the morning light, she thrashed about.

Ultimately, she fell out of bed. How to go on living here?

At one o’clock, when she arrived at the offices of the London Moving-Pictures Company down on Coronation Avenue, she paused before the reeded-glass doors and debated whether she ought to resign her post. Why not go home to Manchester?

A dark presence rolled through the sky. Could it be a Zeppelin passing by overhead, the bomb bay slowly opening?

The darkness proved to be nothing more than a large skein of geese, but even so, she felt positively frantic—and now she continued through the door. Hopefully, the hall porter would be willing to tell Mr. Pomeroy that she had decided to back out. If so, she could be on her way before the production manager had even had a chance to protest.

AUTHOR Bio and Links

M. Laszlo is the pseudonym of a reclusive author living in Bath, Ohio. According to rumor, he based the pen name on the name of the Paul Henreid character in Casablanca, Victor Laszlo.

M. Laszlo has lived and worked all over the world, and he has kept exhaustive journals and idea books corresponding to each location and post.

It is said that the maniacal habit began in childhood during summer vacations—when his family began renting out Robert Lowell’s family home in Castine, Maine.

The habit continued in 1985 when, as an adolescent, he spent the summer in London, England. In recent years, he revisited that journal/idea book and based his first work, The Phantom Glare of Day, on the characters, topics, and themes contained within the youthful writings. In crafting the narrative arcs, he decided to divide the work into three interrelated novellas and to set each one in the WW-I era so as to make the work as timeless as possible.

M. Laszlo has lived and worked in New York City, East Jerusalem, and several other cities around the world. While living in the Middle East, he worked for Harvard University’s Semitic Museum. He holds a bachelor’s degree in English from Hiram College in Hiram, Ohio and an M.F.A. in poetry from Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, New York.

His next work is forthcoming from SparkPress in 2024. There are whispers that the work purports to be a genuine attempt at positing an explanation for the riddle of the universe and is based on journals and idea books made while completing his M.F.A at Sarah Lawrence College. 

NOTE: THIS BOOK WILL BE $0.99 DURING THE TOUR.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Follow the tour and comment. The more you comment, the better your chances of winning. Follow the tour HERE.

  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – Shadows Of Nightshade by Lyla Oweds @XpressoTours

Shadows of Nightshade
Lyla Oweds
(The Garden of Eternal Flowers, #1)
Publication date: March 8th 2023
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult

I dream of a time where I was warm, safe, and loved.

But my waking reality is starkly different.

Anxiety plagues me and spirits haunt the shadows. No matter how fast I run, I can’t seem to escape my past.

The only solace and steady force in my life is my best friend, Finn.

And now… there’s a ghost haunting me. And I’m not certain if it wants help or if it wants to kill me. There’s only one person who can understand: Finn’s brother, Damen.

However, in reaching out, I’m betraying Finn and setting things into motion that cannot be undone.

But nobody ever said that doing the right thing was easy.

The Garden of Eternal Flowers is a re-envisioning of my Grimm Cases series. Eternal Flowers has taken my original vision of Bianca’s story and transformed it into something new and beautiful. Some chapters are similar, and some dialogue is the same, as The Grimm Cases, Origins, but overall, about 75% of the book has been entirely revisioned with new plot points, mystery, and interpersonal relationships. Also, unlike Origins (originally a Wattpad release), there is now a clear beginning, climax, and conclusion in each individual novel, which allows them to be read alone or as part of the ongoing series.

I hope that you will enjoy Shadows of Nightshade as much as I enjoyed writing it. Truly, it is an honor to write about Bianca and her boys, and all of these characters are near and dear to my heart.

Trigger Warning: This series deals with the aftermath of severe childhood trauma.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

EXCERPT

I wasn’t sure why he thought he deserved any special rights to my time, but it was obvious that he believed he could do whatever he wanted. How did he become so arrogant?

I opened my mouth to respond—which would probably have ended with me embarrassing myself—but nothing escaped. I stared at him, my heart racing, as I stood speechless.
Then laughter—close enough for me to pick up—drifted over from the next row.

The sound shattered the enchantment cast over me—how could I have forgotten our position—and my face burst with heat. How would this scene appear to anyone passing by?

Damen’s eyes glinted mischievously. He must have had the same realization.

“Let me go,” I hissed. But my whispered venom only encouraged him, and he smiled. My traitorous heart began to beat faster. “Someone might see us!”

“Really?” His grin grew wider. This was the expression he’d had when we first met. “Then it’s fine if we don’t get caught? Consider it noted.”

“No!” I was internally screaming, even though my words were a weak protest. “You can’t play around with students anyway.” Not that it mattered there’d be no games between us—ever. “You’re basically a professor.”

“Ah.” He ran his finger down my cheek and I shivered. “But you’re not my student. I can’t help it.” His lips dipped slightly, and he tilted his head as his gaze continued to hold mine. “You’ve taken root in my mind.”

How idiotic. I would bet my shoes that he said that to everyone.

“Why are you so annoying?” I gritted out. Plus, what even was that line? It sounded like something from a cheesy romance novel. I’d be shocked if that ever worked for him in the past.

Finn’s stupid, horny brother. He could go flirt with someone else. I didn’t even remember why I wanted his help anymore, because no matter how much I wanted to lean into his touch or melt under his scorching gaze, I wanted to poke him in the eyes that much more.

What a quandary.



Author Bio:

Lyla Oweds is a paranormal / urban fantasy author who resides in the beautiful Pocono Mountains, Pennsylvania with her husband, children, and animals. While she enjoys all genres of fiction, she has a deep appreciation for fantasy, romance, mystery, crime, and horror. Lyla has a bachelor’s in anthropology and will be completing her master’s in information technology in 2023.

Writing is her moonlighting passion, and she loves having the opportunity to share her perspective as a disabled (profoundly hard of hearing) woman. During the daylight hours, Lyla works as a principal / lead design and development specialist focusing on user experience and accessibility. When not working, Lyla is usually indulging in one of her many hobbies such as amusing her children, gardening, crocheting, interior decorating, baking, cooking, or playing video games.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Bookbub / Newsletter


a Rafflecopter giveaway

  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – The Coronation by Justin Newland @partnersincr1me

The Coronation

by Justin Newland

March 6 – 24, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Coronation by Justin Newland

It is 1761. Prussia is at war with Russia and Austria. As the Russian army occupies East Prussia, King Frederick the Great and his men fight hard to win back their homeland.

In Ludwigshain, a Junker estate in East Prussia, Countess Marion von Adler celebrates an exceptional harvest. But this is soon requisitioned by Russian troops. When Marion tries to stop them, a Russian Captain strikes her. His Lieutenant, Ian Fermor, defends Marion’s honour, but is stabbed for his insubordination. Abandoned by the Russians, Fermor becomes a divisive figure on the estate.

Close to death, Fermor dreams of the Adler, a numinous eagle entity, whose territory extends across the lands of Northern Europe and which is mysteriously connected to the Enlightenment. What happens next will change the course of human history…

Praise for The Coronation:

“The novel explores the themes of belonging, outsiders, religion and war… all filtered through the lens of the other-worldly.”

A. Deane, Page Farer Book Blog

“This wonderful historical fictional tale will hold your attention as the author weaves a storyline that has different creative plots, along with a spiritual message.”

Gwendalyn’s Books

“Some authors deposit their characters in the midst of history, showing how their lives parallel historic events. Then there are authors like Justin Newland who bend history to their will and use fantastic elements to show us what could have been.”

Jathan and Heather

“This was a wonderfully told story that I thoroughly enjoyed.”

Baby Dolls and Razor Blades

The Coronation Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Secret History Thriller
Published by: Matador
Publication Date: November, 2019
Number of Pages: 216
ISBN: 9781838591885
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Apple Books | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Closing scene of Chapter 11,

The Columbine Inn

It’s from the point of view of Marion Grafin (or Countess) von Adler. Her harvest sequestered by the Russian Army, Marion must raise funds to buy food to survive the harsh East Prussian winter. She goes to the Columbine Inn in the capital city, Konigsberg, to deal with a Russian trader, Herr Kharkov.

At the cattle market, the air was shot with the fresh smell of cattle and the mildly cacophonous sound of collective lowing. Scores of livestock were tightly corralled in fenced areas. Asking after Herr Kharkov, she was told to try the nearby Columbine Inn.

Outside the inn, a gleeman was playing a virtuoso performance on the violin. The tune was one of simple elegance. At the crescendo, she swelled with emotion but kept her tears in check. When the player finished, she nodded to Christoph to reward him with a pfennig or two.

“Thank ye, ma’am,” the gleeman said, his right eye twitching involuntarily.

“Is that your composition?”

“Wish it was, ma’am,” he replied. “No, I was standin’ outside a grand buildin’ in far-off Vi-enna and this music started up inside. Them notes must have squeezed through the cracks in the walls. I’s played it like I heard it, honest. By some boy musician, me thinks.”

“What was his name?”

“Dunno. But I’s like his music.”

“What, pray, do we call you?”

“Gleeman Kunz at your service, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Herr Kunz,” she said and entered the inn.

The inn stank of vodka, mead, sweat and other unmentionable body fluids. Russian soldiers sang nostalgic songs of home. In a room to one side, a party was in full throe where a man dressed in a tartan kilt was finishing a tune on the bagpipes. What a haunting sound they made. These Scots were an enterprising lot. From Ian Fermor, she knew that many ran schooners between Port Glasgow and the Baltic.

The racket in the main part of the inn reached a crescendo where a Cossack was dancing full pelt on a table. He was energetically encouraged by a coterie of drunken, shouting soldiers until he fell off, scattering limbs and beakers, which in turn sparked the mob into a fist fight.

The owner of the Columbine Inn, a Frenchman named Andre, was having none of that!

“Fermez la bouche, ou allez-vous-en!” he yelled at them. If they didn’t understand French, they quickly understood his meaning from the acerbic tone.

Christoph called out, “Over here, Your Excellency.”

Herr Kharkov and his secretary were tucked away in an anteroom behind a desk, on which was sat row upon row of silver thaler, arranged in neat, even piles. Kharkov boasted a droopy left eye beneath which was a deep diagonal scar.

Before she could introduce herself, Kharkov rocked back in his chair and with a knowing, malevolent smile said, “You must be Marion Gräfin von Adler.”

“Why yes. How did you know?” she asked.

“You – like me – have a scar on the left cheek. Everyone in Königsberg knows how you got it.”

Caught unawares by the remark, she soon regained her composure. “I’ve come for my thaler, all one hundred and fifty of them.”

“No, I agreed a hundred with the crouchback,” Kharkov said, pointing at Christoph.

“Yes, Herr Kharkov. You heard me. That’s a fair price for my cattle. Now hand over my thaler.”

Kharkov turned to his secretary and whispered in his ear. The secretary burst out laughing and pointed at her.

“How dare you mock me!” she said. In one movement, she swept her forearm across the money table, spilling silver thaler into the air and tumbling onto the ground.

“You’re mad!” the secretary snarled at her as he grovelled on the floor to collect the coins. Behind her, a truce seemed to have broken out amidst the fighters and she felt the eyes of the whole inn burrowing into her back.

The secretary handed a bag of coins to Christoph.

Kharkov explained, “That’s the one hundred t’s. That’s what was agreed.”

“No, that’s the down payment,” she countered. “I want fifty more. And I won’t move until I get them!”

“That’s all you’re getting!” Kharkov said with a smirk.

“Give me my fifty thaler! You thieving rascal!”

Kharkov reached down to the side of the table for something – a weapon? She smelled trouble. At that moment, a tall man with a thin neck pushed passed her and pressed his foot down on Kharkov’s hand.

“Dieter!” she cried. What a time for her brother to enter the fray!

“What’s going on here?” Dieter asked as he retrieved a pistol from under Kharkov’s hand and added, “Now, let’s not do anything stupid here.”

Marion hastily explained to Dieter what had happened.

“Do as the lady asks,” he insisted in that calm, authoritative way of his. “Give us our fifty thaler and we’ll go.”

“No,” Kharkov said, shaking his bruised hand and dowsing the pain with a slug of vodka. “That’s all you’re getting. You leave or I’ll make you.”

Drunk soldiers shouted at them, “Go now!” A glass shattered on the ground behind her. Someone stamped on the floor. Another picked up on the tempo of his beat, stamping in time. Soon, all the soldiers joined in… thump, thump, thump.

The noise was deafening, the danger, palpable. The walls seemed to be vibrating.

“Go home, Lutherans!” another soldier yelled, waving a dagger at them.

Dieter’s face paled. “Sis’, it’s not safe. There are too many of them!”

She turned to go and paused. An image flashed into her head – of the statue with an eagle with its claws buried in the head of the Virgin Mary. The divine image of the Adler filled her with courage.

She turned back to Kharkov, who taunted her, “Want a scar on your other cheek, Fräulein?”

Behind her, she heard metal rasp against metal – a soldier drew his sabre. They were outnumbered. The smell of vodka was intoxicating, the smell of fear more so.

“Come on, please.” Dieter pulled her sleeve.

She felt the Adler’s numinous power pulse through her veins.

She planted her palms flat on the table, leaned over and with her face right next to Kharkov’s, said, “No! Damn you! I will have my extra fifty thaler!”

Kharkov stood up abruptly, the chair behind him crashing to the floor. “Take them!”

She braced herself. She had done what she could.

Suddenly, a loud retort shook the room. Her ears were ringing. Her eyes stung and began to water.

Dieter had fired the pistol. Into the ground.

The silence that followed was shot with tension.

As the gun smoke cleared, he wielded the pistol in the air and yelled, “Stop this! Now!”

Kharkov’s left cheek was burning bright and his left eye was twitching uncontrollably. Still he didn’t budge, not one iota.

“Will you deny the lady a meagre fifty thaler?” Dieter tried again. “Or are you just crooked?”

That seemed to alter the mood in the room, because someone in the crowd hissed, “Come on, Vlad. Be fair to the lady. Give her the t’s!”

There followed a brief, but pregnant silence. Then with an air of resignation, Kharkov said, “I’ll tell you what, you greedy money-grabbers.”

What on earth was he going to propose? She waited; proud, firm and her heart thumping like a bass drum.

“See the fine relief work on the barrel of my pistol,” Kharkov said. “It’s the best, it’s Russian and it’s made at the famous Tula Arms Factory. It’s worth much more than a meagre fifty thaler. So, you keep my flintlock holster pistol,” he added with haughty disdain.

The crowd broke out in raucous cheers. Agitated and defiant, she could barely stand, let alone talk. But she refused to bow to anyone.

“Satisfied?” Dieter asked her.

She managed a weary nod.

“Hah! Now run away, little Prussian people!” Kharkov added.

She ignored the man and instead glanced up at her brother in awe and appreciation.

“Shall we leave?” Dieter asked, holding out his arm for her, which she gratefully accepted.

As they stepped into the freezing Königsberg air, Dieter helped her into his carriage and said, “By heavens! I’d forgotten what an extraordinary lady my sister is!”

***

Excerpt from The Coronation by Justin Newland. Copyright 2019 by Justin Newland. Reproduced with permission from Justin Newland. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Justin Newland

Justin Newland is an author of historical fantasy and secret history thrillers – that’s history with a supernatural twist. His stories feature known events and real people from history which are re-told and examined through the lens of the supernatural. He gives author talks and is a regular contributor to BBC Radio Bristol’s Thought for the Day. He lives with his partner in plain sight of the Mendip Hills in Somerset, England.

Catch Up With Our Author:
JustinNewland.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @justinnewland
Instagram – @drjustinnewland
Facebook – @justin.newland.author

 

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaway entries!

 

 

ENTER FOR A CHANCE TO WIN:

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

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!