06 December, 2024

December 06, 2024 0

MindCraft-The Educational Singularity by Darryl Vidal

 

MindCraft-The Educational Singularity
Darryl Vidal
Publication date: December 10th 2024
Genres: Science Fiction, Thriller

Active gamer Justin Turner and his friends- avid climbers Drew and Jon, mystically-sensitive LilyBelle, experienced surfers Brad and Shaina, puzzle master April, and outdoorsman Lisa-are masters at MindCraft, a global virtual reality gaming phenomenon that immerses its users in incredibly realistic environments. When the MindCraft Corporation CEO announces the Global MindCraft Universe Challenge, where the winner would become a worldwide superstar, these eight friends, also known as the Digital Mavericks, are excited to push the boundaries of the virtual gaming experience to prove to themselves they are elite Mindcraftians-all of this while also representing the United States on the global stage and acting as influencers dedicated to fostering unity and inclusion.

But as the team participates in regional and national challenges on their way to the global championship, Justin finds a backdoor into the MindCraft database, accidentally discovering a sinister underbelly within the MindCraft Universe. The deeper he digs, the more he finds out that something-or someone-may be planning to use the MindCraft Global Challenge to enact a plan for world domination. As he continues to poke around, MindGuide, a new artificial intelligence setup as a chatbot in the MindCraft Universe, begins to target the Digital Mavericks with virtual manipulation and real-world threats.

Now, as the bridge between virtual and reality collapses, Justin must carefully unravel this nefarious scheme and protect those who are clueless to the impending danger, all before the Digital Mavericks-and the world as we know it-are defeated once and for all.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

EXCERPT:

A neon blue sky with puffy white cumuli-nimbus clouds provided the background for a grassy landscape speckled with pastel flowers. Eucalyptus trees lined the sides of some sort of football or soccer field. In the distance, hundreds of armored medieval warriors came thundering down the hills, shields and swords in hand.

They were storming toward a massive medieval castle of limestone and granite stretching across the near end of the playing field; a vast mote surrounding it. The massive walls stretched twenty to thirty feet high, which normally provided sanctuary from siege. But in this instance, a large hole had been blown through the castle walls with granite boulders, near the gates and bridge that secured entry into the castle.

A closer group of workers and warriors, commanded by the screaming artillery master and aided with oxen, moved giant catapults away from the castle walls to expose the holes for the armored warriors coming down the hill. Next, they started loading giant balls of pitch, a thick black tarry substance, to be set on fire and launched over the castle walls.

Justin Turner, in full VR regalia, used his hand controllers to assemble 3D blocks to repair the wall before the hordes of warriors arrived. The glow of the forty-two-inch curved gaming monitor cast an illuminating light on his determined expression. In the virtual realm of MindCraft, Justin went by the handle ByteMaster, due to countless strategic victories and an uncanny ability to outsmart opponents.

His hands flew around, directing the giant claw of the manipulator to replace the blocks that had been blown out of the wall. His hands wet with sweat slipped off the controls, causing the claw to falter and drop the building blocks needed to repair the wall and keep the castle secure from the approaching army.

“Mom!” Justin called out, not able to tear his eyes away from the screen. “Have you seen my lucky gaming gloves?” These would be the key to mastering the controls of the giant manipulator. But alas, he was running out of time—he had to go to school.

The foray into EduNex’s Curriculum base unfolded like a treasure trove of knowledge, offering a profound depth of data and information across every conceivable discipline and subject. In the core of his academic pilgrimage lay a technological marvel that wove the fabric of education and technology into an academic spider’s web—EduNex. The school’s Learning Management System stood as the bedrock of educational efficacy. A ubiquitous platform that boosts every student’s aptitude in every aspect of their learning experience.

EduNex wasn’t just an LMS; it was an educational ecosystem that had become the standard across all schools in the state. Its influence extended far beyond the confines of a traditional learning management system. When Justin navigated its intuitive VR interface, he often found himself immersed in a world where every nuance of the learning process was invisibly aided. It wasn’t a cheating platform—more of a virtual world book encyclopedia—without the book.

The scope of EduNex was staggering. It served as the central repository for student information—a digital canvas where class syllabi, schedules, grades, and academic reports coexisted. But it went further, seamlessly integrating the intricacies of remote and hybrid learning. Voice and video conferencing brought the classroom to life, transcending physical boundaries and fostering an environment where learning knew no limits and no borders.

Everything on EduNex is collaborative. Whether with peer students, teachers, subject- matter-experts, researchers, or anyone else with an Internet connection—every module within the EduNex suite offered the ability to collaborate.

Message boards buzzed with intellectual discourse, becoming virtual arenas where ideas were exchanged and discussions thrived. Document boards housed a treasure trove of resources, making information accessible at the click of the mouse. Homework submission and plagiarism checking became streamlined processes, integrated into the underpinnings of the system, enhancing the efficiency and integrity of the educational process.

Yet, the true marvel lied in EduNex’s adept utilization of artificial intelligence. Beyond the Adaptive Learning algorithms powering TarotTutor, Justin discovered that EduNex’s advanced AI wasn’t just a passive observer; it was a dynamic orchestrator, composing a symphony of personalized learning experiences for each student based not only on their stated interests, but also to tangential subjects and disciplines seemingly unrelated to academics and personal success. The system, virtual companions that enhanced and integrated disparate information bases, ensured a fusion of academic discourse and knowledge.

Author Bio:

Darryl Vidal has been consulting for schools implementing technology for over 20 years. His projects include district-wide implementations of VoIP, Wireless, Data Center Virtualization, and Video Security. His primary instructional focus for over 15 years has been the ever evolving technology classroom. Mr. Vidal has developed the formal strategic planning and project management methodology known as MapIT. He is currently Principal Consultant for Tier 4 Tech - Education Services and Sr. Project Manager.


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04 December, 2024

December 04, 2024 0

Sought By Destiny by Monica Ageno

 

Sought By Destiny
Monica Ageno
(CHRONICLES OF THE FATES, #2)
Publication date: December 1st 2024
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Romance

A Betrayal
Forced to betray her fated mate—a man she despises as much as she craves—Feylin is thrust into a world where dark magic is used without restraint and her survival depends on her cunning alone. As she struggles to guard her secrets, the new mate bond begins to fracture her resolve, threatening to tear her apart from the inside.

One truth remains: nothing is more dangerous to her than him. Olron, The Dark Mage. The exiled King of Gravindale. He has plans of his own for Feylin, twisted ambitions that go far beyond the bond they are forced to share. He may have taken her, but he will never have her.

Olron

She was supposed to be a pawn, she has turned herself into a Queen. An important piece in a dangerous game. A choices that he intends to take full advantage of. After all, he is best known for capitalising on his opportunities.
He has plans for her. Ones that will force her to look beyond everything she thought she knew about herself—about him. Plans that could bind their lives together in unexpected ways that their enemies are not prepared for.

Perfect for fans of Jennifer L. Armentrout’s “Blood and Ash” series, Sarah J. Maas’s “A Court of Thorns and Roses”series. This fantasy romance will captivate readers who crave stories of enemies-to-lovers, fated mates, strong heroines, slow-burn tension, and dangerous, seductive anti-heroes

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

Storm stood at the edge of Skyreach, his eyes scanning the charred landscape. The ground, once lush and green, was now a scorched black sea. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burnt wood. The ruins before him stood as silent witnesses to the battle’s wrath, skeletal remains stark against the early morning sky.

Every crack in the earth, every smouldering ember, was a testament to the destructive power he had wielded.  For weeks he had been consumed by a rage so intense it charred him from the inside out, a bitterness that pulsed in his veins like a poison. Never had he felt this hollow in his life. An emptiness so profound it had taken control of his mind.

The betrayal of his mate that had ripped his heart in a million pieces. Ever since he had met Feylin, he had kept her at arm’s length simply to prevent this kind of attachment to her. It would seem that she did not need the mate bond consummated to have control of his heart.

Feylin…

Just the thought of her name had his anger steaming as he recalled the moment he had realized that by some fate-cursed magic, she had discovered a way to break their bond. That was bad enough, but then the same cursed magic had bonded her to Olron, for a reason only she understood.

Storm steeled his heart at the thought of her. It was not merely her betrayal that fuelled the flames within him; it was her choice, even if it was a choice that consumed his mind in scorching fury. She had chosen Olron. His once best friend. Someone who had once been so close they had been like brothers.

“Storm.” Alaric approached cautiously, sensing his state of mind. His friend had been handling him with gloves lately. Storm knew he had been volatile, and Alaric had given him more leeway than he would have any other mage.

“Why are you still out here? It has been a hard-fought victory. You have earned a rest.”

“Victory?” Storm chuckled bitterly. They had won Skyreach back from Olron after weeks of Storm ploughing through enemy troops with his magic unleashed at its fullest potential.

He had been single-minded. Kill, destroy, get to Olron…but the bastard had not been at the battlefield. He had not shown up for weeks. He had left the trolls, dark Fae and the undead to fight his battle. Was he too occupied with his new mate to remember that they were at war? Storm punched a tree in frustration as he began to pace, the red haze starting to rise in his mind. He knew what it was. The mate madness.

This was one of the reasons he had not wanted to consummate his bond with Feylin. He had never wanted to ever be controlled by the whims of the Fates.

His father had suffered the mate madness after his mother had died. Very few resisted it. Even fewer survived it. Olron was the one person in recorded history to have survived it without a tether, but even then, he was barely sane. Those that survived with their minds intact had important tethers, like children or other loved ones. Clearly his feelings for Irina had not been as strong as he had thought if he was being driven to the brink of insanity.

Irina had been his long-time companion, since childhood. He had thought he was in love with her, one of the reasons why he had rejected his mate bond with Feylin. Now he had no choice of what to feel—jealousy was a living flame in his chest.

Last night he had felt her, Feylin, and for the first time in a long while, his soul had calmed.

Storm had been in the middle of battle, and it had woken him up like a jolt of pure lightening straight to his veins.  He had no idea how she had so easily broken their bond and in the same manner, restored it.

The madness was slowly receding with every beat of his heart as he felt her warm, fresh presence down the bond. She was pure and clear like dew in the morning. He had missed her anchoring him.

He had never wanted this weakness. Never wanted to be shackled by bonds beyond his control. Yet, here he was. Storm lifted his face to the smoke-stained sky and roared, the sound carrying the potency of his fury.

He had tried to prevent this. Had refused to make her his weakness, but none of it mattered.  He now understood what the bond was. The mate bond was not just some magic that linked them together. Rather, she was the other half to his soul, blackened though it was.

“Storm, old friend,” Alaric said calmly. “Steady your heart. We will find her.”

“I will know no rest while my mate lies beside another man,” Storm snapped. He couldn’t dwell too much on that imagery. He had already put Alaric through enough as it was.

It had been this way ever since he had first discovered that Feylin was missing.

Author Bio:

MONICA AGENO is a Melbourne based Author and illustrator.

She has a genuine love for life, and her passion, drive, and wild imagination seep onto every written page. She also paints in her spare time.

She writes both childrens' books under the pen name Ageno H Monica and New Adult romance books under her name Monica Ageno.

She believes in the importance of reading to children from an early age to help build their confidence and her children's books are both imaginative and lesson based.

When it comes to her New Adult books Monica writes with such a ferocity that once you enter her world, you never want to leave.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / TikTok


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03 December, 2024

December 03, 2024 0

Tangled Darkness by MM Desch

 

TANGLED DARKNESS

by MM Desch

December 3, 2024 Cover Reveal

Synopsis:

Tangled Darkness by MM Desch

In a twisted web of lies, she's either the spider or the fly.

When a psychiatric clinic assistant turns up dead, Dr. Leslie Schoen finds herself a suspect in the case—and facing allegations which could destroy her career.

As Detective Davis works the investigation, Leslie launches her own inquiries. She soon uncovers deception and illegal schemes involving stolen prescription opioids at her clinic. It seems everyone around her is hiding something, and as she gets closer to the truth, the threats against her escalate. She struggles with keeping dangerous information from her pregnant wife, Izzy, and knows she needs to confront traumatic demons from her own past. But as she delves deeper into a web of lies, one thing becomes clear: someone will do anything to keep their criminal plans in the shadows.

With her family and even her life on the line, Leslie must outwit those who want her silenced before it’s too late. No one’s motives are what they seem, and the killer may be closer than anyone thinks.

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Thriller
Published by: Rowan Prose Publishing
Publication Date: July 15, 2025
Number of Pages: 339
ISBN: 9798227130914
Book Links: Amazon | Kobo | Apple | BookBub | Goodreads | Books2Read

 

Author Bio:

MM Desch

Mary Desch, writing under the pen name MM Desch, brings a wealth of psychiatric expertise to her gripping psychological thrillers. Drawing from her extensive career as a general and addiction psychiatrist across multiple states, she crafts relatable characters facing intense psychological and physical dangers. Her deep understanding of human motivations, conflicts, and trauma recovery infuses her writing with authenticity and suspense.

A lifelong mystery enthusiast, Mary's passion for the genre evolved from childhood fascination with Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine to a deep appreciation for detective fiction in college. This enduring love for suspenseful storytelling naturally led her to write psychological thrillers.

When not delving into the intricacies of her next novel or novella, Mary enjoys hiking, long walks with her wife and their spirited mini schnauzer, exploring local food scenes, golfing, and following women's professional basketball.

Mary's debut thriller, Tangled Darkness, marks the beginning of a promising foray into psychological suspense fiction.

Catch Up With MM Desch:
MaryDesch.com
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Instagram - @m.m.desch
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02 December, 2024

December 02, 2024 0

Call Me Carmela by Ellen Kirschman

 

Call Me Carmela by Ellen Kirschman Banner

CALL ME CARMELA

by Ellen Kirschman

November 11 - December 6, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Call Me Carmela by Ellen Kirschman

A Dot Meyerhoff Mystery

 

Police therapist Dot Meyerhoff helps a young woman find her birth parents and unburies dark family secrets in this psychological thriller.

Police psychologist Dot Meyerhoff’s caseload is usually filled with cops—which is why she’s hesitant to help an adopted teenager locate her birth parents. But the teen’s godmother is Dot’s dear friend Fran and a police widow to boot. How could Dot possibly say no?

Once Dot starts digging into the case, though, she’s drawn into a murky world of illegal adoptions and the choices a young pregnant woman might make as a last resort. Soon there’s only one thing Dot knows for sure: the painful truth of what happened all those years ago might heal one family—but it’s certain to destroy another.

Praise for Call Me Carmela:

"Ellen Kirschmann’s front row criminal justice insight is woven throughout the mystery, and in Dot Meyerhoff, she’s created a hero the world needs: smart, big-hearted, and complex. This is a story that will stick with you long after you close the book."
~ Edgar-nominated author Jess Lourey

"Have a seat in Fran and Eddie’s Café and you are among friends who care about what happens to a teen desperately seeking the truth of her adoption. Ellen Kirschman seamlessly brings her expertise and empathy as a therapist for first responders in creating her fully realized amateur sleuth, Dr. Dot Meyerhoff. Call Me Carmela is like the perfect morning coffee, rich, smooth, and nuanced and leaving you craving for another cup."
~ Naomi Hirahara, USA Today bestselling and Mary Higgins Clark award-winning author of Clark and Division and Evergreen

"Ellen Kirschman sees into people's hearts: not just those of the victims, or of the good guys, but the hearts of all her characters. With a rare delicacy of language she lets us know that no one's innocent, but no one's past redemption, either -- except those who refuse to try."
~ SJ Rozan, best-selling author of The Mayors Of New York

"Call Me Carmela is a firecracker of a read, a tour de force that immerses you in the characters' lives with empathy and insight. I couldn't put it down until I reached the very last page--I will be back for more Dot Meyerhoff. Highly recommended!"
~ Deborah Chrombie NYT bestselling author of the Duncan Kincaid/Gemma James novels

"This latest in the Dot Meyerhoff series gets everything right, as we've come to expect from author Ellen Kirschman. Psychologically astute, its blend of intriguing mystery, topical subject matter and well-rounded characters make this a must-read for anyone who loves a great story."
~ Dennis Palumbo, psychotherapist and author of the Daniel Rinaldi mysteries

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological/Domestic Suspense
Published by: Open Road Media
Publication Date: November 26, 2024
Number of Pages: 292
ISBN: 9781504095754 (ISBN10: 1504095758)
Series: A Dot Meyerhoff Mystery, #5
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Open Road Media

Read an excerpt:

 

 

Author Bio:

Ellen Kirschman

Ellen Kirschman, Ph.D. is a police psychologist. and clinician at the First Responders Support Network. She is a member of the International Association of Chiefs of Police, The American Psychological Association, Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and the Public Safety Writers Association. She is the recipient of the California Psychological Association’s award for distinguished contribution to psychology as well as the American Psychological Association’s award for outstanding contribution to the practice of police and public safety psychology. Ellen brings her expertise and decades-long experience to both fiction and non-fiction. She is the author of three non-fiction books and a five-book mystery series featuring police psychologist Dot Meyerhoff.

Catch Up With Ellen Kirschman:
EllenKirschman.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @EllenKirschman
Instagram - @ellen.kirschman.copdoc
Facebook - @ellen.kirschman

 

 

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28 November, 2024

November 28, 2024 0

Scars of the Heart by Bob Van Laerhoven

 

SCARS OF THE HEART

by Bob Van Laerhoven

November 25 - December 6, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

cover

Why can people be so cruel to each other? In his search for answers, Bob Van Laerhoven concentrates on individuals, but ideologies, religions, and political structures shimmer in the background.

Through ten stories set in different countries and eras, Van Laerhoven takes us through the destructive consequences of our passions as a common thread, from contemporary Syria to Algeria in the 1950s, and the civil war in Liberia to the uprising in Belgian Congo in the 1960s.

The ten stories in SCARS OF THE HEART highlight the dark side of love, which fuels our violence, inner loneliness, and greedy egos.

Praise for Scars Of The Heart:

SCARS OF THE HEART received a New York Book 2024 Festival Honorable Mention in the category Anthologies/Compilations and a Gold Book Award 2024 from Literary Titan.

"SCARS OF THE HEART Heart by Bob Van Laerhoven is a compelling collection of short stories that delve into the profound impacts of war... The settings range from the war-torn Middle East to World War II and Nazi Germany, bridging past and present to create relevant and relatable narratives. I finished the book with immense respect for the author's raw and heartbreaking portrayals of reality. The non-war stories are equally compelling, showcasing Van Laerhoven's versatility and skill in crafting riveting tales. Fans of Roald Dahl or Edgar Allan Poe will appreciate the beautifully crafted stories in SCARS OF THE HEART. For those who enjoy well-constructed plots and complex characters, this collection is a must-read. I highly recommend this book to anyone who can endure the psychological turmoil and pain depicted, as it offers profound insights into the atrocities and resilience of life."
~ 5-stars Literary Titan Review

"In SCARS OF THE HEART, Bob Van Laerhoven has taken a most controversial subject and written ten short stories around it. Each story is unique in its own right but the same theme is carried through each one. The author holds the reader's attention in each story for different reasons... Each story has a different tale and lesson to be learned and each title is more intriguing than the last. Bob Van Laerhoven has highlighted the atrocities that were committed during the various wars throughout the ages, how nobody is ever allowed to forget them, and how it affects vulnerable youngsters growing up as they learn the truth--as seen through the eyes of a relative, family friend, or even history--of what happened to their family, village, and country. This is a most interesting anthology and will give readers much food for thought. It is a profound read and I will be sure to reread some of the more intriguing stories because there is so much to learn from them."
~ Reviewed by Bernadette Longu for Readers' Favorite - 5 stars

"Mr. Van Laerhoven is an artist with words who paints in all mediums.
He also has the ability to make you think and feel.
In this collection of short stories his talent is on display with a heavier hand in horror and angst, and it works well. There is no sugar coating what the characters see and do, and yet it is so real, you can picture each part of it, and will find the stories will not go away when you finish them...
These stories are wonderful, unsettling, and should be on your list to read. Highly recommended."
~ Hussong's Cantina – Amazon.com

"SCARS OF THE HEART is a collection of short stories by Bob van Laerhoven that explores the darker sides of the human psyche and the complex nature of human relationships. Laerhoven brings together narratives on the themes of love, loss, revenge, and redemption. Each story is complete on its own, yet together, they paint a vivid picture of the scars that life can leave on the heart.
While SCARS OF THE HEART is an intriguing collection, some readers may find the intensity and dark themes challenging. Laerhoven does not shy away from depicting violence and emotional suffering. While these align with the subject of the stories, they can be unsettling. Additionally, the complex nature of some stories may require careful reading to fully appreciate the symbolism they embody. For fans of thought-provoking and emotionally resonant fiction, I give it five stars out of five."
~ 5-Star Review David Ikediuwa – Goodreads

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Thriller, Suspense-Drama, Historical Literary Fiction
Published by: Next Chapter
Publication Date: May 28, 2024
Number of Pages: 245
ISBN: 9784824193995 (ISBN10: 4824193990)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Kobo | Goodreads

 

Author Bio:

A full-time Belgian/Flemish author, Laerhoven has published (traditionally) 44 books in Holland and Belgium. As a freelance travel writer, he explored conflicts and trouble spots across the globe from the early 1990s to 2003: Somalia, Liberia, Bosnia, Sudan, Gaza, Iran, Iraq, Mozambique, Kosovo, and Myanmar… to name a few. Echoes of his experiences on the road trickle through in his novels.

Catch Up With Bob Van Laerhoven:
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25 November, 2024

November 25, 2024 0

Burn This Night by Alex Kenna

 

BURN THIS NIGHT

by Alex Kenna

November 4 - December 6, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Burn This Night by Alex Kenna

The Kate Myles Detective Series

 

Told in alternating timelines, this gripping mystery about a PI and her quest for answers is full of twists and turns, perfect for fans of Allison Brennan and Gytha Lodge.

Struggling private investigator Kate Myles is shattered to learn her late father isn’t her biological dad. She’s still reeling when she discovers that an unknown distant relative is the prime suspect in a decades-old murder investigation. Trying to convince her to take on the case for free, an old colleague recommends her as an investigator for a recent arson murder in the same small town.

After giving up on a failed acting career, Abby Coburn is starting over as a promising social work student. With her life on the right track, she’s determined to help her brother, Jacob, whose meth addiction triggered a psychotic break and descent into crime. But when Abby dies in a fire that kills two other people and destroys part of the town, the police immediately suspect Jacob.

As the Coburn family grapples with the tragedy, Kate begins unraveling the cold case but finds herself caught in the middle of an emotional minefield. Pretty soon, she discovers that this town is full of dark secrets, and as she comes closer and closer to figuring out the truth, Kate must solve both murders before she becomes the next victim.

Praise for Burn This Night:

"The twists keep coming in this devilish PI mystery . . . Lisa Unger fans will devour this."
~ Publishers Weekly

"Solid, heartfelt spadework into an alarming range of graves."
~ Kirkus Reviews

"A true page turner . . . Full of twists, turns, and suspects."
~ Book Review Crew

"Burn This Night is a fast-paced thriller that masterfully utilizes alternating perspectives to tell an absorbing, character-driven mystery. This is an electrifying read that had me engaged and on the edge of my seat until the very end!"
~ Elle Grawl, Amazon Charts bestselling author of One of Those Faces and What Still Burns

"An absorbing read told from multiple layered perspectives, Kenna ranges from finely observed domestic scenes to adept portrayals of grimy addicts living on the ragged edge. Burn This Night is smart and satisfying."
~ Adam Plantinga, author of The Ascent

"Burn This Night is an utterly-absorbing mystery. Alex Kenna skillfully weaves a tale of two women who both face emotional and physical danger as they fight for truth and family love. Kenna masterfully draws the reader into the dark exploration of the secrets hidden in small towns and the depths some will go to hide the truth. With fiendishly smart dialogue, a captivating setting and a plot that keeps you on the edge of your seat, Burn This Night is absolutely fantastic!"
~ Elise Hart Kipness, author of Lights Out

"A dark, lyrical crime novel, Burn This Night weaves a complex and twisty spell about addiction, family ties, and how sins of the past can't stay buried. Kate Myles is a great addition to LA's canon of troubled PIs—real, flawed, smart, and very human—and I can't wait to see what's next for her."
~ Halley Sutton, USA Today bestselling author of The Hurricane Blonde

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Thriller - Private Detective
Published by: Crooked Lane
Publication Date: November 12, 2024
Number of Pages: 256
ISBN: 9781639109371 (ISBN10: 1639109374)
Series: Kate Myles private detective series, 2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Penguin Random House Books

Read an excerpt:

PROLOGUE

Eight Months Ago—Grace

My eyes shot open when I heard the yelping. Barney was going to wake the baby. I dove toward the old dog, grabbed his snout, and held it closed with both hands. “Shh,” I pleaded.

I lowered one hand and rubbed Barney’s back, trying to calm him. He let out a whine, and like clockwork, Liam started to cry. I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and braced myself for another late-night nursing session. My body felt heavy with milk and stress and exhaustion.

Carefully, I scooped up the howling baby, carried him over to the rocking chair, and lifted my T shirt to feed him. Liam quieted down and nestled against me. I sniffed his hair and stroked his cheek as we rocked back and forth. Part of me wanted to stay like this all night. But a bigger part of me longed to be under the covers, passed out in a warm oblivion.

I heard the shower turn on down the hall. Ted must be back from serving his warrant. A few months ago, he’d gotten smart with a lieutenant, who then started feeding him late-night assignments. These frequent absences were brutal now that I was back from maternity leave and needed sleep to function at work.

Barney whined again and clawed at the bedroom door. Clutching Liam, I rose to let the dog out of the room.

I looked down at the baby, who was asleep and making little catlike snores. With slow, deliberate steps, I made my way toward the crib and lowered him until his back rested against the fabric. But the change in angle caused his eyes to open and his lungs to inflate. Then came the cry—and Barney ran back to the bedroom, joining Liam in a horrible wailing duet. I reached out toward the dog and felt wet fur. Damn it—Barney must have peed in the house. Hot tears ran down my cheeks. What I wouldn’t give for one night’s sleep.

The door opened and Ted walked in with a towel around his waist. “I need help,” I snapped.

“What?” asked Ted, surprised by my tone.

My eyes were closed, and I was crying. But Ted couldn’t see that in the dark. He just sensed the anger in my voice. I knew it wasn’t his fault that the baby wouldn’t sleep, that the dog couldn’t hold it, and that his boss was a jerk. But I’d reached my limit, and Ted was the only living being in earshot who understood human language.

“Barney peed in the house. Take Liam so I can let the dog out before he does it again. Just try to get him back to sleep.” I placed the screaming, wriggling infant in Ted’s arms before either of them could protest.

Flipping on the hall light, I made my way to the kitchen. Barney scampered ahead of me, spinning in circles. I threw on Ted’s faded hoodie. It reeked of old sweat, but I was too tired to care. I hooked Barney’s leash to his collar, and bracing myself for the cold, I unlocked the back door and stepped outside.

The Santa Anas blew hard, and I shivered as cold air soaked through the hoodie’s weave. I could hear the Jeffrey pines rustle in the wind. Thrusting my hands into the central pocket, I rubbed them together for warmth.

A smoky odor hung in the air—maybe the residue of a neighbor’s barbecue dinner. But the wind should have blown away the scent by now.

Barney tugged at his leash. I let him drag me toward the street. Now that we were outside, he wouldn’t be satisfied without a walk, and it might clear my head as well.

The sky was lighter than I’d expected. Idlewood doesn’t have streetlights. It’s a conscious decision to preserve the log-cabins-in-the-woods feel of the place. Darkness adds to the storybook charm, and it can be hard to find your way on moonless nights. But the sky had an orange-gray glow that reminded me of LA smog. Maybe it was later than I thought, almost morning.

Barney tugged on his leash, half-dragging me up the road toward the intersection. He seemed agitated, and I wondered what had gotten into him. As we passed the Hernandez’s place, our footsteps activated the motion sensor, and the automatic light above their garage snapped on with an electric hum.

I noticed something floating in the air. Tiny particles, like gray snow or dryer lint. The flecks danced in the air, and Barney snapped at one as it fluttered toward his jaws. The smell of smoke was growing stronger.

Oh my god.

Clutching Barney’s leash, I ran the rest of the way to the cross street, which cut straight to the mountain. High in the pines, I saw an orange glow—luminous against the dark sky. My vision tunneled, and all I could see was the fire on the hillside. The light was near Abby’s cabin. But I couldn’t tell how near.

I grabbed my phone and scanned my recent calls, but it had been weeks since I’d spoken to my sister, and her name didn’t pop up. I pulled up my contact list and clicked on her name. After four rings, a cheerful recording prompted me to leave a message. Maybe she’s already fled. No, Abby would’ve called if she were awake. She might hate me, but she’d warn me about a wildfire.

I called back, praying that her cell wasn’t on silent. Come on Abby, answer the phone. When I heard the prerecorded message again, I started to panic. I left a voicemail: “Abby, it’s Grace. There’s a fire by your cabin—you need to leave now!”

The orange glow was getting bigger as the Santa Anas blew the flames toward Idlewood. It was how I’d always imagined an erupting volcano would look, with lava flowing down its sides. I called Abby a third time, cursing under my breath. Across the street, a door opened, and an old man stepped outside, holding a little white dog. “There’s a fire!” he shouted.

I looked at him and then back at the mountain, ringing phone pressed against my ear. Dammit, Abby, pick up! “My son works at the fire station,” said the man. “They’re about to put out an alert. We have to evacuate. The whole town could burn.”

“My sister’s cabin is on the hillside, and she’s not answering,” I shouted. “Can you call your son and tell him someone’s up there?”

I heard a chime and looked down at my phone. It was a text from the fire department, ordering us to leave Idlewood. But my feet stayed planted. My sister was on that mountain, with nothing but a narrow dirt road leading down to safety. If the fire overtook the path, she’d be trapped.

“Jeffrey, it’s Pop,” I heard the old man say. “There’s a lady here whose sister has a cabin near the fire.”

Hearing those words unleashed a fresh wave of panic. Abby’s cheerful answering machine message sounded for a fifth time in my ear. “Abby, get out of there!” I screamed into the phone.

“We have to go,” said the neighbor. “This thing could spread faster than they can contain it.”

My phone chimed and I looked down at the screen, hoping to see Abby’s name, but it was a voicemail from Ted. Before I could call him back, a text flashed across my screen: FIRE—COME HOME NOW

I looked back and forth from my screen to the mountain. My sister was up there. But my husband and son were at the house. I couldn’t wait any longer. I tugged at Barney’s leash and ran home.

***

Excerpt from Burn This Night by Alex Kenna. Copyright 2024 by Alex Kenna. Reproduced with permission from Alex Kenna. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Alex Kenna

Alex Kenna is a mystery writer, prosecutor, and amateur painter. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, son, and giant schnauzer. Alex's first novel, WHAT MEETS THE EYE, was a 2023 Shamus Award Finalist for best first P.I. novel. Her second novel, BURN THIS NIGHT, is coming November 12, 2024.

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22 November, 2024

November 22, 2024 0

Serpentina by Faith Consiglio

 

SERPENTINA
Faith Consiglio
Publication date: June 27th 2024
Genres: Science Fiction, Young Adult

Driven to find a cure for her brother’s illness, Emma embarks on a research trip to the island of Crete, a land brimming with tales of the gods. There, she is drawn to the myth of Medusa, a beautiful priestess turned monster, cursed at the hands of a jealous Athena.

Her exploration leads to a dangerous encounter with a mysterious serpent in the forest, and after the snake’s venom nearly kills her, Emma slips even deeper into the myth, her own fate intertwining with the woman at its heart.

She returns home, eyes set on attending Columbia University after graduation, but it isn’t long before she notices changes to her body and mind… changes that are nothing short of serpentine.

As she pulses through Medusa’s memory, she unlocks an unexpected truth that alters her world. She discovers the scope of her new abilities, including her blood’s power to cure illness, but with a cost. When Emma is betrayed by those closest to her, she finds herself hunted by an enemy hungry for her blood. And she is not the only one in danger; a horrifying plan unfurls as young girls disappear from the streets.

Emma must embrace what she has become to fight an enemy more ancient and evil than she imagined, for the chance to heal her brother, save the girls, and avenge the mythical source of her power.

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EXCERPT:

“Dark leaves rustled in the forest, their dried tips rubbing against each other like the slow rattle of a snake. Emma paused, a warning echoing in her mind. Since her arrival to the reptile research base on Crete, she had ventured into the palm forest alone each afternoon, wandering deeper each time.

Never enter the forest alone. It was the rule her research mentor emphasized most during orientation. But there was nothing truly dangerous on the island. Hercules had cleared away all the deadly creatures to honor Zeus’s birthplace. She smiled, recounting the myth the airport taxi driver had told them. Emma knew, out of all the snakes there, only the cat snake had venom, and it was too mild to hurt a human.

Still, if Dr. Belken discovered her sneaking out at dusk, she might as well kiss a Columbia University recommendation letter goodbye. Yet the forest called her in, beckoning her to explore its ancient grounds.

She stepped over sandy soil, glancing over her shoulder at the wooden stairs and scanning to see if anyone was watching before turning into the trees. She savored a breath. The air was dry and the heat tame, with an endless breeze carrying wisps of sea salt and the spice of wild herbs through the dancing shadows of leaves.

A rustling halted her steps.

Her eyes darted to catch a beige, reptilian tail slipping into the nearby shrubs.

She held her breath and crept toward it, afraid to scare it off. It would sense the vibration of even her lightest step.

She peered through a thicket of narrow, glossy leaves and clustered pink flowers. Her heart pounded, instincts heightened, but she reminded herself that even a bite couldn’t kill her.

At first, she didn’t see anything. Then scales materialized among the leaves on a thick, coiled body. Only now they were green and pink. She squinted. Was it a different snake, or had it changed?

Its serpentine head emerged through the leaves, forked tongue flickering. She froze.

This was not a cat snake.”

Author Bio:

Faith grew up in Sloatsburg, NY, and finished medical school in Stony Brook to become a psychiatrist, with a passion for storytelling. When she's not writing or seeing patients, Faith enjoys traveling, taking her cat for walks, trying different types of green tea, and seeing how many plants she can fit in her apartment.

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21 November, 2024

November 21, 2024 0

The Cadieux Murders by R.J. Koreto

 

The Cadieux Murders by R.J. Koreto Banner

THE CADIEUX MURDERS

by R.J. Koreto

November 4-29, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Cadieux Murders by R.J. Koreto

The ink is still wet on the contract, but Wren Fontaine is already running into trouble as she renovates Cadieux House, a modernist masterpiece on Long Island's exclusive Gold Coast. The home's architect was the brilliant and eccentric Marius Cadieux, her father's mentor, and Ezra doesn't want Wren to change as much as a doorknob.

And the home itself comes with a dark past: In 1955, it was the site of the never-solved murder of its owner, Dennis Blaine. Cadieux himself was alleged to be having an affair with Dennis's wife, the stunningly beautiful Rebecca. It seems like yesterday's headlines, but then someone starts killing people with a connection to the house. The home's new owner—bestselling novelist Bronwyn Merrick—may be using the house to launch a fictionalized account of the 1955 crime. But someone may not want to her to. Just how far will Bronwyn's armed bodyguard go to protect her?

As Wren untangles the threads, she finds they all lead back to the house. Rebecca apparently inspired the strange, yet alluring residence, and both the home and its mistress may have caused uncontrolled emotions that led to tragedy. Wren uses all her architectural skills to decipher the hidden message Cadieux cunningly wove into the home's design. She must think back 20 years to when, as a little girl, she met Cadieux. Deeply impressed with Wren, he gave her a clue about the house—and his unusual friendship with Rebecca. With her girlfriend Hadley at her side, Wren eventually solves the mysteries of the home and the people who lived there, develops a grudging respect for modernist architecture—and learns something about the difference between love and obsession.

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: October 15, 2024
Number of Pages: 237
Series: The Historic Homes Mysteries, 3
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Bookshop.org | Audible | Goodreads | Level Best Books

Read an excerpt:

From Chapter 1

Wren stood on the shore and stared, trying to sort out her feelings about the ineffable house in front of her. She was only vaguely aware that while she looked at the house, her companion looked at her.

"So, Ms. Architect—what say you?" Bronwyn finally asked. Wren saw her wry smile. She knew she'd have to answer, and Bronwyn would expect it to be clever.

"Architecture should speak of its time and place, but yearn for timelessness," Wren said.

"Is that an original observation?" asked Bronwyn.

Wren laughed. "You flatter me. It's the great modernist architect Frank Gehry. This house is very much of its time and place. Look at the white stucco walls, the glass and steel, the absolute cleanliness of lines. The geometric arrangement of the layers is mathematically perfect."

"Why do I sense a 'but' coming?" asked the woman, arching an eyebrow.

Wren knew there could be no softening the message. "I don't find it welcoming. There is something very self-aware about modernist homes. A look-at-me arrogance about them, as if they are doing you a favor of letting you inside." She paused, wondering if she had gone too far. "But maybe I'm being unfair. I haven't been inside it yet. And there's no doubt that it's stunning." She looked at Bronwyn, waiting for her reaction.

"Are you saying I may have made a mistake buying it?" asked Bronwyn. Wren heard the teasing in her voice.

"No. Nobody ever made a mistake buying a house that spoke to them." Yes, even if they spent $30 million for it. "If you are honest with yourself about what you want, you will be happy here. And if you are honest with me, I guarantee I can give you what you want with the renovation."

"Fair enough," said Bronwyn. "Was that Frank Gehry again?"

"No, that was entirely me."

"Ah. But as Gehry said, it should yearn for timeliness. Has this succeeded in that?"

"We'll need to give it another century."

Bronwyn nodded. "Maybe it's because I'm a writer. I become obsessed in making sure my books, the plots and subplots, are exciting. This house looks exciting. I was happy in my nice, simple co-op, and then my financial advisor told me I could do better. Much better. I fell in love with this right away. The more I walked through it, the more I liked it, the idea that I will be able to stay in it a long time, and keep finding something new about it."

"Then you absolutely did the right thing. Indeed, that is the very purpose of a house like this," said Wren. She mulled over her next statement. "When I was a girl, however, I wanted to live in a Victorian manor house, with a great hall with a huge hearth and handmade wooden furniture. I'd wear long dresses and be attended to by maids in starched uniforms." Did I just sound silly?

"That's very romantic," said Bronwyn, and Wren wondered if that was a criticism, a put-down for a flighty young girl. "But then again, I feel romantic about this, about men in classic tuxedos and women in Chanel dresses, with cigarettes and dry martinis and Dave Brubeck playing in the background. I guess we're both emotional that way, so despite our differences about favorite eras, I'm thinking hiring you is going to turn out to be a good decision as well."

Wren felt relief wash over her. She felt confident building houses but closing a deal—that involved people. She still didn’t trust her abilities when people were involved. Of course, there was still one more feature of the house they needed to discuss: The "tragedy." That's how the papers had described it.

But Wren wasn't going to bring it up first.

Bronwyn hugged her leather jacket. "It's a great view, but it's getting cold. Let's go inside."

Yes. Wren always looked over the outside first, but she was especially excited about seeing the interior. Until Bronwyn had bought it a few weeks ago, no one had been inside the house since the 1950s, except for the caretaker staff.

The house overwhelmed Wren despite herself. Oh yes, she thought, Marius Cadieux knew it would. He would be so amused. So very proud. No—smug. Even if it wasn't to her taste, there was no denying what Cadieux had achieved here: the soaring ceiling, the clever use of windows filling the house with light even on a dreary day, the unexpected curves and angles, the steel staircase, which also served as a sculpture. Wren just stared. There really was nothing to compare it to—a Cadieux house was always unique. She could see him standing over her, "Very nice, isn't it, little one? And of course, your client is overwhelmed by it, as she should be."

"I'm glad I bought a house that even knocks the socks off another architect," said Bronwyn, grinning.

"It certainly does," said Wren. "I've seen pictures, but they're not the same as really being inside it." Wren took in Bronwyn, with her attractive, angular face and the matching pixie haircut. Did the author indeed have a modernist personality, a match for this home, a connection with Cadieux? Indeed, did Bronwyn know how perfect she looked in her new house?

Wren walked among the rooms, taking note of the artful ways Cadieux had divided the house—very few true walls and doors, just a series of levels and passages, rectangular pillars clad in stone. Cadieux loved granite and marble, quartzite and sandstone, and merged them with oak and walnut, teak and lyptus. Wren saw Bronwyn marveling over it, even though she had already visited her new home several times. That was the thing about a Cadieux home, that Bronwyn had already realized: You could live there 40 years and marvel over it every day for the rest of your life.

"I'd like to see upstairs." Wren smiled. "But as you no doubt noticed, 'upstairs' is relative in a Cadieux house, with its intersecting layers. It just flows. That was a hallmark of Cadieux, but none I've seen are quite as…" She let her voice trail off.

"You can't find the word?" said Bronwyn.

"You're the writer—can you? Architectural journalists struggled to describe him. But here we go…'intriguing.' No other Cadieux house is as intriguing as this one. It may take me a while to figure it out."

"You mean, how it's put together?" asked Bronwyn.

"Oh no. That's easy. I meant what is its personality? Marius Cadieux stamped a personality on this house. It has a reason, and I will find out what that is. For now, we look at it: See the extraordinary flow of the house, the ways the rooms are separate and yet merge into each other, the way the light plays along the floors and walls. The materials blend into each other, and Cadieux is taught in every architecture school—as if you could teach this."

"It sounds like you studied him," said Bronwyn. "It sounds like you knew him. Did you?" She fixed her eyes on Wren, who gave that question some thought.

She didn't want to go there, not yet.

***

Excerpt from The Cadieux Murders by R.J. Koreto. Copyright 2024 by R.J. Koreto. Reproduced with permission from R.J. Koreto. All rights reserved.

 

Don't Miss The Previous Historic Homes Mysteries

The Greenleaf Murders by R.J. Koreto

The Greenleaf Murders

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads
The Turnbull Murders by R.J. Koreto

The Turnbull Murders

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

 

Author Bio:

R.J. Koreto

Over the years, R.J. Koreto has been a magazine writer, website manager, textbook editor, novelist and merchant seaman. He was born and raised in New York City, graduated from Vassar College, and has wanted to be a writer since reading The Naked and the Dead. In addition to his novels, he has published short stories in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, the 2020 Bouchercon Anthology and Paranoia Blues: Crime Fiction Inspired by the Songs of Paul Simon. His current series features Wren Fontaine, an architect who finds mysteries in the historic homes she renovates. He and his wife have two grown daughters, and they divide their time between Rockland County, N.Y., and Martha’s Vineyard, Mass.

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18 November, 2024

November 18, 2024 0

The Dead Detective Casefiles by Tj O’Connor

 

The Dead Detective Casefiles by Tj O’Connor Banner

THE DEAD DETECTIVE CASEFILES

by Tj O’Connor

October 28 - December 13, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

DYING TO KNOW

 

Detective Oliver Tucker’s dead—murdered—and back as an earth-bound spirit to help his wife, Professor Angela Tucker, crack the most important case of his life—his own. But, this is not a ghost story; it’s a murder case.

Tuck knows why he is back among the living but not one of them—Detective Solve Thyself. Perhaps he was murdered because of his last case—a murder involving a retired mob boss, a local millionaire land developer, a New York hit man, and the local university elite. Or could it be that Bear Braddock, his best friend and partner for more than fifteen years, wants Angela? Tuck knows that everything surrounds Kelly’s Dig where the discovery of Civil War graves may put an end to a multi-million dollar highway project. If it does, who stands to gain the most? Enough to kill?

Using his unique skills, Tuck weaves through half-truths and generations-old lies chasing a madman. And he’s not alone—others, dead and alive—are hunting the same killer. Still nothing can change the truth—it is the living, not the dead, who are most terrifying.

DYING FOR THE PAST

 

Still an earth-bound spirit-detective, Tuck is on the case of the murder of a mysterious philanthropist with ties to the Russian mob and 1930's gangsters. With the help of his wife, Professor Angela Tucker, and his former partner, Detective Bear Braddock, they must find the killer and be the first to read “the book”—an old gangster’s journal of the roots of espionage, racketeering, and corruption leading to the identity of modern-day powerbrokers and spies. Tuck finds a colorful cast of allies in a tough Assistant U.S. Attorney General, a secretive FBI agent, and the spirits of a long-dead 1930’s gangster and his sassy girlfriend.

As Tuck searches to learn the secrets of “the book,” he begins to unravel his own ancestry of mobsters, adventurers, and wayward spirits. Is being a ghost hereditary?

DYING TO TELL

 

Detective Oliver Tucker never knew how perilous dying was until he stumbled onto William Mendelson—murdered in a hidden vault where Egyptian relics and World War II secrets were once stashed. Now those relics are missing. The secrets are coming out. The dead are talking.

Tuck, the detective for the dead—the Dead Detective—is pulled into the case by the spirit of a World War II Office of Strategic Services operative with his own agenda. OSS Captain Ollie Tucker I—Tuck’s namesake—knows the past is catching up to the survivors of an Egyptian spy ring from more than seventy years ago. With the help of his beautiful and brilliant wife, Angel, and his gruff former partner, Detective Bear Braddock, Tuck must unravel a tale of spies, murderers, and thieves.

As Tuck’s case unfolds, he confronts the growing distance between his death and Angel’s life—and the solution is a killer of its own.

Praise for The Dead Detective Casefiles:

"O’Connor’s The Dead Detective Casefiles series is a must read for those who like mysteries with a dash of history, a hard-boiled twist, and a pinch of paranormal."
~ Heather Weidner, Author of the Jules Keene Glamping Mysteries

"Tj O’Connor is a master storyteller who can have you gasping in suspense one moment and snorting coffee through your nose the next. In the Dead Detective Casefiles, he seamlessly merges mystery, humor, and paranormal so authentically that the reader never gives a second thought to the concept of the main character, Detective Oliver Tucker, actually being dead. "
~ Annette Dashofy, USA Today Bestselling author of the Zoe Chambers Mystery Series

Book Details:

Genre: PI Cozy Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: September 2024
Series: The Dead Detective Casefiles

Read an excerpt from DYING TO KNOW:

One

Dying is overrated. Murder, on the other hand, is not.

Trust me, after fifteen years as a detective, I know a lot about both. Like death and murder are always complicated, but not always related. You can have death without murder, but not the other way around. That’s what I used to think anyway. I changed my mind after an episode of my recurring nightmare. I’d been having it for years and it always turned out the same. While chasing a bad guy in the dark, he turned and shot me. I was about to die when something always pulled me from the nightmare.

This time, it was Hercule’s hot breath.

My four-year-old black Lab was standing beside my bed alternating between low growls and a tongue-lashing. Both demanded my attention. When my eyes first opened, he lapped at my face and nudged me with his big, wet nose. I forced my eyes open wider and at the same time realized that Angel was not snuggled beside me in bed. She was standing across the room and listening at our bedroom door.

“Angel, did you hear something again?” She always heard things late at night and always felt compelled to share them with me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Tuck. Herc can hear it, too. Wake up, will you? What kind of detective are you?”

“The asleep-kind.”

“Just get up. Please?”

Hercule froze, nose down, staring at me as we both heard creaking floorboards in the downstairs hall. I rolled sideways and sat on the side of the bed. Hercule crept away and crouched near the door. For the third time, something interrupted Angel’s sleep. The first two times were just our old house’s creaks and groans, and both failed to wake Hercule out of a stone-cold sleep. Now, after summoning me, he was poised for homeland defense.

I got to my feet and gathered my clothes littered in a strategic path across the room. I nearly toppled over slipping on my jeans and a black tee shirt and did manage to trip over my running shoes.

Angel motioned for Herc to return to the bed. To me she whispered, “Hurry up.”

“Look, if I’m going to get killed tonight, I don’t want to be naked.” I grabbed my 40-caliber Glock from the nightstand and checked the chamber. Then, I retrieved a .38 revolver from our walk-in closet and handed it to Angel. “Just in case.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

“Keep Herc close, babe. If it’s your imagination, stay awake and lose those pjs. If it’s trouble, give me fifteen minutes—then lose them.”

Even in the dark, I could see her eyes roll. “Just be careful.”

At the door, I listened but heard nothing. I winked at Angel and Hercule on the bed and whispered, “I love you—you too, Angel.”

Hercule wagged his tail.

In the hallway, I waited for my eyes to adjust a little more to the darkness. I shifted them to use my peripheral vision, looking for any telltale movement. Still nothing. From the top of the stairs, I could just make out the foyer below and did not see or hear anything. There were no wispy shadows, no running feet, and no creaking floorboards. Yawning, I eased down the stairs with my Glock out in front of me. At the bottom landing, I stopped.

Darkness and the grandfather clock greeted me—it chimed two.

The downstairs was quiet and I checked the front door. It was still locked and there were no signs of splintered wood, broken glass, or other forced entry. The only sound I heard was my own breathing. The only curious sighting was the half-dressed, frumpy guy in the hall mirror who looked tired and irritated.

Maybe Angel would be losing those pjs sooner rather than later.

I started with the kitchen and worked my way around the first floor, searching room by room—all five of them—ending in my den. Nothing. The most dangerous thing I found was Hercule’s squeaky frog that scared the crap out of me when I stepped on it. I felt foolish and decided to head back to bed.

It hit me when I reached to turn off my desk lamp.

The light shouldn’t have been on. I looked around. My briefcase wasn’t in its ritual place on my credenza. It was on my chair and the contents strewn over my desk. Everything was dumped out—my gold detective’s badge and I.D., several files, a notepad, tape recorder, and my .380 backup piece.

No, the Walther wasn’t there—the holster was empty.

“Angel …” I bolted to the stairs and looked up.

Floorboards groaned above me. A door opened in the darkness beyond the landing. Movement—a shadow.

Somewhere above, Angel called, “Tuck.”

There was a flash at the top of the stairs … a shot.

I lunged for the third stair. A figure stepped out of the darkness twelve feet above me.

Another flash.

“Angel!”

***

Excerpt from DYING TO KNOW by Tj O’Connor. Copyright 2014/2024 by Tj O’Connor. Reproduced with permission from Tj O’Connor. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Tj O’Connor

Tj O’Connor is an award-winning author of mysteries and thrillers. He’s an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. In his spare time, he’s a Harley Davidson pilot, a man-about-dogs (and now cats), and a lover of adventure, cooking, and good spirits (both kinds). He was raised in New York’s Hudson Valley and lives with his wife, Labs, and Maine Coon companions in Virginia where they raised five children who supply a growing tribe of grands.

Catch Up With Tj O’Connor:
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15 November, 2024

November 15, 2024 0

Step One by Grier Cooper

 

Step One
Grier Cooper
(Indigo Ballet Series)
Publication date: November 15th 2024
Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult

When Indigo lands a role in Ballet Russia’s touring production of The Nutcracker, it’s a dream come true…. Or is it? Her arch nemesis is also part of the production. So is dashing Russian viral video superstar Dimitri Volkov, who’s playing some kind of game she doesn’t quite understand.

As Indigo dances alongside the rising stars of Ballet Russia she struggles to rise above constant criticism from Ballet Russia’s Director, Yuri Kanofsky. But first she’ll have to dig deep and silence the doubts running through her mind if she wants to rise to their level and drive her ballet career forward.

When unexpected events turn Indigo’s world upside down overnight she’s forced to decide how much she’s willing to sacrifice to get there.

And one innocent mistake just might cost her everything.

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EXCERPT:

“You.” The single word from Yuri yanks me out of my reverie. “Indigo, is it?” I nod numbly. “Come here, please.” Yuri points at the center of the floor then folds his arms and waits. I take my position there standing still.

“We begin like this,” he says, posing as I remember from the video of Irina. He shows me the first counts of eight for my solo and I mark the steps as I watch. I’ve memorized them after the second time he walks them through; thankfully I’ve always been quick to pick up choreography.

“You have it?” he demands gruffly. I nod. “Show me.” he steps back and leans on the barre at the front of the room, watching me intently, like a cat tracking a careless bird.

I spread my feet wide and bend forward at the waist, imagining the pose as I remember Irina did it. Aside from Yuri’s counting, the room is silent and still; I feel the others watching. But I can’t think about that. I must only think about the counts and where my body is going, one second ahead so I am there when I am supposed to be–

“No!” he claps loudly. “Let me see position again.” I recreate the pose I was in before he interrupted. “No.” he shakes his head vigorously. “It is like this.”

He strikes the pose. “You see?”

I don’t understand the difference but I don’t dare say anything. I nod.

“More energy in fingertips,” he suggests. I try again, this time I imagine sparks shooting out of my fingertips. This seems to work, since he lets me continue. I rise en pointe, bringing one leg into passé retiré, the toes touching the side of my standing leg near the knee.

“Stop.” More clapping. He marches over to me again. “Make me passé,” he says. I rise back into the position, more forcefully this time, but still he shakes his head. “It is impossible,” he states. “This is not passé. It must be in front of knee, like this,” he says, demonstrating.

Miss Roberta would frown on this placement, I think. Another example of how different ballet technique is from one company to the next, from one country to the next.

Still, I comply. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to learn slight variations, to have more translations in my pocket. You never know when they might come in handy in the future. Another passé, then close in fifth position, and pirouette from fifth–

“No again.” He clenches his hands into fists this time and stomps over to Skinny Snow White. I catch the first word, “Olgachkova” and then get lost inthe flurry of words that follow, none of which I understand. When he falls silent,

Skinny Snow White nods in assent and replies, “Da.”

Skinny Snow White removes the plastic warmup pants she was wearing and makes her way over to me. Yuri flaps a hand at me impatiently, indicating I should step aside. “Olga will show,” he says, turning to her with an enormous smile of beatitude.

I edge out of her way, trying not to feel crushed. I know that having Olga dance in my place is meant to be a teaching tool, something to help me ultimately, but it still stings.

That feeling intensifies as she moves gracefully through the choreography, flowing smoothly through the passés and turns as effortlessly as a fish swirls through water. I try to focus on what she’s doing so I can learn. I’d like to figure out exactly what it is that Yuri’s looking for, that I haven’t got. Yet. But it’s almost impossible to ignore that this woman is one of the most exquisite dancers

I’ve ever watched.

I’ve told myself oodles of time I must never ever, under any circumstances, make comparisons–because comparison is always a losing game. But how not to when the glaring differences are practically smacking me in the face?

Yuri claps again. “Enough. Khorosho, blagodaryu vas, Olga. We will break. Return in twenty minutes.”

I stand paralyzed, mute with a flurry of thoughts pirouetting in my mind.

After watching Olga dance I don’t know how I will ever measure up. I want to, but it seems like an impossible task. Where to even begin? Who can help? Can anyone? What do I need to do to reach that same level of precision and perfection?

All I can think is that even if I were to sneak from my bed and dance all night long, wearing out pair after pair of pointe shoes every night up until our performances, like the Twelve Dancing Princesses fairytale, I’m not sure even that would be enough.

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Author Bio:

Grier left home at fourteen to study at the School of American Ballet in New York. She has performed on three out of seven continents with companies such as San Francisco Ballet, Miami City Ballet, and Pacific Northwest Ballet, totaling more than thirty years of experience as a dancer, teacher and performer.

Her work has been praised as "poignant and honest" with "emotional hooks that penetrate deeply." She writes and blogs about dance and has interviewed and photographed a diverse collection dancers and performers including Clive Owen, Nicole Kidman, Glen Allen Sims and Jessica Sutta. She is the author of Build a Ballerina Body and The Daily Book of Photography. Grier's work has also appeared in Conscious Dancer, Discovery Girls, Skipping Stones, and Dance Advantage, among others.

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