I am so excited that SOMEONE IS OUT
THERE by Kaye George is available now and that I get to share the news!
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If you haven’t yet heard about this
wonderful book, be sure to check out all the details below.
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This blitz also includes a giveaway
for a $10 Amazon Gift Card courtesy of Rockstar Book Tours. So if
you’d like a chance to win, check out the giveaway info below.
Four-Time Agatha Award Nominee Kaye
George brings a new edge-of-your-seat suspense!
Someone is stalking Darla.
She has a lot on her plate already.
Dealing with a breakup. Her best friend shutting Darla out of her life. A
handicapped mother. Her career as a hospital nurse. She doesn’t need slashed
tires, threatening notes, or, least of all, a brick through her window.
She suspects her tormentor could
either be her ex or her own father, who attacked and crippled her mother years
ago. But she’s just not sure, and there’s no one but her dog to turn to.
Soon, she’s forced to rely on own
wits to protect her and her mother as the frightening threats become more and
more frequent.
And are progressively more dangerous.
Fans of Mia Sheridan, Freida
McFadden, Yasmin Angoe, Jeneva Rose, John Marrs, and Minka Kent will enjoy Kaye
George.
Book Trailer:
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About About Kaye George:
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Kaye
George has had a
prolific career spanning many years in the mystery genre, and also writes under
the name Janet Cantrell. She’s accrued four Agatha Award nominations, won
a Silver Falchion, a Derringer short story nomination, as well as achieving
national bestseller status. She reviews for Suspense Magazine and writes a
column for Mysterical-E. She’s also a violinist, arranger, and composer. She is
a member of Sisters in Crime, the online Guppies chapter (where she was
president), as well as the Smoking Guns Knoxville TN chapter, which she helped
organize. www.kayegeorge.com
On the run in the mountains… with a killer on their trail.
After unearthing secrets from her late brother’s police notebook, journalist Emma Hayes discovers his death was no accident—he was murdered. Only someone doesn’t want Emma to find out the connection to the cold case her brother was investigating…and they’ll kill to keep it that way. Now Emma must rely on local ER doctor Logan Greer to help her stay alive and follow a trail of elusive evidence. But as they unravel a conspiracy, they realize that the killer could be anyone hiding in the mountains…
Book Details:
Genre: Love Inspired Suspense – Romantic Suspense
Published by: Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense Publication Date: April 1, 2025 Number of Pages: 206 ISBN: 9781335980533 (ISBN10: 1335980539)
Susan gives you two intriguing mysteries in one. Journalist Emma Hayes comes back home after learning of her twin brothers death. As a police officer he’d been investigating a cold case and the more she learns the more she comes to believe his death was no accident. You get many clues and false leads. Several suspects and a feeling of conspiracy. You also get a bit if romance. All prime ingredients for what I’d categorize as a mystery, romantic suspense.
After having really liked another of Susan’s books, Lethal Wilderness Trap, I knew she could come up with a well thought mystery to keep me guessing, along with suspense to keep me invested, and genuine characters with flaws and baggage. And she delivered.
4 STARS
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About Author Susan Furlong:
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Susan Furlong grew up in North Dakota where she spent long winters at her local library scouring the shelves for mysteries to read. Now, she lives in Illinois with her husband and children and writes mysteries of all types. She has over a dozen published novels and her work has earned a spot in the New York Times list of top crime fiction books of the year. When not writing, she volunteers at her church and spends time hiking and fishing.
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This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Susan Furlong. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
To celebrate A Dilemma for the Duke‘s release, I’m thrilled to join the A Marriage to the Marquess book tour. USA Bestselling author Ruth A. Casie combines regency romance with suspense, swoon-worthy heros and smart heroines. Check out an excerpt below and be sure to take advantage of pre-release pricing for book two.
In a world of secrets, love, and ticking clocks, their alliance of convenience may just become a marriage of the heart.
Ewan, the Marquess of Glenraven, finds himself returning to his home in Belgrave Square, summoned back to London by his former commanding officer, Lord Barrington. Ewan’s been entrusted with the task of unraveling a deceitful gambling scheme and uncovering the truth behind the mysterious deaths tied to it. He is also faced with a pressing personal ultimatum: either secure his trust by marrying by his 30th birthday, five weeks hence, or risk losing it all.
In Cavendish Square, a mile north of Belgravia, Lady Juliet Hayward carries the heavy burden of her late brother, Bradley’s gambling debts. Her own future teeters on the brink of destitution. Determined to confront the man who has her brother’s vowels and control of her survival, she’s determined to find him and negotiate a solution.
As Ewan and Juliet are drawn together, they conceal their true intentions, not knowing they both seek the one person who holds the cards. However, time is not on their side. In a bold move, they confess to each other and devise a plan—a marriage of convenience, a calculated business arrangement—to simultaneously fulfill Ewan’s inheritance requirement, settle Juliet’s brother’s debts, and expose the scheming ringleader As they dig deeper, they uncover a far-reaching conspiracy, orchestrated by a clandestine organization manipulating events from behind the scenes. Yet, a single kiss on their wedding day unleashes a deluge of conflicting emotions within each of them, shattering their carefully constructed façade.
This is a breathtaking Regency tale of love, sacrifice, and the resilience of the human spirit.
“Oh, sir, could you help us, please?” A neatly dressed man called out to him from the puppet stage.
The crowd, which he realized had gathered waiting for the puppet show, turned their attention toward him.
Glenraven scanned the area, unsure if the gentleman was calling out to him. He glanced back at the man.
“Yes, sir, you. You look like a man who would help a lady in distress.” A soft chuckle rippled through the onlookers. “It is a simple script that needs to be read.”
“Forgive me. I would gladly help a lady in distress.” Glenraven glanced at the crowd. “I see some lovely ladies.” He nodded to several ladies not too far from him. “But I do not see any ladies in distress.”
The man operating the puppet stage peeked under the curtain. “My lady. Are you in distress?” he called out.
“Yes, my lord,” came a voice from behind the curtain. As the puppet master opened the curtain, a female puppet was revealed. “I have no Punch.”
Glenraven checked his watch. It was ten minutes past one. “Ne’er let it be said that I didn’t come to a lady’s aid.”
Glenraven made his way to the stage to the crowd’s chuckling and applauding.
“Thank you, my lord. Thank you.” the puppet master whispered to him before turning to address the audience.
“Kind people. I am the puppet master, Percival Thimbleby. You’ve already met Miss Juliet Hayward, who will be our Judy. She has taken her place. This is,” the puppet master turned to Glenraven and waited. He coughed and waited a bit more. “And this is?” He raised his eyebrows at his Punch.
With a good natured smile, he slightly bowed to the audience. “Lord Glenraven at your service.”
“My lord.” The puppet master doffed his cap and bowed to him. “Ladies and Gents, we have a real hero,” he added with a playful eye roll, making everyone laugh. “Lord Glenraven will be playing our Punch. We are fortunate to have found two willing people to help us today. They do not know what has happened in the story so far. It will be very telling how they portray this scene. Be gentle with my actors, my friends. I dare say they are new to this trade. We want to encourage them. Who knows, you may witness the beginning of a most enchanting partnership.”
The puppet master turned to Glenraven. “This way, my lord. While you and your Judy say your lines, I will manage the puppets.”
He guided Glenraven to his spot, handed him his script, and then returned to address the audience.
Glenraven glanced at the paper and burst into laughter, the sound echoing for all to hear.
“Are you all right, my lord?” the puppet master called out.
“Quite. I see you are also a magician. For us mortals, the script is blank.”
The audience laughed along with him, clearly in on the jest.
“Well, my lord. I am a poor puppet master. I only had one script and, as a gallant puppet master, gave it to your Judy as I know you would want me to. After all, you are a gallant hero.”
“Yes, I am.” Glenraven chuckled. “I accept the challenge. You, my friend, may have to suffer the consequences.”
“Very well, my lord. I am certain your quick wit and heroism will come to the fore.” Again, the audience chuckled.
The puppet master turned to the audience.
“I will set the stage. Punch has brought back a treasure and must convince his Judy to let him keep it.” The puppet master paused. “Punch. You can begin whenever you are ready.”
Glenraven took a moment, cleared his throat, and began with a theatrical flair.
“Oh, Judy, my love.” Glenraven’s voice, a warm whiskey baritone, rang out. “I have fought hard and long. I’ve brought back a treasure. It must be protected at all costs.” He paused a heartbeat and continued, his voice a bit lower, “I won’t let anyone take it from us!”
“But Punch, dear, we must be careful.” His Judy’s voice was sweet and slightly breathless. “There are those who covet what we have.”
“Fear not, my sweet Judy.” Glenraven’s Punch declared with theatrical bravado. “I’ll stand against them all, even if it means facing the darkest of contenders.”
He imagined Judy gazing at Punch as she went on, her voice sweet and a touch unsteady, “Then let us be strong together, my Punch. Our love will guide us through.”
Glenraven stared at the curtain separating him from his Judy and put the papers down. He focused all his attention on his unseen partner.
“And when the storm clouds gather,” Punch continued, his tone filled with anticipation, “and the world around us seems uncertain…” A dramatic pause lingered. “We’ll find shelter in each other’s arms, and our hearts will be our fortress. But, Judy, my love,” Punch’s voice softened, “there’s one thing you must know. Our journey won’t always be easy.”
The puppet master skillfully moved Punch to Judy’s side, his puppet arm around her.
“I understand, Punch. I’m prepared to face whatever challenges lie ahead.”
“Then, my dear Judy, let us embark on this adventure together, hand in hand.” The puppet master had Punch take Judy’s hand.
“Together, we’ll find the strength to conquer all,” Judy declared.
“And as we travel through life’s mysterious twists and turns…” Punch turned his head and looked around. “We’ll uncover the secrets hidden in the shadows, and they shall not hold us back. Judy, my love,” Punch’s tone deepened with passion, “desire burns within me like an unquenchable fire.”
Judy delicately touched Punch’s face. “And what of commitment, Punch? Will your flames endure, or will they be snuffed out?”
“Fear not, dear Judy,” Even the audience could hear the smile in Punch’s voice, “for desire may kindle our passion, but it’s a commitment that fuels our eternal flame.”
“Then let our love burn brighter than the stars, Punch, for we are bound by both desire and commitment.”
This little game excited Glenraven in ways he hadn’t anticipated. The essence of sincerity he heard in ‘Judy’s’ voice warmed him. The more he spoke, the more the line between him and his Punch blurred.
Absurd. He gave himself a mental shake. This puppet performance is only a game. Judy isn’t the only one capable of playing a believable game.
“So, my love,” Punch said tenderly, “let us dance through the pages and write our own story, bound by fate and love.”
“Forever entwined, together we’ll craft our own destiny. It awaits, Punch, my dearest.” There was a pause. “Forever,” was Judy’s breathless reply.
RUTH A. CASIE is a USA Today bestselling author of historical swashbuckling action-adventures and contemporary romance with enough action to keep you turning pages. Her stories feature strong women and the men who deserve them, endearing flaws and all. She lives in New Jersey with her hero, three empty bedrooms and a growing number of incomplete counted cross-stitch projects. Before she found her voice, she was a speech therapist (pun intended), client liaison for a corrugated manufacturer, and vice president at an international bank where she was a product/marketing manager, but her favorite job is the one she’s doing now-writing romance. She hopes her stories become your favorite adventures.
A devoted wife and mother faces the unimaginable as her life crumbles.
Crystal Rigler seems to have a perfect marriage. Derek, her handsome and charismatic husband, and their adult daughter, Cordelia, are her whole world. In addition to her already busy life, Crystal supports the volunteer organization she and Derek started: STOP (Stop Transplants of Organs from Prisoners). STOP aims to end a new government policy of harvesting organs from executed prisoners. They learn that these organs are not distributed by the national transplant list, established to allocate organs fairly. Instead, a shadowy figure known as Broker Al pulls the strings. He expedites the execution of young and healthy prisoners and sells their organs at a high price to the rich and well-connected. After Crystal learns a disturbing secret, events are set in motion that will potentially dismantle STOP, change her life, and cost her everything. Unless she is willing to do the unthinkable… .
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Praise for The Organ Broker:
“The Organ Broker by Deven Greene was intricate and captivated my attention from the first page. The story was fast-paced with not a single dull moment.” ~ Readers’ Favorite
“If you enjoy moral dilemmas, complex characters, and a plot that feels uncomfortably plausible, this book will leave you thinking long after the ending.” ~ Literary Titan
“…electrifyingly intense… Introspective and entertaining, The Organ Broker navigates the delicate balance between principles and priorities.” ~ Indies Today
“The Organ Broker … teeters between thriller, novel, a story of medical and social challenge, and more. It stands out from others about organ harvesting simply because it evolves a complex plot that engages characters and readers in a moral and ethical dance spiced with intrigue and the unexpected.” ~ D. Donovan, Sr. Reviewer, Midwest Book Review
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THE ORGAN BROKER Trailer:
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Book Details:
Genre: Psychological Suspense
Published by: Panthera Publishing Publication Date: April 2025 Number of Pages: 321 ISBN: 9781964620060 (ISBN10: 1964620066)
The East Texas sun was hotter than usual for September, the few clouds high above providing no relief. A half-hour earlier, overcome by heat and exhaustion, Crystal had let her sign reading “Save Kwami” slip to the ground. Standing near the front of the crowd, Crystal pushed up the visor on her baseball cap to get a better look at her surroundings. She was pleased with the impressive turnout which she estimated to be close to one thousand people. It was the largest they’d ever had. Most of the other protestors continue to hold their placards high, displaying myriad slogans such as “Justice for Kwami,” “Let Kwami Live,” “Impeach Gov. Percy,” and the most popular, “STOP.” She took a deep breath and lifted her sign again, fighting the pain in her fingers as she held it as high as she could.
The crowd of protestors was comprised of a cross-section of the community— young, old, couples, families, Black, White, Hispanic, and Asian. A colorful array of baseball caps, bucket hats, visors, straw hats, and cowboy hats protected most of the heads from the constant flood of the sun’s rays. The makeshift podium and public address system were rudimentary, and there was the usual milling around often seen in large gatherings, but the audience, for the most part, was paying attention to the pudgy young man with a man bun speaking to them. At times, the crowd burst out in synchronous claps and hoots of approval. The assembly was peaceful, with only a few skirmishes breaking out at the edges where police stood watch. Still thirsty after having finished her bottle of water, Crystal let her mind wander as the speaker droned on about the immorality of what was about to take place. Her clothes clung to her sweaty body, and despite wearing sunglasses with polarized lenses, the bright sun hurt her eyes. Looking down, she swatted away a bug that landed on her arm. Uncomfortable and impatient, she was eagerly awaiting the next speaker. Finally, the man at the podium looked up and announced, “And now, the man you’ve all been waiting to hear, the leader of our organization, Mr. Derek Rigler.” The mood of the crowd changed, and participants started chanting “STOP” in unison as they raised and lowered their signs. A tall, muscular man with tan skin and wavy blond hair, took to the stage next to the previous speaker and scanned the crowd with his magnetic blue eyes. Crystal looked up and smiled. His handsome, chiseled features gave him the look of a confident leader. Although he was nearly fifty years old, he looked at least ten years younger. He hasn’t lost the ability to attract attention whenever he enters a room. Derek took his place on the podium and held out his arms as if to give a benediction. After almost a full minute of roaring applause, he raised and lowered his hands several times to quiet the crowd. Crystal looked around, energized by the enthusiasm bubbling over. She noted more press vans set up around the perimeter than in the previous protest. Their organization, STOP, was gaining traction. She wondered if Derek had picked her out of the crowd. If she were taller, he’d probably see her—she wasn’t far from the front—but she imagined her five-foot two-inch frame made her visage difficult to identify in the sea of people. From what she could glean, Derek hadn’t spotted her. After all, she was just another brunette under a baseball cap, surrounded by many others. Even so, Crystal smiled widely, wondering if anyone nearby recognized her. After all, she was notable as Derek’s wife and the mother of his child, Cordelia. As Derek started his familiar diatribe against the Texas death penalty laws, Crystal tried to lock eyes with him, but his eyes never found her. Instead, he focused on members of the audience near and far, concentrating his gaze on one person for several seconds before moving on to the next pair of waiting eyes. Crystal recognized the usual arguments against the event that was scheduled to take place momentarily—the uneven death penalty sentencing, the ugliness of exacting revenge, and the irreversibility of the punishment once meted out. The speech was powerful, and she agreed with everything Derek said. She could recite the words by heart, not only because she had heard them during Derek’s practice sessions, but because she had written them herself. Every time the crowd reacted with hollers and claps, she felt taller, each breath a bit more satisfying. She’d been to over six of these rallies in the past year, each protesting the execution of a prisoner found guilty of a crime deemed fitting for capital punishment. The death penalty had never sat well with Crystal, but over the past two years, the practice had escalated, with four more executions scheduled over the next six months in Texas alone. Not only was the ultimate punishment meted out more often, but the evidence leading to convictions was frequently less convincing. She’d made up her mind to do something to stop the injustice and had established STOP almost a year earlier. A small, grass-roots collection of like-minded people, it was taking hold, thanks to her speech writing, community outreach, and organizational skills, bolstered by her husband’s charisma. He was the face of the organization. Derek’s address was interrupted by a loud commotion as the officers stationed around the perimeter began to forcefully clear a path through the protestors to the entryway of the large building looming behind the speaker. Despite shouting and resistance from the crowd, with the most passionate demonstrators being handcuffed and dragged away, the police were able to open a wide berth. “We are nearing the time,” Derek shouted above the commotion, “the time when our brother Kwami will be taken from us in an act that can only be described as state-sponsored murder. Let all those who have participated in this mockery of justice one day pay for their crimes, and let all those who directly benefit from this violent act realize the wrong they have participated in.” A police transport moved through the clearing in the crowd as demonstrators chanted “Kwami, Kwami” in unison. Although the windows of the vehicle were covered, all knew who was inside—Kwami McKinney, sentenced to be executed that day. The van didn’t stop until it was a mere five feet from the door to the building. A massive construction of cement and glass six stories high, the structure dwarfed the trees and other buildings nearby. Derek was silent as he turned to watch the Black prisoner, his head shaved, exit the van’s side door. Dressed in an orange jumpsuit accessorized with ankle and wrist shackles, Kwami was escorted by two armed guards, each holding onto one of his arms. Two more prison officers took up the rear. As the party of five walked towards the glass doors of the building, a Black woman around fifty years old ran towards them screaming. She was forcibly stopped by police, who grabbed onto her arms long before she could interfere. Everyone there knew the woman was Sally McKinney, Kwami’s mother. She yelled and cried hysterically, flailing against those restraining her as her son was led through the automated doors that opened before him and the guards. They disappeared inside the structure as the glass doors shut. People in the crowd yelled and cried, drowning out Ms. McKinney’s wails. Frustrated tears filled Crystal’s eyes; their protest had done nothing to dissuade the authorities from carrying out their sentence. She hadn’t expected the proceedings to be halted, but held onto a glimmer of hope until now, irrational as it was. She looked to Derek for comfort, hoping they might finally lock gazes and convey their sadness to each other, but Crystal’s thoughts were interrupted by a female acquaintance. “Fantastic speech,” the woman said. “I can’t disagree,” Crystal answered, buoyed momentarily by the woman’s words. “You must be very proud, being his wife. He’s so handsome, and brilliant to boot. You two are the perfect couple. I’d sure like to be a fly on the wall at your dinner table to hear about all his great ideas.” The words stung slightly, as Crystal chuckled politely. She was accustomed to being thought of as a mere appendage of her charismatic husband, but, she’d tried to convince herself that a successful protest, with Derek delivering a resounding speech, was all that was important. She didn’t need the admiration of others like he did. “Our dinners aren’t as interesting as you might think. Mostly, we talk about how we’re going to pay our bills.” Members of the press, who until now had been scattered amongst the protestors while taking notes and silently recording videos, were now talking and interviewing people on camera. The crowd thinned, but Crystal didn’t want to leave. She’d have liked to remain until she knew Kwami had taken his last breath, but that moment was hours away. She listened as a nearby male telecaster spoke into a camera. “Emotions are again high as another execution is about to take place. While many people feel that the crimes Kwami McKinney was convicted of, armed robbery and hostage-taking, justify the death sentence, some feel the punishment is too severe for the crimes the prisoner was convicted of. Still others believe he is innocent of the charges against him.” The reporter turned to a middle-aged female bystander and asked, “What do you think of today’s events? Do you think justice is being carried out today?” After posing the question, he shoved the microphone close to the woman’s mouth. “This is a travesty of justice,” she answered. “The real criminal was wearing a ski mask during the robbery, and escaped capture immediately following the crime. That was made clear during the trial. We also learned that Mr. McKinney was picked out in a lineup by two unreliable witnesses days later. There was a boatload of evidence that the so-called witnesses had drug charges against them dropped shortly after identifying Mr. McKinney. What kind of justice is that?” The telecaster quickly turned to the camera and continued his reporting. “Despite the controversy, Kwami McKinney is still scheduled to be executed here and now at New Lake Hospital. While we are happy for the families of the six unnamed individuals who will be the recipients of much-needed organs, many are questioning the legality and morality of what is now becoming a common method of organ procurement. The objections are being led by the organization STOP, which stands for Stop Transplants of Organs from Prisoners.” *** Excerpt from The Organ Broker by Deven Greene. Copyright 2025 by Deven Greene. Reproduced with permission from Deven Greene. All rights reserved.
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About Author Deven Greene:
Deven Greene lives in Northern California, where she enjoys writing fiction, most of which involves science or medicine. She has degrees in biochemistry (PhD) and medicine (MD), and practiced pathology for over twenty years.
She has previously published the The Erica Rosen MD Trilogy (Unnatural, Unwitting, and Unforeseen), and Ties That Kill, as well as several short stories.
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This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Deven Greene. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
Someone—or something—wants Kellen out of town . . .
Kellen Brand’s inheritance comes as a monumental shock—
a rundown farm she doesn’t want and one paroled Watcher all her own.
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Cowboy Watch
The Watchers Book 1
by Petie McCarty
Genre: Paranormal Small-Town Romantic Suspense
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The Watchers Series—
Fallen angels cast out of heaven by the archangel Michael for coercing
with Satan to gain control. Some of these turncoats—duped late in the game by
Satan’s lies—doubled back to seek redemption for their unwitting
betrayal. Offered parole in exchange for penance,
these Watchers are given the toughest bodyguard missions with little
leeway for success.
One last chance.
These are their stories . . .
Someone—or something—wants Kellen out of town . . .
Kellen Brand’s inheritance comes as a monumental shock—a rundown farm she
doesn’t want and one paroled Watcher all her own. Kellen’s
eccentric mother believed Watchers to be fallen angels seeking
penance by guarding individuals who had lost their way. Seriously? A Watcher?
Only her mother . . .
Since Kellen vows no sane woman would choose to live in
Riverside, she’s on a mission to dump the old farm fast and to the first buyer
who comes along. Unfortunately for her, the only buyer is a
resort developer, spurned by a townful of objectors and one handsome cowboy—her
neighbor, Luke Thornton. Luke must block Kellen’s farm sale or risk exposure of
his own family’s secrets. He can ill afford his immediate and compelling attraction
to his new neighbor.
Someone is watching Kellen, but not who she thinks. Someone
deadly and intent on scaring her out of town. Or worse. Luke has a
hellish choice to make—step in and rescue Kellen from her threats, or to
protect his family, stand by and watch . . .
“Vera tells me she told you about the haunted cemetery,” Gerald called to her, as the front door jingled again.
“She did,” Kellen called back and placed a few candles in her basket.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” said a familiar voice from behind her.
If it was possible for a voice to leer, this one did. She slowly turned. “I don’t need any protection, Sheriff.”
Reilly maneuvered way too close for her liking and cornered her between the last two rows of shelves. “You never know what to expect here in West Virginia, right?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and his rat eyes glittered like two black aggies.
A wave of apprehension chilled her skin. The evil eyes of the mean boy who threw dirt clods had changed to the leering eyes of a much larger and quite fearsome man. The mean boy was now the sheriff. If he threw dirt clods, who would she call?
He edged closer.
She stepped back and bumped into the last row of shelves. She felt just like the jackrabbit her dog once cornered in the barn.
“I can look out for you while you’re here, Kellen. Special-like.”
The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. She could feel the lower shelf jabbing into the back of her calves.
He took one more step. His sour breath invaded her space and she wanted to gag. Like David, she let this man get to her.
“Real special.”
She could hear Gerald talking to a customer. No help there.
Reilly reached a hand toward her face, and a fist snagged the sheriff’s wrist.
“She doesn’t need any protection,” a deep voice growled. “She has plenty.”
Luke Thornton had an iron grip on Reilly’s wrist, his knuckles white with the effort. Reilly tried to glare him into submission, but the steel-like glint in Thornton’s eyes forced the sheriff to blink. Thornton tossed off the wrist but stood his ground, edging a shoulder between Kellen and her assailant. For a brief instant, Kellen forgot how maddening Thornton was. She wanted to grab him and kiss him for saving her from the foul-breathed sheriff.
“Watch yourself, Thornton,” Reilly growled. “I run this county.”
“Not all of it, you don’t.”
Kellen took deep breaths to slow her racing heart. She blinked, and the sheriff was gone. Luke stood so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and that certainly didn’t quiet her pulse. She stared into his dark-chocolate eyes and held on to the breath she’d been so desperate to suck down only moments before.
“Are you all right?”
Was that worry in his eyes? For her? Oh, good heavens—she was still staring. He was asking her something. What was it? Oh yeah, was she all right?
She nodded.
Words were too much at the moment. Too many emotions. Panic at Reilly accosting her again after all these years and then discovering her knight in shining armor. Luke’s focused gaze had her heart fluttering and from more than fear. She couldn’t manage to release the air in her lungs.
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Petie spent a large part of her career working at Walt
Disney World—”The Most Magical
Place on Earth”—where she enjoyed working in the land of fairy tales by
day and creating her own romantic fairy tales by night, including her
new series, The Cinderella Romances. She eventually said good-bye to
her “day” job to write her stories full-time.
These days Petie spends her time writing new Cinderella
series tales, her new The Watchers series, sequels to her regency
time-travel series, Lords in Time, and more contemporary romance standalones to
go along with her two previous releases—Any Fin For Love and Ambush
in the Everglades.
Petie shares her home on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee
with her horticulturist husband and an opinionated Nanday conure named Sassy
who will make a cameo appearance in the upcoming Book 2 of The Watchers series, Christmas Watch.
Publication date: March 31st 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense
Laurene King had it all: beauty, wealth, and a sexy secret affair with Reese Ashbourne— the brooding heir of her family’s sworn enemy.
But one reckless night shattered everything.
Tragedy struck. Laurene disappeared. And Reese was left with betrayal, unanswered questions, and scars he’ll never forget.
Now, Laurene is back, forced to return to the life she fled, but her homecoming comes with a cruel twist. Their families, teetering on the edge of ruin, have resurrected an old deal to save themselves: an Ashbourne and a King must marry—or lose everything.
Only this time, Reese is the groom. Not his brother.
Haunted by the past, Reese craves revenge as much as he still craves her. Trapped in a forced proximity neither can escape, their chemistry ignites—and so do their secrets.
But someone knows the truth about that night. The lies that tore them apart are unraveling, and the shadowy danger lurking in their luxurious world could destroy them both.
With their second chance at love and their families’ legacies hanging by a thread, Laurene and Reese must choose: bury the past or watch everything crumble to ashes.
The clock is ticking, and some truths are better left buried…
The laughter spilled from the main hall of the yacht club, bright and careless, tangled with the relentless thump of music. I should’ve been out there, smiling, toasting, pretending.
Instead, I’d been hiding in this bathroom for nearly twenty minutes, like it could stop the slow, sinking dread pooling in my chest.
Smile, Laurene! Smile!
Conrad’s great.
Really? my conscience said. He was great. Great for the family, great for appearances, great for everything except me.
The door opened and shut softly behind me.
“It’s over.”
I refused to look behind me. I couldn’t. If I did, I’d crack.
Instead, I focused on putting on my lipstick, the motion mechanical. I looked immaculate—perfect—the kind of woman my mother would smile at with pride. But I hated the color.
This fucking burgundy.
The same shade she shoved at me for every happy occasion, every moment she wanted to control. A color that screamed her. Everything she expected me to be. Everything I despised.
I met his gaze in the bathroom mirror.
He loomed there, his suit rumpled and tie slightly askew, his dark hair rebelliously unkempt. He looked the exact opposite of his brother—wild, unapologetic, dangerous. Everything I wasn’t supposed to want.
“Don’t look away.” Every word wrapped around me like a challenge, and that rebellious part of me strained beneath my skin. But he wasn’t asking. He was demanding.
And I obeyed.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I wanted him here. I needed him. But I couldn’t have him.
“I could say the same to you.” In the dim light, his green eyes seemed almost black. “Shouldn’t you be outside? Smiling for the cameras? Pretending you don’t hate every second of this?”
“This”—I pointed between us—“ends now. Get out before somebody sees you.”
His eyes held mine, and the way he saw me, like he was stripping away every layer, every excuse, was almost too much.
I turned. “This isn’t a game, Reese. My mama would burn the entire town to the ground if she knew about us.”
“She doesn’t know.” He stepped closer. “I was careful. No one saw me. We still have the plan.”
“Please.” I had to get through this night without more tears. “Let’s…let’s just cut our losses. I—I don’t know if I can do it now.”
He was behind me before I knew it, his weight trapping me against the counter. I closed my eyes, my breath catching as his exhale grazed the sensitive skin of my neck, hot and tantalizing.
“Can we think of something else?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “She always knows, Reese. You don’t understand—”
“What I understand,” he said, his voice sharp, “is that you’re miserable. You’re about to marry my brother, and you’re standing here trying to convince yourself it’s what you want. Believe in our plan or is that what you want, Laurene?”
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About Author Tinia Montford:
Tinia (TUH-NIA) Montford is a Pisces who’s a sap for romance, especially when there’s (tons of) kissing. Loves eighties sitcoms and will consume anything with chocolate. She graduated from the University of San Francisco with a degree in English and Graphic Design. She is currently pursuing her MFA in Fiction.
You can find Tinia at www.tiniamontford.com or on social media: @tiniawritesbooks
Chilling murders terrorize a town and bring together two detectives to face the hardest task of their lives. Jack Ludlum, who relies on his brawn to get things done, is now paired with Jill Jarred,a brilliant investigator with keen intuition. As they delve into the secret world of incels and white supremacists, and conflict between local authorities and the FBI rages, a media frenzy further complicates the mission. Is there a serial killer on the loose? Or something entirely different? Will their clashing personalities be their undoing, or can they unite to stop the killer before they kill each other? What Goes Around is a dynamic thriller that examines the intricacies of love, loss, and the unbreakable bonds that transcend time. With its pulse-pounding pace, captivating characters, and a revelatory twist that challenges the boundaries of life and death, this novel will keep you hooked from the first page to the last, and thinking long afterwards.
Praise for What Goes Around:
“Relentless and gritty, Wendroff expertly weaves a narrative that begs, ‘just one more page…'” ~ J.D. Barker, NY Times bestselling author “What Goes Around starts off at a breakneck pace and doesn’t let up until it reaches its unexpected conclusion.” ~ Lisa Black, NY Times bestselling author “An adrenaline-fueled novel, the action breathlessly driven by two detectives-Jill Jarred and Jack Ludlum–relentlessly pursuing the bloody trails left by a serial killer with a dark sense of justice, deadly groups of white supremacists, and one lonely, alienated boy caught up in the violence.” ~ Kathleen Kent, NY Times bestselling Author “What a twist! This book grabs you from the first chapter, and doesn’t ever let you go. A brilliant debut!” ~ L.M. Chilton, Author and Journalist “Gripping and chilling…relentless…includes very up to date issues…with an original revelatory twist.” ~ Crime Fiction Magazine
I’ll remember the day I died for the rest of my life.
Prologue
The sign at the gate read, “Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again.” It was before dawn, the night sky still dark and the compound silent as a cemetery. The cabin loomed in the distance: a den of crime, a place where the armed drug dealers spent much of their time. The police team approached as quietly as they could, the crunch of twigs beneath their boots the only sound to break the eerie silence. Fear tiptoed through their souls, its icy fingers tracing the contours of their restless thoughts. They took a collective inhalation of breath, not knowing if they were walking toward their death. They knew the property owner, the leader of the group, wasn’t kidding with his sign. What they didn’t know was that a baby was crawling on the floor of the cabin they were about to storm. *** Jon Eddie considered himself a champion. Now he understood he was in for the fight of his life. Forty-two years old, with bulging eyes, a bushy beard and Fu Manchu mustache, he’d covered himself in self-righteousness, the way his tattoos covered almost every inch of his bulky body. He was proud of the group he’d brought together. Eddie liked to believe he was simply an entrepreneur, as his annual white power music festival, Nordic Fest, attracted skinheads from across the country. Full of music from “hatecore” bands such as Angry Aryans and No Alibi, supported by shouting speakers spewing their idiotic ideology, it provided a nice source of income—in addition to the dues Eddie charged, and the contributions he asked for. His major source of cash, however, was a raging drug-dealing business, his biggest sellers being meth, molly, and of course opioids. His girlfriend, Krystal, was yelling at their baby to stop crying. Krystal, no mother of the year, picked the baby girl up and was about to shake her when Eddie noticed movement at the front of his property. ** * Outside, the thundering silence was deafening. Two police officers accompanying the core team were selected to check the dense tree line that surrounded the compound’s fence. They knew there were often guards stationed behind the evergreens—if so, they needed to take them out as quietly and quickly as possible before the main assault could begin. Everyone was on high alert. Though it was cool, sweat darkened their uniforms. Up ahead, closer to the cabin, they spied a truck with monster-size tires. Through binoculars, a sticker affixed to a large dent on the rear bumper was evident. It was a monstrosity, with a silhouette of crossed AR-15s next to the slogan, “Yours for White Victory.” One cop, Jack—built like a sequoia tree—towered over the policewoman beside him, even though she was above average in height. He pointed his head toward the tree line and looked down with a smug expression. “You ready for this, Jill?” he asked, his voice full of confidence. She rolled her eyes. Her uniform was pristine. “Shh. You know I can take care of myself,” she whispered. He laughed silently. “Sure you can, Jill.” Then, under his breath, said, “Just don’t get in my way.” Jill gritted her teeth and ignored his taunts. She’d always been competitive with him, ever since they were in the police academy together; they were like two racehorses heading neck and neck toward the finish line. Jill was determined to prove she was just as good as he was. No, better. They looked at the team leader, who nodded. The two of them slowly moved forward, their breathing becoming more rapid. As they approached the fence, they heard rustling in the trees. *** Krystal had never wanted to be a mother. She’d really had no ambition to be anything at all. Stuck in a rut of life, like a sailboat without wind, she’d been tending bar when she met Jon Eddie. It wasn’t much of a bar; as you pushed open its dilapidated door, you were immediately hit with the pungent smells of bitter beer, cigarette smoke, and salty sweat. A long, sticky bar dominated the dimly lit interior, lined with shaky stools and chipped coasters. The walls were covered in peeling, nicotine-stained wallpaper, and the floor was littered with discarded peanut shells and spilt spirits. Normally, the regulars, their lives littered as well, would sit hunched over their drinks, staring blankly into the distance. Unless Jon Eddie was around. Eddie often drew a crowd, a mix of people in awe of him and people in fear of him. His mannerless mouth and domineering demeanor attracted Krystal. He clearly thought he was the shit, and just as clearly was a mean son of a bitch. But Krystal thought he was someone who could protect her. At first, she would shrivel from his drivel. Later, not knowing any better, she began believing him, impressed by his purported big ideas that the men around him enthusiastically nodded their heads up and down to. When the bar closed one night, he was in the parking lot, hovering, waiting for her, wanting her. She went out the back door and saw him. With an almost imperceptible shrug, she got into his truck. She stayed the night with him, which then became a month of muddling. Once she was pregnant, she was there for good. Or so she thought. *** “Grab the guns!” Eddie yelled over the baby’s wails. Krystal looked at him, frozen, as she held the baby. “Leave the damn kid on the floor. Just grab the guns!” ** * They could see two guards ahead. The guards were behind a large oak tree, chatting quietly while looking at a cell phone. One laughed. Jack motioned to Jill to wait a moment as he silently made his way to the larger of the two guards. Before anything even registered on the guard’s face, Jack started in on him. Jack got him down, using a headlock and fireman’s carry maneuver that landed the guy on his head. He was knocked out and would have a concussion, but he’d live. Jack allowed himself a quick smile, then turned to the other man, who was backing away, suddenly preferring flight to fight. Jill had watched momentarily in admiration of Jack’s fighting skills but couldn’t admire for too long; the other guard was her job, and she had to be just as capable with him. He’d turned to run but had a gun in hand. Jill moved catlike toward her prey. A tree root tripped her. The guard stopped. His gun hand was shaking. Fast and agile, Jill quickly recovered, jumped, and landed a swift kick to his shaved head. Her steel-toed boot landed right in the center of his swastika tattoo; blood immediately gushed onto the soil. All those years of martial-arts training paid off. The gun fell out of the man’s hand, and Jill kicked it away before kicking him in the stomach to make sure he stayed down. The man’s eyes were wide, and it looked like he’d had enough, so she stopped, not wanting to overdo it. Jack watched her, ready to act, and looked similarly impressed, though he didn’t say a word to her after they’d cuffed and muzzled the guards. Other cops quickly came over and dragged them away. “Well, that was the easy part,” Jack said. Jill, panting, just stared at him, knowing those words to be true. For a second, she thought of her dad, a former cop, and hoped his fate wouldn’t befall her. The core team warily walked forward, heading into the unknown. Jack followed closely behind. Jill wiped the blood off her boot with some leaves and joined them. Her heart pounding, but with a lot of backbone, she put her best foot forward. ** * The team leader, Nic, was as determined as a bulldog with a bone. He knew he had to stop the drug dealing, and he hated the group’s ideology. But even more, he was given this mission because an informant had told of a plan this group had to blow up a government building. Tomorrow. As they came closer to the cabin, he scanned the area for any signs of activity. He saw movement within the cabin. He could feel the sweat dripping down his face, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. While his officers were highly trained, he could see the fear in their eyes. It wasn’t a surprise. It was too easy for things to go bad. He motioned for the team to spread out and be ready, with two officers heading around to the back. He knew they were dealing with very dangerous people but hoped to take them in without bloodshed. Especially their own. *** The smoke bomb exploded on the floor. Chaos. His vision clouded, an officer yelled, “Police, come out with your hands up!” There was more movement inside; Eddie was fuming. But no one emerged from the thick fog of smoke. The cops moved in, like a tidal wave crashing onto shore. One of the team members was hit immediately; he was dead before his body hit the floor. More gunshots rang out. As the men frantically searched the rooms, the team leader headed straight for the source of the gunfire, bullets whizzing by at a dizzying pace. Amidst the mist, Jill saw a woman on the floor, bloodied and unmoving. She then heard a cry, and looking down, saw a baby. Holy shit, she thought, and tried to yell to the others, but in the mayhem, she knew no one would hear or understand. A hail of bullets came their way, and Jill got down, covering the baby with her body, like an embryo in the womb. Another gunshot rang out, and Jill saw blood. *** Excerpt from What Goes Around by Michael Wendroff . Copyright 2024 by Michael Wendroff . Reproduced with permission from Michael Wendroff . All rights reserved.
About Author Michael Wendroff:
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Michael Wendroff has an MBA in marketing from NYU, and was inducted into their Hall of Fame. His MBA thesis was on “Marketing in the publishing industry,” and it was excerpted in the industry trade journal, “Publisher’s Weekly,” so he actually got paid to write his thesis. While interviewing publishing executives for the thesis, he met Truman Capote. He has spent many years since as a global marketing consultant. It was the Covid pandemic that finally got his to write his novel, as he was cooped up at home. The impetus for the novel was something his mother said the moment he was born: “Oh! So nice to see you, Again.” He grew up in a publishing/author milieu, as his mother was an editor at NYC publishing houses (watching his mother scribbling in red ink on manuscript pages at home on weekends prepared him for his own editor’s comments!). Plus she remarried a literary agent, Henry Morrison, so Michael was friendly with many authors (Dean Koontz, Lawrence Block, Joseph Finder, Eric Van Lustbader, etc), and even spent a vacation with Robert Ludlum. Watching Ludlum hand-write his 450 page novels on yellow legal pads didn’t dissuade Michael from trying to write a novel (though he’s thankful for his PC). Michael’s debut thriller novel, What Goes Around, was launched in the USA, UK, and Australia, and foreign language rights have thus far been sold in Italian, Japanese, and Hungarian. Fun fact: Michael’s great-grandfather was brought over by Thomas Edison from the University of Copenhagen (Denmark) to work with him in his New Jersey labs. He holds a number of patents, including for plastic buttons (he became known, and rich, around town as “The Button King”). Michael proudly wears button-down shirts whenever he can.
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Genre: Time Travel Romantic Suspense, Historical Mystery
In this riveting
conclusion to the Always and Forever trilogy, Ryan’s
classified new case awakens Siena’s greatest fears. As shadows of the past
deepen and close in, only Ryan’s fulfillment of his ancient sacred vow can
dispel them.
1566, ULSTER, IRELAND. Neave lives in fear as Queen Elizabeth’s
obscene bounty on Aedan’s head turns him into a target. Undeterred, Aedan
enlists his allies, the Antrim Scots, in his relentless fight to free Ireland
from English rule. But when greed and treachery hide in plain sight, nothing is
as it seems. After Aedan’s plans crumble in a shocking twist, he makes a solemn
oath to heartbroken Neave—one he may have to honor in another lifetime.
2013, MIAMI, FL. When Siena discovers the truth about Ryan’s new
case and their tragic past life, she realizes he is in mortal danger.
Tormented, she begs him to quit, but Ryan is determined despite an inner voice
urging him to do right by her. Unwilling to be sidetracked, he resolves to deal
with it later and on his own terms. But when a ruthless cartel takes Ryan
hostage, he just might run out of time.
Will Ryan uphold his vow to Siena, or are they destined for disaster… again?
If you love time travel romance with elements of reincarnation, suspense,
mystery, drama, and a touch of magic, don’t miss the grand finale of the Always
and Forever trilogy!
In this
gripping sequel to the award-winning novel, Through the Veneer of Time,
echoes of Siena’s past life lure her into a shocking indiscretion that
threatens to destroy her marriage. She alone can undo the damage, but this
chilling revelation is only the beginning of her battle.
1564, ULSTER, IRELAND. After Aedan’s diplomatic visit to Queen
Elizabeth’s court results in his compulsory divorce and arranged marriage,
Neave’s violent unraveling drives her into another man’s arms. But in seeking
revenge, Neave falls into a perfect trap set by Aedan’s enemy. By the time she
learns the truth, it’s too late to undo the damage to Aedan, herself, and the
hard-won peace in Ulster. When despair makes her reckless, the price will be a
lifetime of infamy, confinement, and isolation from what Neave treasures
most—Aedan and her son.
2011, WASHINGTON D.C./DALLAS, TX. It seems like a reasonable
plan—Siena finishing her final mural in D.C. while Ryan starts his new job in
Dallas. But when Siena meets Ryan’s new FBI partner, an inexplicable fit of
jealousy sends her on a downward spiral. To make matters worse, the present
mirrors the past when her visions take a startling turn. Consumed by
insecurities, Siena takes a drastic step, which proves a catastrophic lapse in
judgment. When her self-fulfilling prophecy unfolds in a devastating inversion
of the past, Siena’s actions could cost her the two people she most fears to
lose—Ryan and their baby.
Will Siena and Ryan beat their disastrous odds, or is their marriage
foredoomed?
If you love time travel romance with dark undertones, as well as elements of
domestic suspense, psychosexual thriller, reincarnation, and a touch of magic,
don’t miss the second installment of the Always and Forever trilogy!
“An achingly beautiful story that lingered in my thoughts long after
I’d finished the last page.” — Jodi Jensen, Author of Sophie’s Key
“Bell had me feeling ‘all the feels’ as I feverishly turned each
page.” — Five Star Review from Reader Views
“Vera’s brilliant storytelling comes out in full force again in this
exceptional sequel.” — The Bookish Historian Book Reviews
“It’s literally taking me a few days to finally come down from the
rollercoaster. (I mean that in the best way).” — Irish Booklover Book Reviews
“BEWARE… this book will leave you with an awful hangover and thinking
about it for days long after you’ve finished.” — Kindle Babe Book Reviews
“Bell’s vision is imaginative, sexy, and sweeping. The author offers a
distinctive voice for the two time periods (and) populates the novel with
complex and flawed characters.” — BookLife Prize by Publishers Weekly
“Not only a satisfying continuation of Siena’s growth process, but a
story that simmers with intrigue, passion, historical insights, and thoroughly
engrossing revelations.” —D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review
For fans of
Diana Gabaldon and Susanna Kearsley comes a riveting new tale of time travel
and romantic suspense: A haunted painter’s past life visions are not the
creative inspiration they seemed. They’re a harbinger of her ancient revenge
vow, and her FBI husband won’t find the serial killer until she fulfills it.
But it may already be too late.
1559, ULSTER, IRELAND. When a young noblewoman Neave McConway weds
the newly elected King of Tyrone, Aedan O’Neal, the couple’s rare union of love
and passion becomes the talk of the region. But Aedan’s bold rule and fierce
defiance of the English crown threaten his powerful enemies, and they’ll stop
at nothing to crush his growing influence. After Aedan rides off to fight
against the English occupiers, Neave suffers a shocking attack that will
forever alter both their lives — as well as the lives they have not yet lived.
2009, WASHINGTON, D.C. While mural artist Siena Forte battles a
creative block, her FBI husband Ryan Casey struggles with a serial killer case.
When research leads Siena to the practice of Past Life Regression, she stumbles
upon irresistible inspiration. But after her art exposes her to a vicious
ancient adversary, she discovers the true reason for her past life visions.
They’re a harbinger of her centuries-old revenge vow, and the serial killer
can’t be stopped until she fulfills it. But there is another person from the
past with unfinished business—her husband.
Will Siena and Ryan settle their long-overdue score, or will the past repeat
itself in a chilling parallel?
If you love time travel romance with elements of reincarnation, suspense,
mystery, fantasy, and a touch of magic, don’t miss this thrilling read!
“A true masterpiece. It is a book that once read is impossible to
forget.” — Highly Recommended Award of Excellence from The Historical Fiction Company
“The intricate and creative plot is one you will not want to miss.
Anxiously awaiting book two.” — Five Star Review from Reader Views
“Vera Bell’s novel successfully combines historical fiction, romance,
and a contemporary thriller. “ — Historical Novel Society
“Past and present lives collide in Vera Bell’s hauntingly beautiful
debut. A sexy, sensuous tale.” — Julie McElwain, national award-winning journalist and author of A
Murder in Time
“Bell mixes romance, mystery, and history to take the reader on
an adventure across centuries.” — BookLife Prize by Publishers Weekly
“Against the backdrop of love, hate, and a killer’s threat lies the
attraction of a thriller’s fast pace and heated twists.”
— D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review
Vera Bell is a
Georgia Author of the Year nominee and the award-winning author of the
“Always and Forever” trilogy, set in sixteenth-century Ireland and
present-day United States. Book One, “Through the Veneer of Time,” is her debut
novel. She wrote it after trying past life regression and finding herself
immersed in a world so captivating, she couldn’t let it go. A former commercial
artist, she lives in Atlanta with her husband, two teenagers, and one fur baby.
Her favorite place to write is on her porch, overlooking a pond lined with
river birches and magnolias. The topics she never tires of are bygone eras, our
universal human condition, and love that transcends time and space.
Want to be in the know? Join Vera’s private mailing list to get first dibs on
cover reveals, sneak peeks, new releases, free giveaways, and much more
at https://www.verabellauthor.com.
When the police rule her dad’s death an accidental overdose, 16-year-old Chloe refuses to believe it and vows to find his killer. Alone against a potentially corrupt, small-town police force, a persistent social worker seeking proof that she has adult supervision, and precariously low funds, Chloe learns that her dad’s life as a cemetery caretaker masked a web of family secrets that quite possibly led to his death—and are now putting her in mortal danger. Needing freedom to investigate, Chloe pretends that her only surviving relative, a famous war correspondent, has returned from an overseas assignment to be her guardian. But living alone in the caretaker’s house in the middle of the cemetery, mere feet from the crime scene, puts Chloe’s nerves on edge even before she unearths clues about the shadowy side of her small town. Help comes from unlikely and surprising allies: the colorful owner of the local retro diner, the quiet new classmate with his near-perfect memory, and a spirit who visits in her moments of greatest need.
But as Chloe gets closer to the truth, someone else is getting closer to Chloe, watching her every move. And when her aunt turns up on international news reporting from a war zone, Chloe’s cover is blown. Now the race is on to reveal her dad’s killer—but perhaps—Chloe isn’t as alone as she thought.
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Praise for Beyond the Cemetery Gate: The Secret Keeper’s Daughter:
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Recently voted Notable 100 Best Indie Book of 2024 (from Shelf Unbound) and a Semi-Finalist for the CIBA YA Fiction Book Award (Chanticleer International Book Awards)
“This taut, suspenseful mystery goes beyond the cemetery gate and settles, creaking, into our very bones.” ~ Silvia Acevedo, author of the award-winning God Awful series
“A gripping mystery that succeeds due to a headstrong protagonist who’s unwilling to fail.” ~ Kirkus Reviews
“… a must-read and recommended for fans of mysteries looking for a gripping and compelling story.” ~ 5-Stars – Reader Views Kids
“A haunting YA mystery. Touching on everything from police ineptitude and community solidarity to the endless frustration of being patronized as a young person, this paranormal thriller confidently combines timely and relatable themes within a page-turning storyline.” ~ Self-Publishing Review
“Not all secrets are buried in the grave. Beyond the Cemetery Gate is a nonstop read through a dark, twisting plot and the dangerous world of shadows and sinister people that 16-year-old Chloe must outrun and outsmart.” ~ Patricia Skalka, Author of the Dave Cubiak Door County Mysteries
Book Details:
Genre: Young Adult Mystery Suspense
Published by: Lost Lake Press Publication Date: October 31, 2024 Number of Pages: 342 ISBN: 9780998173641 (ISBN10: 0998173649)
In the space between sleep and wakefulness, a sound seeped into my consciousness. The sense that something wasn’t quite right pulled me fully awake. I listened beyond my own breathing for it to come again.
A wail pierced the silence. An animal in pain? Only it wasn’t. I knew it was human. I slipped from bed to stare out into the cemetery. The tombstones always made for fascinating or eerie shadows, depending on how you felt about graveyards. I never minded, which was a good thing, considering my house was smack dab in the middle of one.
The sound came again, more of a moan this time, followed by a murmur of voices. I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but people were definitely in the cemetery. One of them was scared or maybe hurt. Dad wasn’t going to like this. He locked the gate tight every night. The only way in was to scale the tall, spiked iron fence or pick the lock. Either one was going to piss him off.
In the distance, a pinpoint of light moved away from where I perched. It was too small to be a flashlight . . . maybe a cell phone? I padded down the hall to Dad’s bedroom, calling for him. His door was ajar, and the hall light was enough to show his empty bed, the covers rumpled and thrown back as though he’d gotten up quickly. He must have heard the same thing. His boots weren’t in their usual spot by the back door, so I knew for sure he’d gone to investigate. I had to help because Dad and I were a team, small and mighty, he said. We always made it through everything together. In my hurry I forgot to stop the screen door from slamming behind me when I stepped out onto the porch, cringing when the sound echoed through the night. I waited a moment and then whispered, “Dad,” as loudly as I dared. No answer. I angled toward the part of the cemetery where the small light had been, thinking I’d find him corralling some kids from high school pulling a prank. It happened once in a while but usually in a few weeks—closer to Halloween. I knew more than a handful of idiots my age who would think this was funny. I hadn’t heard the wailing or voices since I left the house. Maybe whoever it was had left? That hopeful thought disappeared as a weird combination of worry and fear crawled up the base of my spine. Just in case it was something more menacing than kids, I hid my approach behind the cemetery’s largest and oldest tombstones. Maxwell, Bell, Ludington . . . I touched their cold granite and the mossy green lichen growing up their sides as I slid between them. I expected to find Dad by now. Where was he? A terrible thought pushed me into full fear mode. What if the person making that horrible scream was Dad? It hadn’t sounded like him, but … what if he was out here somewhere and hurt? I had to find him! My breath quickened and a damp sheen of sweat prickled my skin. I sped up, more concerned with finding him than being seen. The cemetery was big, but I had to be close to where I’d spotted the light. I calmed myself long enough to pivot in a slow circle, my bare feet sliding on the dewy grass. The main gate was open, obviously where the trespassers came in—and hopefully where they’d gone out. It was quiet and dark. The cemetery had no lights of its own, and the glow of streetlights reached only to the second row of graves. Here and there, solar decorations shimmered for dead loved ones as cheerfully as possible but didn’t shine far enough to be helpful. The darkness didn’t hinder me. The cemetery had been my playground since preschool, so even in the dark I was able to avoid every tree root, odd stone, or divot that might trip me up. I decided to be systematic and jogged a grid pattern, snaking through the rows. I stopped short and gasped at the next turn. A body was slumped against the base of my favorite statue, a white marble angel holding a sword and shield. “Dad!” He didn’t move. In two quick strides, I was at his side. “Dad!” I gave his shoulder a gentle shake, and his head tipped sideways. “Oh my god! Wake up!” I needed a better look and found the light on my phone. What I saw scared me even more. Dad’s face was pale, his eyes unfocused. I needed help—fast! Dialing 911 seemed impossibly slow for three simple numbers. “911. What’s your emergency?” “It’s – it’s my dad. He won’t wake up.” “What’s your location?” “I’m in the city cemetery. My dad is the caretaker here.” “What’s your name?” “C-Chloe Cowyn.” “Okay, Chloe, can you check whether your dad’s breathing?” I bent low and placed my face close to Dad’s mouth. “I don’t think so. Please hurry!” This didn’t make sense. Had someone hit him? I didn’t see any blood. I swept my eyes over his legs and arms—stopping abruptly at what I saw. “Nooooo.” At first, I thought the wailing had returned, until I realized that I was the one making the sound eerily like what woke me. “Chloe, are you okay? I have help on the way. Stay on the line with me until they arrive.” “No. No. No.” My cell phone dropped from my hand as I backed away. Tears blurred my view until I could no longer see the needle stuck in my dad’s arm. *** Excerpt from BEYOND THE CEMETERY GATE: The Secret Keeper’s Daughter by Valerie Biel. Copyright 2024 by Valerie Biel. Reproduced with permission from Valerie Biel. All rights reserved.
About Author Valerie Biel:
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Valerie Biel writes books for middle grade to adult audiences–stories inspired by her travels and her insatiable curiosity. Her award-winning, young adult fantasy series, Circle of Nine, was inspired by the myth and magic of Ireland’s ancient stone circles. She’s also the author of Haven, a contemporary middle grade novel, and Beyond the Cemetery Gate, a YA mystery suspense story. She helps other authors with their book promotion and marketing and frequently teaches writing workshops to students of all ages. When Valerie’s away from the computer, you might find her wrangling her overgrown garden, traveling the world, and reading everything she can get her hands on. Once upon a time, she graduated from the University of Wisconsin with degrees in journalism and political science. She lives with her husband on a (tiny) portion of her family’s century-old farm in rural Wisconsin, but regularly dreams of finding a cozy cottage on the Irish coast where she can write and write.
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(The Wild Rose Press)
Publication date: March 3rd 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense
Annie O’Toole is St. Louis Public Defender, passionate about fighting for the underdog and determined to prove herself as the badass trial lawyer she knows she can be. Getting assigned to defend the kid charged with shooting billionaire businessman, Michael Grayson, is a big step up for her career. At least until the hot guy she seduced at the Justice for All Ball shows up at her office in response to her deposition subpoena. Turns out the sexy stranger who introduced himself only as ‘Mick’, the guy she’s been fantasizing about since slipping away while he slept — is none other than the billionaire himself, Michael Grayson.
She’s horrified. He’s furious. He thinks she set him up. She thinks he’s an arrogant ass in a Savile Row suit. Sparks, intrigue, and bullets fly in a mix of swoon and suspense as the two battle each other, the bad guys, and an off-limits attraction neither can ignore. When the evidence leads back into Michael’s inner corporate circle, the two are plunged into a world of international intrigue, corporate espionage, and murder — with a side dish of unresolved family drama as Annie is forced to turn to the only expert in corporate intrigue she knows, her own uber-wealthy, estranged grandmother. Now all she has to do is solve the case, escape her grandmother’s plans to take over her life (again), and save her client, her career, and the man whose lifestyle she despises . . . and whose touch she can’t forget.
Michael wouldn’t have been surprised to see actual sparks flashing from her fingertips, given the effect of her touch on his skin. He pulled her against him, his hands sliding down over her hips to cup her ass, drinking in the feel and smell of her. But without her heels, she barely reached the middle of his chest. He grabbed her hand and led her to the bed.
“Climb up,” he ordered. “I want you at eye level.”
She laughed. “I’m not that short.”
He wrapped a fist in her tousled curls and pulled her to him. Bending his mouth to her ear, he sunk his teeth into her earlobe. She jumped.
“Get on the damn bed,” he whispered into her ear.
She scrambled onto the bed.
“Much better,” he murmured.
He ran his hands up her thighs until his fingers brushed the tiny swath of lace beneath the shimmering fabric of her dress. She inhaled sharply as he slid his fingers between the lace and the silk of her skin. He loved the way her breath hitched at his touch. He slid the lace slowly down her legs.
“I think you just stole my turn,” she breathed, her palms on his shoulders as she stepped out of the thong.
“Royal prerogative. The prince makes the rules— and can change them.” He let the lace fall to the floor and ran his fingers lightly back up her legs, enjoying the subtle shifting of her body in response to his touch.
“Don’t princesses get to make rules too?” she murmured, her eyes closed. “Or am I Cin—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips, cutting her off mid-syllable. “Sin is exactly what you are…temptation incarnate.”
Her lips curved. “My, you do credit me with extraordinary powers.”
He brushed his lips beneath her earlobe. “How would you feel about turning those extraordinary powers over to me for the night?”
She opened her eyes. It appeared to take a bit of an effort. “Hmm?”
“Are you amenable to being my royal subject for the night?”
She stilled. A beat of silence stretched between them.
“Depends on what you mean. Are we talking ‘safe word’ kind of subject?” she finally asked.
He smiled. “No safe word required.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that because you are the serial killer I suspected and I’m going to die no matter what?”
He clicked his tongue. “Damn. Shouldn’t have used my credit card to pay for this room. What was I thinking?” His hands moved to her waist, and he kissed the hollow of her neck. “Looks like I’ll have to let you survive the night after all.” He traced a slow finger down to where her cleavage disappeared in the fabric of her dress. She shivered. His pulse kicked up a beat.
“So?” he asked again.
She shot him a half-apologetic look. “I’m not a very compliant person.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Ah, but that’s what makes it interesting. Stepping out of your comfort zone heightens the experience.” His fingertip slowly circled first one nipple, then the other, through her dress.
Her eyes fluttered closed. “You make it really hard to think straight.”
He stepped back, lifting his hands up in the air. “Far be it from me to confuse the decision-making process. Take all the time you need.”
She shot him an exasperated look, then bit her lower lip, considering him. Finally, a half-smile flitted across those lips. “What the hell—so long as no safe words are required—long live the prince.”
His cock saluted her decision. Affecting a calm neither he nor his anatomy felt, he moved away from her and sat in the chair by the window. Crossing one ankle over his knee, he took his sweet time perusing her, his gaze raking her body. She fidgeted.
“Stand still,” he ordered.
She froze.
He let the tension build for a long minute, then said. “Take off your dress. Slowly.”
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About Author Cat Jameson:
Cat Jameson is a writer of contemporary romance novels packed with equal parts suspense, snark, and spice. A native Missourian, she moved to St. Louis to attend law school, sure only that she didn’t want to practice criminal law or be a trial lawyer. So of course, she became a career criminal defense lawyer who spent decades teaching trial techniques to other criminal lawyers around the country. (“We make plans. The gods laugh.”)
Cat spent most of her legal career in St. Louis and the city features prominently in her books, as does her experience in criminal law. Today, she resides in Columbia, Missouri — ‘the middle of the middle of flyover country’ — where she is deep into her second act as co-owner of a metaphysical bookstore.
When not writing, shopkeeping, or playing with grandkids, Jameson is most likely to be road-tripping with her best friend and business partner in a ten-year-old van named Woo — stopping at every bookstore and thrift shop along the way, loading up on things they do not need and have no room for.
