Archive for August, 2025

Throwing Shadows By Claire Booth ~ Review And Giveaway

Posted: August 21, 2025 in Excerpt, giveaways, Mystery
Tags: ,
1

 

Throwing Shadows by Claire Booth Banner

.
THROWING SHADOWS
by Claire Booth
August 4 – 29, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
A Sheriff Hank Worth Mystery

.

When a hiker stumbles from the woods raving about a dead man, Sheriff Hank Worth launches a search. Near the infamous landmark of Murder Rocks – a Civil War era hideout for ambushers who robbed and killed passing travelers – they unearth two bodies and a skeleton. Local legend says there’s caches of stolen gold buried in the area. And – thanks to some recent nationwide publicity – the Ozark backwoods are now swarming with out-of-town treasure hunters, who have little concern for Hank’s murder investigation. With the clock ticking, Hank must identify the victims . . . and the killer. But could the new pursuit of long-lost plunder really have led to multiple deaths?

Praise for Throwing Shadows:

/

“Here more than in any other book in the series, it’s the mystery that draws us in but Hank’s personal story that packs the emotional wallop. Booth is a wonderful storyteller (see also her crime nonfiction book, The False Prophet, 2008), and in Throwing Shadows, she’s at the top of her game.” ~ Booklist

“A well-done police procedural whose historical background provides extra interest.” ~ Kirkus Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Crime Fiction, Police Procedural

Published by: Severn House Publishers Publication Date: August 5, 2025 Number of Pages: 240 ISBN: 9781448313914 (ISBN10: 1448313910) eBook Series: A Sheriff Hank Worth Mystery, Book 7

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | booksamillion | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Severn House Publishers

.

 

~~~~~

MY REVIEW

They thought there was treasure in the Ozarks. Is there? Maybe. But, for sure there’s something else. Sheriff Hank Worth takes a hiker’s statement claiming they discovered treasure. That’s not why the Sheriff initiates a search. What does is the hiker’s claim that there’s a dead body. The search reveals more than one.

Almost from the beginning something about this book felt familiar. Like maybe I’d read earlier books in the series. But, I hadn’t. So what was it. Then, it hit me. It reminded me of the show, Longmire. I really liked that show. And I really liked this book. So much was happening. The character’s were genuine. There were plenty of questions I wanted answered. And the author put me in the action. Very good visual writing. That all kept me flying through my reading. And the best thing. I didn’t have to wait for the next episode. I just kept on reading until I got my answers. And a very satisfying conclusion.

4 STARS

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

.

CHAPTER ONE

The man ran, rabbit-fast and rabbit-scared, through the trees. His pack pulled on his shoulders as he scrambled over rotting logs and gouged the moldy sponge of fallen leaves with his boots. He couldn’t hear what was behind him over his own frantic sprinting, the racket of an inexperienced fool. His foot hit a hole and he went tumbling down an incline, landing hard in the Ozark dirt. He got to his knees and tried to catch his breath. If he could only make it to the road. Maybe he could find help. Safety. He started to move, but his knees wouldn’t stay steady enough for him to stand. He tried to crawl and got nothing but a few yards’ progress and a stab in the thigh from a dead branch. He bit his lip to keep from yelling out as blood started to seep through his pants. He slumped down on his elbows and swore.

It was time to face facts. He sat back on his haunches and shrugged the pack off his back. The wind hit his sweat-soaked shirt and sent a chill along his spine. He twisted around, searching for a hiding spot. Nothing. He forced himself upright and stumbled forward. He made it over the next rise, dragging the pack behind him, and saw what he needed. He concealed it as completely as he could. Maybe it would work. Nothing else during this whole calamity had. He backed away and took in the lay of the land. He still didn’t know where he was, but there were no longer sounds of pursuit. He chose to continue downhill. If he didn’t hit the road, chances were good he’d at least hit a creek. That might lead to a lake, which might lead to people. He limped along as quickly as he could. The puncture wound started to burn and he could feel the blood running down his leg and into his sock. The darkness was almost complete, and all the obstacles he’d been able to see and avoid were disappearing in the gloom. He tripped again, going down hard and cutting his cheek. He lay there inhaling the scent of fungus spores and animal piss and his own fear. He curled his hand over dry leaves, taking their last bit of sunbaked warmth and turning them to dust. A nearby tree worked as support for him to regain his feet. He wiped blood and tears on his sleeve and pushed off. Then a glimmer of moonlight showed a sliver of flat surface, flat like a God-sent, man-made road. It was off to his left and he veered in that direction, heading past a stretch of blank blackness on the right. His step started to lighten and his lungs loosened with each breath. He quickened his pace. He never saw them coming. Hank Worth spread the paperwork out over his desk. There was a comfortingly large amount of it. It would take him a long time to sort through everything, which meant he’d need to stay here longer. And not go home. He didn’t need to, not really. The kids were fine, on a back-to-school shopping trip with Maggie. They’d probably come home late with new lunchboxes and sneakers, and ice cream on their faces from the bribe their mother had to pay in order to get them into that last store for glue sticks and Ticonderoga pencils. He’d be home in time to put them to bed. And then he could go work in the garage. And think about what to do about these catalytic converter thefts. He pulled the latest theft report out of the pile. A used-car dealership out on Highway 76 had had seven of the car parts stolen sometime in the past week. Hank looked around the dreary office he’d been stuck with since becoming the Branson County sheriff almost two years ago, then out the window at the beautiful fall day. Maybe the owner was at work today. He grabbed his keys and quickly left the building. Twenty minutes later he was walking through the not-so-gently-used collection of cars at Combs Car Emporium. A man built like a snowman emerged from the office and watched him approach. “Yeah, I’m the owner. Wendall Combs.” He was wearing a polo shirt and slacks and had skin and hair so white he would’ve been impossible to spot in a blizzard. He shook Hank’s hand and ushered him inside. “Brian told me you all asked about my security when he filed the report.” He shut the door firmly behind them. “The employees don’t know what I got. Keeps them honest.” “So what do you have, sir?” Hank asked. He hadn’t been able to pick out any surveillance cameras as he walked across the lot. “I got a camera in the light pole by the entrance.” Hank waited. ‘Is that everything?’ he finally said. “Well, yeah.’ Combs shifted self-consciously. “How much of the lot does that camera cover?” “All of it.’ Frosty was indignant. “Excellent. May I see the video? You can orient me and then I can take a copy of the recording of the past week?” The footage turned out to be even worse than Hank expected. A high-wattage security light washed out the view of most of the lot. The remainder was pockmarked with impenetrable shadows. “It’s real high up, now, so it’s hard to see down in between the cars, like,” Frosty said defensively. “I’m watching for thieves moving big-ass cars. Not small-ass parts. How the hell should I be expected to know they’d come for that kind of stuff?” Hank gave what he hoped was a soothing nod, and made a few recommendations about camera placement and studies that showed visible cameras actually did act as a deterrent and perhaps Mr. Combs could consider it? The owner grumbled a while before saying he would think on it. “Do you have any idea when the converters were taken?” “No, son, I don’t know when. We just noticed it. The last time someone drove one of the cars was last Tuesday. So had to have been after that. But just ’cause I can’t sell a 2003 sedan doesn’t mean I want to offer it up for parts, free of charge.” He had a point. They went outside and Frosty showed him which cars had been targeted. All were parked on the edges of the lot, where access was the easiest and the video’s pockmarks were the blackest. “So your employees don’t know about the camera?” “Nope.” “And they’ve never seen video from it?” “Nope.” “Keep it that way. But add some more cameras, like we talked about, Okay?” He got grudging agreement and an icy handshake before Combs disappeared into his office. Hank thought for a minute and headed down to the next used-car lot, Briscoe’s 76 Cars, where he ruined that manager’s day in sixty seconds flat. “What? Converters stolen at Wendall’s place?” The manager hadn’t heard and immediately sent his two hapless twenty-something salespeople crawling under every vehicle on their patch of asphalt. They found four missing. They also had no usable surveillance video. While they had three times the number of cameras as Combs did, it turned out they became ineffective when colonized by birds and covered in what birds tended to output at high rates. The manager was furious and spent ten minutes stomping around before Hank could get another word in. Multiple swear words and a stale cup of coffee later, Hank had repeated his security improvement recommendations and gotten the list of Briscoe cars now missing catalytic converters. He left the manager dialing his boss with a look of dread, and walked back to his squad car, carefully skirting the cameras’ drop zones on the way. Chief Deputy Sheila Turley limped into the Pickin’ Porch Grill, fingers curled lightly around the handle of her cane. She tried swinging it with a jaunty air, but her fifty-two-year-old body wasn’t quite ready for that. She planted it back on the floor and made her way to the table. Her gait was slow but no longer torturous. Compared with her appalling wheelchair-bound immobility for the past several months, this stroll was equivalent to tap dancing into the restaurant and finishing off with a cartwheel. A tall, trim white man in a suit and tie rose to his feet as she approached. He waited until she settled herself before resuming his seat. Wisely, he did not offer her any assistance. Their many phone conversations seemed to have schooled him on enough of Sheila’s personality to know that would be unwelcome. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” Malcolm Oberholz said. “You, too.’ She propped her cane against the wall and eyed the prosecutor. “You really are older than you sound on the phone.” He laughed. ‘I told you so.” “I do wish you’d let me meet you halfway. There was no need for you to drive all the way down here from St. Louis.” “Oh, I don’t mind at all. It gives me an opportunity to see the area. Which is important.” He looked around. “If I’m going to try to convince twelve Branson County residents that Eddie Fizzel, Junior, is guilty, I need to not seem like an outsider.” Then the man needed a cheaper suit. She’d save that advice for later, though. Instead, she asked how they could possibly get an unbiased jury in this county. “That’s a very good question. I’m going to assert that we can’t, and ask the judge to change the trial venue entirely. Move it to my county, ask the good people of a nice big metro area to decide.” “Will a judge go for that?” He shrugged. “It depends on who we get. It will be a while before we know who it’ll be, since it has to be someone who also has no connection to this county.” Sheila nodded. It would be just semi-complicated if it were only her, Branson County’s African American chief deputy sheriff, involved. But the man who assaulted her – in addition to being an unemployed, entitled little shit – was the son of a county commissioner. Edrick Fizzel, Senior, had been in office since God was young and the devil just fallen. He knew everyone. Half of the electorate loved him, and the other half he had dirt on. Combine that with people’s strong opinions of law enforcement – both pro and con – and this citified white boy had his work cut out for him. “So that’s going to be one of my first moves,” Oberholz said. “But it’s a motion that’s going to need to be argued in your courthouse, even if it is in front of an out-of-town judge. So I’d like to get my feet under me, so to speak.” “A good place to start is with a fried chicken sandwich with extra chipotle aioli,” she said. Oberholz ordered two at the counter and had the waitress come back with their drinks. Sheila took hers, shifting slightly to ease the ache in her torso. Thankfully, Oberholz didn’t notice. “No matter where it’s tried, though, we’re going to have a problem with the ER doctor’s report of your injuries.” Or maybe he had. She sighed. “That ER doctor is a friend of yours. They’re going to allege that she’s biased in your favor.” Sheila snorted with laughter. “The only thing Maggie McCleary is biased toward is an accurate diagnosis.” Oberholz’s lips turned into a thin line. Sheila looked straight back at him and calmly put her napkin in her lap. “I’m not making light of how hard this is going to be. In Maggie’s case, there are multiple surgeons and specialists who back up her initial opinion about all of my abdominal injuries. And the broken ribs. And the concussion. And my lacerated hands and knees. I know you like those.” The second time they’d talked, he’d asked specifically for the photos her husband Tyrone had taken the night of the attack that showed her raw and bloody palms and kneecaps. Now he shook a straw at her before plunking it into his iced tea. “Those two things tell a story. The story of a woman who had to crawl four hundred yards through the woods at night in order to save herself. Jurors will see your X-rays and it won’t matter. To laypeople, that’s just a bunch of shadows on a screen. But everybody can relate to scraped and bloody hands. And they only got that way because you knew you were going to die if you stayed there lying in the dirt. So you dragged yourself to the road in order for paramedics to find you. You saved your own life. Your palms might’ve been beat all to hell, but Edrick Fizzel, Junior, is the one with blood on his hands.” Sheila sat back like she’d been smacked. Oberholz took a sip of tea. “The facts matter. I’m not one of those lawyers who pretends they don’t. But a trial usually comes down to who’s the better storyteller. And ma’am,” his voice suddenly slowed and rounded into a drawl, “ain’t no one can tell a story like me.” *** Excerpt from Throwing Shadows by Claire Booth. Copyright 2025 by Claire Booth. Reproduced with permission from Claire Booth. All rights reserved.

 

.

About Author Claire Booth:

.

Claire Booth

Claire Booth is a former newspaper reporter whose writing career has taken her from Missouri to Washington, D.C., South Florida, the Seattle area, and the Bay Area. She’s reported on many high-profile cases, including the Laci Peterson murder and the San Francisco dog mauling case. The case of a deadly cult leader became the subject of her nonfiction book, The False Prophet: Conspiracy, Extortion and Murder in the Name of God. After spending so much time covering crimes so strange and convoluted they seemed more like fiction than reality, she had enough of the real world and decided to write novels instead. Her acclaimed Sheriff Hank Worth mystery series takes place in Branson, Missouri, where the small-town Ozarks meet big-city country music tourism.

Visit Claire Booth:

www.ClaireBooth.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads BookBub Instagram – @claire.booth10 X – @claire.booth10 Facebook – @claireboothauthor Severn House

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway! Click here to view the Tour Schedule

 

 

Enter Now for Your Chance to Win!

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

THROWING SHADOWS by Claire Booth (Gift Card)

Can’t see the giveaway? Click Here!

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

The Passenger By Joie Lesin ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway

Posted: August 21, 2025 in Excerpt, Fantasy, giveaways, Historical
Tags: ,
15

 

.

Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for The Passenger organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Joie Lesin will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The Passenger

By Joie Lesin

 

 

Genre: Historical Fantasy

Synopsis

She’s a 1940s ghost whisperer.

Burdened with her empathic gift, Elizabeth Reilly wants to be free of it and fit in with normal people. Nevertheless, when the spirit of an old man asks for her help, she travels across the country to help him return home.

He’s the son of a ghost.

Gio Clemente is still angry with his father who abandoned him as a child. To help the father pass on, Elizabeth must persuade Gio to let go of his anger. Though he resents her intrusion, they are both stunned to find themselves fighting a profound attraction.

Elizabeth can accept his headstrong brand of love, but can Gio accept her gift—and believe in her?

The Passenger, a 1940s ghost story set in the California wine country, tells a tale of family connections, life-changing choices, and love—lost and found.

.

Enjoy this peek inside:

When her husband was on his way to her to say goodbye, she’d sweated through the cries of soldiers falling into the mud around her and the deafening noise of battle.

Don’t go there, Elizabeth. You couldn’t help him.

She’d known the only help she could provide was to help him pass on in peace.

Elizabeth had expected Patrick’s ghost to visit her. For weeks, she braved the early spring chill to await his arrival. Bundled in layers, she waited on the beach for him. Their special place. When he finally came, he met her there. Patrick sat next to her on the blanket he’d given her as a birthday present when they were younger. The one with the purple daffodils. When she thought of his final goodbye, she thought of the daffodils she’d stared down at while he talked—as if the color of the flowers were the most important detail of the day.

Yet the broken dead man who sat beside her was.

Patrick’s once handsome face wore sadness like a caul. He’d wished she would remember him as the whole and healthy man who she clung to and kissed before he shipped off to war. When she pictured the delicate purple flowers imprinted on the fabric, she overlooked the bloodied gash in his side where he’d taken the bullet.

.

About Author Joie Lesin:

Award-winning, Minnesota-based author, Joie Lesin is a life-long fiction writer and poet. She is most recently the author of The Passenger (The Wild Rose Press, 2024) and her work is also featured in Scribeworth Magazine. She has long been fascinated by anything otherworldly including mermaids and ghosts. Joie writes character-driven, emotional, atmospheric tales about heartache and hope.

Website / BlueSky / Instagram / Facebook / TikTok / Goodreads

Wild Rose Press / Amazon / Apple / B&N / Kobo

~~~~~

Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

a Rafflecopter giveaway

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

Offside And Off-Limits By Kate O’Keeffe ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway

Posted: August 20, 2025 in Contemporary Romance, Excerpt, giveaways
Tags: , , ,
12

 

Offside and Off-Limits

by Kate O’Keeffe

 

(Love in Maple Falls)
Publication date: August 20th 2025
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance, Sports

I survived chronic illness and a cheating ex. Surely I can resist one charming hockey player…right?

Clara
Working as the social media manager for a pro hockey team is all fun and games—until you trip into the arms of their biggest flirt during a livestream. Now the fans are shipping us, my boss is thrilled with the engagement, and I’m stuck dodging feelings for Cade Lennox, aka the certified charmer. The problem? My contract says he’s off-limits. My heart, unfortunately, didn’t get the memo.

Cade
I came to this small town to turn over a new leaf. But you know what they say about the best laid plans. All bets are off the second Clara Johnson literally stumbles into my arms and straight into my heart. She’s focused, loyal, and the most beautiful challenge I’ve ever met. All I have to do is prove I’m worth the risk.

Offside and Off-Limits is part of the Love in Maple Falls sweet hockey romcom multi-author series. It’s a forbidden love story between one flirty hockey player and the team’s social media manager in this small town romance with all the sizzle and chemistry, but none of the spice.

Welcome back to Maple Falls—the small town where hockey players fall in love! This is a multi-author series of seven full-length books that could be read as standalones, but we think you’ll enjoy them best in order.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

.

Clara falls into Cade’s arms on the ice

“Oh, man, this is awesome!” Joel declares, holding my phone in his hands. “You guys look sick! Even you, Clara.”

I let out a surprised laugh at Joel’s comment when Asher calls, “And now turn!” and as I do my legs fly from underneath me, and my breath wooshes out as I scrunch my eyes shut, bracing for the impact of cold, hard ice against my poor, under-protected butt.

But the ice-cold contact fails to happen, and when my eyes spring open I see Cade, his eyes wide with alarm as large, strong arms pull me against his firm body.

He grins down at me as my heart beats out of my chest.

I tell myself it’s because I almost fell, but being in Cade’s arms feels…well, it feels pretty dang amazing.

Not that I’m going to tell him that.

“Thanks,” I mumble, the heat rising in my cheeks as I gaze up at him, at total odds with the cold of the arena.

“My pleasure,” he replies, and the way he says those two words sends a flash of something hot through me that I’ve got to work hard at resisting.

But resist it I must, no matter how good this feels.

I haven’t been held by a man since Dwayne left me for my friend. And that was years ago.

I heave out a breath as I drag my gaze from his. I need to remember that this guy is a total player, and I don’t mean just on the ice. He probably catches falling women in his big, strong arms every day of the week—and I bet most of them don’t even bother to resist the heat this feeling elicits.

But I’m not one of those women, and I refuse to act on my physical attraction for this man. There are so many reasons, the non-fraternization clause in my employment contract being right at the top of that list.

Throwing away my new job because I’m attracted to one of the players? Not going to happen.

“You guys, I’m getting so many likes on this!” Joel calls out.

Wait. Likes?

I snap my attention to Joel, who’s still holding up my phone, pointing it straight at Cade and me. “Cade, would you mind putting me down? Like now.”

“I’ll do you one better,” he replies as he glides me smoothly back toward the bench, still holding me close in his arms. Holding me in one arm, he pulls open the door, and returns me to my feet—which I note are now trembling.

.

About Author Kate O’Keeffe:

Kate O’Keeffe is a USA Today bestselling author known for her fun, feel-good romantic comedies brimming with humor, heart, and happily ever afters. A native of New Zealand, Kate has crafted numerous popular series, garnering a devoted international readership.

With a flair for witty banter and irresistible heroines navigating the ups and downs of modern dating, Kate’s novels showcase strong friendships, comedic entanglements, and the of course sometimes bumpy but always hopeful road to love.

When she’s not writing, Kate can often be found reading romcoms, binging her favourite shows, or spending time with her friends and family in the beautiful Hawke’s Bay region of New Zealand.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / X / Instagram / Bookbub

.

Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

.

Offside and Off-Limits Blitz

.

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

Axes And Alchemy ~ A Cozy Midlife Witch Mystery By Carmen Radtke

Posted: August 20, 2025 in Cozy Mystery, giveaways
Tags: , ,
0

.

Axes and Alchemy (A Cozy Midlife Witch Mystery)
Willowmere Mysteries
by Carmen Radtke


Axes and Alchemy (A Cozy Midlife Witch Mystery) Willowmere Mysteries
Paranormal Cozy Mystery
2nd in Series
Setting – Oregon
Independently Published
Publication Date ‏ : ‎ August 15, 2025
Number of Pages: ~230
ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0F897P74L

.
goodreads badge

Pirate loot and deadly feud …

So much for a peaceful next chapter: Novice witch Bex Merriweather has her hands full running a leading library and secretly studying magic under the critical eye of her opinionated familiar and mentor, cat Cosmo.

The last thing newly divorced perimenopausal Bex needs is more tasks needing her attention. But when a podcast connects a pirate treasure and voodoo magic with tranquil Willowmere and treasure hunters as well as occultists flock to the town, feuds erupt.

When a dead body is found, Bex and Cosmo can’t discount the idea that greed and black magic had something to do with the murder. But can she protect her secret and the town without exposing the truth about her inheritance? And is somebody already on her trail – somebody wishing her ill? With only her cat and her trusted circle of friends, Bex sets out to catch a killer before the treasure of a long dead pirate claims another victim.

Axes and Alchemy is the second case in this fun-filled series. Perfect for fans of cozy mysteries, magical mayhem, and heroines who believe it’s never too late for a new chapter—or a little witchcraft!

.

About Carmen Radtke

Carmen has spent most of her life with ink on her fingers and a dangerously high pile of books and newspapers by her side.

She has worked as a newspaper reporter on two continents and always dreamt of becoming a novelist and screenwriter.

When she found herself crouched under her dining table, typing away on a novel between two earthquakes in Christchurch, New Zealand, she realised she was hooked for life.

The shaken but stirring novel made it to the longlist of the Mslexia competition, and her next book and first mystery, The Case Of The Missing Bride, was a finalist in the Malice Domestic competition in a year without a winner. Since then she has penned several more cozy mysteries, including the Genie and Adriana Darling ghost mysteries and the Jack and Frances series set in the 1930s.

Carmen now lives in Italy with her human and her four-legged family. Although she possesses no witchy powers, she’s known to be easily held spellbound by animals.

Author Links: Website / Facebook

Purchase Link – Amazon 

~~~~~

Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

.

~~~~~

TOUR PARTICIPANTS

August 18 – Angel’s Book Nook – SPOTLIGHT

August 18 – Sarandipity’s – CHARACTER INTERVIEW

August 19 – Jody’s Bookish Haven – SPOTLIGHT

August 20 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT

August 21 – Christy’s Cozy Corners – CHARACTER GUEST POST

August 22 – Boys’ Mom Reads! – REVIEW

August 22 – Sapphyria’s Book Reviews

August 23 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

August 23 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – SPOTLIGHT

August 24 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST

August 25 – Salty Inspirations – CHARACTER INTERVIEW

August 25 – Baroness Book Trove – SPOTLIGHT

August 26 – Ruff Drafts – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

August 27 – Sarah Can’t Stop Reading Books – REVIEW

 

.

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

Stranger Still By George Ochoa ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway

Posted: August 19, 2025 in Action/Adventure, Excerpt, giveaways, thriller
Tags: ,
6

 

Stranger Still

by George Ochoa

 

Publication date: August 19th 2025
Genres: Adult, Literary Fiction, Thriller

Paul Inster, a brilliant, insane Columbia college student majoring in English with an undisclosed minor in knives, is in love with graduate student, Tracy Iridio. Seeing her in the library every day, he mistakenly believes she is in love with him and that she is a goddess, Teresa. In fact, the two have never met, and she does not know who he is. When, for the first time, he sees her with her boyfriend, classical history professor Larry Post, Paul sets out to destroy Larry via a campaign of terror. As the campaign mounts, Larry, mystified, tries to figure out who is attacking him and why. Through a series of surprises and confusions, the campaign escalates to murder.

Stranger Still is both a thriller and a literary novel, combining suspense and violence with rich language, webs of cultural allusions, and themes of love and madness.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

Teresa and I often made love, though never in the flesh. To this day the psychiatrists will scrutinize such a statement as if it meant something other than what it plainly says, as if it were the telltale boil of some rare mental pox that might explain the blood spills photographed by the police. But these doctors do not understand love, optics, metaphysics, error, or even good taste. As far as flesh went, I never touched or even talked to Teresa, not until our moral decline had already begun. Before then, seeing the chaste tables that divided us in the Columbia library less than a decade ago, in the middle years of the 1990s, you might have thought Teresa and I were strangers, that she didn’t know I was alive.

I first saw her early in my junior year, a new female sitting several tables away in the Burgess-Carpenter reading room on the fourth floor of Butler Library. She seemed at first like any other of the pretty women on campus whom I liked to ogle and who regarded me as if I were invisible. But the more I stared at her, the more she particularly interested me. A pile of books rested near her elbow on the blond pine table, her head bent with rapt attention over her open book. Hazy September sunlight from the tall windows bathed her small breasts in her magenta top, made the white skin of her forearms glow. Her dark-brown hair was long and luxuriant, her neck long, her face shaped like that of a Raphael Madonna. But what captured me most were her eyes—large, sad eyes, ringed with mauve circles as if she hadn’t slept well. Why was she sad? Was there something I could do to make her happier?

We sat like that for a long time, she near the east end of a table in the back, never noticing me, while I shot frequent glances at her from near the west end of the second table from the door. About twenty feet diagonally divided us, too far for me to discern her eye color, though I tried. Finally, she got up, gathering her books into a white canvas tote bag and walking toward the door. As her gangly frame passed me, I gave her eyes a good look and saw they were hazel, flickering elusively under their long lashes from green to brown to gold.

The thought of her big, sad, long-lashed hazel eyes kept me happy for the rest of my day at Columbia. Even when I boarded the downtown Number One train, the first of the three trains that every evening buried me back in Jamaica, Queens, I was still thinking of those eyes. But an hour and fifteen minutes in the subways will discourage anyone. By the time I left the second leg, the D train, for the final and longest leg, the F, my thoughts were turning dark. The train was crowded with smelly, loam-colored laborers imported from faraway continents, and me just one of the horde.

Most students at Columbia boarded, but because my family was poorer than that of the standard Ivy Leaguer, I was a commuter. Combined with my natural tendency toward solitude, this meant I had no friends either on campus or anywhere else. I longed to make contact with someone, anyone, but did not know how. Sometimes I just wanted to pet them—the young secretary sitting before me on the subway in vinyl jacket and glittery eyeliner—to touch her shoulder, her pulsing throat, and say, “I am here. I am lonely. Help me.” Sometimes I wanted to hit them—the goon in the Yankees cap. When I felt particularly desperate, I wanted to stab them. I had knives that would have fit that purpose, but I never took them out of the house.

.

About Author George Ochoa:

George Ochoa’s first novel is the thriller Stranger Still. In addition, he has written or cowritten thirty-five nonfiction books, including The Book of Answers, The Writer’s Guide to Creating a Science Fiction Universe, The American Film Institute Desk Reference, and Deformed and Destructive Beings: The Purpose of Horror Films. His short fiction has been published in North American Review, Eureka Literary Magazine, Eunoia Review, Bangalore Review, and elsewhere. He is also the author of published poems and essays.

Goodreads / Facebook / X / Instagram

 

.

Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

.

Stranger Still Blitz

.

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

Romancing The Author By Julieann Dove ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway

Posted: August 19, 2025 in Excerpt, giveaways, Romance
Tags: ,
1

 

 

Today I am excited to share the release of Romancing the Author by Julieann Dove. This is the first book in the Cara series and includes fate dating & opposites attract. It’s a funny, low-heat romance that will leave you begging for the next installment. Check it out, grab your copy, and be sure to enter the giveaway!

Romancing the Author

 

Amazon | B&N | Goodreads

Cara Shoemaker, divorced romance novelist, just received a text from her daughter that she was getting married…in two weeks. The wedding would be in California and her ex-husband and hottie girlfriend would be in attendance. As if that wasn’t enough reason to crawl underneath her bed and remain there, the text ended by saying she wanted her mom’s boyfriend there for the occasion, too.

Dalton McCormick, male Adonis, and everything her lousy ex-husband was not. Cara made up his existence so her daughter wouldn’t worry about her. For the last year, they had done everything Cara wanted…traveled to Italy, antiqued in sleepy towns, and woke up late on Sunday mornings. He was the perfect guy, on paper.

Cara’s best friend, Janey, arranged for an actor friend to accompany Cara to the wedding and check all the boxes that solidified them as the couple she described them as being. The only problem was when Dominick Balteros showed up, nothing about him resembled the nice guy, Dalton. In fact, Cara wondered if she and Dominick would even survive the plane trip to California. He was outspoken, laid back, devilishly charming, and had the ability to undo years of Cara’s demure composure. It was going to be a weekend no one expected or would soon forget.

Read Chapter One

 

Chapter One

Once Upon a Text

 

Jasper’s breath caught as he looked at Jeanne for what he knew would be the last time. Her wet lips were parted and by the rising of her breasts up and down, he figured she was receptive to a farewell roll on that bed they’d shared for the last week. But this time would be different. This time he’d make her cry out for more. He would take her to the point of no return and stop short of the crescendo moment. Stop short because tonight it would all end. And when she was lying there, gripping the sheet, he would look her in the eye and—

Cara drummed her fingers on the table and took a deep breath. Crescendo moment? A man stopping short? Not likely. “Grrr…” She stared at the screen through her twenty-dollar pharmacy glasses. It was one thing to write romance and quite another to write the semi-smut scenes. It would be easier for her to train cats how to swim. Luckily, when the story moved in the direction of a little bedroom action, Cara’s friend Janey stepped in with her expertise and wrote all the dirty details that still made Cara blush.

This would be one of those times. Her new book was due to her editor in two months. She’d outlined all the plot points, settings, and dialogue, but somehow she lacked in the tawdry areas. Perhaps it had something to do with all the sex she wasn’t having. Or hadn’t had in the what was it? Two years? Maybe more if she counted that last year of her marriage. But who was bitter and counting, anyway?

She picked up her phone and dialed Janey’s number. She glanced at the clock; it was 10:30. Too late to call, probably. She most likely was at the restaurant with her husband, Ross. Helping him close up. They were such a super couple. They got married about six months after Cara and Jim. Cara was actually the one who put them together. Ross was in her economics class in college and they discovered their shared hatred of economics when they got each other’s returned homework paper by accident. She was elated when her best friend and best guy friend struck up a relationship that kept both of them near and dear to her.

“I have five minutes till Ross comes looking for me. What’s up?” Janey said, after the phone stopped ringing on Cara’s end.

“Another word for crescendo moment,” Cara asked.

“As in…give me more. Are you writing musical scores now? That’s different.”

“Funny. As in, you’ve got to write this scene for me. I’m drowning over here. You know I don’t do bedroom scenes. And I’ve been forced to ever since you’ve started that new play. It’s not pretty.”

Janey worked on Off-Off-Broadway productions. She either wrote the scripts, directed, or did both. She was great at what she did, and Cara knew one day someone would discover her talents and give her a chance at something bigger. Maybe a place where she didn’t have to step in and help change stage props during the performance.

“We read off-script tonight, so we’re in the home stretch. I should have some free time soon.”

“That’s what you’ve been saying. My agent needs this finished.”

“So finish it. But what’s a crescendo moment?”

“Forget it. It’s the moment I stop writing tonight, I guess.”

“Cara, just google some hot, sexy scenes. They’ll give you inspiration.”

“No, they’ll give me pop-up ads for lingerie, Hims medicine for erectile dysfunction, and call-sex lines. No thank you. I’ll just wait patiently until you can haul your butt over here and empty your potty mouth into my computer keyboard. I don’t even want to know about what goes on with you

and Ross to get this inspiration to write this stuff.”

“Trust me, it’s all very G-rated.”

At this point in her humdrum life, G-rated sounded better than No Rating For This Yet. Which was what her life was: Not Rated Yet.

“Okay, okay. Go before Ross comes looking for you. And don’t forget to take off the hat this time.”

Janey smoked. Like a chimney. And Ross hated it. She said she quit like seven months ago. Again. But the patch, the gum, and the hypnotist only made her crave it more. She was going to try stopping again, once her new play was in wardrobe stage.

“Okay. Hey, I know what you can do while you wait for me.”

Cara’s ears perked. “What?”

“Get some stupid paint on those kitchen cabinets so we don’t have to eat on our laps the next time we come over.”

“Funny. I’ll get right on it.”

She hung up the phone, closed her computer, and stared at all the open shelves that once were hidden by doors. The same doors that were now stacked on the dining room table. And had been for the last six months. In Cara fashion, she watched a YouTube one night about giving life back to your kitchen. She figured considering there was little chance to get life back to her own, at least her kitchen deserved a second chance at it. So she bought all the supplies and got to the labor part right away with a drill she found in the garage. The first cabinet door took thirty minutes, but the rest took no time to finally have all of them down. By the time the paint, the sander, and the clear coat stuff that really made the difference arrived, Cara was sort of on to something else. Basket weaving.

Of course, the woman wearing one on her head giving the demonstration would make it look easy. Next to the table with all the doors was one enormous sized square of straw, sent from the farm of the woman’s family. One hundred dollars for a completed basket that would cost upward of six hundred if you bought it finished from her. But who would have any fun with a finished basket?

There was one upside to being abandoned, divorced, and seriously deprived of human contact—there was no one to judge her. A bale of hay, a fleet of doors, and who knew what next week would bring. And it didn’t matter. Cara was doing her thang. Like Stella, who finally got her groove back. This was like the prequel, when Stella was maybe in the phase where, like Cara, she took joy in ordering from Instacart. And waiting on the sofa to see him drive up, like it was a date showing up to take her out. Only to hand her a bag of Oreo cookies, milk, and cucumbers and run off the porch as if he were delivering parts of a bomb. The milk and cookies were selfexplanatory, somewhat of essential nutrients. The cucumbers were for the pesky water bags that collected under her eyes from drinking the milk probably. Her doctor was very vague about her lactose symptoms, so Cara took it to be a suggestive allergy. Until further tested.

She pushed her computer off her lap and grabbed for the remote on the ottoman. It was almost time for her beloved police dramas. Something that didn’t deal with romance, thwarted feelings, and insane desires. All of which her readers would be disenchanted to find out she had no intimate knowledge of. Except the thwarted feelings. She was certainly full of those. Seen her fair share throughout life. It stemmed from her mother. Actually, it was her dad who was thwarted. It must be a generational karma thing. Her mother thwarted her dad, and the daughter gets thwarted by the son-in-law. Yep, karma was definitely a dirty bird.

Before she was able to push the button on the remote, her phone dinged on the end table. She grabbed for it to make sure it wasn’t anyone in trouble. After all, it was almost 11:00. At her age, the only dinging that came this late hour was something likely to entail hospitalization or incarceration.

One swipe, and her daughter’s name and picture showed up. Cara’s face lit. It’d been a few days since they spoke. Exams were going on and although she wanted her daughter to do her best, she also wanted to chat about anything and everything with her. Brie was her only lifeline, other than Janey and Ross—and whoever drew the short straw at the Instacart group.

She grabbed the glasses she’d just set down and put them on to read what her darling girl wrote. Exams must be finished. Finally they could FaceTime again. Then, it was a strong possibility—if she didn’t get the intern job at the embassy—she would return home. Cara’s heart pounded with excitement over the possibility of having her girl stateside again.

Mom, I’m texting instead of calling because I want to give you time to process it. Ezra and I are getting married. He proposed and I said yes! His family talked us into doing the ceremony at their vineyard in California! They want to meet you and dad and realize this is a great way to do it. Don’t worry, they’re putting together all the arrangements and paying for everything. Can you believe it? I know I said I didn’t ever want to get married, well, you know…I’m still salty about yours and dad’s choice to divorce, but they’re soo nice. And Ezra pointed out that they’re still together, so we could end up like them. You’re going to love them. Ezra and I fly into Monterey next week, so the plan is to have it the following week. I know it’s short notice, but dad and Lulu said they can make it. I hope the same is true for you and Dalton. I know he’s a pilot, but hopefully he can get some time off. I wished I was able to meet him at Christmas. Tell him there’s no getting out of this one! I want to meet the guy who makes you happy. I love you Mom. I can’t wait to have my family and loved ones with me on my magical day!

I’ll call you tomorrow once this news has settled with you.

Cara waited until the last period to finally blink, but her jaw remained slack. Her eyes burned from re-reading each line. Then double-checking to see whether this in fact was from her daughter. The one she raised from wee-high. The one who pinky-promised her they’d always live together. No matter what. Or at the very least, have adjoining houses. The dormitory in England frowned upon Cara staying past five days after the parents’ weekend. And the roommates were beginning to complain to Brie that she snored. Which she emphatically denied.

It’d been a tough two years without her girl but Cara knew this was what Brie always dreamed of, and she wasn’t going to be the person to stand in her way. Like her own mother, who clearly stood in the way of all things Cara wanted. Stood tall…on stilts…with outstretched arms. Bodyblocking tons of things she wanted. But that wasn’t Cara. No, indeed. And it killed like a fresh knife wound every time she passed her daughter’s room on her way to bed.

Okay, again. Read it again, her mind instructed her brain. This time, she read it slower. Like, having just learned English-slow. Married? Was she kidding? Oh, she knew why this was text form and not a call form. Suddenly, she jumped up from the sofa and began to march around the room. Like a mad person. A stupid piece of straw jabbed her foot, and she went down like one of those inflatable things you bop and it immediately goes flat. Until it pops back up. Cara didn’t. She lay there, holding her foot, crying like a child. Her daughter was leaving her. She could barely face it.

What, was she crazy?

Cara stood up again. Damned her stinging foot and that basket-wearing woman who clearly couldn’t teach a monkey to find fleas. It wasn’t her fault those pieces of straw wouldn’t bend. And it wasn’t her fault that her mother got dementia and she had to be her caregiver. And it wasn’t her fault that her husband left her. And it wasn’t her fault… She stopped the marching band of things coming to her mind, trying best to console her soul, while her body was sending clots for her throbbing, wounded foot.

Maybe all of it was her fault. Okay, so not her mom. Clearly, she couldn’t pass dementia on to her mom like the flu or common cold. And who else would have cared for her? She was an only child, and her dad certainly couldn’t. Her mom stopped being his responsibility the moment she told him to eff-off. Turned out her strange mood swings through the years might’ve been contributed by the strokes that showed up in her CAT scans. There was a colony of them. Cara wondered how far back they went. Middle school when she picked out horrible clothes for her? High school when she demanded to go on every date with her? Probably not.

Obviously, Cara’s daughter was being coerced into writing this message. She scanned the words again. Could someone be putting her up to this? Already having her dad on board? She told him first? Cara folded over like a chair, grabbing her stomach most dramatically. Really, Brie? Or should she ask, et tu Brutus? Could the fact of her getting married be ever so gravely received, than to put it alongside of, “I told your nemesis and his childlike whore first. They will be there waiting to see you. And laugh because you still have no one.” She was going to be sick.

It wasn’t the good fortune of every dumped wife to have your cheating ex-husband to ride off with a YouTube rockstar, who flaunted their happiness across the internet. But Cara had hit the jackpot with Lulu. She cooked, danced, made twisting stupid little sticks into wreaths for centerpieces look easy. Try straw, Lulu. It’s not so easy. And then all the temptation to stalk them. And take pictures of the screen with her phone so she could magnify things she couldn’t discern with her little readers that she knew very well was not the strength they used to be.

Cara took a deep breath and dialed Janey again. Yeah, she knew hearing a ding this late hour was no good. And Janey would soon discover the same experience.

“Okay, woman. Seriously, I will promise—”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Lord, what is it?”

Cara read her the message. Word for word. And waited for the particles of the bomb to settle. Kind of like Brie’s instructions told her to let happen.

She did say let it settle, right?

“Oh. My. Gosh. You’re going to be a mother-in-law!” she screamed.

“That’s what you got from that?” “Yeah. Oh.”

It must’ve sunk in.

“Honey, you like Ezra. He’s such an amazing guy. You said so yourself when he was here for Christmas. He was a darling to Brie.” Janey had skin in the game, seeing as Brie was her godchild.

“That’s before he did this. Now he’s a big, fat jerk. A big, dumb jerk. Who thinks he’s going to just take away my girl. Take her away. Did you get that? I’ll never see her. What is she thinking? I mean, really. She’s not finished with college. We haven’t gone backpacking yet. You know she promised me she would.”

“Yes, and I’m sure she’ll have time for you later. She’s getting married, Cara. She’s not taking a shuttle to Mars and converting to alien.”

“Marriage means just that.”

“Honey, read that last part again.”

Cara took the phone away from her ear and found the text again. She repeated the last part. Then she tilted her head. Maybe the whole “I’m leaving you” part overshadowed the “I want to meet Dalton” part. Cara sighed.

Dalton, Dalton, Dalton. Her little fictitious, almost perfect boyfriend. Dark hair, dark eyes…bedroom eyes, actually. When she imagined him in her head and wrote about their frolicking to her daughter, she always imagined strong arms, chiseled jaw, and like a magic lamp that you could rub and get your wishes come true, he knew all the right things to get Cara through Brie’s education. His entire creation was based on necessity and suggestion from Janey.

Turned out a person can live through hell, wake up the next day, shower in gasoline, and have someone toss you some lit matches. At least that’s what Cara remembered about leaving her daughter in a foreign country for four years of college and returning home and having her husband ask for a divorce. She made the mistake of calling her daughter, like drunk dialing a friend, to cry about it. It was the dysfunctional relationship she had with her own mother, and dealing with the divorce of her parents. Brie returned home and refused to return to school until she knew her mother would be okay. Janey took full responsibility for the situation, made Cara wave goodbye to her daughter, and then worked on a plan to get everyone through it.

The whole ordeal of Jim leaving her was worse than anything she could ever conjure up in her author-ran mind. In the beginning, or as Cara affectionately referred to it, “moments after the hit-and-run” stage, Cara mostly spent her time balled up in a corner, refusing anything but chocolate and bottled water. Her self-wallowing eventually turned to hate, and she designed targets with Jim’s face on them. She laid them in the sink and spit her toothpaste on them. Then came the anger. All those years together and for what? This type of thinking led to her packing up his clothes, the ones he told his attorney to tell her attorney that he wanted back. The coveted football jerseys, some signed. She drove them to the homeless shelter and let the men take their pick. When she saw the guys panhandling at the intersections wearing them, she’d honk her horn and wave. She almost took a picture to send to her ex but felt it might incriminate her, so she kept that secret to herself.

Eventually, all her anger circled back to grief, and when it did, Janey came up with a solution to give Brie the feeling that her mom was safe, happy, and secure. Because Janey knew that one day she would be. Until that day, she needed something for Brie to know things were okay back home so she could focus on her education. That something became someone—Dalton, to be exact. A man who cooked, to let Brie know her mother was eating. A man who doted on Cara’s well-being…he even had a security system installed for when he wasn’t able to be there with her. Details were orchestrated to the smallest degree. Janey and Cara gave him an occupation of pilot, so he was never home when Brie came to visit. Life, or pretend life, was set and in motion.

“Oh my gosh, Dalton. She wants to meet Dalton.”

“It’s okay. How long have you two been dating again?”

“Um, like…” She tried to make calculations in her hysterical brain. It was like juggling cups of water. “Over a year?”

“You’ve done some great writing, I guess. I’d forgotten about that Italian hottie. Well, actually we did have him gone this past Christmas, right? Oh my gosh, do you remember I brought over Ross’s jacket so Brie

could find a man’s coat in the closet and not get suspicious?”

“Yeah. We’ve been quite good with keeping the little figment of our imagination living and breathing. I’m afraid it has come home to bite us now.”

“Just break up with him. Like, say it’s been over and you didn’t mention it because you didn’t want to talk about it. When did you last bring him up to her?”

She thought back on when it was. Oh, last weekend. Before her exams. “Dalton and I will be cheering you on from here, Brie! He’s such an amazing guy. You’d love him. Before I go, I just wanted to tell you we went antiquing last weekend and I found you that Strawberry Shortcake doll you lost when you were in the first grade. Can you believe it?”

It was actually an eBay auction she won and the seller mailed it from Nebraska. What could she say? Making up stories was in her DNA. And when her daughter ever sounded worried for her mother, Dalton would rear his head and assure her it was okay. Of course, when Brie graduated, Dalton would turn into dust. She wasn’t quite sure how he’d depart, but she’d make it easy. Maybe he’d drink water from another country and suffer a bacterial thing. Of course she’d be sad, but who could stop bacteria or argue it? It happens. To good people. To Dalton. And then she and Brie could travel the world. But then this.

“He’s alive and well, and I mention him a lot, unfortunately.”

“Well, hey. I know this is like the most monumental news, but Ross is now honking the horn. I’ve got to go spray myself with Pam cooking spray or something and get going out there. Come to the restaurant for lunch tomorrow, around noon. Don’t text her back until we talk. But this is good, honey. Ezra is a good guy. And it doesn’t mean you’re losing Brie. I promise. Now kisses and goodnight.”

She clicked off the phone, threw it on the sofa and got ready for the tears. Because she was like that. She’d let her thoughts keep her hostage and play out scenes of a Brie montage until there was no more tissues and scabs on her nostrils. One more thing in life that’d eluded her. Her mother, her lousy husband, her joy, and now her daughter. What was left to take?

Hold on a sec…did she really say salty about her mom and dad’s “choice” to divorce? Who had a choice? For that fact, who was able to see a bullet train barreling at you when you were blindfolded with little answers like “honey, really, I’m okay.” She asked Jim if everything was fine a lot when he failed to come home for dinner or elected to work Saturdays at his dental practice. As if having to go during the week wasn’t bad enough, but scheduling to have drills in your mouth on a Saturday was ever popular?

She walked her butt up to her room and picked up the picture of Brie from her nightstand. It was of her making a silly face at her sixth birthday party. She stroked the wooden edge and smiled. She hoped the fate of her daughter’s marriage didn’t bear any resemblance to her own. None of them tended to come with warning labels such as, “May contain years of loneliness, bickering, and second-guessing any or all of your life’s decisions about where to spend your vacation.”

She was sure their final family trip to Disney was the stake to the heart of her limping marriage. They waited until Brie was old enough to enjoy it. Sixteen was not the recommended year, by the way. She spent all her time avoiding family pictures, rolling her eyes when her mom whipped out the itinerary, and walking three feet from her parents. Jim blamed Cara for emptying their savings and making them wear color-coordinating outfits every day. Did anyone really keep score in the park?

Two things Cara felt certain about before Disney, and sixteen years before even then… Jim was her true love, and that she was nothing like her mom. Turned out she was wrong, on both accounts. True loves didn’t leave you standing in the pouring rain in front of the Disney castle, shouting “Are you happy now?” when their daughter screamed she wanted to go home. And if she thought about it long enough and stared into the mirror for longer than to get a brush through her hair, she could see how she was aging like her mom. Forget the slipups of sayings her mother used, like “It’ll all come out in the wash.” It was those dark circles that no makeup concealer could hide, and the fact she still bought baskets to organize things, even if it was a basket to hold her other ones.

Cara opened her drawer and got out the picture that never saw light after Jim left. It was the three of them at the pumpkin patch. A strange man wearing a large hat with a corn ear on it took it and charged ten dollars at the exit door for it. She looked closer at it. Jim’s arm was actually around Cara’s waist. Little Brie was between their legs, smiling for the camera.

It wasn’t a total nineteen years of disgust and misfortune. Cara and Jim’s marriage was blissful in the beginning. Sort of like a newborn baby: cooing, smiling, laughing, and making you want to celebrate everything. They were babes in love. Then came the terrible two’s, if you will: the unplanned pregnancy. Then the unforeseen care of her mother when she got Alzheimer’s and had to move in with them. Which naturally led to the rebellious teen era of their marriage of late nights at the office for Jim to avoid the home scene. And then, of course, that pesky affair of Jim’s rounded off everything before it came to a close. Now that they were all grown up, Cara was left alone, writing about the life she wanted and Jim was living it, according to the documented YouTube channel of his gorgeous girlfriend. How was it that the divorce rewarded him with fun and sexy Lulu, and she was rewarded with bitter resentment and a made-up man who was never going to materialize?

Cara leaned over and grabbed a miniature Hershey bar with nuts from the bedstand. She unwrapped it without guilt. Each crunch of the surprise nut made her eyes close with ecstasy. If only her readers knew when she was describing how the sultry neck of her protagonist tasted, she was crunching on a Symphony bar. Cara looked around her empty bedroom. The toile curtains against the perfect shade of white on the walls. The Renoir painting underneath the soft light of the little sconce above it. This was her sanctuary. The air conditioner turned on, and the sheer curtain began to sway. Now all she needed was Dalton—her imagined perfect man—exiting her bathroom, wearing a cotton towel around his waist, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, and grinning that way she knew she should’ve not just eaten that bar of candy.

Dominick glanced at the notification on his phone from his editor and winced. It was seven o’clock; he’d just been on a stakeout in the lot across from the Plaza for twelve hours, waiting to take a picture of the heiress, Rochelle Bancroft, to exit the hotel with bad boy Tommy Page. Dominick hadn’t slept, his stomach was still turbulent eating from the hot dog stand that he knew gave him food poisoning, and worst of all, he never got the picture or the confirmation they’d been together that night. Not even his snitch who worked on the inside could help him on this one. And it was his big break. The story that would take him from paparazzi to hopefully some type of reporting-in-front-of-the-camera action, although with this publication, the most promotion he’d get was writing articles. Which was better than this, but still not his dream job.

He turned the knob to his apartment door and pushed it with his arm. There seemed to be something blocking it. He pushed harder, stepped inside, and heard some faint noises coming from the bedroom. Nicole’s suitcase toppled over, making the five pairs of shoes that sat on top of it fall to the ground.

“Whoa,” he said, looking around at her belongings. “Babe, what’s going on?”

Nicole came from the room, carrying her cat. His fluffy white fur draped her shoulder like a scarf. He hissed at Dominick when he caught sight of him.

Dominick hissed back.

“Would you not?” Nicole asked, as though she were talking to a child.

She slid him into his pet carrier and turned to face Dominick. “This is not working, Dom.”

He stood there, looking at the warehouse of things blocking his entryway: small bags, larger bags, Tom-Tom the hated cat. And was that his new coffee maker?

“What are you doing? This is crazy.”

“Jason is going to be here to get me.”

“Jason? Jason Tremper? The man I can’t stand? Who steals leads from me? That we, both you and I, talk crap about? That Jason?”

Dominick, Nicole, and Jason worked for The 4-1-1, a celebrity tell-all venue. It consisted of Gerry Tolbert, the editor in chief, and thirty or so writers. The underlings, such as Dominick and Jason, had to earn their steps up the ladder to investigative writer. Nicole was already there. She dabbled in underlings every chance she got. Dominick, being new to The 4-1-1, hadn’t realized that yet. But he was getting his first look that night.

“Jason is moving up to writer. I can’t take all the nights alone, Dom. You’re never going to find anything meatier than Paula Abdul leaving her studio in a hooded jacket. Jason doesn’t have to stay out all night. And there’s parties. You know, where you don’t hide out in bushes. He’s been invited to the one at the Monticello. There’s going to be some notables there. I’ll probably get a lead.”

She stood there, all four foot eleven, frosted blonde hair, and caked makeup that his mother would never approve of. That was why he never took her to Queens to meet her. That, and he and Nicole had only been dating for about a month. On their third date, Nicole met him at the door with what looked like more than an overnight bag and something meowing in a crate. She said her roommate was trying to poison Tom-Tom. Now he could see why. Since then, most of the time he’d spent on stakeouts. One thing was for sure—he wouldn’t miss that jungle cat that knew only one octave.

“This isn’t cool, you know. Jason has had it out for me. He stole that story that got him into the writers’ room. You know that.”

“I know that you said that. But, Dom, you’re the one covered in leaves, and what is this?” She pulled something flat and brown from his sleeve. “I’ve got to go. We can still talk at work, you know. I had fun. This was fun.”

“Yeah, it was something.” He opened the door, and she looked like she was waiting for him to actually help her. He bent over and heard Jason’s footsteps getting nearer. He stopped and backed up while the two gathered all they could and nodded in his direction before leaving the scene.

Dominick shut the door, kicked off his shoes he’d been wearing for a day and a half, and fell into the couch. He leaned forward to grab something he’d sat on. It was a cat toy. He flung it across the room and stared at the wall. It wasn’t as though what he was feeling was heartbreak. He knew Nicole’s type: use ’em and lose ’em. He knew it because he spoke the same language. Although he was usually the one packing up the bag to make a clean getaway.

He wasn’t always that way. Once upon a time, he did trip and fall in love. His speedbump was named Elizabeth. And the injury he incurred from it forced him to write a new set of rules for the playbook of love. He’d set expectations to never level up from the mentality of disposable flings. That way he’d never get hurt again. Every now and then, the wounds from that one would act up and bring back sad memories. Kind of like a trick knee injury when the weather changed.

He pulled his buzzing phone from his pocket.

Meet me at Freddy’s tomorrow. Eleven thirty sharp.

It was from Gerry, his editor. Had he heard about Nicole already? He warned Dominick not to get involved with her. But that’s the thing; he didn’t. She moved in on his life like a looming hurricane, making its way to the land of all the new employees. Hurricane Nicole had littered his sink with makeup, cotton balls, and left her underwear on the side of the tub. One morning, she moaned from the bed for him to take her stuff to the laundry with his—she was running low on sweatpants. He didn’t get her; she always dressed as though she were coming or going to work out, but he’d yet to see her do more than lift her wine glass at night and ask for refills.

She did come with her bouts of destruction, but he had to admit, it was nice having somebody in the place. Even if she turned out to be more like an annoying sister than a lover. In fact, they didn’t sleep together one time. He was always gone or she was always passed out from wine when he did get home. In the scheme of things, it had to end like this. Although the added bonus of Jason one-upping him to the writers’ room actually hurt more than Nicole bailing on him.

 

About Author Julieann Dove

 

Julieann Dove takes great pleasure in writing about love and all the mess that goes along with it. How else does happily ever after become realized, if not for some type of hardship and journey? When she’s not writing, she loves playing with fabric at her sewing machine, baking new recipes, and playing in the dirt, trying to get things to grow. Julieann loves old movies, and never tires of listening to music—it’s where she finds most of her inspiration for her books.

Website | Facebook | Newsletter

 

.

Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

.


a Rafflecopter giveaway


.

 

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

Embedded By John Lansing ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway

Posted: August 18, 2025 in Action/Adventure, Excerpt, giveaways, thriller
Tags: ,
1

 

Embedded by John Lansing Banner

.
EMBEDDED
by John Lansing
July 14 – August 29, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

   

Synopsis:
DAKOTA JUDD THRILLER SERIES

  Jailed Army Ranger Dakota Judd is offered a life-altering deal from Jean Steele, an ambitious and attractive Black FBI agent. Infiltrate a White Supremacist prison gang while he’s incarcerated, then embed himself into their militia on the outside. Become the eyes and ears of the FBI. If successful, his record will be expunged and he can live a normal life. If he fails, he’ll wind up dead.

Embedded, the first book in the new Dakota Judd thriller series, features John Lansing’s trademark propulsive, page-turning writing style, with a tough but sympathetic protagonist. Accompanying Dakota are two powerful women: Aunt Billie, his tough-as-nails wingman, a retired female detective who makes sure Dakota stays alive as he rotates back to civilian life where peril awaits, and Jean Steele, Dakota’s FBI handler, who must thwart her romantic impulses towards Dakota, as one false move can cost her a career in the male-dominated FBI.

.

Praise for Embedded:

“Embedded hooked me from the start and it never let up. It’s a thriller brimming with unexpected twists, convincing characters and dialogue that rings true. And Lansing created one absolutely badass protagonist in his hero Dakota Judd.” ~ Dietrich Kalteis, award-winning author of Dirty Little War

“John Lansing is the king of page-turning thrillers and his new novel, Embedded, is a crown jewel. The book should come with a warning: Don’t expect to sleep until you finish the last page. It’s that good!” ~ Steven Manchester, #1 bestselling author, Ashes

“Dakota Judd is a fantastic addition to the pantheon of thriller heroes. Smart, resourceful, and realistic, he’s also a man of ethics. Lansing writes action scenes as if he’s been there himself, and the plot is straight out of the headlines. I highly recommend Embedded for readers who like a clever, action-packed read.” ~ Terry Shames, Macavity Award-winning Author of Deep Dive, second in The Jessie Madison Series.

“With Embedded, John Lansing launches his new Dakota Judd thriller series like an Atlas rocket. The story takes off with a bang yet still manages to accelerate all the way to the nail-biting climax. The characters are fully fleshed and nuanced, and the wild ride has more twists than a licorice stick. A must read.” ~ Craig Faustus Buck, award-winning author of Go Down Hard

“John Lansing’s brilliant new thriller, Embedded, showcases his razor-sharp prose and masterful plotting in a tense crucible of trust and deception. Dakota Judd is a riveting new hero I’ll gladly follow through this new series.” ~ Lisa Towles, Award winning author of Specimen and other thrillers

Book Details:

Genre: Thriller

Published by: White Street Press Publication Date: July 8, 2025 Number of Pages: 317 Series: Dakota Judd Thriller Series, Book 1

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Apple | Kobo | Goodreads | BookBub

.

Enjoy this peek inside:

.

Chapter 1

Dakota Judd wasn’t a man who questioned decisions once made. He’d had more than enough time to dissect every moment of the incursion. He could’ve turned a blind eye; after all, it was war. But reliving the raid, in fractured dreams that continued to insinuate themselves into his waking moments, was a burden he’d carry for life. His action sure as shit created an unexpected detour. But with disciplined daily pushups, chin-ups, and laps, his body was still intimidating. He lived by the Ranger credo, “Further, Faster, Harder.” That much he could control. Life behind bars, he took one day at a time. Rangers were trained to expect the unexpected, but nothing could prepare him for what was in store from the woman who sat across the metal table from Dakota.

Jean Steele was an African American FBI Agent with high cheek- bones, chestnut skin, shoulder-length brown hair, who wore a professional navy pantsuit. She was an attractive woman, something not lost on Dakota. They were in the Greeley Federal Penitentiary’s visiting room designated for cops and lawyers. No cameras or recorders allowed. Steele removed her sunglasses before starting the interview, revealing sharp, intelligent, brown eyes that locked on Dakota’s. “So, Mister Judd…you’ve served six years of a seven-year sentence,” she said, glancing up from her notes. Dakota picked up the light scent of J’adore. The perfume his ex- fiancé wore. “And three months before your early discharge, having been granted early release for exemplary compliance with institutional regulations, you blow it all by stabbing a Black inmate in the thigh, severing his deep femoral vein, leaving him to bleed out in the weight- room, almost killing him. Dakota…you don’t look like a foolish man.” “Is that a question, or an answer?” Dakota’s eyes creased into an easy smile. He hadn’t had a conversation with a good-looking woman for a very long time, and was intrigued by her visit and up to the challenge. “In this case, it was kill or be killed,” he said matter-of-factly. “The man was out of his league, and I had no choice.” “They didn’t find a weapon on the victim.” “I left it in his leg. I’m sure it’s all in your report.” “The Federal paperwork is in process to rescind your early release.” Dakota was aware they weren’t only going to rescind, they were going to add two years to his original sentence, bringing the life-killing number to nine. “Why are you here, Agent Steele?” Dakota asked, cutting to the chase. “What did I do to deserve a visit from the Feds?” Steele held his gaze. “The government needs your help.” “Why the interest?” “You’ve had no gang affiliations since your arrest and conviction. That couldn’t have been an easy ride.” Dakota leaned back in the metal chair and let her talk. “The OC Wolf Pack are an anti-government white supremacist militia operating out of Orange County. We’ve been picking up chatter on the dark web and social media. The Wolf Pack may have a link to California Senator Jack Bradley, who’s up for re-election. “Bradley’s constituency leans heavily to the extreme right. He hides their bias like a momma bear protects her cubs. The Wolf Pack are crude. And even though they share similar philosophies with the senator they are to be seen and not heard. That’s where Blackfox Elite Protection fits in. We think Blackfox is providing the money used to fund Bradley’s re-election and a growing list of homegrown militias.” “What’s their MO?” “Blackfox recruits ex-military, retired cops, FBI, and guns for hire. It’s an elite private security force that has no compunction employing known felons. They’re supported by a group of wealthy right-wing patriots…their description. Blackfox is getting fat on government contracts, assisted in part by the CEO’s tight relationship with the senator who’s the Chairman of the House Armed Services Committee, to the tune of forty-five million in the last quarter.” Agent Steele had definitely piqued his interest. “Aren’t you gonna ask where I stand?” “If I thought you stood with them, I wouldn’t be sitting here. Neither would you.” Dakota didn’t argue the point. “Where do I fit in?” “We need someone outside local law enforcement.” “And outside of the FBI,” Dakota intuited. Steele nodded. “A few of our retired agents still have friends in high places. We’re aware of leaks. We need to shore them up. You’ve got the bona fides. Your skill set, your attack on a commanding officer while serving in Afghanistan. Your exemplary record before the assault charges, your silver medal. That, and now, stabbing a Black inmate three months before your release, should make you a rock star with the skinheads in quadrant-D. “We need someone to cozy up to the supremacists who have ties to the Wolf Pack in Orange County and a probable link to Blackfox, our main target. Best-case scenario, you infiltrate Blackfox upon your release, and deliver their plans.” “Why?” “The Alt-right’s first armed insurrection on the U.S. Capital failed, but shook the world. We want to shut these militia groups down before there’s a second attempt that succeeds.” “Why would I sign on?” “That’s up to you. The Army is about to rescind your pardon and add time to your release date for attempted manslaughter. When you get out…you’ll be handed over to the United States Probation Office, where they’ll dog you with years of probation and a host of rules that if not followed, will stack on more prison time. You’ll be living in purgatory.” “I don’t respond to threats,” he said without attitude. “We’re offering you a lifeline.” “I’m sure you’ll understand, Agent Steele. I’ve got trust issues with the government.” “I understand, and Blackfox will understand. I’ll be your handler. You won’t have to deal with the suits.” “You’re wearing a suit.” “I’ll have your back. Infiltrate Blackfox. Become our eyes and ears, and you walk away a free man. Your conviction, expunged. Pension reinstated. You can work, vote, get married, have kids. A normal life.” Steele pulled a contract out of her attaché case and slid it across the table. “How do I explain you?” “I work at your law firm.” Steele hands him a contact card. It read, Jean Clarkson. Associate at Peluso, Costa, and Litto, Attorneys at Law. “It passes the sniff test.” Not the way Dakota thought his day was going to unfold. “Take some time,” she continued. “Read the fine print. I already had a conversation with your representative, Joseph Peluso, and sent him a copy of the contract. It guarantees your future for services rendered.” “What did he say?” “He was inclined to accept, but wouldn’t give me a definitive answer until we spoke. Said it was your call.” “Sounds like Peluso.” Dakota Judd lifted the paperwork, maintaining eye contact, trying to get a read on this federal agent before diving into the contract that might just be the answer to his prayers. He held the life-changing document in his hands, but his mind drifted on the scent of J’adore. The contract was fifteen pages of legalese that protected the government from any liability in the execution of said agreement. Shorthand for: If Dakota signed the contract, he was agreeing to risk his life in service to the government. If successful in the mission, he’d have his life back. He’d be a free man with no one looking over his shoulder. If he failed, well, he’d be back in the slammer, or he’d be dead. Dakota straightened the pages, looked deep into Steele’s eyes, and nodded his assent. Steele handed him a pen. Dakota signed on the dotted line. “Good,” Agent Steele said. She slid the contract into her attaché case and pushed away from the table. “I’ll be in touch.” Steele started toward the door and then turned on her heel. “And Dakota…try and stay alive for the next eight weeks.” *** Excerpt from Embedded by John Lansing. Copyright 2025 by John Lansing. Reproduced with permission from John Lansing. All rights reserved.

 

 

 

.

About Author John Lansing:

. .

John Lansing

John Lansing is the author of six thrillers featuring Jack Bertolino—The Devil’s Necktie, Blond Cargo, Dead Is Dead, The Fourth Gunman, 25 to Life, and MIA, the prequel—as well as the true-crime non-fiction book Good Cop Bad Money, written with former NYPD Inspector Glen Morisano. Embedded is John’s first thriller in the Dakota Judd series. He’s been a writer and supervising producer on network television, and the co-executive producer of the ABC series Scoundrels, and co-wrote two MOWs for CBS. The Devil’s Necktie is in development at Andria Litto’s Amuse Entertainment, with Barbara DeFina attached as a producer.

A native of Long Island, John now resides in Los Angeles.

Catch Up With John Lansing:

JohnLansing.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads BookBub – @JohnLansing Instagram – @johnlansingauthor Threads – @johnlansingauthor Facebook – @devilsnecktie

 

.
Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway! Click here to view the Tour Schedule

 

 

Enter Now for Your Chance to Win!

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

EMBEDDED by John Lansing

Can’t see the giveaway? Click Here!

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

.dot/slash(magic) by Liz Chipton ~ Teaser And Giveaway

Posted: August 18, 2025 in giveaways, urban fantasy
Tags: ,
14

 

Dot Slash Magic

by Liz Shipton

 

Publication date: August 19th 2025
Genres: New Adult, Urban Fantasy

A new, spicy urban fantasy from TikTokker Liz Shipton, perfect for fans of I am Number Four, Wreck it Ralph and ACOTAR.

What if you wrote a magic computer program? What if that magic computer program started summoning monsters?

When twenty-something coder Seven Jones goes back to school at a community college in San Diego, the last thing she wants is to join some stupid club. And the last thing she expects is to walk into an underground magic club. Like, actual wizards and shit.

Seven reluctantly joins the motley crew of magic weirdos and discovers her own power. But she struggles to control it…until she figures out how to channel her magic through an artificially intelligent computer program.

Unfortunately, there is literally nothing Seven’s new friends hate more than AI, and when a student mysteriously turns up dead, blame falls on Seven. Is her “creepy artificial magic” summoning terrifying creatures to hunt students? Or is someone trying to frame her?

With only one person – cute ex-Navy seal Logan – on her side, Seven fights monsters (Dragon? Check. Kraken? Check) while struggling to convince everyone that her AI has nothing to do with them.

But how can she convince her peers when she isn’t totally convinced herself?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

.

.

.

About Author Liz Shipton:

Hi! I’m Liz. I’m a freelance writer, indie author, and full-time, off-grid, live-aboard sailor. I’m currently sailing around the world with my boyfriend and my dog, turning my real-life adventures into speculative fiction.

I feel extremely grateful to be able to explore the world as I do, and I love incorporating the experiences, places, and people I encounter on my travels into my work.

I also use my books as a means to explore themes of mental health, addiction, technology, climate change, and the looming collapse of society (but, like…in a fun way.)

When I’m not penning novels about the impending apocalypse, I work as a freelance content writer specializing in articles about code, music theory, and off-grid living. On the rare occasion I’m not writing, you can find me swimming, hiking, telling my dog I love her for the bazillionth time today, or watching Taskmaster.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / TikTok / Instagram

 

.

Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

.

Dot Slash Magic Blitz

.

.

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

Protopia By John Calia ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway

Posted: August 18, 2025 in Dystopian, Excerpt, giveaways, thriller
Tags: , ,
16

 

Protopia

by John Calia

 

Publication date: May 15th 2025
Genres: Adult, Dystopian, Thriller

America’s cultural divide turns deadly.

When lifelong friends Olivia and Alexandra find themselves in opposing camps, the bonds of their friendship are tested like never before.

Olivia seeks solace in a socialist utopia that promises protection and belonging, but at what cost?

Meanwhile, Alexandra chases freedom. But can she survive in a community with few, if any, rules?

As their worlds collide and tensions escalate, secrets and lies threaten to destroy the foundation of their relationship.

Can they bridge the gap between them, or will their differences tear them apart forever?

In this gripping tale of loyalty, adventure, and human connection, the stakes are higher than ever. Protopia is a thought-provoking thrill ride that explores the power of friendship in a world on the brink.

If you devour the complex characters of Emily St. John Mandel or the visionary world-building of Octavia Butler, you’ll be captivated by this latest masterpiece by the author of the Amazon best-seller The Awakening of Artemis.

Goodreads / Amazon

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

As she gazed out at the ravaged landscape, Olivia Fletcher felt the weight of her exhaustion like a physical force dragging her down into the dusty earth. Five years of constant strife—of strategizing and problem-solving, of rising and failing—had all taken its toll. She longed for a life of quiet contemplation, of peaceful days spent in a garden or a library, free from the constant din of conflict. But that life seemed as distant as a dream. The struggle between Cygnus and Elyria showed no signs of abating, and Olivia’s skills as a mediator and leader were still desperately needed. She felt like a worn-out tool, perpetually called upon to fix the unfixable, to bridge the unbridgeable gaps between sworn enemies.

And yet, despite her fatigue, Olivia couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy that had haunted her for so long. Was she truly making a difference, or was she just a band-aid on a bullet wound? Did she have the strength and wisdom to bring peace to this shattered world, or was she just a fraud waiting to be exposed? The doubts swirled in her mind like a toxic fog, threatening to consume her at any moment.

As the war drums beat louder, Olivia knew she couldn’t afford to indulge in her uncertainty. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped forward into the fray once more. But the questions lingered, echoing in her mind like a whispered mantra: What if I’m not enough? What if I fail? What if…?

/

About Author John Calia:

A Brooklyn-born, recovering businessman, John Calia has been a naval officer, banker, entrepreneur and consultant. He began writing his blog “Who Will Lead?” in 2010 attracting more than 115,000 readers. The five-star rating of his first book – a business fable titled “The Reluctant CEO: Succeeding Without Losing Your Soul” – inspired him to keep writing. His fascination with artificial intelligence and its impact on society inspired him to write “The Awakening of Artemis.”

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / X / Instagram

 

.

Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

.

Protopia Blitz

.

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

What Lies We Keep By Janet Roberts ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway

Posted: August 17, 2025 in Excerpt, giveaways, suspense
Tags: , ,
2

 

What Lies We Keep by Janet Roberts Banner

.
WHAT LIES WE KEEP
by Janet Roberts
August 11 – September 5, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:

.

Cyber security expert, Ted McCord, has been fired. He risked everything in a game far beyond his control.

Charlotte McCord never understood her husband’s addiction to the trappings of corporate life – the titles, the money, the promise of visible success he sees as opposite his Montana upbringing. Ted uncovered an embezzlement scheme, did something unthinkable to gain a promotion, and hid his actions from his wife. Then the guilty co-conspirators turned the tables on him. Charlotte leaves, taking their daughter. As Ted works to clear his name, Charlotte leans on her friends. But one friend’s secret shocks Charlotte, upending everything she believes about Ted. Unsure who to trust, she jettisons from hurt and anger to the tempting promise of solace in the arms of a handsome River Rescue officer.

Stretching from Pittsburgh’s urban skyline to the beautiful ranch country of Montana, What Lies We Keep is a moving story of corporate ambition that shakes the very foundations of a marriage and asks: What happens when we embrace the life we think we should have rather than the life we have?

.

Praise for What Lies We Keep:

.

“What Lies We Keep will captivate fans of writers like Jennifer Weiner, that best-selling expert at writing about family secrets and the ties that bind, but it’s Janet Roberts’ brilliant and fresh prose, and her big-hearted, messy, real characters that set this work apart. There is no easy ending here, and I’m so grateful for that.” ~ Lori Jakiela, author of They Write Your Name on a Grain of Rice

“A moving narrative that shines a spotlight on life’s choices. This one will leave you wondering if the grass is really green on the other side.” ~ Jen Craven, author of The Baby Left Behind

“In her compelling novel about the devastating impact of lies and the search for a fulfilling life, Janet Roberts balances a thrilling plot of corporate greed and corruption with credible, richly-drawn characters. Through sharp dialogue, cinematic descriptions, and even a covert FBI operation, this novel explores the relationship between a husband and wife in the aftermath of one well-intentioned but misguided decision. What Lies We Keep raises powerful questions: Are lies justified if they are made to protect the ones we love? Can success be defined by more than social status and salary? I devoured this creative, twisty story with its flawed but sympathetic characters.” ~ Jill Caugherty, author of The View From Half Dome and Waltz in Swing Time

“Janet Roberts’ What Lies We Keep examines what happens when we keep things from those we love and how that can lead to a tangled knot that can be difficult to unravel. Instead of protecting his loved ones, Ted’s lies lead to hurt and heartbreak—and possible criminal charges. Charlotte and Ted must work through both his mistakes and the fractures in their marriage. A wonderful book with in-depth and flawed characters as well as a how-will-they-get-out-of-that plot.” ~ Pamela Stockwell, author of A Boundless Place and The Tender Silver Stars

“A thought-provoking dissection of a once-stable marriage and the fault lines that erupt when one member crosses an ethical line, resulting in repercussions that threaten the very essence of the family unit. Moving between the gritty streets of Pittsburgh and the wide-open ranches of Montana, What Lies We Keep is a realistic, moving novel of complex relationships, the corrosive power of secrets, and the challenges a couple must face when the things they hold dear are the very things that may tear them apart.” ~ Maggie Smith, award-winning author of Truth and Other Lies

Book Details:

.

Genre: Contemporary Fiction, Domestic Suspense, Cybersecurity

Published by: Porch Swing Publishing, LLC Publication Date: August 2, 2025 Number of Pages: 338

Book Links: Amazon | Audible | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Google Books

.
Enjoy this peek inside:

.

Chapter 1

The digital screens on the kitchen appliances screamed 5:00 a.m. He knew he should crawl back into bed. It had been like this for six months now, ever since the promotion at work. Waking up with sweat across his brow and his back just before the reoccurring dream headed toward a disastrous end, as if his mind were a savvy film editor cutting out an ending he hadn’t the fortitude to handle. Each time, he carefully felt the area around his body, without waking Charlotte, to make sure it wasn’t so bad that the sheets were damp, and then walked as quietly as possible to the open area of their apartment housing the kitchen and small living room. No amount of effort to return to sleep worked these days. Nagging concerns that it was more premonition than dream rolled up in him with all the discomfort of a chronic stomachache. Logging into his work laptop settled his fears. Focusing on a stack of emails—a pile of problems to be solved and tasks to be completed—reassured him that he was necessary, valuable, not someone they would discard like an old rag no matter what he’d done. In his mind, there had been no way but the path he’d chosen. But words didn’t seem to alleviate the mild trembling in his hands.

Lies were like that. They felt justified as a route to sparing others hurt, a path to keeping things balanced, a necessary evil. Lies spawned subsequent lies until the entangled mess required putting one’s ethics on the shelf now and then to simply manage life. This was the well-worn mantra Ted told himself in the wee hours of the morning to justify how he’d moved up and into a manager role. They needed the money. Jesse needed the money. He’d put everything he held sacred on the line. He couldn’t allow the twin detractors of guilt and regret to weaken his resolve. He’d done what he needed to do for the people he loved most. It was quiet at this hour, streetlights reflecting against windshields sprinkled with soft, multicolored leaves and a touch of dew that wasn’t quite frost. Late September always hinted at colder weather just around the corner. A few more hours and the neighborhood would awaken. People brushing off the comfort of blankets and sleep would appear below to warm up vehicles parked bumper to bumper in urban uniformity along both sides of East End Avenue. Others would hurry to the bus stop to catch the 61A. The world around him stepping into the day. Ted’s itch to join their ranks felt as natural as breathing. It was all he’d left his life in Montana to pursue. Similar to the residences of most of their neighbors, the roomy but older apartment harkened back to another time. A solid brick building whose faded glory showed in the slight dip and sag of the front steps, old woodwork in need of refinishing, plumbing with ancient cast-iron pipes, and registers emitting solid boiler-powered heat. A faded, elderly lady in need of a facelift with all the architectural character Charlotte loved. Ted wished they could buy a home in the neighborhood, but he’d told Charlotte he lusted after the big, refurbished homes near Frick Park or the luxury condos on Mt. Washington. Another lie placed carefully to postpone a little bit longer her aching desire to own a home, just until he could restore the funds missing from his account at the company’s credit union, which he’d drained. Thankfully, the account was in his name only. A few more months and he’d have replaced at least three quarters of what he’d felt forced to remove. His promotion to manager was making that possible. “Tell her the truth about the ranch,” Jesse had advised. “She’ll want to move back to Montana,” Ted had said. “You know she has this fantasy about living there.” “Would that be so bad?” Jesse replied. Just thinking about the endless hours in the saddle herding cattle, sore muscles from the physical labor, then falling into bed exhausted, worn out, only to do it again the next day made the muscles tighten in Ted’s neck and shoulders. He felt a slight pain and, looking down, realized he’d clenched his hands at the thought of returning, to the point where tension ran all the way up his arm and into his shoulders. Jesse viewed ranch life as freedom from the chains of a rigid, corporate structure. Freedom to work for himself and to answer to himself only, to own his own destiny. Ted saw it as a beautiful trap, the land and mountains casting stunning views on a life where progress, as Ted defined it, was limited. He saw freedom in a place where his computer skills and cyber knowledge prepared an even path upward to clearly definable roles that would fund a nicer, easier life for his family. He and Jesse had had discussions about this, a few of which were heated, so they’d agreed to disagree and move on. Charlotte alternated between agreeing with him and then with Jesse, her chronic indecision making Ted feel he was required to make the tough decisions. “It’s not what I want. And it’s not really what she would want once she got a good taste of it,” he told Jesse, hoping to shut down the topic. “You never know. It could turn out to be really great for both of you, and I’d love for you to live closer. You could work in Bozeman, and I’d run the ranch.” “Yeah, we miss you too, but no, Jesse, I’m not leaving the opportunities here for some smaller place with no career path.” “It’s your call, brother.” Jesse sounded more resigned than disapproving, tired of what was a conversation they’d had before. “Dad should have left the ranch to you. We both know that,” Ted said. “And even if he had, I’d still be helping you when times got tough.” “He loved you more,” Jesse answered. “We both know that too.” Jesse, his younger brother who loved their family ranch, who lived a straight and honest life, who loved but rarely understood Ted. He wished he could be fully honest with Jesse. All this hiding secrets from people he loved, covering up old lies, creating new ones. Only a few more years and he could sign that ranch over to Jesse, shake the albatross from his shoulders along with the memories of the last words between him and his father, and move on. Another six months and he could pretend he’d settle for a house in their neighborhood and hire a realtor. “Hey, there . . . couldn’t sleep again?” He didn’t realize Charlotte was in the living room until she slid down next to him on the couch, resting her head on his shoulder as his fingers tapped the laptop keys. “How long have you been out here?” “About an hour, I guess.” “You work too much.” She looked beautiful—hair tousled, eyes drowsy as they fought the need for a little more sleep. He knew she was weary of him working long hours. “I tried to go back to sleep and I couldn’t, so I figured I’d get some work done,” Ted said as he carefully minimized the screen and slid his hand over the USB flash drive he’d inserted earlier. “It’s not healthy, Ted,” she replied. “We need to get you a sleeping pill or some solution to this insomnia. I’m going to ask Dr. Collins tonight.” “The therapist can write prescriptions?” Ted fought the urge to roll his eyes, as he did, privately, about most things related to Dr. Collins. It was his first experience with a marriage counselor and, he hoped, his last. He’d agreed to go because he loved Charlotte and she thought this was the key to some sort of marital happiness. He thought otherwise but kept his comments to himself. “She’s a licensed psychiatrist. She can prescribe medication.” “I’d love to sleep a good eight hours,” Ted said. Dr. Collins might prove to be good for something after all, even if it came in the form of a little white pill. Seven years of marriage and several months of marriage counseling had taught him a few things, such as when to keep his mouth shut and when to agree. “Did you work on your list . . . for tonight?” Charlotte tapped the cover of Ted’s iPad, closed and lying on the coffee table. “Done. Insomnia was good for something, I guess.” The marriage counselor had asked them to create a list of what they loved about each other and what drove them to the problems they’d been facing. He’d thought about objecting to what seemed a silly request that solved very little, but Charlotte had leaned forward, excited, attaching herself to the counselor’s words. “I had zero problems listing what I love about you.” Ted smiled at her as, in a flash of memory, he could see her auburn hair lifting on the breeze while they rode horses across the land and into the mountains near his family’s ranch. His sole thought had been to wonder if she would agree to marry him as he nervously fingered the ring box in his jacket pocket. He’d envisioned a life for them with a steady income they could count on, medical benefits, a modest home of their own, children. The opposite, in his mind, of the insecurities of ranch life. They’d been halfway to that dream when his parents died in an automobile accident, and he discovered his father actually could reach back from the grave to maintain a level of control over him. Their deaths had created the uphill battle he found himself trudging along now. “Can I see it? Your list?” Charlotte asked, reaching for his iPad. “No, we’ll do this together, later . . . with the counselor.” Ted grabbed the iPad and popped it into his backpack, removing the USB from his work laptop at the same time. He’d need to actually create a list, quickly, during his lunch hour. “How about your list? Done?” He was a little nervous about what she might say about him tonight. “Hmmm . . . sort of.” Charlotte stood, heading for the kitchen. He could hear her opening cupboards, pulling items to make coffee. “I’d say you don’t trust me, which makes list-making hard, but I know where that will take the conversation.” He purposefully kept his tone light, something practice had made perfect where this topic was concerned, but he still felt an anger that never quite grew a scab and healed. “I let that whole San Francisco trip go. You know that.” Ted watched her move around the kitchen, her back to him, alert for body language that said otherwise. Maybe arms crossing her body, biceps tightening, chewing on her nails. And then, there it was as she yanked the cabinet door so hard it banged and pulled out one, not two, coffee mugs. Ted knew she was lying. It ate at her insecurities that he’d gotten drunk on a business trip, woke up fully clothed, his coworker Missy asleep next to him, his mind a blank as to how she’d ended up in his room. The story had trickled out, with various twists, until it reached Charlotte. He’d been explaining ever since that nothing had happened. But who was he to call anyone out on lying these days? “We were happier in Montana,” Charlotte said. “We were more . . . more . . . I don’t know, centered? Before you took this job, we were different.” Here we go again. Ted clutched the arm of the couch and closed his eyes, willing himself to keep the inward groan rolling up his chest from escaping through his mouth. “We were kids then, Charlotte. Everything was easier. We’ll both be thirty years old this year, and I want to move forward, not go back,” Ted answered, hoping his voice sounded steady, calm, the opposite of the turmoil flushing his cheeks. He turned sideways on the couch, watching Charlotte move gracefully around the kitchen. “A ranch is nothing but hard work and very little money. We have a nice life here.” This was the kind of crap he thought they should hash out in counseling and that, if Dr. Collins was as good as she claimed, their sessions would be less one-sided in favor of Charlotte. But he wasn’t about to drop a bomb in their marriage therapy sessions and start a fight. He’d decided after the first round with the good doctor that her goal was to agree with Charlotte about what key topics they should be covering and he was just along for the ride. Not that the topic of Charlotte’s ideas about living in Montana didn’t come up with the counselor, but it never moved from what Ted viewed as a fantasy lens of “living a simple life” to reality. There he sat with two women who had grown up in the city’s suburbs, their biggest childhood chore involving keeping their bedrooms clean, as the only expert on actual ranch life in the room but deferring to Charlotte’s view to keep things amenable. To Ted, simpler meant poorer. Neither Charlotte nor Dr. Collins had ever had to live that kind of life. What he’d gleaned so far in their five months of therapy was that meeting in college, dating exclusively, marrying quickly following graduation, and having a child two years later had left them unprepared for the hard work of marriage in a way that didn’t appear to affect other couples they knew. Charlotte ignored him, pulling down cereal for breakfast, bread and peanut butter to make and pack a sandwich for Kelsey’s lunch, and refusing to answer. He supposed she knew it could end up in an argument and she’d rather drop it now, hash it out later. But Ted thought they could save a lot of money on therapy if they could simply talk things through without a mediator and without anger and tears. The last time he suggested this, Charlotte said they would revert to the habits they needed to break rather than chart a new course. He assumed she thought therapy would accomplish some sort of new life for them. He was relatively cynical regarding the outcome she envisioned, but he’d keep showing up and giving it a try. Somewhere within himself he knew it was a half-hearted try, and this, alone, doomed the therapy journey to a less-than-successful outcome. If he could keep his current plan on track, he’d buy a house for his family in less than a year, and that, he believed, would be a much more effective game changer than Dr. Collins. “You have a full day today?” Ted asked. “What?” Charlotte paused, brows pulled inward in confusion. The brewing coffee was beginning to smell good. “You’re making Kelsey a sandwich, so I thought she must be going to the kindergarten after-school program rather than home with you.” “Oh, right, right . . .” Charlotte nodded, turning back to the kitchen counter. “I’m at the museum until noon, then lunch with Leah, and I’m on a deadline for an art gallery review for the newspaper . . . plus we have counseling later. I’ll pick Kelsey up a little later than usual, and then Shay said he’d babysit.” Shay, Ted’s colleague at work and best friend since their move to Pittsburgh. Other than Jesse, he’d never had as close a friendship with another man. He valued Shay like a brother. Shay had run interference after the San Francisco debacle, but he’d warned Ted that one more mistake that big and Charlotte would leave. Ted walked into the kitchen and poured cream into the bottom of a mug, then added the coffee, one of the few habits he’d picked up from his father. “Can you grab a coffee and sit with me before we go our separate ways?” Ted asked. Charlotte’s face softened, and she brought her mug—black, no sugar, he knew—with her, sitting down slowly, careful not to spill the hot liquid. He took her hand and squeezed, feeling the current between them he’d felt on their first date, a connection that all the ups and downs in their lives had not yet diminished, even when they chose to ignore it out of anger or disappointment in one another. “Before my job, we were poor,” Ted said. “We agreed Pittsburgh had better opportunities. You wanted to be near family, but now you rarely make any effort to see them beyond asking if they will babysit Kelsey.” “You know how difficult my mother can be, Ted,” Charlotte responded. “And be honest . . . you don’t really like my family all that much.” “I like some of them . . . maybe not your mother,” Ted answered jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood with what was usually their mutual annoyance with Charlotte’s mother. “The ranch should belong to Jesse. He loves Montana. He loves his life. And we can always visit.” “Should belong?” Charlotte was staring at him now, that questioning look she got when she was working on a new story for the newspaper crossing her face. “Art left the ranch to Jesse because you didn’t want it.” “Right,” Ted said, quickly covering the slip. “I meant the ranch should always belong to Jesse.” “Yeah, of course,” Charlotte said. It saddened Ted to see the wistful expression on his wife’s face. If he kept pushing this conversation, he would open the door to something unpleasant. “Let’s talk about Montana vs. Pittsburgh with Dr. Collins, okay?” Ted hoped he could find a way to convey that moving to Montana wasn’t necessary. Charlotte and Kelsey did not take a back seat to his work life, as she often claimed. Nothing could be further from the truth. Everything he’d done, everything he was doing, was for the wife and daughter he could not imagine life without and the younger brother he loved deeply. Jesse deserved that ranch, and Charlotte deserved to own rather than rent a home. Charlotte nodded and gave him a tired half smile. “Finish up that coffee. I’m going to take a shower,” Ted said, standing and heading toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom. He wanted to wash it all away, the sleepless nights, the lies he’d just told, yet again, woven into the fabric of the ancient lies his father had dumped on his shoulders. “Don’t be late tonight, Ted,” Charlotte called out behind him. She’d laid down the rules months ago. Go to marriage counseling, or she was taking Kelsey and moving out. He hadn’t missed a session, and he wouldn’t, no matter what the day would bring. *** Excerpt from What Lies We Keep by Janet Roberts. Copyright 2025 by Janet Roberts. Reproduced with permission from Janet Roberts. All rights reserved.

 

 

,

About Author Janet Roberts:

.

Janet Roberts

Janet Roberts writes character driven, contemporary fiction set wholly or partially in Western PA, where her roots run deep. Her readers know to expect a female character who awakens to the discovery of her own inner strength while facing adversity. Her award-winning novel What Lies We Keep (2024) combines cybersecurity with domestic suspense. It is the 2024 Winner of the Literary Titan Silver Award, Firebird Book Award, Pencraft Summer Awards for Literary Excellence -Suspense, and TAZ Award – Mystery; 2025 International Impact Book Awards – Contemporary Fiction/Realistic Fiction; and a 2024 Finalist for the American Writing Awards’ Hawthorne Prize, 2024 American Fiction Awards – Best New Fiction, and 2024 American Book Fest Best Book Awards – Best New Fiction. Her poetry has been published in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and in San Fedele Press’ Art in the Time of COVID-19. A member of Women’s Fiction Writers Association (WFWA), Pennwriters, and Sisters in Crime, she’s a former global leader in cybersecurity education and awareness with over a decade of experience. She lives in Pittsburgh, PA, where Frick Park is her favorite place for a hike. She loves travel, wandering through bookstores in other countries, reading on her porch swing, and sharing a bottle of wine with friends.

Learn more about Janet Roberts at:

www.BooksByJanetRoberts.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads – @writer12 BookBub – @JanetRoberts Instagram – @janetroberts77 Threads – @janetroberts77 LinkedIn Facebook

 

.
Tour Participants:

.

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway! Click here to view the Tour Schedule

 

 

Don’t Miss Your Chance to Win! Enter Today!

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

What Lies We Keep by Janet Roberts {Gift Card}

Can’t see the giveaway? Click Here!

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

Older Entries
Newer Entries