04 October, 2024

October 04, 2024 0

Spellcaster Wild Card by Nikki Jefford

 

Spellcaster Wild Card
Nikki Jefford
Publication date: October 1st 2024
Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult

Win the game. Change the world.

Winning the show means living forever. It is the golden ticket to fame, fortune, and a place among the vampire elite.

Being remade isn’t on my wish list. I like being me, and with nearly a million online followers, it’s working. My parents and big sister are the do-gooders in our family who want to make the world a fair and just place for all humans and paranormal creatures. I just want to finish high school and keep doing what I do best—sharing hair and beauty tips while discussing Spellcaster and how the show’s vampire judge Malachi Rayne is the hottest male on the planet.

Then, life as I know it ends. There are evil forces who will stop at nothing to maintain world dominance—indefinitely.

It’s hard to care when I’ve become dead inside and out.

After my family is violently attacked, the host of Spellcaster insists I audition for Season 13. For the first time in the show’s history, they want to represent every species of paranormals. That’s me now. Not human. Not vampire. Not the class of creature anyone EVER cheers for.

This season’s prize is power beyond anyone’s imagination. It is the kind of reward that contestants and their sponsors would kill to possess.

Let the other contestants and judges underestimate me. They can gossip all they want about the hotshot wizard and the alpha werewolf behaving as though I’m another prize to be won. And if Coach Malachi can’t handle a bold influencer with abilities, then he can suck it. I preferred watching him from the other side of the screen. He’s about to discover that Haylee Hutchins is a force to be reckoned with. The whole world will.

Someone thought they could silence my family for good. Instead, they created a monster. I’m still here, and I am much harder to kill.

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EXCERPT:

Everything is spinning. My body. My vision. My brain. I clamp my mouth shut to keep from vomiting. The cleaning crew just got the stage cleaned. Then there’s the second reason I keep my lips pressed tight. I refuse to beg Malachi for mercy.

My hands flail and grasp for something to hold on to, but the wind rushing between my fingers is no help. If this is what flying feels like, then it’s highly overrated. I lean forward in an attempt to go vertical, which has the ill effect of pitching me forward so I catch a brief view of how far I am from the stage. My body flips around another time. I don’t want to land on my feet and crush my ankles. I certainly don’t want to land on my head and shatter my skull. I don’t want to break anything on my body!

If I won this season’s prize, I could defend myself instead of swirling helplessly like the roof of a house caught in a tornado.

The wind rips out my hair tie and blows my braid out in an instant. Blond hair whips me in the eyes. My body begins to descend slowly, while the spinning continues in full force. The tornado fades little by little into the stage until I am set down gently and it disappears altogether. I try to remain standing while the theater seats and stage continue to spin, but I tilt to one side and misstep. Thump. I fall to the stage, sprawled out on my side. It could have been worse, though. Way, way worse.

It’s a little hard to feel grateful as partially digested lunch rushes up my throat. I swallow it down.

Malachi stomps over. “What the hell was that, Hutchins?”

Great. He’s using my last name. The coaches never use contestants’ last names. I must be in trouble.

It’s a serious effort to get to my feet, which takes outstretched arms to keep my balance, but I’m not about to listen to this lecture in a crumpled heap on the stage.

My loose hair tickles my cheeks. I swallow again and cover my mouth with my hand. Malachi’s not in my face, but I don’t want him scenting my vomit breath. Well, not technically breath, but whatever foul waft might originate from the leftover taste on my tongue.

Malachi doesn’t wait for me to answer his question before drilling into me. “First rule of magical combat—never lose hold of your wand.”

“You lost yours,” I mutter, which is the wrong thing to say.

Author Bio:

Nikki Jefford is a third-generation Alaskan nomad married to an amazing Frenchman. She loves fictional bad boys and heroines who kick butt! Books, travel, TV series, hiking, writing, and motorcycle riding are her favorite escapes. The dark side of human nature fascinates her, so long as it's balanced by humor and romance.

To get in on the fun and adventure, visit Nikki at her website for release alerts, updates, exclusive giveaways, and a free story when you subscribe to her newsletter: https://nikkijefford.com/newsletter/

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01 October, 2024

October 01, 2024 0

First Line of Defense by Peter Berk

 

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FIRST LINE OF DEFENSE

by Peter Berk

October 1, 2024 Book Blast

Synopsis:

First Line of Defense by Peter Berk

Will the President risk it all to save his son?

When college student Ben Porter is murdered in his apartment near the University of Maryland, all evidence points straight to his best friend and roommate, Brian Blaine—the son of Jackson Blaine, the President of the United States. Despite Brian’s estranged relationship with his father, Brian has no choice but to await trial in the house that was never a home—1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. These staggering events exacerbate the young man’s rocky relationship with his demanding father and might very well end his budding romance with a beautiful pre-med student. To the shock of the entire nation, President Jackson Blaine, a former defense lawyer, does the unthinkable—he decides to represent his son in court.

Will Brian and his father discover the truth about Ben’s murder before it’s too late?

Praise for award-winning author Peter Berk's TimeLock series:

"A deftly crafted dystopian style science fiction suspense thriller of a novel, 'TimeLock' by the team of Howard and Peter Berk is a compulsive page turner of a read from cover to cover and unreservedly recommended . . ."
~ Midwest Book Review

"Rating 8 out of 10! TimeLock is a high-octane action thriller with a classic feel, reminiscent of Michael Crichton or Tom Clancy. It’s familiar, but in all the right ways."
~ FanFiAddict

"5-Stars. Whoa!! Okay so this was awesome and I have to say first off- I hope like hell someone picks this up to make a movie or a show out of it!! This was a super interesting premise so I was hooked. It moved at a great pace and I was on the edge of my seat the whole time."
~ Book Blogger @gryffindorbookishnerd

"5-Stars. I vastly enjoyed this quick read . . . The writing was keenly honed and smartly detailed . . . In sum, was a well-plotted and shrewdly paced action-packed thriller featuring slightly frayed characters and storylines that were cleverly laced together with wry humor and witty snark."
~ Empress DJ/Honolulubelle, Books and Binding Book Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Political Thriller
Published by: IngramElliott Publishing
Publication Date: October 1, 2024
Number of Pages: 242
ISBN: 9781952961281 (ISBN10: 1952961289)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | BookShop.org | Goodreads | IngramElliott Publishing

Read an excerpt:

Prologue

The early evening light in the sparse room was growing dim as the weathered photo was gently placed on top of a desk near the window. The left half of the image had been cut out of a newspaper and was then ripped in two down the middle; the shot depicted an angelic fourteen-year-old girl in a snowy setting, a pink wool cap on her head. The torn caption read: Teenaged Skiing Champ…

A few seconds later, a different image of the same girl was also set down on the desk and then another. In less than a minute, more than a dozen photos were methodically laid out—some in color, some in black and white—all of the same sweet girl, smiling, innocent, happy.

After several more minutes, the photos were organized in a symmetrical order that only had meaning to the person placing them there. The occupant of the room stared at the photos, lost in memory, consumed by anguish, anticipating the retribution about to be delivered. Though trying to subdue the rage inside, the fury soon grew too intense, and the owner of the photographs suddenly smashed both hands down on the desk and began tearing up each of the images over and over until every precious photo was sent flying to the ground in pieces, lost forever.

Just like her.

Chapter One

What I wouldn’t give to be having one of my usual nightmares instead of the real-life nightmare I’m living through now. Maybe the one where I’m only eight years old, waiting in front of my elementary school for my father to pick me up but he just keeps driving past me over and over. Or maybe the one when it’s three years ago, I’ve just graduated high school, and I pose for a cell phone photograph with my famous father and then see I’m somehow not in the image at all.

Detecting a recurring theme here? Unfortunately, for reasons too horrific for me to even begin wrapping my head around, my daddy issues are utterly unimportant now because all that matters is finding out what happened last night and why I’ve lost my best friend forever.

Not that I care what they must be saying about me, but I can only imagine the joy my family’s detractors must be feeling at this very moment. To everyone across America, my name is infamous at worst and privileged at best. Brian Blaine, the twenty-one-year-old junior at the University of Maryland who—despite his so-called genius-level IQ—has yet to choose a major, minors in ditching class, and seems mainly interested in serving as some kind of spoiler in his own family’s legacy.

And that was before last night.

Truth is I can’t blame them because I am rather a mass of contradictions. Confident one minute, deeply uncertain the next. Yearning for intimacy yet brimming with cynicism about the human animal. Pensive to the point of withdrawal at times yet surprisingly sociable when the mood strikes me at other times. Desperately wanting to love and be loved yet forever unsure whom to trust with that love.

Then there’s the little matter of my longstanding impatience with people who practice the infuriating art of “political speak”—talking in paper-thin little sound bites instead of actually saying what’s on their mind. Which makes me a card-carrying hypocrite, I suppose. Because for someone who extols straight talk, I realize at this worst moment in all of our lives that I’ve avoided just that my entire adult life.

After all, I’ve spent all this time in the public eye but rarely let anyone really see me. I’ve recited “heartfelt” speeches but never truly spoken from the heart. I’ve told my father what I’m doing, where I’m going, and who I’m seeing, but I’ve never told him who I really am. And, unfortunately, I don’t remember the last time he asked.

And now I wonder if I’ll ever have the chance.

Well, I think I’ve covered “me” as much as I can at this point. College. Drifting. Straight talk. Loneliness. Or didn’t I mention that last one?

Anyway, I guess that’s about it for now. Oh, yeah. Two other minor points.

My father is President of the United States, and I’ve just been arrested for murder.

Chapter Two

My new residence—jail—makes my just-off-campus apartment seem like Versailles by comparison. How I miss that crappy, wonderful, little place with its peeling paint, ugly carpet, and useless heater. How I miss my roommate and best friend, Ben Porter.

In deference to my father and security concerns, I’m mercifully being held in a cell by myself, thereby happily denying some tattooed bunkie named Moose lifelong bragging rights about boinking the president’s son. Nevertheless, my relief over being alone in this miserable place is more than overshadowed by my boundless grief and my ever-growing fear.

How could this have happened? How could someone—me?—have shot Ben in the head? How could I have been found apparently drunk or drugged and unconscious on Ben’s bedroom floor with my hand beside the gun that killed him? How could I not remember Ben’s murder when I was, according to everyone who saw me that night—Secret Service included—alone in the apartment with him at the time?

Yet all these unanswered questions take a distant backseat to the one question that’s dominated my every thought since this nightmare began: How am I going to ever come to grips with the loss of my closest friend? The one person I could trust and confide in completely. The one person who could see the real me and not the character I play for the press and the public. No wonder that despite my desperate attempt to maintain a veneer of stoic resolve as I wait here in this cold, dark cell, I can’t help but curl up in the corner and silently cry as I realize for the millionth time that Ben is really and truly gone forever.

Forcing myself to take my mind off my late friend for a moment, I pace the small cell and consider the reality that the court of public opinion has almost certainly already pronounced me guilty. I can almost hear them now: “Such a mercurial young man…so quiet and aloof…so impulsive...Not at all his father’s son…”

My father. Good God. I can only imagine how this is going to affect his job approval ratings, not to mention his re-election chances in November. He and I may have drifted apart the last few years, but whatever I think of him as a father, I’ve never doubted for a second how lucky I am—we all are—to have him as a president.

***

Excerpt from First Line of Defense by Peter Berk. Copyright 2024 by Peter Berk. Reproduced with permission from Peter Berk. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Peter Berk

Peter Berk has written six novels, three TV pilots and a dozen screenplays, including several with his father which became the basis for the TimeLock series of novels. The original TimeLock novel is a Finalist in the 2023 Chanticleer International Book Awards for Science Fiction, Mystery, and Global Thrillers. TimeLock was also named as a Distinguished Favorite in the TechnoThriller category of the 2024 Independent Press Award. TimeLock 2: The Kyoto Conspiracy was published in 2023 and the third book in the series will be published by IngramElliott. Peter and his family live in Southern California.

Catch Up With Peter Berk:
IngramElliott Publishing Author Page
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Facebook - @Peter Berk Author

 

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27 September, 2024

September 27, 2024 0

Bearly Evident by Lois Schmitt

 

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BEARLY EVIDENT

by Lois Schmitt

September 9 - October 4, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Bearly Evident by Lois Schmitt

A Kristy Farrell Mystery

 

When a body is found in the Happy Place Animal Sanctuary, wildlife reporter Kristy Farrell is on the case. She soon discovers this was no accident. It was MURDER!

Five people were present at the sanctuary when the death occurred. As Kristy digs deeply into the victim's past, she uncovers dark secrets affecting each of these five suspects--powerful motives for murder.

Meanwhile, life is anything but calm on the home front. The best friend of Kristy's widowed mother is a victim of a pyramid scam. Kristy, assisted by her veterinarian daughter, is determined to expose the fraud although it may be at great personal risk.

Back at the sanctuary, things are spiraling downhill. Wolves escape and another body is found. With the bad publicity, the sanctuary may be forced to close. And a killer is still on the loose!

Despite being thwarted at every move by her nemesis, the blustery Detective Wolfe, Kristy uncovers a major hole in the alibi of a key suspect. But as she gets nearer to closing in on this killer, it looks a if she might become the third victim.

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery
Published by: Encircle Publications
Publication Date: September 4, 2024
Number of Pages: 280
ISBN: 9781645995609 (ISBN10: 1645995607)
Series: A Kristy Farrell Cozy Mystery, 4
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | Encircle Publications

BEARLY EVIDENT

I started back for my appointment with the sanctuary’s business manager when I heard voices coming from behind a desk. I recognized one of the vices. I snuck behind to look and listen.

“I know you want her job, and to tell the truth, I’d much prefer you,” Nick Lamonica said.

“Why can’t you fire her?” asked the other man. I couldn’t see his face, but he wore orange leather boots.

“Be patient,” Nick answered, “She may be gone sooner than you realize.”

A woman’s scream pierced the air.

Nick and the man in orange boots sped off in the direction of the scream. I raced after them.

The screams had come from Gina Garone, the sanctuary director. She pointed to one of the animal habitats. Spread across the grass was a body.

Hovering over the body was a mountain of fur with fangs.

Bella the bear.

***

Excerpt from Bearly Evident by Lois Schmitt. Copyright 2024 by Lois Schmitt. Reproduced with permission from Lois Schmitt. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Lois Schmitt

A mystery fan since she read her first Nancy Drew novel, Lois Schmitt combines a love of mysteries with a love of animals in her series featuring wildlife reporter Kristy Farrell which includes Monkey Business, the first in the series, Something Fishy, 2nd runner-up for the Killer Claymore Award, and Playing Possum, Silver Falchion Award Finalist. Bearly Evident is the fourth in the series, but each book can be read as a stand alone.

She is a member of several wildlife and humane organizations as well as Mystery Writers of America and the Long Island Author's Guild. Lois worked for many years as a freelance writer and is the author of Smart Spending, a consumer education book for young adults. She previously served as media spokesperson for a local consumer affairs agency and often incorporates consumer scams into her books. She also taught at Nassau Community College.

Lois lives in Massapequa, New York with her family which includes a 120 pound Bernese Mountain dog. This dog bears a striking resemblance to Archie, a huge dog of many breeds, featured in her mystery series.

For latest news on Lois visit :
LoisSchmitt.com
Goodreads
Instagram - @LoisSchmittMysteries
Facebook - @LoisSchmittAuthor

 

 

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26 September, 2024

September 26, 2024 0

The Discovery of Magic by L.J. Evias

 

The Discovery of Magic
L.J. Evias
Publication date: September 26th 2024
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

Transported to an ancient realm of magic and mystery, can a young woman survive scheming royals, shifting alliances, and impending war?

Alice Harper yearns to determine her own fate. Desperate to change her parents’ minds about moving away from everything she knows, the gifted archer sets out to win a coveted scholarship. But the seventeen-year-old feels completely out of control when she and her friends stumble through a strange portal to a mysterious world.

Separated from the others, the bold and reckless teen finds herself whisked away to an impossible palace where charming mages offer help. But as she becomes entwined in the politics of the court, Alice grows suspicious of her new allies, and she struggles to distinguish friend from foe…

As she’s pulled deeper into treacherous plots, can the daring young adult rescue her peers and get everyone home?

The Discovery of Magic is the captivating first book in The Intrigue of Magic YA epic fantasy series. If you like relatable characters, powerful enchantments, and fast-paced action, then you’ll love L. J. Evias’s battle for courage.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

EXCERPT:

Jaime dodged sideways, almost too late, as a sword slashed at him from his right. It wasn’t like him to be this distracted in a fight, but with his escalating schoolwork, his brothers’ nagging and now Jordan’s revelation, it was a wonder he could pay attention at all.

Fortunately, the large boy who had swiped at him stumbled before regaining his footing, allowing Jaime an easy victory. Others wouldn’t be that cumbersome, yet Jaime’s thoughts returned to Jordan and Alice.

A small hope remained that the girls wouldn’t turn up, but that was currently being devoured by a monster that had recently taken up residence inside him, writhing in his stomach and filling him with anxiety.

Perhaps he could distract Alice or Jordan and delay the situation until he’d figured out what to do. Or maybe he could introduce Jordan to someone else. Then Jaime would have plenty of time to figure out whether he really did have feelings for Alice.

Up the hill, blonde hair blowing in the breeze caught his attention. Alice and Emily, with Eliot running ahead. This was no time to be putting all his hope into wishful thinking. He’d just have to tell Jordan he didn’t like the idea.

His mind made up, he threw himself back into the melee, finding a new opponent, more skilled and more eager than the last. He lunged, then dodged, spun around his opponent, then lunged again, his sword slashing. Back again, dodging out of reach, then thrusting forwards until the other boy’s tiredness began to show. Enthused, Jaime delivered the final blow, the clang of his sword ringing out above the din of the other combatants.

As his adversary yielded, two more rushed Jaime, one from each side, making him regret taking his time with his previous opponent. He couldn’t afford to tire himself out yet, not while several people still fought.

Sucking in a quick breath, he swiftly sidestepped, swung his sword around above his head, and cut across the first rival before they could do anything to stop him.

At the same time, the other lunged, but he was not quick enough for Jaime. Darting behind the felled boy, Jaime brought his blade round to strike, and with a few well-timed blows, had the second boy on his knees, capitulating.

With the rush of victory surging through him, he glanced around for his next opponent.

Only Jordan remained, surveying him with a smirk. The expression unsettled Jaime. Although Jordan was more committed to LARPing, Jaime’s fencing skill gave him a strong advantage, and Jordan knew it. Whatever Jordan had planned, he would not be easy to beat.

Approaching slowly and purposefully, Jordan let his gaze drift towards Alice. Both girls were watching intently. Even Eliot was quiet and still beside them.

Suddenly, Jordan’s smile vanished, and he locked his eyes on Jaime, his intent to impress Alice written all over him.

Adrenaline coursed through Jaime, reawakening his tired muscles. The previous fighting had been just for fun, but this was his chance. He could stop Jordan. Beat him for his own good. He’d never ask out Alice then.

Author Bio:

L. J. Evias writes exclusively in the fantasy genre, infusing stories with a dash of adventure and mystery. In Evias’s worlds, moral absolutes do not exist, giving life to a diverse cast of intriguing characters.

The Intrigue of Magic is Evias’s debut series, featuring accessible world-building, intricate plots, and unforgettable heroes and villains. Released in 2024, The Discovery of Magic is the first book in this series.

When not immersed in the pages of a novel, Evias enjoys real-world adventures both in the UK and abroad. The enchanting settings of The Intrigue of Magic series draw inspiration from personal travels, notably the unique architecture and evocative landscapes of Morocco.

Bonus material and a sample short story are available from the author's website.

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25 September, 2024

September 25, 2024 0

Splintered Realms by L.A. Myles

 

Splintered Realms
L.A. Myles
(Doorways, #1)
Publication date: July 20th 2024
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult

College is everything art student Taylen dreamed it would be. But her first trip home doesn’t end with her mom’s homemade brownies. Instead, she’s hurled into a strange medieval land where a woman without family has no say. Desperate to get back to her world, she’ll have to find others she can trust if she hopes to find a way home.

But trust isn’t easy to find. Surrounded by accusations of espionage, kidnapping, murder, and refusing to become chattel, Taylen discovers she has the unique ability to see the doorways between realms. Leaving the Realm of Men behind, she enters the land of the fae-like Ays Shee. They can get her home, but first she must help them solve the mystery of what’s dissolving the barrier between realms before it rips the world apart, and Taylen with it.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

A curve in the road revealed hills covered with vineyards. The vines were mid-transformation, changing from their summer green to fall’s stunning array of deep golds and burnt reds.

“Now I’m in the vineyards.” Taylen sighed.

The road opened out, the trees moving away from the asphalt and stench of exhaust to perch atop hills or slip down their sides. They hovered in sparse clusters among the vineyards, distant reflections of the road-scape she’d just left.

“If you keep your pace,” Mom said, her voice warm with delight, “you’ll arrive the same time the brownies are coming out of the oven.”

“You made brownies?”

“Of course.” Mom laughed. “It’s been two months. You must be going through brownie withdrawal by now.”

“How’d you guess?” Taylen grinned.

The sun sank toward the hills on her left, coloring the few clouds in the sky with luminescent oranges and reds. Sunsets, like sunrises, were the best parts of the day. They were magical, a time in flux in which one thing merged into the next.

She glanced down to switch on her headlights. The glint of sunlight off the chrome trim running along the edge of her windshield caught her eye.

“Well—” The line in her ears went dead.

“Mom?” Her gaze flicked back up. The lights clicked on first in the dash, then on the tree ahead of her.

Tree!

She swerved right. More trees blocked her path. She flung the steering wheel left to avoid another, veering between tree after tree while careening through a brightly lit forest. Bushes broke and cracked under and against her car, creating a cacophony of breaking wood and screeching metal. The car bounced and jarred her to either side, the seatbelt catching her with bruising force.

Another tree appeared in her path, this one fallen over. She cursed and stomped on the brakes. The car spun left. A jarring thump and a loud bang signaled a back tire blowing out. A branch slammed into her windshield, cracking it.

She screamed as another branch shattered her passenger window when the car lurched sideways. A clearing in the trees beckoned ahead of her, then it was behind her, and a sickening weightlessness lifted her off the seat.

She had a moment to take in the view. A forest stretched out in all directions from around a large pear-shaped lake, its surface a dark reflective gray sheet. Gravity reclaimed her and her car, and she plunged toward the water below. Her shriek ripped through the air.


Author Bio:

L.A. is a fantasy fiction author. She scribes epic fantasies filled with adventure, mythical creatures, struggle, and the magic that can come from strong friendships, especially between females. Characters going through proverbial hell as they come into their personal power resonate the most with her and are what she writes.

For her, stories always arrive first as a single clear snapshot. Usually, the image is of a pivotal moment. After that, it’s like a portal has opened and L.A. is the conduit the story flows through, as opposed to the conductor of the tale. It often makes writing as exciting as reading.

After decades of migrating from one US coast to another and then abroad, L.A. has settled in the Pacific Northwest, U.S.A. with a couple of high-powered kids, a husband, two cats, chickens, and a flock of wild turkeys that have decided to make the family’s property theirs.

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23 September, 2024

September 23, 2024 0

Burnt Ends by Laura Wetsel

 

Burnt Ends by Laura Wetsel Banner

BURNT ENDS

by Laura Wetsel

September 23 - October 18, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Burnt Ends by Laura Wetsel

Murder is juicier with a side of barbecue sauce.

Private Investigator Tori Swenson gets a strange accidental death case that looks like murder at one of her uncle’s drive-ins and decides it’s time to get revenge on her estranged family. Pretending to want a reunion, she appears at her uncle’s party to secretly investigate them. When her uncle suddenly dies, Tori’s case takes a sinister turn that makes her a suspect in her uncle’s death and the killer’s next target. To uncover who dethroned the barbecue king, Tori will have to face her own fiery demons while pursuing a killer who wants to make dead meat out of her.

For fans of Knives Out and the Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich.

Praise for Burnt Ends:

"Quirky and entertaining, this book and its unforgettable characters, tight plotting, and clever twists make for a reading experience as suspenseful as it is satisfying. A toothsome treat of a book by a debut mystery writer."
~ Kirkus Reviews

"Fire up the grill! Laura Wetsel serves up a delicious debut of grills, thrills, and chills."
~ Riley Adams, author of the Memphis Barbeque Series

"Jessica Jones meets Succession with a side of coleslaw, this is the kind of book you want to sink your teeth into and not let go. Laura Wetsel bursts onto the scene with a mouthwatering mystery that will have readers begging for more."
~ Moriah Richard, Writer’s Digest

"Charred and bloody to perfection, Laura Wetsel's Burnt Ends is smoking hot!"
~ Jamie Stachowski, Meat America

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery (private investigator)
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: September 24, 2024
Number of Pages: 320
ISBN: 9780744311211 (ISBN10: 0744311217)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | CamCat Books

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

There it was—smoking meat, the sweet stench of my childhood. Hickory, molasses, tomato, brown sugar. Kansas City’s love letter to everyone but me.

Darnell, my best friend from our early rehab days, drove us into the parking lot of Rocky’s BBQ Smokehouse, and I gagged on the meat-thickened air. Don’t toss your waffles, Tori. The giant statue of Rocky the Pig— “Rocky the Cannibal”—smiled down at me in his chef hat and apron, holding a platter of ribs like he was trying to turn my stomach.

Darnell parked his truck with a displeased grunt. “Seriously, Tor,” he said, wiping the sweat from his bald head. “I said I’d help you move, not run a stakeout in a hundred degrees.”

“Don’t worry.” I took a gulp of Topo Chico to help settle my queasy gut. “My target should be here soon. Then you can help me move into my aunt’s place.” I twisted the zoom lens onto my digital camera and aimed it at a family tottering out of the restaurant with sauce-splattered shirts.

“Fine, then I’m running in for some brisket,” Darnell said. “At least, assuming they’ve got any with the meat drought they’ve been—”

“Hold up,” I cut him off and nodded at a green sedan rolling into the lot. “That’s her.” I pointed my lens at the driver’s door, getting ready to fire away. When a woman stepped out with crutches, I groaned.

“Guess she wasn’t lying.” Darnell shifted the car out of park. “The brisket will have to—”

“Wait.”

Darnell hit the brakes, jerking us forward. “Now what?”

“I want to see if she uses them inside. It would be hard in a buffet line.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He raised his brows at me. “If you go in there with that huge camera, there’s no way she’s ditching her crutches.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking. I only knew to come here because my target’s sister posted this online.” I pulled out my phone to show Darnell the selfie post of Sasha Wolf with the caption, Waiting for @GinnyWolf. #RockysBBQ #SisterLove.

“Okay,” Darnell said. “Am I supposed to be seeing something here?”

I tapped on Sasha’s photo, zooming in on her sunlit head. “See that sunlight shining on her ponytail?”

“Yeah, and?”

“She’s under an atrium, which means I’d have a great shot from the roof.”

“The roof? You’re not seriously thinking of climbing Rocky’s, are you?”

“Why not?” I said, tying my blonde curls into a fist of a ponytail. “You’ve seen me scale walls and trees before. I’m a nimble little freak.”

“I meant about trespassing.” Darnell pointed to his police badge like he might arrest me.

“You know us private eyes don’t have to follow your rules.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “Just have a smoke, and I’ll be back before you’ve even put your butt out.”

“One cig, Tor,” Darnell warned, tapping a pack of Marlboro Lights on the face of his watch. “Otherwise, have fun moving by yourself.”

For a recovering addict, Darnell was a horrible liar. I knew he’d never abandon me, not for anything. Hanging my camera around my neck, I hopped out of the truck into the afternoon sun, where I already felt like I was sucking meat-flavored steam through a cocktail straw. I’d just have to deal with the nausea. I hustled toward the black and orange pavilion, noting its unclimbable plastic siding and security cameras mounted at the entrance. Maybe I’d have better luck in the back.

I circled around and found luck in the form of a supply truck parked right beside the restaurant. No driver, no cameras, no people. This was my way to the roof.

I hoisted myself onto the hood and made my way up the windshield to the top of the truck. The gap between the truck and building was only two feet, so I made the easy jump. Soon as I hit the roof though, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. This wasn’t an ideal time to take calls, so I let it ring out while I got on my hands and knees to crawl toward the atrium.

When I got to the glass, I peered down below at a buffet hall where six dozen carnivores were dressed for the upcoming Fourth of July weekend and savagely stuffing their smeared, sticky faces with brisket, thighs, and ribs. My stomach surged at this familiar scene. I’d been avoiding the barbecue world for nearly fifteen years, and now that I was looking down on it like some floating deity, I remembered why I’d stayed away. Barbecue didn’t just upset my stomach. From my head to my chest to my teeth, it made me mad everywhere. But I didn’t want to think about why. Not after what I’d done last night.

As I searched the crowd of meat-eaters, I found Ginny, my target, at a table with her sister, her crutches against the wall. I raised my camera to my eye and focused on Ginny’s face. She was teasing Sasha, lifting her brows and puckering her lips, and as she stuck out her tongue, a memory flashed in my head—I was a fourteen-year-old again in an inflatable pool of barbecue sauce with my cousin Annie. My hands shook, releasing the camera, but I jolted my neck back before the camera hit the roof.

That memory was another reminder why I avoided meat, but it made sense why the past was on my mind when Annie was the reason I was on this stakeout. She’d filed her case to investigate Ms. Wolf with my agency yesterday afternoon.

I had no idea though who this Ginny Wolf was to Annie as I placed the burning hot camera back on my face and snapped pictures of Ginny, her crutches, her gold pendant and butterfly tattoo, all material things identifying her.

When she stood up for the buffet, leaving her crutches behind, I videoed the fraudster walking free and easy without them. As I’d thought, another liar.

***

Excerpt from Burnt Ends by Laura Wetsel. Copyright 2024 by Laura Wetsel. Reproduced with permission from CamCat Books. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Laura Wetsel

Laura Wetsel holds bachelor’s degrees in Russian and English literature from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and a master’s degree in Russian literature from Northwestern University. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her two cats, Sasha and Ginny Wolf.
While this story is fictional, Burnt Ends was inspired by Laura’s uncle, who ran a successful burger drive-in chain in Ohio, as well as her experience living in Kansas City, Missouri.

Catch Up With Laura Wetsel:
www.LauraWetselBooks.com
Goodreads
Twitter/X - @LauraWetsel

 

 

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19 September, 2024

September 19, 2024 0

Running on Empty by Karin Fitz Sanford

 

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RUNNING ON EMPTY

by Karin Fitz Sanford

September 16 - October 11, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Running on Empty by Karin Fitz Sanford

A WINE COUNTRY COLD CASE

 

An ex-FBI agent. A murder. And a Ponzi scheme that rocks the wine country.

Anne McCormack, a former FBI agent-turned-estate liquidator, must find out who murdered a beautiful socialite and dumped her body on a remote wine country road 16 years earlier. Could that killing be connected to a current-day Ponzi scheme that has bilked Santa Rosa residents? McCormack thinks so and sets out to solve the case—but she'll have to keep her wits about her if she plans on outracing thieves and solving the murder without become a victim herself, for dark forces are working against her and she’s running out of people to trust.

Praise for Running on Empty:

"Full of fun clues, quirky characters and a great sense of place, Running on Empty is the perfect visit to California’s wine country."
~ Rhys Bowen, New York Times bestselling author of the Royal Spyness and Molly Murphy mysteries

"The title of this latest Wine County Cold Case may be 'Running on Empty,' but the story’s certainly not. A full-bodied mystery with depth and bite, and a plot that’s meaty and lush. Savory, smoky, and smooth, from the first sip to the last."
~ J.R. Sanders, Shamus Award-winning author of the Nate Ross mysteries

"With a freight train of a plot worthy of any seasoned crime writer—think Elmore Leonard, Karin Slaughter, and Raymond Chandler—Sanford delivers a timeless thriller and heroine in feisty, brilliant, and flawed ex-FBI agent Anne McCormack, who finds herself entangled (again) in a web of mystery and deception in Northern California's wine country. The setting is but one of this book’s plentiful charms. There is a cold case—the decades-old murder of a socialite—and a devastating Ponzi scheme that will have readers turning pages well into the night.
Full of zigzagging cliffhangers, Running on Empty hooks readers from the first sentence and never lets up—not even when it looks like our heroes have run out of gas. I loved this book."
~ David Samuel Levinson, author of Tell Me How This Ends Well

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Adventure/Detective
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: May 7, 2024
Number of Pages: 294
ISBN: 9781685126155 (ISBN10: 1685126154)
Series: A Wine Country Cold Case, 2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Level Best Books

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

Santa Rosa, California

Anne McCormack surveyed the living room, casting her eyes from one gilt-framed oil painting to another, taking in the antique red tasseled lampshades, red flocked wallpaper, red floral overstuffed sofa, and the oriental rug woven with every imaginable shade of red. All that exuberant red reminded her of a magazine layout she’d seen featuring the late Vogue editor Diana Vreeland’s famous New York apartment. Tastefully garish.

The house was one of many Victorian homes lining McDonald Avenue, Santa Rosa’s historic “Victorian row.” The tree-lined boulevard was the filming location of several Hollywood classics, including the 1943 Shadow of a Doubt by Alfred Hitchcock, Disney’s 1960 Pollyanna, and the nineties camp horror film Scream. The Victorian in which Anne was standing was owned by her newest clients, the family of the recently deceased, very wealthy Lily Danielson, who had left behind more treasures and personal effects than her heirs could handle.

Those belongings were why Anne, owner of McCormack Estate Services, was here after eight o’clock on a Sunday night with her teenage assistant, Chloe Grindel. Anne’s job was to dispose of everything in the house, one way or another: to assess, catalog, toss out, put up for auction, sell, save for the family, or donate to charities. The executor, the family’s lawyer, wanted it all handled ASAP before any more troublesome family fights could break out. Fine, Anne thought, the sooner the job was done, the sooner she’d deposit a commission check on the proceeds of any sales.

They were still at the sorting and boxing up stage.

Seven banker’s boxes were stacked precariously in the middle of the room, the top ones on the verge of toppling over onto Chloe, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Next to her on the rug was an old diary she’d found in the bookcase. Chloe was packing up books—except for the first editions, which would be offered to dealers—and sighing theatrically.

“How are you doing over there?” Anne asked.

“Slow, very slow. I’m not fast like you are,” Chloe said, standing up to stretch, raising her arms to the heavens. “But then, you’ve been doing this for decades…”

“A slight exaggeration,” Anne said. In fact, she was fairly new to family estate services. She’d spent most of her twenties as an FBI agent in Sacramento’s Violent Crimes division. After six years, she left the Bureau voluntarily, under no cloud (You did not get fired, her Uncle Jack, a retired cop would insist). Under no cloud, that is, except the one she conjured up and obsessed over (But it did get ugly after they discovered I was using their high-security database software to track my ex-husband, she’d counter).

On the same day she was confronted by her supervisor, she dropped her resignation letter on his desk and walked out the door, vowing that her next career would be a complete 180 from law enforcement. She would follow her passions—researching art and its provenance—and someday be her own boss, health benefits or not. Turns out, those passions were the exact skills required for family estate sales services. And since it was a far cry from crime-fighting, she figured why not do it professionally? For two years she worked as an assistant to estate services guru Marty Holmes, who became her mentor in the business. His mantra: “Estate sales are not garage sales!” The estate sales business, he’d insist, is about helping families dispose of the treasures left behind after a loved one’s death, and then getting a big fat commission from the sales of said treasures. Period.

After learning the trade, Anne struck out on her own three years ago. If she’d ever imagined that being a business owner meant naming her own hours and taking long vacations, she was quickly proven wrong. The reality was that when business was good—and it finally was—she ended up working relentlessly long hours. Like tonight.

“After finishing that box, let’s call it a night,” she said. Chloe had school in the morning.

“Not yet,” Chloe pleaded. The girl was always angling for longer hours, arguing, “You won’t find cheaper or better child labor than me.” And Anne almost always relented. She knew that nearly every dollar Chloe earned was being squirreled away into her college fund. Besides, she liked Chloe’s company. Chloe was the favorite grandchild of one of Anne’s first clients, Claire Murray, whose death two years before had hit the teenager hard. Anne had grown fond of Claire and missed her too, and while she and Chloe worked, they would often swap Claire stories.

But recently, all Chloe wanted to talk about—when not complaining about her mother’s strict hours or the unfair soccer coach—was the “Battalion Chief” competition at her high school. Not much had changed about the yearly contest since Anne had participated: The student who searched private homes and collected the most “fire hazard” violation tickets was the winner. Back then, the winning prize was simply being named “Honorary Battalion Chief.” But this year, the stakes were high—a $25,000 college scholarship to the winner in each class, donated by a group of wealthy vintners who wanted to encourage fire safety in the wildfire-ravaged Sonoma County.

“I can put it toward any college I want. When I add that to what I’m making working for you, and what my parents can chip in, I might get to go to UC Berkeley, Harvard, or California College of the Arts, who knows!”

One of their phones pinged.

“Sky’s the limit,” Anne agreed, looking down at her phone. Nothing. She hadn’t heard from Scott, her boyfriend of three months, since their fight two days before. Nodding toward Chloe’s phone on the coffee table, she said, “Bet your mom wants you to come home.”

Chloe sauntered over to pick up her phone. Leaning against a wall, she stared intently at the screen—reading the text message, answering it, and reading the response.

“Oh, no,” Chloe blurted out. She slowly slid down the wall, crumbling to the hardwood floor. “There goes everything,” she said in a low, ominous tone. “Everything I’ve ever worked for.” She set her phone down beside her and hugged her knees to her chest.

Anne bit her lip to keep from smiling. How much work could Chloe have done in her short life? How much did she have to lose? Chloe was a month shy of being sixteen years old, not some frail senior citizen whose life savings were ruthlessly embezzled or whose house was destroyed in a fire without any insurance to cover rebuilding it. But as Anne watched tears well in Chloe’s eyes, she knew there was nothing even slightly amusing about whatever was going on. Chloe was heartbroken.

Anne crouched down in front of her. “What do you mean by ‘lost everything?’ What happened?” she asked in a gentle voice.

Chloe uncovered her eyes, let out a sigh, and pointed to her phone. “That girl. Pam O’Brien. Tomorrow is the last day to hand in our tickets to see who wins the scholarship. She asked me how many I had….”

“And?” Anne prompted.

“I told her I had forty-five, which is way more than anyone else in the class. The nearest kid to me is Justin Frey, and he only has thirty-two. Then Pam texted back, ‘Too bad, cause I have fifty.’ That’s five more than me,” Chloe’s voice broke. “I never even knew she was close!”

Fire hazard violations were hard to come by, as Anne well knew. She remembered having to screw up the courage to knock on the door of a neighbor or acquaintance, then taking a deep breath and asking permission to go poking through their house looking for fire hazards like loose wiring, stacks of newspapers, overloaded electrical outlets, aging space heaters. Most people were good-humored about it, accepted their copies of the tickets, and promised to do better. But others tried to talk her out of the tickets, thinking the violations would be reported to city officials and they’d be fined. That never happened, of course; the fallout would have ended the contest years ago.

“And she tells you this at 8:30 at night…”

“Too late…”

Anne stood up abruptly. “Where’s your book of tickets? In your backpack?”

“Yeah. For all the good it does me,” Chloe said, giving the bag a shove as if it were to blame for her crushed dreams, the late hour, Pam O’Brien’s taunts. Everything.

Anne reached out her hands to the sobbing girl and pulled her to her feet. She grabbed their jackets off the couch and tossed Chloe’s to her.

“Get in the car,” Anne said.

***

Excerpt from Running on Empty by Karin Fitz Sanford. Copyright 2024 by Karin Fitz Sanford. Reproduced with permission from Karin Fitz Sanford. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Karin Fitz Sanford

Karin Fitz Sanford, a former advertising copywriter, was born in New York but grew up in Northern California's wine country, the setting for her Wine Country Cold Case series. Having run her own award-winning ad agency for over twenty-five years, she is a member of Sisters in Crime and lives in Northern California with her husband.

Catch Up With Karin Fitz Sanford:
www.FitzSanford.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @karin140
Instagram - @karinfitz8
Facebook - @karin.f.sanford

 

 

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09 September, 2024

September 09, 2024 0

The Courtesan's Pirate by Nina Wachsman

 

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THE COURTESAN'S PIRATE

by Nina Wachsman

September 9 - October 4, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Courtesan's Pirate by Nina Wachsman

Venice Beauties Mysteries

 

1614. At long last, Belladonna has been reunited with Isaak, a pirate captain, on the island of Jamaica. Amidst the chaos of hurricanes and Spanish marauders, they are separated. When she discovers her beloved Isaak is captured and bound for execution in Spain, Belladonna goes back to Venice, planning to leverage her allies to save him, only to learn her influence has diminished. Now facing cunning adversaries and shifting alliances, she must navigate perilous intrigues in a high-stakes bid to rescue Isaak from a tragic fate. Belladonna risks everything, including her own safety, in a daring gambit to save the man she loves.

Praise for The Courtesan's Pirate:

"Join Belladonna and Isaak on a Caribbean quest filled with rich history, dangerous risks, and suspenseful intrigue. Will the couple be reunited? Can Belladonna save her love and her soul? If you like an atmospheric adventure story, you’ll love The Courtesan’s Pirate. Witty and engaging!"
~ Kelly Oliver, author of The Fiona Figg & Kitty Lane Mysteries

"From the pirate-infested waters of the Caribbean to the silken-clad intrigues of Venice, Nina Wachsman vividly recreates life, and particularly the dangers faced by Jews, in the turbulent 17th century. Exciting and richly textured, with strong, admirable female characters."
~ Alyssa Maxwell, author of The Gilded Newport Mysteries

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Suspense
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: September 1, 2024
Number of Pages: 350
Series: Venice Beauties Mysteries, Book 3
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

PART 1 – THE NEW WORLD

CHAPTER 1 – BELLADONNA

THE ISLAND OF JAMAICA, The fifth of NOVEMBER, 1614

“Just a short trip to Curacao,” Isaak said, as he stood beside her on the dock, “I will return shortly, I promise.”

Belladonna wondered how many women had heard the very same words from their fathers, sons, and lovers, and how many had returned to their families, as promised.

“Why must you go?” Belladonna had waited so long and given up so much to be with Isaak. She secretly believed their union was at risk every time they were away from each other.

“Despite our efforts to attract the English to Jamaica, the Spanish have moved faster, and the heirs of Christopher Columbus have been bought off. We need to find somewhere else to settle,” Isaak said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

She raised her eyes skyward, to keep the tears from rising. “Then my brother died for naught.”

“We cannot change the past, but we must try to find the way to our future, for you and I and for your brother Roderigo’s family. Curacao has been abandoned by the Spanish and will soon become part of the dominion of the Dutch West India Company.”

Belladonna wanted to believe his promise, but after a life tossed about at the whim of Fate, it seemed like random interventions could foil any plan they made for the future.

Isaak caressed her cheek. “It is also a port of call of the Jewish Brethren. Under the Dutch we have little to fear. The Dutch are the only nation who does not force its Jews to live separately in a Ghetto. We will soon formalize our union. There lies our potential future.”

Belladonna sighed. “In Curacao do you believe no one will care about our origins ̶ if we are Jew or Christian?”

Like her sister-in-law Mariella, she had begun life as the daughter of a New Christian landowner who had sought freedom in the New World. In a terrible twist of Fate, on a visit to Recife, Brazil, the Inquisition had murdered her parents because of their Jewish heritage, turning her into a refugee. Luck had found her, and she had been rescued by Isaak from Barbary pirates. Thanks to Isaak she had been taken to Venice, but he had soon set sail once more, leaving her to save others from captivity.

When Isaak returned to Venice to reunite her with her brother Roderigo, feelings between the courtesan and the corsair were rekindled, and Belladonna made her decision to sail with Isaak. Giving up her palazzo, her wealth and servants had gone against her usual cynicism but for once, she had chosen love over security.

“It is worth the chance,” said Isaak, and then he pulled her close, “You must stop nourishing your guilt over the death of Roderigo. You have come here to take care of his family as you promised. And we have accomplished the impossible: we are together at last.”

Belladonna acknowledged her satisfaction with her decision. “Over the past year in Jamaica and with you, I have discovered the comfort of family, which had been missing from my life for so long. Why dare Fate to disrupt our happiness once more?”

Isaak looked beyond her towards the sea. “There is a storm coming, which will provide us with a distraction to sail by Spanish war ships gathering along the coast.” He lifted her chin and brushed her lips with a last kiss. “Both the storm and the Spanish ships represent a bad omen. But do not fear, I am a seasoned captain and have sailed through worse brews than this. But my senses tell me our idyll in Jamaica is bound to come to an end. I must go to Curacao.”

Belladonna did not want to let him go, but he kissed her, and gently disengaged from her. She ran to the edge of the wooden dock, and leaned as far forward as she dared. He waved one last time as he boarded his ship. She reasoned that the fierce winds should be good for sailing and would speed Isaak’s journey. Squinting, she tried to see his figure on the bridge, imagining him making his farewell to Jamaica and to her.

Isaak’s fears about Jamaica were not unfounded. The Spanish were becoming bolder in establishing their dominion over the island, even though it officially remained under the sovereignty of the heirs to Christopher Columbus. The end of Jamaica’s independence was near, and once the Spanish took over, both she and Isaak, as well as her newfound family would be in danger because of their Jewish blood.

“Senora, we must go. Big storm is coming, and we must prepare. The sky do not look good. Horses do not like it.” The coachman peered up at the amassing dark clouds, and then gave her a pleading look.

Reluctantly, Belladonna turned away from the sea towards the mountains. “Let us go.”

Adjusting his hat so it was firmly placed on his head, the driver flicked his whip and the horses responded by taking off at a gallop, as if they were as eager as the driver to find shelter. Belladonna craned her neck, still looking towards the dock as they drove away.

The coachman kept the horses going at a fast gallop, so she had to hold tight to both sides of the carriage to avoid toppling forward. The wind kicked up the dust of the roadway, flinging it through the bushes and trees, shaking loose leaves and petals, swirling through the air and into their faces.

“Hiyah!” the coachman shouted again at the horses, flicking his whip so they galloped even faster. Used to traveling by boat in Venice, she knew little of carriages and put her faith in the coachman to get them home safely.

Lurching from side to side in the speeding carriage, she closed her eyes to shut out the frightening views of a careening landscape. She dared open them only when the carriage slowed, and the wails of the wind were softer. They had entered the sheltering thickness of the mangrove forest adjoining her brother’s land. The trees here were very thick and though their upper boughs still rustled in the wind, she felt more protected. The respite from the wind did not last long, and soon the carriage emerged from the mangrove trees into a slashing rain. The downpour swamped the open carriage, soaking her completely and making it even more difficult to move forward. Though it seemed like an eternity in the wind and rain, the coach soon drew to a sharp halt. Safe.

Her brother’s plantation house stood two stories tall, surrounded by trees, which the wind lashed against the closed shutters. Assailed by wind and rain, it did not seem to be the safe haven it had seemed several months ago when she first arrived on the island. After over a year at sea, when she first stepped onto the grand veranda, it had conjured long-ago memories of home. Though not as grand as the palazzo she possessed in Venice, it did have many rooms, furnished comfortably with bright island fabrics on sofas and chairs. There were flowers in abundance, and island paintings and pottery similar to her childhood home on the island.

That home and her family had been torn from her when the Inquisition came to Recife, Brazil where they had been visiting relatives. Her parents were New Christians, having been born Jews but then baptized, like many others who had come to the New World, and easy targets for accusations of heresy and the fires of an auto de fé. Both she and Roderigo had escaped capture, but each did not know the other survived until very recently, when they had found each other in Venice. Their reunion was short-lived; and Roderigo’s dying request was for Belladonna to find his family in Jamaica and make sure they were cared for.

After securing the door behind her, Belladonna stood in the entry hall, water dripping from her gown and pooling at her feet.

“Mariella!” she shouted, hoping her sister-in-law was in the house, and could hear her above the howling wind.

Mariella and Moises, her son, bounded down the stairway from the upper floor, each carrying armfuls of clothing and possessions.

“We do not have much time,” Mariella shouted back to her above the rattling of the shutters and the wind, “We must go. Take what you need.”

“We cannot stay here?”

Moises answered for his mother. “When the wind is this strong, the house is not safe. We must go to the Cave.”

Cave? Belladonna shivered in her wet clothes at the thought of it. Mentally, she checked off what she needed to take, including the small leather sack of jewels which had been with her since Venice. Hurrying up the stairs with her water-heavy skirts, she raced to her room. She quickly shed her wet clothing for dry ones, then pulled up a few select floorboards and retrieved the leather sack. She stuffed it into a bundle of clothing she had grabbed, and was heading for the stairs just as the shutters of her room banged wide open. Rain and wind invaded as Belladonna ran, skirting the flying debris of a large tree that had crashed through.

Her wet feet slid on the polished wood floors where she landed from her flight down the stairway, but neither Mariella nor Moises were in sight. She called out both their names, and let out a breath of relief when Moises emerged from behind the door to the servant’s area and beckoned to her.

She followed Moises below the stairs to the servants’ dining area and the kitchen. The servants’ quarters were protected by bushes and were on a lower level, so Belladonna assumed they could take refuge there. The few servants huddled together on plain wooden benches.

“Ready to go?” asked Mariella, Belladonna’s sister-in-law, who had taken full charge. “We have taken some food and supplies. The storm is growing more severe, and it is best we go now, or we will not be able to make it to the Cave.”

“What is this Cave?”

“The Cave of Christopher Columbus. It is on the highest point on the island, safe from flooding, and deep enough to avoid the damage of the wind.”

“That is not the same cave from the map that Roderigo—”

Mariella held up a hand and did not allow her to continue. “Yes, it is. But there is no time for talking or explaining. It is imperative we leave this house now, before another tree crashes down.”

A whimper from a maid was the only other comment as the servants were instantly on their feet, each clutching a bundle of belongings.

Mariella wrapped a shawl around her head and handed another to Belladonna to do the same. As soon as the outer door opened, the wind swept them into its maelstrom. Clustered together, they braced themselves as best as they could, and faced the storm.

***

Excerpt from The Courtesan's Pirate by Nina Wachsman. Copyright 2024 by Nina Wachsman. Reproduced with permission from Nina Wachsman. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Nina Wachsman

Nina Wachsman is a graduate of the Parsons School of Design, where she studied under Maurice Sendak. She is currently lives and runs a digital agency in New York City. She is also a descendant of a chief rabbi of the Ghetto, a contemporary of her characters in the Venice Beauties Mysteries. The Gallery of Beauties, her debut novel set in 17th Century Venice, was an Agatha nominee for Best First Novel and a Silver Falchion finalist for Best Historical mystery. The second book in the Venice Beauties Mysteries, The Courtesan’s Secret received a 5 star recommendation from the Historical Fiction Company and is a Silver Falchion Top Pick and a finalist for the Silver Falchion for Best Historical. Nina has published stories, many with an art theme, in mystery and horror magazines and anthologies. She is one of the four authors who write stories and novels about art and crime as Curators of Crime.

Catch Up With Nina Wachsman:
VeniceBeauties.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @ninawachsman
Instagram - @thegalleryofbeauties
Threads - @thegalleryofbeauties
Facebook - @nina.wachsman

You can also find Nina on the www.CuratorsOfCrime.com website and Facebook - @curatorsofcrime page or at Facebook - @GalleryBeauties.

 

 

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

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02 September, 2024

September 02, 2024 0

Lethal Standoff by DiAnn Mills

 

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LETHAL STANDOFF

by DiAnn Mills

September 2-27, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Lethal Standoff by DiAnn Mills

Justice can be elusive.
Family secrets can be deadly.

The stakes are high, and the clock is ticking in a volatile criminal case filled with unanswered questions. And Carrington Reed is running short on time to piece together clues that will solve the puzzle.

Hostage negotiator Carrington Reed is called to the scene when reports come in that fifteen hostages are being held by the Kendrix brothers in an abandoned house in south Texas. When she arrives on site, Carrington quickly learns that the brothers are armed and refuse to release their victims, a group of undocumented immigrants, until the local police identify their father’s murderer.

Working closely with Levi Ehrlich, a handsome investigative reporter who has covered some of Carrington’s negotiations in the past, she finds herself being undeniably drawn to him. Carrington digs deeper into the death of the Kendrixes’ father and begins to notice that some details surrounding his death aren’t adding up.

As Carrington investigates the brothers’ claims and tries to piece together their motive for taking innocent people captive, it soon becomes clear that they are trying to hide something and that revenge for their father’s death may not be what they’re really bargaining for after all. To protect the hostages and ensure the brothers don’t carry out the rest of their sinister plot, Carrington must get to the bottom of one family’s secret and the truth they’re trying so hard to hide before time runs out.

Award winning author DiAnn Mills delivers pulse-pounding romantic suspense about secrets, betrayal, and finding a path to forgiveness.

Praise for Lethal Standoff:

"DiAnn Mills delivers another pulse-pounding thriller you’re going to love. Lethal Standoff combines gripping tension with a captivating mystery, skillfully woven by DiAnn’s signature storytelling. She navigates the high-stakes world of hostage rescue, proving once again why she’s a master of the genre."
~ Jerry B. Jenkins, author of the Left Behind series and The Chosen novels

"In Lethal Standoff, DiAnn Mills works magic―weaving suspense and intrigue into a heart-pounding hostage thriller. Hostage negotiator Carrington Reed is a hero with heart who refuses to quit even when it means risking her own life for strangers. Don't miss this high-stakes gambit set in south Texas that will keep you flipping pages to the very end."
~ Andrews & Wilson, bestselling authors of Dark Intercept

"Warning: do not start this book if you intend to put it down any time soon. This is a roller-coaster ride. A bullet-biter. A heart-thumper. This is DiAnn Mills at her best."
~ Eva Marie Everson, bestselling author and CEO of Word Weavers International

"Lethal Standoff has everything I look for in a great novel! Alongside a heartwarming romance, the plot and themes of this page-turner are pulled from current events and offer a hopeful, triumphant message for readers. Highly recommended."
~ Deborah Raney, author of Breath of Heaven in the Camfield Legacy series

Lethal Standoff Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Romantic Suspense
Published by: Tyndale House Publishers
Publication Date: September 3, 2024
Number of Pages: 368
ISBN: 9781496485106 (ISBN10: 1496485106)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Tyndale House Publishers

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

SEPTEMBER - CARRINGTON

My role as a hostage negotiator often plunged me into the evil designs of the human mind. I embraced the responsibility and possible danger because it’s my identity— a one-woman battlefront determined to free others from victimization.

The challenge excited me, but fear of failure stalked me, and respect for human life was my constant companion. Too often innocent lives depended on my ability to negotiate their safe release without anyone getting hurt. The demands, rewards, and sometimes the defeats with tragic outcomes kept me awake at night. How could I have done things differently? My apprenticeship began when I was eight years old, but thinking about those days didn’t change the past. Right now, lives were in jeopardy. . . .

I’d driven ten minutes out from a critical situation on a Wednesday afternoon when my cell phone rang. My contact, a detective from the Houston Police Department, had spent several hours talking to an angry man who held his wife and son hostage.

“Carrington, we have the information you requested,” Detective Aaron Peters said. “The man inside the home is the owner, Nick Henderson. Age thirty-five. Married to Christine. He’s holding his wife and eight- year- old son at gunpoint. Yesterday, he was served divorce papers, and we believe this is in retaliation.”

Hurt. Rejected. Probably a lit stick of dynamite. “You talked to him from the outside?”

“We’ve routed his calls through our mobile command center. I tried talking to him. Got nowhere. He hung up on me.” Aaron blew out his frustration.

Domestic calls were the most dangerous, often violent, causing me to appreciate my Kevlar vest. I had a handgun in my purse, but I could count on one hand the times I’d pulled it. Never used it. “All right. I’m nearly there. SWAT in place?”

“Yes, two have clear shots. Not an action I want to take unless necessary.”

“Me either. What are Henderson’s demands?”

“Just to leave him alone or he’ll pull the trigger on his family.”

Cool, calm focus settled on me. My ability to mediate critical discussions depended on my wearing emotional blinders to the outside world. “When did the problem start?”

“The wife phoned 911 at 8:00 a.m. today. I don’t know how long he was there before she reached out to us. We’ve been called here twice in the past month for domestic abuse.”

I glanced at my watch, and it neared 4:00 p.m. “Have HPD negotiators been talking to him?”

“Yes. Henderson hung up on them too. He’s drinking. Slurring his words. Seems to have trouble concentrating.”

Alcohol could make him more volatile. Flashing lights appeared on the residential street ahead. “I’m parking now. Give me five minutes.”

“I’m standing beside my car in front of the house.”

“Aaron, do you have Henderson’s work history?”

“Fired three months ago from Home Depot, where he held a management role. They walked him out of the store in front of his employees.”

The man definitely had nothing to lose.

Phone in hand, I hurried from my parked truck and raced to where police cars barricaded the entrance to the street where Henderson held his family. A reporter blocked my way between vehicles. She rammed a mic in front of my face.

“Carrington Reed, do you think this standoff will have a peaceful resolution?”

My blood boiled. The last time I had verbally unleashed on her aggressive means to get the best story, she lied in her article about my concern for those in danger. I paused long enough to give her eye contact. “My goal is always a peaceful solution. Excuse me, I need to talk to HPD.”

“Are the police advocating a violent takedown?”

“No.” I sidestepped around her and ignored her shouts.

Aaron stood in front of the home and waved. He had the appearance of average—average height, weight, gray eyes, brown hair, and shoulder span— but nothing about his physical appearance showed his intense scrutiny of a crime scene. His rating as one of HPD’s finest hit my respect button.

“Good to see you. I’d like the man’s cell number,” I said. “I assume my cell phone is routed through the command center too?”

“Sure thing.” He gave me the information. “The wife’s name is Christine, and the son’s name is Rand.”

I nodded my thanks and pressed in the digits. A man answered on the second ring.

“Nick, this is Carrington. I’m standing beside a police car outside your house, and I’d like to help you.”

“I . . . leave me alone.” He spoke fast and loudly. “I’m busy.”

“What do you need?”

“You can get rid of all those cops. I can’t breathe.”

I expected a more belligerent response. “Nick, I can’t do that. These officers are here to protect you in case someone tries to break into your home and hurt you.”

“I’d kill my wife and kid first.”

“Tell me why you feel that way.”

“They deserve it for the way they’ve treated me.” He stumbled over his words. “I’m a good husband and dad.”

“I’m sure you’re great at both. Tell me what’s hurting you.”

***

Excerpt from LETHAL STANDOFF by DiAnn Mills. Copyright 2024 by DiAnn Mills. Reproduced with permission from DiAnn Mills. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

DiAnn Mills

DiAnn Mills is a bestselling author who believes her readers should expect an adventure. She weaves memorable characters with unpredictable plots to create action-packed, suspense-filled novels with threads of romance. DiAnn believes every breath of life is someone’s story, so why not capture those moments and create a thrilling adventure?

Her titles have appeared on the CBA and ECPA bestseller lists; won two Christy Awards, Selah, Golden Scroll, Inspirational Readers’ Choice, and Carol award contests.

DiAnn is a founding board member of the American Christian Fiction Writers, an active member of the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers, Advanced Writers and Speakers Association, Mystery Writers of America, the Jerry Jenkins Writers Guild, and International Thriller Writers. DiAnn continues her passion of helping other writers be successful. She speaks to various groups and teaches writing workshops around the country.

DiAnn has been termed a coffee snob and roasts her own coffee beans. She’s an avid reader, loves to cook, and believes her grandchildren are the smartest kids in the universe. She and her husband live in sunny Houston, Texas.

DiAnn is very active online and would love to connect with readers on:
diannmills.com
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Instagram -@diannmillsauthor
YouTube - @diannmills
Twitter/X - @diannmills
Facebook - @diannmills
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LinkedIn - @diannmills

 

 

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