The Lady and the Spy
Read an Excerpt
She made her way deeper into the forest where the pine canopy captured the snow and shielded the forest floor. Here the snow wasn’t as deep. As she followed the forest path, a pattern of prints in the snow caught her attention, not an animal’s, but a human’s, prints. Her gaze followed the track. It led toward the lodge.
She hurried on and stopped to bend down for a closer look. Her stomach squeezed. Blood stains spattered the prints. She looked up toward the lodge.
Henry? The wild boar? She stood and checked the sky in the direction of the lodge. No smoke. Was the boy too badly hurt to start a fire?
She took off at a run. Her only thought was Henry.
Her muffled footfalls pounded and crunched on the forest ground as she ran. Afraid of what she’d find when she reached the lodge, she hurried. She pushed dangling branches out of her way as she broke past them, sending a cascade of snow in her wake.
There was only one set of footprints, but the blood stains were getting bigger as she raced along.
Had the boy made it to the lodge? Would she find him buried in the snow?
The gusts of wind picked up as she came to the clearing. The snow was coming down heavily now, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet in front of her. She could deal with that, but it covered the prints and blood. If Henry moved off the path, she might not find him in time.
Exhausted, her legs and back aching, she stopped and clung onto a tree as she caught her breath. She didn’t usually go to the lodge from this direction but was close.
Moving on, she kept watch through the snow drenched branches and finally made out the faint outline of the lodge ahead. Relieved, she hurried to the building. She wiped the ice from her eyelashes and climbed the steps onto the porch.
Blood stained the lodge door. Without stopping, she hurried inside, ready to help the boy, but she stopped with legs-shaking, heart-straining, chest-tightening, fear.
An unconscious person lay face-down on her sofa.
It wasn’t Henry.
The Series
Coming May 2022 – The Lady and Her Duke
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Giveaway & Review – Murder At The CDC by Jon Land @jondland @partnersincr1me
Murder at the CDC
by Jon Land
February 14 – March 11, 2022 Virtual Book Tour
REVIEW
WOW. That Prologue sure got my heart pounding and it’s ‘funny’ I read this right now, because I was just talking about hazardous waste, how they transport it, where it goes, what happens to it over time, and how frightening the whole situation is.
It all starts for Robert, an investigator, and his soon to be ally, Kelly Lofton, who is a member of the Capitol Police, with a shooting on the capitol steps. Terrorists? If terrorists, are they foreign or domestic?
Robert prays that he won’t lose another member of his family to violence. His grandson, Max, was on those steps. Max is a chip off the old block. Because of his past ‘work’, Robert knows many people who work in the shadows and he will need all the help he can get. Robert and Kelly both play by their own rules, so it’s not surprising that the threads they are both following bring them together.
Kelly was unfairly let go from her job with Baltimore Homicide. She had been good enough to be the city’s youngest female homicide detective, and she was also African American. The Blue Wall (of evil) reared its ugly head and I am ticked off for her. She makes unilateral decisions, holding things close to the vest and opening the door for those close to her to betray her.
I love damaged characters. I find it interesting, how they struggle through their daily lives, striving to do the right thing, to have a happy home life, while situations beyond their control cause them to put their lives on the line.
Government secrets…I know we need them. How else can we fight against those who want to bring us down. But, that also leaves things open for abuse. Just like anything else, those who want to do good…will. Those who want to do bad…will. I love how Jon Land incorporates bits of reality into his stories. It’s these bits of reality that make the story even more frightening. Some even sound like current events you would hear on the news…or leaked from behind closed doors.
The suspense and tension are ramping up. The action is nonstop. I am beginning to be very worried for some of the characters. How much danger is coming their way? Will they all make it, or will someone pay the ultimate price. Either way, they are in it to the end.
The more I read, the more I feel a sense of urgency. Not just to stop whatever is coming, but to save the lives of the characters. And, isn’t there always some religious zealot making his grab for power, not caring how many he destroys to gain it? We get to see into the mind of evil and find his motivation.
Each chapter hops to a characters moment in time. I love/hate it because it ramps up my need to know, mauybe even stop what happens next. LOL As if I could.
Even though I always recommend starting a series with the first book, it is not necessary. Each book can stand alone. I had never read any of the series before Jon Land starting writing it and began the series with Murder on the Metro. I don’t feel like it affects the book, but it does make me curious about Robert and his past.
We have seen how fragile democracy is and how easily someone can twist things to try to achieve their own agenda, whether greed, power, or just plan hate. Murder at the CDC is a story that seems all too real, but…
WHEW…Brixton and Kelly will live to fight another day. Will they do it together? I know that Robert is the main character, but I love Kelly and hope I get to see more of her.
I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Murder at the CDC by Jon Land.
SYNOPSIS
2017: A military transport on a secret run to dispose of its deadly contents vanishes without a trace.
The present: A mass shooting on the steps of the Capitol nearly claims the life of Robert Brixton’s grandson.
No stranger to high-stakes investigations, Brixton embarks on a trail to uncover the motive behind the shooting. On the way he finds himself probing the attempted murder of the daughter his best friend, who works at the Washington offices of the CDC. The connection between the mass shooting and Alexandra’s poisoning lies in that long-lost military transport that has been recovered by forces determined to change America forever. Those forces are led by radical separatist leader Deacon Frank Wilhyte, whose goal is nothing short of bringing on a second Civil War. Brixton joins forces with Kelly Lofton, a former Baltimore homicide detective. She has her own reasons for wanting to find the truth behind the shooting on the Capitol steps, and is the only person with the direct knowledge Brixton needs. But chasing the truth places them in the cross-hairs of both Wilhyte’s legions and his Washington enablers.
“A wonderful mystery novel, riveting until the last page.”
–Strand Magazine
“A terrific tale that never lets up.”
–Sandra Brown
Book Details:
Genre: Political Thriller
Published by: Forge
Publication Date: February 15, 2022
Number of Pages: 304
ISBN: 978-1250238894
Series: Margaret Truman’s Capital Crimes, #32 | Each is a stand alone work.
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads
Read an excerpt:
PROLOGUE
December, 2016
The tanker lumbered through the night, headlights cutting a thin swath out of the storm raging around it.
“I can’t raise them, sir,” said Corporal Larry Kleinhurst, walkie-talkie still pressed tight against his ear.
“Try again,” Captain Frank Hall said from the wheel.
“Red Dog Two, this is Red Dog One, do you read me? Repeat, do you read me?”
No voice greeted him in response.
Kleinhurst pressed the walkie-talkie tighter. “Red Dog Three, this is Red Dog One, do you read me? Repeat, do you read me?”
Nothing again.
Kleinhurst lowered the walkie-talkie, as if to inspect it. “What’s the range on these things?”
“Couple miles, maybe a little less in this slop.”
“How’d we lose both our lead and follow teams?”
Hall remained silent in the driver’s seat, squeezing the steering wheel tighter. Procedure dictated that they rotate the driving duties in two-hour shifts, this one being the last before they reached their destination.
“We must be off the route, must have followed the wrong turn-off,” Kleinhurst said, squinting into the black void around them.
Hall snapped a look the corporal’s way. “Or the security teams did,” he said defensively.
“Both of them?” And when Hall failed to respond, he continued, “Unless somebody took them out.”
“Give it a rest, Corporal.”
“We could be headed straight for an ambush.”
“Or I fucked up and took the wrong turn-off. That’s what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying we could be lost, sir,” Kleinhurst told him, leaving it there.
He strained to see through the big truck’s windshield. They had left the Tooele Army Depot in Tooele County, Utah right on schedule at four o’clock pm for the twelve-hour journey to Umatilla, Oregon which housed the Umatilla Chemical Depot, destination of whatever they were hauling in the tanker. The actual final resting place of those contents, Kleinhurst knew, was actually the Umatilla Chemical Agent Disposal Facility located on the depot’s grounds, about which rumors ran rampant. He’d never spoken to anyone who’d actually seen its inner workings, but the tales of what had already been disposed of there was enough to make his skin crawl, weapons that could wipe out the world’s population several times over.
Which told Kleinhurst all he needed to know about whatever it was they were hauling, now without any security escort.
“We’re following the map, Corporal,” Hall said from behind the wheel, as if needing to explain himself further, a nervous edge creeping into his voice.
He kept playing with the lights in search of a beam level that could better reveal what lay ahead. But the storm gave little back, continuing to intensify the further they drew into the night. Mapping out a route the old-fashioned way might have been primitive by today’s standards, but procedure dictated they avoid the likes of Waze and Google Maps out of fear anything web-based could be hacked to the point where they might be rerouted to where potential hijackers were lying in wait.
Another thump atop the ragged, unpaved road shook Hall and Kleinhurst in their seats. They had barely settled back down when a heftier jolt jarred the rig mightily to the left. Hall managed to right it with a hard twist of the wheel that squeezed the blood from his hands.
“Captain . . .”
“This is the route they gave us, Corporal.”
Kleinhurst laid the map between them. “Not if I’m reading this right. With all due respect, sir, I believe we should turn back.”
Hall cast him a condescending stare. “This your first Red Dog run, son?”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“When you’re hauling a shipment like what we got, you don’t turn back, no matter what. When they call us, it’s because they never want to see whatever we’re carrying again.”
With good reason, Kleinhurst thought. Among the initial chemicals stored at Umatilla, and the first to be destroyed at the chemical agent disposal facility housed there, were containers of GB and VX nerve agents, along with HD blister agent. The Tooele Army Depot, where their drive had originated, meanwhile, served as a storage site for war reserve and training munitions, supposedly devoted to conventional ordnance. In point of fact, the military also stored nonconventional munitions there in secret, a kind of way station for chemical weapons deemed too dangerous to store anywhere else.
The normal route from Tooele to Umatilla would have taken just over ten hours via I-84 west. But a Red Dog run required a different route entirely off the main roads in order to avoid population centers. The point was to steer clear of anywhere people resided to avoid the kind of attention an accident or spill would have otherwise caused, necessitating a much more winding route Hall and Kleinhurst hadn’t been given until moments prior to their departure. A helicopter had accompanied them through the first stages of the drive, chased away when a mountain storm the forecasts had made no mention of whipped up out of nowhere and caught the convoy in its grasp. Now two-thirds of that convoy had dropped off the map, leaving the tanker alone, unsecured, and exposed, deadly contents and all.
Kleinhurst’s mouth was so dry, he could barely swallow. “What exactly are we carrying, sir?”
Hall smirked. “If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be driving this rig.”
Kleinhurst’s eyes darted to the radio. “What about calling in?”
“We’re past the point of no return. That means radio silence, soldier. They don’t hear a peep from us until we get where we’re going.”
Kleinhurst watched the rig’s wipers slap at the pelting rain collecting on the windshield, only to have a fresh layer form the instant they had completed their sweep. “Even in an emergency? Even if we lost our escorts miles back in this slop?”
“Let me give it to you straight,” Hall snapped, a sharper edge entering his voice. “The stuff we’re hauling in this tanker doesn’t exist. That means we don’t exist. That means we talk to nobody. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Kleinhurst sighed.
“Good,” said Hall. “We get where we’re supposed to go and figure things out from there. But right now . . .” His voice drifted, as he stole a glance at the map.
Suddenly Kleinhurst lurched forward, straining the bonds of his shoulder harness to peer through the windshield. “Jesus Christ, up there straight ahead!”
“What?”
“Look!”
“At what?”
“Can’t you see it?”
“I can’t see shit through this muck, Corporal.”
“Slow down.”
Hall stubbornly held to his speed.
“Slow down, for God’s sake. Can’t you see it?”
“I can’t see a thing!”
“That’s it, like the world before us is gone. You need to stop!”
Hall hit the brakes and the rig’s tires locked up, sending the tanker into a vicious skid across the road. He tried to work the steering wheel, but it fought him every inch of the way, turning the skid into a spin through an empty wave of darkness.
“There!” Kleinhurst screamed.
“What in God’s name,” Hall rasped, still fighting to steer when a mouth opened out of the storm like a vast maw.
He desperately worked the brake and the clutch, trying to regain control. He’d been out in hurricanes, tornados, even earthquakes. None of those, though, compared to the sense of airlessness both he and Kleinhurst felt around them, almost as if they were floating over a massive vacuum that was sucking them downward. He’d done his share of parachute jumps for his airborne training and the sensation was eerily akin to those first few moments in freefall before the chute deployed. He remembered the sense of not so much being unable to breathe, as being trapped between breaths for an absurdly long moment.
The rig’s nose pitched downward, everything in the cab sent rattling. The dashboard lights flickered and died, the world beyond lost to darkness as the tanker dropped into oblivion.
And then there was nothing.
CHAPTER 1
“The hand of God is upon You! He is my shepherd and I shall not want!”
Those were the last words high school sophomore Ben McDonald heard before the shooting started. He and the other students clustered around him from the Gilman School in Maryland were on a school field trip to the Capitol Building from their Baltimore prep school, the first such trip taken since academic life returned to a degree of normalcy following the endless coronavirus nightmare. Everyone had shown up in their school uniforms, the buses had left on schedule, and the students felt like pioneers, explorers blazing a trail back into the world beyond shutdowns and social distancing.
The reduction in Capitol tour group size was still in force and had necessitated the two bus-loads of students to be divided into five groups of fifteen, give or take, three chaperones allotted to each. Ben and his twin brother Robbie’s group had gone first and they had found themselves lingering on the Capitol steps, taking pictures and chatting away with their local congressman and senator who’d come out to greet and mingle with the students on the steps at the building’s east front.
“Why are you still wearing a mask?” one of them had asked the congressman, but Ben had already forgotten the answer.
He remembered checking the time on his phone just before he heard the first shots. Ben thought they were firecrackers at first, realizing the truth a breath later when the screams began and bodies started flying.
“I am doing the Lord’s work! I am a sacrifice to his word!”
Somehow Ben gleaned those words through the screams and incessant hail of fire. The shots were coming so fast he wasn’t sure if the shooter was firing on semi or full auto. The boy never actually saw him as more than a shape amid the blur before him, enveloping his vision like a dull haze. The thin sheer curtain drawn over his eyes didn’t keep him from recording bodies crumpling, keeling over, tumbling down the steps. The force of a bullet’s momentum slammed a classmate into him, sparing Ben the ensuing fusillade that turned the other boy’s back into a pin cushion.
My brother!
The panic and shock of those initial seconds had stolen thought of Robbie from him. He wheeled about, covered in the blood of boy who had dropped off the scene.
“Robbie!”
Did he cry out his name or only think it? The steps around him looked blanketed in khaki and blue, pants and blazers that made up his Gilman uniform. The sound of gunfire continued to resound in his ears, but he wasn’t sure the shooter was still firing because no more bodies seemed to be falling. People were running in all directions, crying and screaming, Ben remaining frozen out of fear for his brother.
“Robbie!”
He saw his brother’s sandy blond hair draped down from one of the marble steps onto another. Nothing else at first, just the hair. Maybe he had dove atop a friend who’d been wounded to spare that kid more fire—that was Robbie. But there was no one beneath Him, and . . . And . . .
He wasn’t moving, his arms stretched to the sides on angles that looked all wrong. Ben dropped to his knees next to Robbie, his pants sinking into pooling patches of blood which merged and thickened beneath him. He felt something pinching him along right side of his ribcage and saw his blue shirt darkening with a spreading wave of red in the last moment before he collapsed next to his brother.
***
Excerpt from MURDER AT THE CDC by Jon Land. Copyright 2022 by Jon Land. Reproduced with permission from Jon Land. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
JON LAND is the USA Today bestselling author of fifty-eight books, including eleven in the critically acclaimed Texas Ranger Caitlin Strong series, the most recent of which, Strong from the Heart, won the 2020 American Fiction Award for Best Thriller and the 2020 American Book Fest Award for Best Mystery/Suspense Novel. Additionally, he has teamed up with Heather Graham for a science fiction series that began with THE RISING (winner of the 2017 International Book Award for best Sci-fi Novel) and continues with BLOOD MOON, to be published in November of 2022. He has also written six books in the Murder, She Wrote series of mysteries and has more recently taken over Margaret Truman’s Capital Crimes series, with his second effort, MURDER AT THE CDC, to be published in February of 2022. Jon is known as well for writing the film DIRTY DEEDS, a teen comedy starring Milo Ventimiglia and Zoe Saldana, which was released in 2005. A graduate of Brown University, he received the 2019 Rhode Island Authors Legacy Award for his lifetime of literary achievements.
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Twitter – @JonDLand
Facebook – @JonLandAuthor
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MY JON LAND REVIEWS
- Strong Cold Dead
- Strong Light of Day
- Strong to the Bone
- Strong As Steel
- Strong From The Heart
- The Tenth Circle
- The Rising
- Dark Light Dawn
- No Surrender
- Murder She Wrote: A Date With Murder
- Murder She Wrote: Manuscript for Murder
- Murder She Wrote – A Time For Murder
- Murder She Wrote – The Murder of Twelve
- Murder She Wrote – Murder In Season
- Margaret Truman – Murder On The Metro
- 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!
So Disappointed – Heart of Stone and Broken Chains by Demelza Carlton @DemelzaCarlton
MY REVIEW
I have read some of Demelza Carlton’s work and loved it, so when I saw that this was free and Broken Chains was available for review, I grabbed them both. Soooo disappointed. Heart of Stone read like a Prologue, a tease, and it did its job. I liked Ben and Pamela right away and felt they had a great story to tell. I wanted more. The bad thing is, the series is not complete, they are novellas, and you will need to read them all to get the whole story. I feel set up, cheated. I will be reading Broken Chains, because I already have it, but after that?
MY REVIEW
He walked out of the wall and announced that he was there to protect her. Tor has no memory of his past, just his urge, hes need to protect Catena. Demelza Carlton writes with wit and humor. My biggest problem, I thought this would finish the story started in Heart of Stone, but we don’t even discuss Ben. Where is he?
I enjoyed where the story was going and the laugh out loud moments, but, again, I feel hooked and left hanging. It would have been better if the entire series had been complete, then released. Now, it looks like April before Book II is ready and July before Book III is ready. I doubt I will finish the series. Too bad, because the characters were fun and had a great story to tell.
I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Broken Chains by Demelza Carlton.
MY DEMELZA CARLTON REVIEWS
Turbulence and Triumph series: Ocean’s Justice / Ocean’s Trial / Ocean’s Triumph
Ocean’s Gift series: Ocean’s Gift / Ocean’s Infiltrator / Water and Fire
Mel Goes to Hell series: Welcome to Hell / See You in Hell / Mel Goes to Hell
Nightmares Trilogy: Nightmares of Caitlin Lockyer / Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller / Afterlife of Alanna Miller
- 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 Pine Barrens Stratagem by Ken Harris @08025writes @partnersincr1me
.
The Pine Barrens Stratagem
by Ken Harris
February 1-28, 2022 Virtual Book Tour
Private Investigator Steve Rockfish needs cash, like yesterday. The bad news is that yesterday, a global pandemic raged, and Maryland was headed toward a lockdown that would ultimately lead to cheating spouses no longer “working late,” and hence a lack of new clients.
Rockfish’s luck changes when a Hollywood producer reaches out, but the job is two states away and involves digging up information on a child trafficking ring from the 1940s. What he uncovers will be used to support the launch of a true crime docuseries. He grabs a mask, hand sanitizer and heads for South Jersey.
On-site, Rockfish meets Jawnie McGee, the great granddaughter of a local policeman gone missing while investigating the original crimes. As the duo uncover more clues, they learn the same criminal alliance has reformed to use the pandemic as a conduit to defraud the Federal Government of that sweet, sweet, stimulus money.
It’s not long before the investigation turns up some key intel on a myriad of illicit activity over the last eighty years and Rockfish rockets toward a showdown with the mafia, local archdiocese and dirty cops. COVID-19 isn’t the only threat to his health.
Book Details:
Genre: Crime Thriller
Published by: Black Rose Writing
Publication Date: January 27th 2022
Number of Pages: 250
ISBN: 1684338719 (ISBN13: 9781684338719)
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads
Read an excerpt:
Rockfish sat in the Scion’s passenger seat while Jawnie drove. He wasn’t thrilled with the decision, but she was adamant that some of the dirt roads, deep within the Pine Barrens, were no place for a Dodge Challenger. Plus, she didn’t feel like playing navigator. In the end, Rockfish decided not to put up much of a fight, considering Jawnie was more than a little familiar with where they were headed, although he had second thoughts with the four cases of whiplash he had suffered before even reaching the highway.
“Do you drive with two feet,” he asked. “Because my head can’t keep jerking forward and slamming back much more. Unless you’re running an insurance scam, and if so, what would be my take?”
“Enough with the backseat driving, and can you put your visor back up? That late afternoon glare off the mirror is killing me.”
“Make a deal with you. You drive how you want. I’ll keep an eye on our surroundings the way I want. Speaking of which, can you move this right-side passenger mirror a little more to the right, all I’m seeing is the rear fender.”
“You got it,” Jawnie said, and she played with the mirror control until Rockfish let her know it was right where he needed it. He could monitor anyone approaching from behind without having to turn around.
“I do want to fill you in on something I learned before we left,” Rockfish said. “When you went into the house to fix those sandwiches, I reached out to a guy I know in the Baltimore PD, Dan Decker. He’s an old friend and helps me out when he can. He’s going to have one of their academy cadets do some research for us and see if there is anything more than a current history between the Marini and Provolone families. The Marini’s have run Baltimore as long as the Provolone’s have this area. If Edward’s notation of the two factions working together has anything to it, Decker will let us know. He said currently both families have worked together when it was profitable to do so. Sound familiar?”
“Yeah, same M.O. as our knuckle draggers and kid touchers,” Jawnie replied.
Rockfish was happy to learn Jawnie’s disdain for organized religion matched his own. “Well put. But if there is a history there, what are the odds that some wealthy, non-fertile Baltimore Catholics would be willing to pony up some cash to right the situation. And Edward was witness to it all?”
They drove in silence over the next twenty minutes, Rockfish trying to figure out exactly what he expected to find in a fifty-four-year-old decrepit building in the middle of the woods. He hadn’t arrived at a conclusion yet when something very familiar came into focus.
“Remember when you asked me about knowing when you’re being followed?” Rockfish said.
“Yeah, I just chalked it up to anxiety and paranoia. It comes standard on the Millennial base model.”
“Guess what? We are,” Rockfish deadpanned. “Don’t do a damn thing different and let me think for a second. There’s a Jeep Grand Cherokee, right now, two cars back that’s been with us since we pulled off the highway when I was telling you what Decker said.”
Rockfish pulled out a scrap of paper and jotted down the license plate.
“I’ll ask Decker to run this, if they end up sticking on our ass the whole way. I could be a tad paranoid, but I’d rather err on the side of caution. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll tell you if evasive actions become necessary. We’ll start you slow and work our way up to the infamous private eye J-turn.”
Ten minutes later, the Scion crossed the Hammonton City line and Rockfish lost sight of the Jeep. He had Jawnie drive a couple of concentric circles around the downtown area, before heading out on County Route 542 which, according to her, would point them towards the southern part of Wharton State Forest and the abandoned orphanage.
Rockfish spotted the Jeep, only a second or two after it turned on Route 542 from a side street.
“Company’s back,” Rockfish said. “I guess when we hit these dirt roads you mentioned, we’ll see how serious they are.”
When the Scion’s tires soon left the asphalt, and began rolling down the slightly larger than single lane dirt road, the Jeep’s true intentions came to light. No longer concerned about being spotted, the Jeep’s speed increased until it was only a few feet from Jawnie’s bumper. Rockfish’s head swiveled from the Jeep and back to his pilot. He needed to stay calm, but Jawnie looked petrified, and while her hands had a death grip on the wheel, they were also visibly shaking.
“Jawnie, listen to me and we’ll be alright.”
She didn’t say a word, but Rockfish could feel the car slowing down. Screw her feelings, he thought and began giving orders.
“Put your foot back on the gas. You need to keep a constant speed.” And then a minute later. “Stay in the center, don’t give them space to get alongside of us.” Lastly, he shouted. “The center I said!” His voice gave out with that last outburst and he knew she heard the fear in it.
Rockfish swore as the Jeep slammed into their back bumper. “That a girl, keep her straight! Gas, give it some—”
The rear windshield exploded, shards of safety glass like small pellets peppered the interior of the car. Jawnie screamed and instinctively yanked the wheel to the left. Likewise, Rockfish now yelled in order to be heard.
“Foot off the gas! Steer into it!”
Rockfish wasn’t sure how he got through to Jawnie, but she listened, and the Scion straightened back up and they were rocketing straight down the dirt road once again. But before he could congratulate his pupil, the Jeep was now angling to get alongside; the Scion drifting dangerously close to the right shoulder, or lack thereof. Rockfish turned and looked out the driver’s side rear window. He could clearly see the Jeep’s front end.
In the next instant, they were sliding again, Jawnie’s foot slammed on the brake and the Jeep’s right fender nudged the Scion’s left rear. Brakes squealed, and tires howled as dirt, dust and burnt rubber filled their lungs.
“Hold on, hold on, hold on!” It was all he managed to say, but her eyes told him she was a million miles away. Rockfish closed his and braced for impact.
The car spun violently to the left, a hundred and eighty degrees, and his head whipped left and then right, slamming against the window. The seatbelt dug into his chest and he had trouble breathing. A second later, the earth beneath the car’s right side began to give way and the Scion slid into a ditch before coming to a stop.
By the time Rockfish opened his eyes and turned around, the taillights from the Jeep had disappeared into the distance.
* * * * * * * * * *
“That settles it, I’m going to the police now! They, someone, fuck I don’t know who just tried to kill us!” Jawnie said. “Look at my car! Who’s going to pay for this? Not like we’re exchanging fucking information with them!” Her mask was around her neck and Rockfish could see the tears.
Rockfish took a second before he replied. His partner was still in shock, borderline hysterical, and he didn’t want to push her over the edge, unlike the car they pulled themselves from. The Jeep had performed a textbook pit maneuver and Rockfish bet Jawnie wasn’t a big fan of Cops or Live PD. Hence, her jumping straight to attempted murder.
“Now hold on Jawnie,” Rockfish said. “You’re not hurt, right? That seatbelt and airbag did their jobs?”
“Of course, but—”
“No buts about it. Your chest might be a little sore tomorrow from that belt, your eyes swollen from the air bag, and more importantly, you’ll never forget your first chase. But seriously, no one tried to kill us. If they had wanted us dead, we’d be bleeding out from gunshot wounds. Your rear window was the victim of a warning shot. When we were in that ditch, no one walked up from behind and pumped a few slugs into the back of our heads.”
Rockfish stopped and looked at Jawnie, he needed to make sure he was getting through. Her breathing had slowed down quite a bit and that was a start.
“This was a warning, pure and simple. All this tells us is that someone thinks you might be sticking your nose somewhere it doesn’t belong. Obviously, it pertains to those boxes. I haven’t been in town long enough to piss someone off yet, at least, I hope. But if they were staking out your place, they’d have my license plate number and know who I am.”
“But I’ve only dealt with Hasty on this,” Jawnie said.
“Look. You might have worked out a deal with Hasty, but odds are he wasn’t the one that went into the very back of the evidence room and pulled those boxes for you. He’s probably recounted your conversation to a few of his ‘trusted’ senior men, and God knows who else might have been in the room when those conversations took place. Was there anything else you mentioned either to him or anyone else at the station that might cause a reaction like what just happened?”
“I d-d-did tell him I had hoped to t-t-take what I found in these boxes, scan what I could, and create a website. One that would ask the public for tips. Anonymously, of course. It would be a way to get the word out and maybe get someone’s attention who might remember something. Hasty asked his secretary to check and see if he had the authority to put the PD’s logo and tip line on this site. He was only trying to help.”
“So, he’s got a secretary. Old bird, I bet?”
“Yeah, Betty Lou Sommers. I’m guessing she’s logged more than a few years there.”
“There’s your problem. Old Betty Lou sees all Hasty’s business that comes and goes out of his office. I’d lay odds her loyalties lie with others she’s worked with or for through the years and not the guy who knocked the latest Ringle out of office.”
“I’d never thought of it that way.”
“If you’re trying to be a junior special agent, I’d advise you to think that way. Someone in that department is crooked and an off-duty cop or on-duty mafioso ran us off the road. Doesn’t matter who, I’m betting they can be one and the same. Now if you feel alright, we need to call for a tow.”
“And an Uber.”
“Do you have any bars?” Rockfish said.
“Nope.”
“We were lucky this was only a warning. We’ve got some walking ahead of us. They shouldn’t be coming back.”
I gotta reach out to Davenport, he thought. The stakes have significantly increased.
***
Excerpt from The Pine Barrens Stratagem by Ken Harris. Copyright 2022 by Ken Harris. Reproduced with permission from Ken Harris. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
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. While this is his first traditionally published novel, he previously self-published two novellas and two novels. He spends days with his wife Nicolita, and two Labradors, Shady and Chalupa Batman. Evenings are spent 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 Northern Virginia.
Catch Up With Ken Harris:
www.KenHarrisFiction.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @08025writes
Twitter – @08025writes
Instagram – @KenHarrisFiction
Facebook – @kah623
Tour Participants:
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Sherry’s Shelves – 2.13 – 2.19.22
- Sunday Post is hosted by Kimba the Caffeinated Book Reviewer
- Sunday Salon is hosted by Readerbuzz
- Stacking The Shelves by Reading Reality
- **images are linked to Amazon (I am an affiliate)**
Hi Everyone. I wanted to share the release of Lizzie Borden, Zombie Hunter, in audio. I loved it. You can read my review HERE.
Celebrate the new audiobook (pre-order now, releases 2/21) for Lizzie Borden, Zombie Hunter! Follow along on the blog tour for a chance to win a $10 gift card and the Kindle ebook is also on sale for $1.99!
Have been messing around outside as much as the weather allows. I am determined to have the yard in pretty good shape this month or early in March. I want to get a jump on it, because it was so hot out last year, I couldn’t work outside much, but I could hang around the pool, which I DID have cleaned up. I am getting ready to make sure all the chemicals are in order, so I am trying to keep it leaf free. The oak leaves are pretty heavy because of the high winds. I haven’t had to run it a lot because of the cool weather, but with March right around the corner, I need to get it swimalicious! It’s starting to warm up. I can put my hand in the skimmer to retrieve the leaf basket and not feel like my hand is on fire. LOL I believe I have become a weather wimp down here. 🙂
Stay safe and wear a mask..
LAST WEEK ON fundinmental
- Sherry’s Shelves – 2.6 – 2.12.22 #stackingtheshelves #thesundaypost #thesundaysalon
- Spider Shifter – A Spider In The Garden by Courtney Davis @AuthorCDavis @GoddessFish
- Heartbreaking and Uplifting – Sacrifice by Charisse Moritz #CharisseMoritz
- Valentine (Colony: Holiday #5) with Cupid (#4) by Demelza Carlton @DemelzaCarlton
- Giveaway – Blinded By Love by Gladys Cross @GoddessFish #GladysCross
- Giveaway – Pen Pal Gals: Friends Forever by Julie Thiessen @iReadBookTours
- Giveaway – The Ladies of Carson Street by Rachel Brimble @RachelBrimble @goddessfish
- New Release – The Deepest of Secrets by Kelley Armstrong @KelleyArmstrong
- Giveaway – A Killer Sundae by Abby Collette @AbbyVandiver @dollycas
- Dragons, Unicorns and Bianca by Meg Dendler @MegWelchDendler
- Giveaway – Discovery of the Five Senses by K N Smith @iReadBookTours
- Piggyback Killer – If I Had Two Lives by A B Whelan @AuthorABWhelan
- Giveaway – Trust Me by Kelly Irvin @Kelly_TrustMe @partnersincr1me
- Tackling The TBR – 2.12 – 2.18.22 #tacklingthetbr
COMING UP ON fundinmental
- Sherry’s Shelves
- Giveaway – The Pine Barrens Stratagem by Ken Harris
- So Disappointed – Heart of Stone/Broken Chains by Demelza Carlton
- Music Monday
- Giveaway & Review – Murder At The CDC by Carolyn Arnold
- Why You Don’t Make A Deal With The Devil – Faster by Calvin Demmer
- Giveaway & Review – I Celebrate My Voice by Nonku Kuene
- Books From The Backlog
- Giveaway – The Winged Child by Henry Mitchell
- 3 One Sentence Reviews
- 3 One Sentence Reviews
- Tackling The TBR
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Tackling The TBR – 2.12 – 2.18.22 #tacklingthetbr
I got the idea and the motivation to start doing Tackling The TBR from All The Book Blog Names Are Taken. It has helped me to keep track of my reading shelf as far as current events and I also started doing a post for Books From The Backlog, from Carole’s Random Life in Books, to tidy up my shelves. I feel better about my out of control TBR and have even knocked off a couple of those old ones that had been hanging around for years.
(Books are linked to Amazon unless otherwise stated. I am an affiliate)
COME ON….JOIN IN.
Previous Total: 2175
Currently Reading
Books Read
Above, Branded by Fire by Tina Leonard does not have a Kindle copy listing. The link is for audible and paperback. Below by Laurel Hightower is linked to Goodreads.
Books Added
I believe all three of the books below were added when I entered a Goodreads giveaway. They will most likely be removed from my TBR after the month is over.
I couldn’t find The Gargoyle and Sorceress Tales Omnibus by Lisa Blackwood on Amazon, so it is linked to Goodreads. I grabbed it because I have read the first two books in it and wanted the third.
Books DNF-ed: 0
Books Deleted: 0
Duplicates Removed: 2
New TBR Total: 2174
- You can see my Giveaways HERE.
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Giveaway – Trust Me by Kelly Irvin @Kelly_TrustMe @partnersincr1me
Trust Me
by Kelly Irvin
February 7 – March 4, 2022 Virtual Book Tour
SYNOPSIS
When her best friend is murdered the same way her brother was, who can she possibly trust?
In this gripping romantic suspense, Kelly Irvin plumbs the complexity of broken trust in the people we love—and in God—and whether either can be mended.
Book Details:
Genre: Mystery, Suspense
Published by: Thomas Nelson
Publication Date: February 8th 2022
Number of Pages: 384
ISBN: 0785231935 (ISBN13: 9780785231936)
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Christianbook.com | Goodreads
Read an excerpt:
CHAPTER 1
APRIL 22, 2010
SAN ANTONIO ART CO-OP
SOUTHTOWN, SAN ANTONIO
The cloying stench of pot told the same old story.
With an irritated sigh Delaney Broward quickened her pace through the warehouse-turned-art-co-op toward her brother’s studio at the far end of the cavernous hall. On his best days Corey had little sense of time. Add a joint to the mix and he lost his sense not only of time but of responsibility. It also explained why he didn’t answer his phone. When he got high and started painting, he wanted no interruptions. His lime-green VW van was parked cattywampus across two spaces in the lot that faced Alamo Street just south of downtown San Antonio. He might be physically present, but his THC-soaked mind had escaped its cell.
Marijuana served as his muse and taskmaster. Or so he’d said.
The soles of her huarache sandals clacking on the concrete floor sounded loud in Delaney’s ears. “Corey? Corey! You were supposed to pick us up at Ellie’s. Come on, dude. She’s waiting.”
No answer.
At this rate Delaney would never get to Night in Old San Antonio, affectionately known to most local folks as NIOSA. Everyone who was anyone knew it was pronounced NI-O-SA, long I and long O, the best party-slash-fundraiser during the mother of all parties where her boyfriend would be waiting for her. “Hey, bro, I’m starving. Let’s go.”
Delaney’s phone rang. She slowed and dug it from the pocket of her stonewashed jeans. Speaking of Ellie. “I’m at the co-op now. He’s here.”
Share as little info as possible.
“He’s stoned again, isn’t he? I’m sick of this.” Ellie’s shrill voice rose even higher. “I swear if he stands me up again— ”
“Us. Stands us up.”
“Stood us up again. That will be it. I’m done. I’m done waiting around for him. I’m done playing second fiddle to his self-destructive habits. I’m done with his starving-artist, free-spirit, pothead schtick. The man is a walking stereotype. I’m done with him, period.”
Delaney mouthed the words along with her friend. She knew the lyrics of this lovesick song by heart. The childish rejoinder “It takes one to know one” stuck in her throat. “We’ll be there in twenty. You can tell him yourself.”
Ellie would and then Corey would kiss her until she took it all back. With a final huff Ellie hung up.
The door to his studio— the largest and with the best light because the co-op was Corey’s dream child— stood open. “Seriously, Corey. Think of someone besides yourself once in a while, please.” Delaney strode through the door, ready to ream her brother up one side and down the other. “You are so selfish.”
Delaney halted. At first blush it didn’t make sense. Twisted and smashed canvases littered the floor. Along with paints, brushes, beer bottles, and Thai food take-out cartons.
Wooden easels were broken like toothpicks and scattered on top of the canvases. Someone had splattered red paint over another finished piece— a woman eating a raspa in front of a vendor’s mobile cart, the Alamo in the background.
Delaney’s hands went to her throat. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the odor of human waste gagged her. A fiery shiver started at her toes and raced like a lit fuse to her brain. Her mind took in detail after detail. That way she didn’t have to face the bigger picture staring her in the face. “Please, God, no.”
Even He couldn’t fix this.
She shot forward, stumbled, and fell to her knees. Her legs refused to work. She crawled the remainder of the distance to Corey across a floor marred by still-wet oil paint, beer, and other liquids she couldn’t bear to identify.
He sat with his back against the wall. His long legs clad in paint-splattered jeans sprawled in front of him. His feet were bare. His hands with those thin, expressive fingers lay in his lap. Deep lacerations scored his palms and fingers.
Her throat aching with the effort not to vomit, Delaney forced her gaze to move upward. His T-shirt, once white, now shone scarlet with blood. His blood. Rips in the shirt left his chest exposed, revealing stab wounds— too many to count.
Delaney opened her mouth. Scream. Just scream. Let it out.
No sound emerged.
She crawled alongside her big brother until she could lean her shoulder and head against the wall. “Corey?” she whispered.
His green eyes, fringed by thick, dark lashes that were the envy of every woman he’d ever dated, were open and startled. His skin, always pale and ethereal, had a blue tinge to it.
Delaney drowned in a tsunami of nausea. “Come on, Corey, this isn’t funny. I need you.”
Her teeth chattered. Hands shaking, she touched his throat. His skin was cold. So cold.
Too late, too late, too late. The words screamed in her head. Stop it. Just stop it. “You can’t be dead. You’re not allowed to die.”
Mom and Dad had died in a car wreck a week past her eighth birthday. Nana and Pops had taken their turns the year Delaney turned eighteen. Everybody she cared about died.
Not Corey. Delaney punched in 9–1–1.
The operator’s assurance that help was on the way did nothing to soothe Delaney. She sat cross-legged and dragged Corey’s shoulders and head into her lap. She had to warm him up. “Tell them to hurry. Tell them my brother needs help.”
“Yes, ma’am. They’re en route.”
“Tell them he’s all I’ve got.”
CHAPTER 2
TEN YEARS LATER
NASH RESIDENCE, SAN ANTONIO
Real men didn’t cry. Not even during a reunion with a beloved truck.
Swallowing hard, Hunter Nash wrapped his fingers around the keys, concentrating on the feel of the metal pressing into his skin. He cleared his throat. “Thanks, Mom. For keeping it all these years.”
His mom didn’t bother to try to hide her tears. She wiped her plump cheeks on a faded dish towel, offered him a tremulous smile, and bustled down the sidewalk that led from the house on San Antonio’s near west side where Hunter had grown up to the detached two-car garage in the back. It had housed his truck for the past eight years. Almost ten if he counted the two years it took for his case to go to trial. He had no place to go in those years when he’d allegedly been innocent until proven guilty. His friends no longer friends and his job gone, he had no need for transportation.
The door to the garage was padlocked. Mom handed him the key. “My hands are shaking. You’d better do the honors.” She stepped back. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”
“I did my time, Ma.” As a model prisoner he’d earned time off for good behavior. It was easy for a guy to behave when he spent his days and nights scared spitless.
“I know. All those nights I’ve lain in bed worrying about you in that place, whether you were safe, if you were hurt, if you were sick.” Her voice broke. “I can’t believe it’s over.”
“Me neither.”
It wasn’t over. In fact, it was just beginning, but she didn’t need to know that. His determination to prove his innocence would only worry her more. A divorced mother of four, she’d raised her kids on a teacher’s salary and an occasional child support check from the crud-for-brains ex-husband who showed up once every couple of years in an attempt to make nice with his kids. She deserved a break.
The aging manual garage door squeaked and protested when Hunter yanked on the handle. He needed to do some work around here, starting with applying some WD-40. The smell of mold and old motor oil wafted from the dark interior. Hunter slipped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust. A layer of dust covered the 2002 midnight-blue Dodge RAM 1500, but otherwise it remained in the pristine condition in which he’d left it the night he said goodbye and promised he’d be back. “My baby.”
More tears trickling down her face, Mom chuckled softly. “After you finish reintroducing yourself, come back inside. I’m making your favorite chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, pineapple coleslaw, and creamed corn. Your brother and sisters are coming over after work. Shawna’s bringing a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. Melissa’s contribution is three kinds of ice cream, including rocky road. She said it seemed appropriate. I hope you haven’t lost your sense of humor. And you know Curtis. He’s all about the beer.”
The last thing Hunter wanted to do was celebrate with his sibs. Mel and Shawna had visited faithfully at first, but less as the years rolled by. Curtis never showed, even though Fabian Dominguez State Jail was only a few miles down the road from San Antonio.
Nor did Hunter want to explain why he’d sworn off alcohol. The conditions of his parole included monthly pee tests— no alcohol or drugs, but that part of his life was over anyway. It had been easy to comply in prison, obviously. Whether he could maintain his sobriety in the beer drinking capital of the country remained to be seen. He’d do AA if necessary. “Mom— ”
“No buts. They’re family. They love you. You need to live life, enjoy life, make up for all you’ve missed. You haven’t even met most of your nieces and nephews. Did you know Mel is expecting another baby in August?”
“Yes, I— ”
“Today we celebrate your new job and your new life.”
His bachelor of fine arts with an emphasis in drawing and painting from Southwest School of Art might once have allowed him to teach art in one of the school districts, but not anymore.
It didn’t matter. The prison chaplain had hooked him up with Pastor James. The preacher ran a faith-based community center that served at-risk youth. He’d hired Hunter to teach art to those who’d already had their first brush with the law. He figured Hunter could teach life lessons at the same time he introduced them to art as a way to channel their anger at the hand life had dealt them. Learning what happened when a guy got off track would be the lesson.
Even though Hunter hadn’t gotten off the track. He’d been shoved off it. By an eager-beaver, newbie detective; a green-as-a-Granny-Smith-apple public defender; and an assembly-line justice system.
He would get by in this world that had hung him out to dry. Especially knowing Mom had his back. She had that don’t-mess-with-me teacher look in her burnt-amber eyes. Like her sixth graders, Hunter knew better than to argue. It felt good to know she remained in his corner. When everyone else had hit the ground, scattering in opposite directions, she never budged in her belief that son number two could not be a murderer. She’d brought him up better than that.
“You’re right. Give me a few minutes.”
She patted his chest and stretched on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Her lips were chapped, and the wrinkles had deepened around her mouth and eyes. Her long hair had gone pure white during his years away. “Take your time, sweetheart.”
Hunter gritted his teeth. After years of looking over his shoulder, bobbing and weaving around hard-core convicts who’d as soon shank a guy in the shower as look at him, he didn’t know how to cope with nice. With sweet. With love tempered with wisdom and a hard life.
“One day at a time.” That’s what the prison chaplain had told him. “Get through the next minute, the next hour, the next day.” That’s how he did eight years at Dominguez. This couldn’t be any harder. He opened the truck’s door and slid into the driver’s seat. The faint odor of pine air freshener greeted him. And citrus.
More likely that was his imagination. Delaney’s perfume simply could not linger that long. Move on. She has. She did. To her credit Delaney held on as long as she could— until the guilty verdict. Then she was forced to move on. She couldn’t be blamed for that.
Hunter picked up the sketch pad on the passenger seat. In those days he kept one everywhere. Just in case. The first page. The second. The third. All drawings of Delaney. Sweet Laney eating a slice of watermelon at a Fourth of July celebration. Laney rocking Hunter’s newborn nephew in a hickory rocker on the front porch. Laney in a bathing suit sitting on the dock at Medina Lake. Laney with her soulful eyes, long sandy-brown hair, and air of sad vulnerability worn like a pair of old jeans that fit perfectly. That too-big nose, wide mouth, and pointed chin. Corey might have been the angelic beauty— totally unfair— but Delaney’s face had character. She had a face Hunter never ceased to want to draw and paint.
And kiss.
He turned the pages slowly, allowing the memories to have their way with him. Meeting at a party Corey had thrown when Delaney was a senior in high school. Their first date, ribs and smoked chicken with heart-stopping creamed corn, potato salad, coleslaw, and jalapeños at Rudy’s Country Store and Bar-B-Q followed by dancing at Leon Springs Dance Hall.
She had danced with the abandon of a small child. As if she didn’t care who watched. Her face glowed with perspiration. Her green eyes sparkled with happiness. His two left feet couldn’t keep up, but she didn’t mind. She twirled her peasant skirt as she flew around him, her hands in the air, her curves beckoning.
Hunter closed his eyes. Her softness enveloped him. Her sweetness surrounded him.
He needed to see her again. He needed to talk to her. Somehow he had to prove to her that she was wrong about him. Whatever it took. He laid the sketchbook aside. “Come on, dude, let’s take a ride.”
He stuck the key in the ignition and turned it.
Nothing. Not even a tick-tick-tick. He tried a second time. Nada. “I’m an idiot.” He patted the steering wheel. “Not your fault, man.”
The truck hadn’t been driven in years. The battery was dead. He might be able to jump it, but more likely he’d need a new one. Batteries cost money.
One thing at a time. He’d waited this long.
Hunter slid from the truck and eased the door closed. “I’ll be back when I get my act together.”
In the kitchen Hunter found his mom peeling potatoes. She pointed the peeler at him. “You can’t imagine how good it feels to have you home.”
“You can’t imagine how good it feels to be here.” He landed a kiss on her soft hair. She smelled of Pond’s cold cream. The same old comforting scent. Life had changed but not her. “I’m gonna take a walk. I need to blow the prison stink off.”
“Enjoy. They redid the walking trail at the lake and installed new outdoor fitness equipment.” She waved the paring knife in the air. “But don’t stay too long. You have company coming.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pantomimed a mock salute and headed for the front door.
One thing at a time. One step at a time. That’s how he’d get his life back.
***
Excerpt from Trust Me by Kelly Irvin. Copyright 2022 by Kelly Irvin. Reproduced with permission from Thomas Nelson. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Kelly Irvin is a bestselling, award-winning author of over twenty novels and stories. A retired public relations professional, Kelly lives with her husband, Tim, in San Antonio. They have two children, three grandchildren, and two ornery cats.
Visit her online at:
www.KellyIrvin.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @KellyIrvin
Instagram – @kelly_irvin
Twitter – @Kelly_TrustMe
Facebook – @Kelly.Irvin.Author
Tour Participants:
Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaways!
ENTER TO WIN:
This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Thomas Nelson and Kelly Irvin. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours
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Piggyback Killer – If I Had Two Lives by A B Whelan @AuthorABWhelan
.
Oh yeah. I have read a couple other books by A B Whelan already this year and loved them, so to add If I Had Two Lives to my repertoire was a welcome addition. Check out the fantastic cover. It really creeps me out and I can’t wait to dive in. What do you think?
MY REVIEW
I love the cover for If I Had Two Lives by A B Whelan. The colors pop and the content creeps me out. If I Had Two Lives was inspired by a young woman in a vegetative state. I think I have read another book or saw a TV show about the event, so it made me even more curious about If I Had Two Lives.
I am sickened, filled with disgust, yet oddly drawn to know more.
As Vicki Collins, an FBI agent, investigated the Piggyback Killer, a problem arises that causes her much difficulty…an unknown brother with a criminal record. The FBI frowns on secrets. And there is so much more to come than she could have anticipated.
Doug…he’s a piece of work. I can’t figure out why she is with him, other than an occasional hop in the sack being more convenient than going out and looking for it. The more I get to know him, the less I like him.
Human nature is why I love to read thrillers, and the more damaged the characters, the better. Will they be redeemed? Will they succumb to their baggage? I want to know what happens when the shit flies. My curiosity is a monster with an insatiable appetite that can never be satisfied.
Though If I Had Two Lives seems choppier and more disjointed than other books I have read by A B Whelan, I still loved the story. The blows to Vicki keep on coming and I didn’t see everything coming. I love book surprises and reward them. The more I read, the harder it was to put the book down. I had to know how it would end. I love that through all the suspects, he remained elusive….until we came face to face.
I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of If I Had Two Lives by A B Whelan.
GOODREADS BLURB
“You’re telling me I have a brother I don’t know about?” When ambitious law officer Vicky Collins transferred to the FBI, she thought she was ready for anything – until a DNA background check brings up the criminal record of a brother Vicky didn’t even know she had. Tracking down her mysterious sibling might be the only way she can cling to her career in law enforcement – but what price will she and her family have to pay when their darkest secrets come to light?
As the truth emerges, it sends Vicky’s career, relationship, and mental health spiraling to pieces all around her – and that’s before her investigation uncovers one more disquieting possibility: That the secrets she’s revealed might link members of her own family to the murders committed by the Piggyback Killer – the same serial killer she’d been assigned to investigate just prior to her suspension.
Tautly written, visceral, and intense, If I Had Two Lives is the third stand-alone psychological thriller by A.B. Whelan; described by readers as “chilling, disturbing, and unputdownable.” Fans of Gillian Flynn, Paula Hawkins, and Alex Michaelides will be instantly enthralled by the chilling storyline, achingly relatable characters, and immensely satisfying conclusion.
ABOUT A B WHELAN
New release: No One Can Hear You Scream is a gripping, atmospheric psychological thriller about obsession, survival, and family bonds, releasing on October 20th.
Whelan is an Amazon bestselling author of domestic psychological thrillers.
She
currently resides in California with her husband and two children.
When she isn’t writing, editing, marketing, or researching her next
book, you can find her walking her two rescue dogs, socializing online,
coaching soccer, or doing another DIY project with her husband.
Find me on:
* Facebook (AuthorABWhelan)
* Instagram (authorabwhelan)
* Goodreads (A.B. Whelan)
* Twitter (AuthorABWhelan)
* Bookbub: A.B. Whelan
MY A B WHELAN REVIEW
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Giveaway – Discovery of the Five Senses by K N Smith @iReadBookTours
Book Details:
Book Title: Discovery of the Five Senses Book One – The Urban Boys Series by K. N. Smith
Category: YA Fiction (Ages 13-17), 340 pages
Genre: Young Adult Action-Adventure, Young Adult Thriller, Urban Fantasy, Mystery/ Thriller
Publisher: Two Petals Publishing (self-published)
Release date: September 15, 2021
Content Rating: PG
“An energetic adventure debut with stellar action sequences. Smith’s writing is intelligent and often lyrical. Her exuberant prose never fails to dazzle.” – Kirkus Media
Welcome or unwelcome. Fate has arrived.
“A captivating and poetic tale of mystery, fantasy, and reality tied together by action!” 5-stars, Lars Jackson, Amazon Customer
A suspenseful incident in a forbidden preserve heightens the senses of five friends. Sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell become super-gifts that forever change the world. But furious battles confront the boys as they try to understand their sensory super powers in a race to save mankind. With light beings and mysterious strangers complicating their plight, will the boys be able to defeat the evil Druth before it’s too late? Get prepared for the twisting and grinding of this award-winning, action-adventure story — an edge-of-your-seat narrative for young and mature readers alike.
EXCERPT:
As one would imagine, a mysterious forest might offer deep, eerie chills, especially at night. Instead, the forest cast a rich glow, and the environment was beautiful and serene.
Walking slowly with their eyes absolutely feasting on the horticultural delights, the boys were approached by something they weren’t sure was real. It floated effortlessly, lighting up in a sporadic pattern, but had neither sound nor discernible shape, other than being somewhat clear and round.
Its fluttering wings suspended it in the center of their disbelieving huddle. All eyes were on it, but what it was provoked more mystery than the forest itself. It bounced in a cheery, beckoning fashion, flashing its stunning wings, drawing the boys into a never-ending waltz. They were transfixed, unable to glance at each other, prevented by the daze each silently battled.
The little glowing being carried about, moving closer to their faces. It moved in and out of trees, spewing, sparkle and splendor, then floated away from the boys, yet stayed close enough to continue the enticement.
Contributing to the amazing glow ricocheting from sprawling fronds to soaring trees and fallen leaves, the being’s creativity advanced in a display of twirls and spins, astonishing the boys. And they followed their little friend further and further into the forest.
Deeper ahead, the visual spectacle beautifully intertwined with the clicking noise, which grew louder and more defined, moving up the scale into high notes. The repetition of the noise mesmerized the boys, equating to an invisible lasso.
The friends grouped together, looking ahead and behind. Their stomachs tightened as the tension grew.
What they saw next would pale in comparison to their little, wondrous friend, who steadily bounced around several curvy pathways.
The small creature led them into an area deep within the preserve housing two large, floating, clicking balls of light. The boys instinctively covered their eyes, yet still tried to peep through their fingers.
The light balls began spinning wildly and grew louder, with their tops spitting out free-falling shavings of light like fireworks.
The sputtering light bounced off the dirt only to end up against a tree or one of the boys, then back down and up again.
Slowing down, the beings moved in between the boys. Too scared to move and struggling with reality, the boys’ eyes locked onto the radiant balls.
And with a striking force, the five friends were encased by a bright, piercing light as the balls exploded, emitting their energy onto the boys.
Mixing and mashing north, south, east, and west, bright waves covered the soil, spreading across trees, rock, and all plant life. The forest fell silent, frozen like an inhale without an exhale. It was dark and quiet, except for the liquid energy dripping from the huge, wavy leaves.
Being subjected to drifts both in and out of reality, the boys succumbed to the lure of a vacant black space within the deepest parts of their minds. They fell to the ground unconscious, laying in this forbidden domain in the center of a place they had been warned not to approach.
And from some distance toward the other side of the preserve, a draped shadow had been looking inward and saw this mysterious incident.
The curve of his black hood was loose enough for him to witness the unthinkable. But it also shrouded his expression, which was impassive.
This figure, a dark stranger, had been watching the boys for a period of time and saw the explosion of light. He knew it had exposed them to a grave risk in this place of both awe and fear. He realized time would now take the reins as a master guide for these stricken young men, all of whom would need hope as a rod and stamina as a spear on the long journey ahead.
Knowing the veil of normalcy would need to be maintained in order for this inconceivable episode to be minimized, the Dark Stranger drew upon his strength to physically move each of the boys to Rhee’s house.
He knew familiar surroundings would ease them as they roused, barely able to comprehend their predicament.
For he knew much, and every step, every footprint left an indelible impression on the path leading to the studio in Rhee’s backyard. Indeed, footprints providing a window to the past meshed with hope for the future.
And like a laser, the Dark Stranger steadied his gait, hurling each one up and over his powerful shoulders.
As he absorbed the totality of the scene, he breathed deeply. His head hung in a manner to which only trauma could relate. But in a sign of resilience, it swiftly sprung back.
Under the circumstances, he knew time would not be patient nor friendly.
Welcome or unwelcome. Fate had arrived.
K.N. Smith, winner of the “Best of” in the category of “Outstanding Young Adult Novel” at the Jessie Redmon Fauset Book Awards, is an author, screenwriter, and passionate advocate of literacy and arts programs throughout the world. She inspires people of all ages to reach their highest potential in their creative, educational, and life pursuits. She lives in California with her family.
connect with the author: website ~ facebook ~ goodreads
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Dragons, Unicorns and Bianca by Meg Dendler @MegWelchDendler
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I love dragons and this fabulous cover for Bianca and the Journey To Ryuugito is adorable. But, what is that pink thing I am seeing? Is that a Unicorn?
If any of you guys have a youngster that will be reading this, or having it be read to them, I would love to know what they think.
MY REVIEW
Let’s start off by saying…I LOVE that cover front and back. What is that pink unicorn doing there?
I have been reading and reviewing more children’s books than ever and the Bianca series by Meg Dendler fits in that genre, recommended for 4 – 18 year olds (Amazon). I think different ratings would apply to different age groups within the recommendation. This is a book you would read to the younger ones and want a little more sophisticated for the older ones. I loved it, so…what to do?
It is filled with clean adventure. We have dragons, unicorns, faeries, a water sprite, flutterpurrs (how cute a name is that?)…
Bianca has earned some independence from her father. She is still new to being out of the castle, so she doesn’t know all the ins and outs of social interaction, especially when it comes to royalty. After all, who wants to sit at dinner and not be able to talk at all, to tell of her last adventure in Book I? She is 14 and wants to share. She has questions that, the only way she will get answers to, is to be able to ask them?
Well, all that and I haven’t even looked at my notes.
Ooooo, we have a baby dragon. Princess Bianca the Brave and Percy the Merciful will be put to the test when a handsome visitor makes an appearance. He is requesting their assistance with a dragon egg in a far off kingdom. So over the mountain and through the woods they will go.
I can hardly wait to go on the next adventure with Bianca and Percy. And…will the baby dragon be a part of it? What ya thinkin’ Meg?
I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Bianca: Journey to Ryuugito by Meg Dendler.
GOODREADS BLURB
Princess Bianca the Brave and Percy the Merciful have settled into a comfortable life together as Bianca steps out of her sheltered, over-protected past. But a handsome visitor from a distant kingdom disturbs their peace. A rare dragon egg has been discovered, and it will hatch in a matter of days. Can Percy and Bianca keep the new dragonet from pillaging the kingdom of Ryuugito? And are they truly prepared for the journey to reach this egg and the dangers waiting for them along the way? With Percy by her side, Bianca will have to prove she is as brave and fearless as her kingdom now believes her to be.
This is the sequel to “Bianca: The Brave Frail and Delicate Princess.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Meg Dendler has considered herself a writer since she won a picture book contest in 5th grade and entertained her classmates with ongoing sequels for the rest of the year. Beginning serious work as a freelancer in the ’90s while teaching elementary and middle school, Meg has over one hundred articles in print, including interviews with Kirk Douglas, Sylvester Stallone, and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. She has won contests with her short stories and poetry, along with multiple international awards for her best-selling “Cats in the Mirror” alien rescue cat children’s book series. Meg is also an editor with Pen-L Publishing and works with independent and self-publishing authors to polish their manuscripts for publication.
Meg and her family (including four cats and her dog, Max) live in Arkansas. Visit her at www.megdendler.com for more information about upcoming books and events and all of Meg’s social media links.
In the first book of the Cats in the Mirror series, “Why Kimba Saved The World,” feisty house cat Kimba learns that she is really part of an alien race and has to pick sides between her loyal human family and her feline destiny. The second book, “Vacation Hiro,” came out in November of 2013. These first two books in the Cats in the Mirror series have been honored with Silver Mom’s Choice Awards, and “Why Kimba Saved The World” won a Bronze Moonbeam Children’s Book Award as “Best First Book.” Book 3, “Miss Fatty Cat’s Revenge,” released on September 12, 2014. A companion book to her Cats in the Mirror series, “Max’s Wild Night,” was published in May, 2015, and Book 4 in the Cats in the Mirror series, “Slinky Steps Out” joined the pack in the spring of 2016. An adult book, “At the Corner of Magnetic and Main,” was released by Pen-L Publishing in September of 2015.
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