An assassin bound by
obedience. A detective marked for death. A cartel war with no survivors.
Von Schlange thought she’d escaped her past. Now Black Nova owns her—an elite,
off-the-books task force where obedience is survival and failure means death.
As their newest assassin, she’s unleashed on targets tied to Jaxon Ryker, a
drug lord buried deep in the Alaskan wilds.
Her partner, Xander Holt, a former Navy SEAL with ice in his veins, lives by
the same brutal code: no attachments, no lines crossed. But as missions turn
bloody, the fragile boundary between partner and lover begins to blur—and desire
becomes its own kind of danger.
Across the country, Detective Anaya Nazario faces a nightmare of her own. A
synthetic “zombie drug,” deadlier than fentanyl and immune to Narcan, is
ripping through Los Angeles. Her investigation exposes a network of dirty cops
shielding Ryker’s empire—and puts a target squarely on her back.
Two women on opposite fronts. One war against corruption and cartel power. And
a single truth—every betrayal leaves a body behind.
Explosive, unrelenting, and razor-sharp, The Serpent’s Order propels the
Serpent Series into its most dangerous chapter yet—where justice is a myth, and
survival comes at a price paid in blood.
Some predators hide
in plain sight. Others hunt from the shadows.
Merrick Winslow is a decorated Army officer, a man of discipline and honor—or
so he claims. When he reports that his ex-wife, Cheonsa Soo-Min, has been
stalking him, no one questions his story. He paints her as unstable, vengeful,
and dangerous, a woman consumed by obsession. But when two officers are gunned
down with her own weapon, the truth becomes harder to see. With the law closing
in, Cheonsa vanishes, fleeing to Rio de Janeiro, where she is taken in by Von
Schlange, the vigilante thought to have disappeared for good.
Von has retired her vengeful ways, leaving behind a life of bloodshed to run a
quiet veterinary clinic. But when Cheonsa’s past collides with Winslow’s lies,
the two women begin to unravel a deadly deception—one that turns predator into
prey. By the time Von uncovers the truth, an innocent life has already been
taken.
Now, there’s only one thing left to do: find the real monster and make him pay.
Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Detective Anaya Nazario and Supervising Special
Agent Blake Huxley are adjusting to life as new parents. But after only four
months of maternity leave, Nazario is pulled back into the field to investigate
the murder of two officers. What should be a straightforward case quickly
spirals into something far more sinister—secrets buried beneath the badge, a
killer hiding behind a uniform, and a web of corruption stretching further than
anyone expected.
As Nazario and Huxley chase down leads, their investigation intersects with a
vigilante they once thought was dead. And this time, Von Schlange isn’t just
seeking justice—she’s delivering retribution.
For fans of Karin Slaughter, Gillian Flynn, and Taylor Adams, Twilight of
the Serpent delivers a high-stakes vigilante thriller packed with morally gray
justice, relentless suspense, and a tangled web of deception. Perfect for
readers who love strong female leads, intense cat-and-mouse chases, and dark
psychological twists.
A serial killer is on the loose. With her insidious tattoo and venomous killer
strike, they’re calling her the serpent woman.
Two of the best in their field, LAPD Detective Anaya Nazario and FBI
Supervising Special Agent Blake Huxley are forced to work together yet again,
despite their strained romantic history and a baby on the way. Together on a
nationwide hunt, they must find this serpent woman before she strikes again.
But, as the cat-and-mouse chase evolves, Nazario and Huxley begin to realize
that their killer is on a mission of vigilante justice and they must struggle
with the question of who really deserves their justice: The killer, or her
victims?
This dark thriller delves into the sensitive topics of sex trafficking,
child abuse, animal death, sexual assault, graphic violence, and dead bodies.
Reader discretion is advised.
Compelling
dialogue, rich, gritty prose, and characters you won’t forget — if you loved
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest by Stieg Larsson, or Ink and Bone by Lisa
Unger, you’ll love The Serpent’s Bridge.
Recovering alcoholic Detective Anaya Nazario remains haunted by her father’s
murder. Lucas Nazario was the highest-ranking Puerto Rican LAPD detective, and
his case has gone unsolved for twenty-four years since his murder. When Mexican
immigrants are targeted by a serial killer, Nazario senses a connection and
fights to keep the leadless case open. The homicide investigation centers on
Sanctuary Baptist, a church composed of immigrants led by Pastor Stan and his
wife. Nazario’s personal and professional worlds collide when she is compelled
to collaborate with her former lover, Special Agent Blake Huxley. As their
lives merge once more, the FBI and Detective Nazario stop at nothing to find a
killer.
Is this the same monster who killed her father and left him for dead under a
bridge?
Can she put a stop to the murders before more families lose loved ones?
As a BIPOC thriller author, she previously parted amicably
with her agent and, three months later, secured an eight-book deal with
Oliver-Heber Books—now boasting 24,000 downloads in its first year and a
BookRaid bestseller ranking in the thriller category. The Serpent Woman (Book
2) reached #1 on Amazon and topped all three of its categories. Her background
spans literary agencies and TV studios, where she contributed to greenlit
screenplays that became Lifetime movies. She holds a Master’s in Television,
Radio, and Film, has taught author branding workshops (L.A. Writer’s
Conference, North Texas RWA), and maintains a 100K+ social media following.
Her Last Best Friend (Shadow Lake Ranch Murders) by Nellie H. Steele
Her Last Best Friend (Shadow Lake Ranch Murders) Psychological Thriller 1st in Series Setting – Shadow Lake Ranch, a working ranch in Montana Publisher : A Novel Idea Publishing, LLC Publication date : September 23, 2025 Print length : 316 pages Paperback ISBN-13 : 979-8891151017 Digital ASIN : B0F1M1C92D
. A friendship. A betrayal. A body. Welcome to Shadow Lake Ranch…where friendships come to die.
Quiet Lindsey isn’t sure about spending twelve weeks at Shadow Lake Ranch. Her best friend, Mel, swears the luxury retreat will be the perfect escape—horseback riding, yoga, emotional bonding. A killer summer.
But from the moment they arrive, something feels off. Lindsey can’t shake the dread curling in her stomach. And when she meets Travis—the charming cowboy who seems to only have eyes for her—things get even more complicated.
Especially when it seems Mel has set her sights on him, too.
As the lines between truth and paranoia blur, Lindsey begins to question everything—her friendship, her relationship, even her own mind.
And when Mel turns up dead, Lindsey becomes the prime suspect.
Was she the jealous best friend who finally snapped? Or is someone else hiding a much darker secret?
At Shadow Lake Ranch, nothing is what it seems. And there’s only one truth: You can’t trust anyone.
Her Last Best Friend is a twisty psychological thriller perfect for fans of Colleen Hoover’s Verity, Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, and Ruth Ware’s The It Girl.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
“I was left guessing what was coming next, and kept flipping through page after page.” — Readers’ Favorite
Read now—if you don’t mind losing sleep.
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About Author Nellie H. Steele
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Nellie H. Steele is a storyteller who doesn’t just write books—she writes the stories her characters tell her. With distinct voices and minds of their own, her characters often take over, guiding her through tales of romance, mystery, adventure, and suspense.
A lifelong bookworm, Nellie vividly recalls sitting on the concrete floor of her childhood library, eagerly devouring Nancy Drew books and dreaming of solving mysteries of her own. Now an award-winning author, she spends her days crafting immersive worlds and unforgettable characters that feel like old friends. Her house is a zoo—literally—thanks to her rescue animals who seem perfectly happy napping while she writes.
Nellie’s writing process often involves background TV she never actually watches because she’s too wrapped up in her characters’ antics. When she’s not spinning stories, she works as a professor of statistics, where students who know her as an author are often surprised to find she really does teach math.
If you love twisty mysteries, soap-opera-style romance, and thrilling adventures, dive into Nellie’s books today and discover worlds you won’t want to leave. Connect with Nellie on Facebook at @NellieHSteele—she loves chatting with readers about characters, stories, and more!
Illusion of Truth takes Emily by the throat when her cop boyfriend, Brian Conner, responds to a disturbance only to be lured into a church bombing. Seriously wounded, Emily worries if he survives, will he be the man she knew? One-by-one, other officers linked to a crime years earlier are targeted. Was it covered up? Was Brian part of it? Emily discovers truth depends on who’s left to tell the story.
Perfect for fans of Karin Slaughter and Michael Connelly
Praise for Illusion of Truth:
“Illusion of Truth is a real deal police-eye view of the mean streets. Bosch and Ballard, make room for Emily Hunter. She’s brash, bold, but with a soul and a heart for justice.” ~ Reed Farrel Coleman, New York Times bestselling author “An absolutely relentless thriller… in ILLUSION OF TRUTH, we find Detective Emily Hunter at her very best: Smart, sharp, and willing to do whatever it takes to solve the case of a renegade bomber. With a frightening, ripped-from-the-headlines story of attacks on her fellow police, and a cast of characters with emotional depth, perseverance, and spouting the best cop talk, L’Etoile has penned another hit in this top-notch series.” ~ J.T. Ellison, NYT bestselling author of LAST SEEN “A high-voltage, high-stakes police procedural, ILLUSION OF TRUTH is crisp and fast-paced, as cinematic as a Michael Mann thriller. On full display here is the unique storytelling sensibility that’s made James L’Etoile’s books beloved among mystery readers: a badass, rock-solid investigation plot with precinct veracity, hostage negotiation expertise, and deep empathy. ILLUSION OF TRUTH is a remedy for cynicism, a throwdown to wake up and follow the clues, to pay attention, to believe in a better tomorrow. The world is unfair, yes, and it might feel broken sometimes, but, as Emily Hunter reminds us: ‘We’re all broken in one way or another. It’s how we put the pieces together that counts.'” ~ Margot Douaihy, bestselling author of Scorched Grace, Blessed Water, and Divine Ruin “Like the best of Michael Connelly, L’Etoile has created characters readers care about while also crafting a twisty and compelling story. Fans of police procedurals and heart-stopping thrillers should consider L’Etoile an essential addition to their reading pile.” ~ First Clue Reviews “Everything you read police stories for is here, and much, much more.” ~ STARRED Kirkus Review “Rich in character and full of humanity, James L’Etoile’s writing shimmers with authenticity, with what Raymond Chandler called the “tangled woof” of real life. These are the procedurals that last: gritty, suspenseful and deeply satisfying.” ~ Megan Abbott, New York Times bestselling author of El Dorado Drive
Book Details:
Genre: Police Procedural with a Thriller Edge
Published by: Oceanview Publishing Publication Date: January 6, 2026 Number of Pages: 366 ISBN: 978-1608096497 (1608096491) Series: A Detective Emily Hunter Mystery, #3
“All available units, report of a large crowd and 459s in progress at the corner of Rio Linda and South Ave.,” the dispatcher’s voice called out over the radio. Sergeant Brian Conner clicked the microphone in his patrol unit. “1-Sam-12 responding.” “Hey, Tommy, isn’t there a church on South Ave.?” Conner asked. Tommy Robinson, a Black rookie officer assigned to Patrol District 1 in North Sacramento, turned in the passenger seat, checking for cross-traffic at the intersection. “Yeah. It’s one of those pop-up, God-in-a-box churches. You know—no denomination, takes all comers.” “Why would a church be a target for looting at midnight?” “It’s right on the edge of Tru Heights Bloods territory. Could be gangbangers after the food pantry and the donations the church’s brought in.” “Tommy, let me ask you something. You’ve been married a while, so you’ve got this whole relationship thing down. When Emily says she isn’t ready to move in together, what does that mean?” “Um, Sarge, you think I’m the one to answer that? Shouldn’t Emily—I mean Detective Hunter—tell you why?” “I mean, sure, but I thought everything was going great—and then, she’s not ready. You ever have anything like that?” “No. But then my Baptist momma would’ve slapped me into tomorrow if I thought about living in sin.” “That’s not helpful, Tommy.” Conner shot north on Rio Linda. The flashing blue lights from other patrol units ahead marked the location. As Conner pulled into the church parking lot, he expected a crowd spilling out of the church and into nearby businesses. There had been a rash of daylight attacks on retail establishments in the city, where mobs of thieves grabbed armfuls of whatever they could carry. Hitting a church in the middle of the night was a new direction. “Where are they? The looters?” Tommy said. Conner parked near the church entrance, ahead of another Sacramento Police Department SUV, and stepped from his vehicle. He couldn’t spot a single person near the church, except for the six police officers who had responded to the call. “Dispatch, 1-Sam-12, have a callback number on the RP? Looks like a false alarm.” “Negative, 1-Sam-12. Caller didn’t give their name.” An officer rounded the corner of the church building and approached Conner. “Nobody’s here, Sarge. What gives?” The hairs on the back of Conner’s neck pricked up. He swiveled around and surveyed the darkened windows on the street opposite. They were lured here. “Got movement across the street—second floor, left side,” an officer called out. His brass nameplate read TUCKER. Conner spotted the window and the flare of a cigarette. Someone watching the police respond to this snipe hunt? “We see any evidence of a break-in? Broken windows, open doors, anything?” “Nada. Simmons and I walked the perimeter. No sign of entry. No sign of anything,” Tucker said. “Someone wanted all the units in District 1 to respond. A report of a large crowd breaking into businesses would draw us out here.” “They needed a diversion so they could pull off whatever they were into somewhere else,” Tucker said. “Maybe. I haven’t heard anything new from dispatch. Why would we get a callout to the edge of Tru Heights territory?” “Westgate Crips are on the other side of the freeway. I could see them making a false report to push us to roust a couple of their rivals.” “Well, nothing going on here. Why don’t you and your partner hit the road. Let dispatch know this was a dry hole,” Conner said. “Got it, Sarge. You need Parker and Cortez in the other unit? They’re watching the back of the church.” “Nah, send them on their way, would you?” “You got it.” “Thanks, Tucker. Be careful out there. I’ve got an uneasy feeling about someone sending us here.” “I hear you.” Conner started back to his SUV, paused, and turned. “Hey, Tucker, anyone check the front door lock?” “Yeah, I shook it. Locked up tight.” Tucker and his partner got into their SUV, shut off the lights, and backed out of the church parking lot. Tommy Robinson wandered to the front entrance and peered through the smoked glass doors. “Place is empty. Nothing going on—hey, what’s up with this?” A metal donation bin sat to the right of the front door. Gang graffiti adorned the side of the four-foot-tall, repainted mailbox. Conner caught the glint from a thin wire attached to the donation box door. On the concrete below, a cut padlock lay in the shadow. Tommy reached for the bin. “Tommy! Wait!” Conner ran to the young officer as he tugged on the lid. “Stop,” Conner said. Tommy was focused on the unlocked donation bin and didn’t hear Conner. Conner shoved Tommy as a click echoed in the entry vestibule. A microsecond later, a fireball erupted from the donation bin. A pressure wave of heat and metal shards exploded. Conner caught the blast in the back as he pushed Tommy away. The force of the explosion picked Conner off his feet and threw him into the brick wall opposite the donation bin. Conner couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in his ears, and his vision was a blurred kaleidoscope of flames and smoke. From where he fell, he could see the parking lot and the window across the street. The glowing ember from the cigarette was gone, but he swore he spotted a flashing red strobe. Another explosion sounded to his right. A flash of orange shot from the parking lot. Conner squinted through his warped vision and saw a police SUV on fire. Tucker and his partner, Simmons. He couldn’t see them anywhere. He tried reaching for his shoulder-mounted radio microphone and his arm wouldn’t move. A quick glance down and Conner saw his broken arm pointing in the wrong direction. “Tommy. Tommy, you okay?” Conner couldn’t hear anything but the high-pitched ringing in his ears. He wasn’t even supposed to be working tonight. Conner swapped the shift with a buddy so his friend could go spend some time with his kids. Conner felt cold, and a heavy blanket of exhaustion fell over him. Emily. He wanted to tell Emily how much he loved her one more time. She’d wanted to take it slow, but now he felt regret. He should’ve told her how he felt when he had the chance. The sirens in the distance pierced through his muffled hearing. They would not be in time. “Emily” . . . *** Excerpt from Illusion of Truth by James L’Etoile. Copyright 2025 by James L’Etoile. Reproduced with permission from James L’Etoile. All rights reserved.
About Author James E’Toile:
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James L’Etoile uses his twenty-nine years behind bars as an influence in his award-winning novels, short stories, and screenplays. He is a former associate warden in a maximum-security prison, a hostage negotiator, and director of California’s state parole system. His novels have been shortlisted or awarded the Lefty, Anthony, Silver Falchion, Macavity, and the Public Safety Writers Award. River of Lies and Sins of the Father are his most recent novels. Look for Illusion of Truth coming in 2026. James also serves as the Executive Vice President of Mystery Writers of America.
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This giveaway is hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for James L’Etoile. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
One day. One city on the edge. One man gambling it all.
In a Los Angeles rattled by an earthquake and on the brink of collapse, Marlon has twenty-four hours to change his fate. Drowning in debt, reeling from personal loss, and desperate to save his family, he’s seduced by a shadowy financial guru promising salvation. But as Marlon spirals deeper into a web of risk, secrets long buried begin to surface—and his final gamble might cost him everything.
Taut, urgent, and psychologically astute, Get Rich Quick is a gripping descent into the dangers of ambition, delusion, and the American obsession with success.
Soon to be a major worldwide film release.
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Praise for GRQ:
“Reading this book was like listening to a charming con man talk circles around the truth while you laugh and cringe in equal measure. The narrator’s voice is hypnotic. It’s funny, fast-talking, and flawed. Bernstein’s writing feels conversational and unfiltered, filled with tangents, wild lists, and jabs at everything from labradoodles to General Tso’s chicken. It’s brilliantly messy. The narrative never tries to be neat or linear. That looseness works in its favor. It mirrors the chaos of the characters’ lives and thoughts, making the humor land harder and the emotions hit sharper when they sneak in.” ~ Literary Titan
“Author Steven Bernstein builds this sneaky domestic thriller with addictive, vignette-like chapters narrated by voices that alternate between self-justification and raw emotion… Bernstein’s strength lies in how he seamlessly layers humor, suspense and sorrow. On one page, we’re laughing at Marlon’s ridiculous schemes and evasions. On the next, the ground shakes — literally, as Los Angeles is rocked by earthquakes, and figuratively, as the family fractures under pressure.” ~ BestThrillers.com
“Very rarely have I come across a book as riveting and thoroughly engaging as Steven Bernstein’s GRQ. The characters are so vivid and compelling that it wouldn’t surprise me at all if I were to encounter them in real life. An absolute must-read.'” ~ Gale Anne Hurd, Executive Producer (FEAR THE WALKING DEAD, MANKILLER)
“This little book of wisdom is an iChing for the mid 2020s. Marlon is the infernal dumbass in his schemes to Get Rich Quick, to the despair of his darling Viola. The problem is that there’s a Marlon in all of us. Well, most of us. Not me, obviously. A brilliant evisceration of debt and delusion.'” ~JP Maxwell, author and award-winning filmmaker
“I loved it: it feels like a dreamlike odyssey. A book perfectly suited for our era — a world where financial gain overshadows everything else, reminiscent of ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’. The short chapters and vignettes hit you at breakneck speed; you feel like you’re watching someone unravel before your very eyes. A truly compelling read.” ~ Tom Walker, Actor (Jonathan Pie)
“GRQ by Steven Bernstein is a pulsating, psychological thriller. I loved it.” ~ Keith McNally, New York Times best selling author
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Book Details:
Genre: Domestic Thriller, Dark Humor
Published by: Fly on the Wall Press Publication Date: June 3, 2025 Number of Pages: 142, Paperback ISBN: 9781915789464 (ISBN10: 191578946X)
Steven Bernstein, ASC, DGA, WGA is an award-winning feature film director and screenwriter, shaping some of the most visually striking films of the past 40 years. His work on the Academy Award-winning film Monster and on Like Water for Chocolate has earned global recognition. He is a recipient of the American Film Institute Award, the Sloan Award (for writing and directing), the Cannes Golden Lion (for commercials), and is an ASC nominee for outstanding cinematography. He has worked on over 50 feature films. He wrote and directed several groundbreaking feature films with major talent (John Malkovich, Samantha Morton, Helen Hunt and many more). His podcast Filmmakerandfans, about the creative process in film production, is listened to by millions.
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Sabree Warner’s biggest mistake wasn’t taking the job—it was being born.
Drowning in grief and desperate for work, brilliant cancer researcher Sabree Warner leaps at the chance to join Montague Pharma, one of the world’s most powerful pharmaceutical dynasties. Her first assignment seems straightforward: investigate why promising drug compounds were mysteriously abandoned before they could be developed into life-saving medicines. But someone doesn’t want her digging. A car nearly runs her down on a quiet street and speeds away, and her apartment is vandalized. Undeterred, Sabree probes further and uncovers a twisted game of corporate espionage. The abandoned drugs weren’t shelved by accident—they were buried to hide a secret that could destroy the Montague empire. Then Sabree discovers her connection to the powerful Montague family runs deeper—and deadlier—than she could ever imagine. As a vicious succession battle rages, someone has been watching her every move, someone who has already killed to keep the truth about her identity buried. In this world of ambition and ruthless power games, Sabree is fighting for more than answers. She’s fighting to stay alive.
Because in the Montague family, secrets don’t stay hidden, they get eliminated.
Book Details:
Genre: Psychological Thriller
Published by: Indie Publication Date: October 22, 2025 Number of Pages: 350 ISBN: 979-8-9913219-6-9
Gledé Browne Kabongo writes twisty, unputdownable psychological thrillers about resilient women navigating dark secrets, deadly lies, and impossible choices. A multiple award-winning indie author, her books resonate best with readers who enjoy thrillers with complex characters, dark secrets, multiple deceptions and betrayals, unforgettable twists, and intellectual and emotional engagement. Her novels include: A Game of Malice, Our Wicked Lies, Fool Me Twice,Conspiracy of Silence,Fearless Series. Readers have described Gledé’s work as “unbelievably addictive,” “brilliant,” “unputdownable,” and “haunting and complex.” Gledé has spoken at multiple industry events including the Boston Book Festival, Sisters in Crime (SinC) New England Crime Bake, and the Women in Publishing Summit. She lives outside Boston with her family.
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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Verb Tenses organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.
Author MG da Mota will be awarding a $20 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 other stops on the tour.
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Verb Tenses
By MG da Mota
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Genre: Psychological Thriller
Synopsis
Thirty-four-year-old Raquel Whiteman has it all: beauty, a high-powered career, a very rich fiancée, a loving brother and a stepfather she adores. Life is good. Until her mother commits suicide. Clearing the paraphernalia of her mother’s life she finds old photographs and journals which plunge her into a search for the truth about her real father and early childhood, forsaking everything including her engagement to travel a path she is powerless to resist. Like a giant wave the past travels fast and comes crashing down on her, flooding her mind with incomprehensible fragmented memories and continuous questions – What? Why? Why?
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Enjoy this peek inside:
The little girl opened her eyes wide, trying to pierce the darkness. She lifted her head off the pillow, listening intently. All she could hear was the wind blowing wildly, the thunder, and the ocean, raging, beating against the sand and the surrounding cliffs. The house shook with the fury of the storm, as if the sea were angry at its presence and wanted to wash it away. Scared, the little girl pulled the covers over her head and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping for sleep. Images of fairy tales floated into her mind. She remembered the story her mother’s best friend had read earlier. It was the story of a little girl, like herself, who went on a summer picnic with her teddy-bear friends. She smiled. A feeling of warmth spread in her chest, her body relaxed, her mind began to drift; and then, she heard it.
A scream. A horrible scream, louder than the storm, from somewhere in the house. Jerking upright, heart thumping, her breath accelerated, became noisy, difficult. She stared into the darkness, listening. There was no mistake. The screams continued then stopped, abruptly. There was a short silence, then voices. Angry voices. Then the sound of glass splintering on the floor. She whispered, afraid, ‘Mummy … mummy, I’m scared.’
Lightning slashed the darkness, briefly brightening the room through the gaps in the shutters. Thunder was deafening. Trembling the little girl rolled out of bed and walked to the door. Opening it slowly she peered into the hall. Light spilled out from the open door of her mother’s bedroom. Relief flooded through her. The storm had woken Mummy too. Running in she cried, ‘Mummy, I’m scared of—’.
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About Author MG da Mota:
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MG da Mota is Margarida Mota-Bull’s pen name for fiction. She is a Portuguese-British novelist with a love for classical music, ballet and opera. Under her real name she also writes reviews of live concerts, CDs, DVDs and books for two classical music magazines on the web: MusicWeb International and Seen and Heard International. She is a member of the UK Society of Authors, speaks four languages and lives in Sussex with her husband. Her website, called flowingprose.com, contains photos and information.
Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Shooting At Shadows organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.
One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $25 Amazon or B&N Gift Card. Don’t forget to enter!
And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
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Shooting At Shadows
By Forest McMullin
Genre: Thriller
Synopsis
A photograph can tell the truth. It can also get you killed.
Ethan McGuire’s relentless pursuit of explosive stories has cost him his family, his integrity, and now–possibly–his life. While documenting the rise of white supremacist movements in Western New York, Ethan encounters a world of neo-Nazis, heavily armed survivalists, rogue FBI agents, and violent criminals, all with something to hide. But when a crew of ruthless bank robbers starts hunting him for photos he doesn’t even know he has, the stakes turn deadly.
As his enemies close in and his family becomes a target, Ethan must expose the truth–before it buries him. Shooting at Shadows is a relentless thriller and chilling cautionary tale, inspired by the author’s real-life experiences as a photojournalist. It exposes the darkness lurking beneath the surface of American extremism–and the cost of bringing it to light.
“One hopes that McMullin has further adventures planned for his unlikely hero.” –Kirkus Reviews
“…a provocative thriller exploring highly pertinent themes in American culture today…” –Fredrick Soukup, author of Blood up North
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Enjoy this peek inside:
Someone outside began pounding on the truck in time to the chant and within moments it sounded like everyone who could reach the sides was pounding too:
“BOOM BOOM BOOM! BOOM BOOM BOOM!
“KKK! GO AWAY! KKK! GO AWAY!”
It was deafening, like being inside a giant bass drum. The thin metal walls of the truck amplified the beating and Ethan could
feel the horrible reverberation in his chest. Everyone moved toward the center of the bed as if the walls could come crashing in on them at any second. The two holding the rear gate down were fighting the door as people outside tried to raise it.
Suddenly the pounding stopped and Ethan felt the truck moving. The crowd was so loud he hadn’t heard the engine start. But how could they get through that mob without running anyone over? Maybe if Kevin went slowly enough, they’d let the truck pass. Surely the police would be able to get there and see to their safety. Then he realized it wasn’t forward motion he felt. The truck was swaying side to side. The chanting changed too. “O-VER! O-VER! O-VER!” They were trying to turn the truck on its side. Ethan didn’t think it could be done, but with this many people it was impossible to know for sure.
Everyone inside moved away from the center and put their hands against the sides to steady themselves. It was like trying to stand in a boat on choppy seas. Back and forth, back and forth the truck rocked, gaining momentum every time. Ethan saw the men holding the door down lose their balance and fall. The door rose and blinded them with brilliant sunlight.
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About Author Forest McMullin:
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Forest McMullin is a writer based in Atlanta, Georgia. Earlier in his career, he was a photojournalist who specialized in photographing fringe social groups. Today he writes both long and short form fiction, Shooting at Shadows is his first novel.
She comes home to mourn her father. She stays to uncover the shocking truth.
When college student Berry returns to her family’s small Southern California farm after her father’s sudden death, she believes she’s coming home to grieve and reassure her mother that she’ll soon be back for good to run the farm. With farming in her blood, she is eager to bring new life to the failing farm through modernization and sound financial management after receiving her degree in agricultural economics.
It doesn’t take long for Berry’s plans to collapse, as she discovers all is not well in the surrounding farming community. A foreign-owned agribusiness, Happy Sun Farm, is taking over all the small farms, something her father had resisted.
As she delves deeper into the company’s campaign of coercing farm sales, Berry suspects they may have been responsible for her father’s death. She learns that Happy Sun Farm is far from a happy place. Their strange farming practices don’t make sense to her, and the unexplained deaths and secrecy surrounding the farm leave many questions unanswered.
With help from law enforcement not forthcoming, Berry sets out to explore what she can, but soon finds her own life in danger. Not knowing whom she can trust, she uncovers a diabolical plan of mass proportions no one could have imagined.
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Praise for Happy Sun Farm: Behind the Facade
“I haven’t read a thriller so brilliant, creepy, and compelling in years.” ~ Readers’ Favorite
“Happy Sun Farm is an unputdownable read packed with realism and high-stakes intrigue.” ~ Indies Today
“Happy Sunny Farm: Behind the Façade by Deven Greene is a genre-bending tale that wears many disguises. At times, it feels like a Stephen King narrative rooted in small-town unease; at others, it channels John Grisham’s legal-tinged suspense.” ~ Literary Titan
“The blend of farming insights, thriller, and murder mystery builds intrigue and political confrontation to create a satisfyingly absorbing story that’s hard to put down.” ~ D. Donovan, Sr. Reviewer, Midwest Book Review
Book Details:
Genre: Thriller
Published by: Panthera Publishing Publication Date: October 22, 2025 Number of Pages: 356 ISBN: 978-196462008
Fog rolled in as the sun set on the verdant hills, silent but for the small animals carrying out their daily tasks of finding food and safety while caring for their young. Below in the valley, the mist-shrouded a smattering of primitive structures—the permanent home of twenty-thousand guests of Hwasong, the largest political prisoner camp in North Korea.
All the inmates—men, women, and children—were serving a life sentence for anti-revolutionary activities or being within three generations of a person convicted of that same high crime, so-called guilt by association. Those imprisoned solely because they were related to a convicted enemy of the state lived separately on the grounds, never allowed to see their denounced relative again. Their living conditions were horrible, but not as horrible as those who had committed a serious offense.
A group of a hundred men, women, and teens wearing orange jumpsuits, tired after a long day of hard labor, shuffled into the large auditorium, hurried along by shoves and baton whacks from the guards. Already seated was an equal number of prisoners wearing blue jumpsuits, men, women, and teens who had arrived by bus a half-hour earlier from a nearby housing block. The inmates dressed in blue were emaciated, their skin loosely covering the bones underneath, while those in orange were thin but without signs of starvation. The people in orange were silent as they glanced around and sat in the vacant seats between those in blue. If the two groups of prisoners had questions about why those in orange and blue were intermingled in this way, none dared to speak up. Ten guards armed with guns and batons stood around the room’s perimeter. After all the inmates were seated, one of the officers stepped to the front of the room and commenced the evening ritual of indoctrination. The session of self-criticism would be next. Prisoners who occasionally slumped forward from exhaustion were struck with a baton. He or she would either straighten up or fall to the floor before being pulled by their arms out of the room, never to be seen again. As the officer droned on about the greatness of the country and their Supreme Leader, Kim Jong Un, the guards around the perimeter continued to look straight ahead. None of the convicts seemed to notice the fine aerosol being emitted from nozzles that had poked through small holes in the ceiling high above. The mist silently spread to all corners of the room for several minutes before the apertures closed, and the spouts crawled back into the ceiling. A short session followed in which several prisoners were required to admit to recent shortcomings, such as not working as hard as they could have or eating more than needed to survive. The other prisoners responded by agreeing that the behavior described was shameful. When the meeting appeared to be over, the inmates in orange looked around, ready for the usual order to file into the cafeteria for a small meal. However, the doors remained shut, and all were told to stay seated. The lights dimmed, and a movie began, showing scenes of happy North Koreans at parades and concerts, playing sports, and attending school. For eleven hours, during which time the guards were replaced by a fresh batch, one film after the other played as the prisoners were forced to watch. One of the prisoners in an orange jumpsuit began to moan. In the dim light, the officers exchanged knowing looks. The sounds of distress became louder and deeper as several more inmates, all wearing orange, began to groan. The guards started to place buckets at the feet of the prisoners in orange. Within three hours, almost all those wearing orange were groaning, doubled over in pain, as they vomited into buckets. The vomit became increasingly tinged with blood as the night turned to day. Blood and stomach contents spewed onto the floor as the prisoners became unable to control their forceful retching. Soon, the sounds of explosive diarrhea filled the air. Unable to exert any control over their bodies, the sick fell to the floor as bloody bodily fluids from both ends of their gastrointestinal systems streamed out of them, into their clothes, down their pant legs, and onto the floor. Blood oozed from their mouths, noses, and eyes. At first, the convicts wearing blue sat still in their seats, fear drawn on their faces, but without suffering physically. At some point, one, then another, abandoned their seats and stood near the back of the room. Seeing that there were no repercussions, others followed. Within eight hours of the start of vomiting, two prisoners in orange had died. The deaths began to mount as those in blue looked on in horror, wondering if they would be next. Two buckets were placed near them for their own hygiene needs while they waited. Seventy-two hours later, the doors opened. The prisoners in blue, still emaciated but as healthy as they were when they had entered the building, were escorted outside into waiting buses to return them to their housing block. All of the prisoners in orange lay on the floor—dead.
Chapter 1
I handed my driver’s license to the airport security agent at the Indianapolis airport and scanned the boarding pass on my phone. As I had come to expect, the gray-haired man looked up at me and smiled. “I ain’t never seen that name before. Kinda takes me back.” “I know,” I said. “I get that a lot.” My dad was only two when John Lennon was killed, but his parents indoctrinated their son on everything Beatles. He, in turn, spent countless hours listening to Beatles music with my mom. I think they got stoned a lot when they were doing it, but they never admitted it to me. Given that their favorite Beatles song was “Strawberry Fields Forever,” I strongly favored that hypothesis. When I was born, they couldn’t resist naming me Strawberry. Oh, and my last name is Fields. Now you know why people often have something to say about my name. I’m a run-of-the-mill blond, not a strawberry blond. I think that would have made my life unbearable. I pulled on the cuff of my long-sleeved shirt, grabbed my driver’s license, and was about to walk off when the man said, “You must be a student at Purdue. Going home to visit the folks?” “Something like that.” I was in no mood to talk. I know the man was trying to be pleasant and make his day pass more quickly with small talk. The large P on the front of my baseball cap was known by all in the area to signify Purdue University, where I was, in fact, a student. I forced a weak smile and adjusted the shoulder straps on my backpack before walking off. After passing through the luggage check without incident, I headed toward my gate. First class was already embarking, but I still had to wait a while before my boarding group was called. I had bought my ticket the previous night and was in the last group, my seat near the back of the plane. Fortunately, the flight to Bakersfield, with one stop in Phoenix, wasn’t in high demand, and almost a quarter of the seats in the rear were empty. With ample space in the overhead bin, I lobbed my backpack in and took my aisle seat. The man sitting next to the window glanced my way and nodded. I nodded back, glad he didn’t want to chat. I remember taking off, but not much after that until I heard a male voice asking me if I was okay. I must have dosed off and wasn’t sure how much time had passed. I opened my eyes to see the concerned look on the flight attendant’s face, a pudgy middle-aged man who was bent over, his face close to mine. We were cruising at altitude, and tears were running down my face. Embarrassed, I tried to wipe them away. “Sorry,” I said. “I was dreaming about my dad. I’m on my way to his funeral.” “So sorry, dear. If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll comp you a drink if that will help.” I declined but thanked him for his offer and reflected on my mother’s hysterical call the day before. She had come home after spending all afternoon with a friend shopping and going to lunch when she found my dad dead on the kitchen floor. She had often confided in me that she felt terrible going places without him, but since he refused to leave the farm, she’d been doing things independent of him for quite some time. He’d been in good health—physically, that is—so his death was a big shock. I reflected on the situation, different from what I had planned for before my dad died as the plane sat on the tarmac in Phoenix. I was all too aware that it was too late. I was heading home, ready or not. Hardly the family reunion I had anticipated. I started to study a book on the economics of short-run decisions. After reading the first paragraph three times and still having no clue what it was about, I shut my eyes as the plane took off for the last leg of my trip. I’d be landing in Bakersfield in a little over an hour. My rest was short-lived. The flight attendant came by with a cart and asked me if I would like vanilla, raspberry, or peach yogurt. I looked at the available items—individual servings of Happy Sun Farm yogurt. I’d had their yogurt before, and it was delicious. “You’re lucky,” the attendant said. “Happy Sun Farm has donated a ton of yogurt to be served on our flights all week.” I decided it was probably no use trying to sleep and chose the peach flavor even though I wasn’t hungry. As I started to eat, my mind wandered to Happy Sun Farm. I had never heard of them until about a year earlier when their dairy and agricultural products began popping up all over. The company heavily advertised on TV. They boasted about all their products being non-genetically modified, or non-GMO. I didn’t have a problem with genetically modified food myself but knew that a lot of Americans did. All the produce my dad grew was non-GMO because he suspected all genetically modified food to be part of a government conspiracy. A conspiracy to do what, I didn’t know. Although I didn’t have time to watch much television, when I did, it was hard to avoid the Happy Sun Farm commercials featuring wholesome families frolicking and picnicking in a green meadow. The smiling sun logo served to reinforce that warm and fuzzy feeling emanating from their commercials. I wondered if they had a model I could follow to pursue success for my family’s farm. I’d noticed their rock-bottom prices, which was surprising since they must have spent a ton on ads. What I wouldn’t give to find out the secret to their success. *** Excerpt from Happy Sun Farm: Behind the Facade 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 enjoys writing fiction, most of which involves science or medicine. She has degrees in biochemistry and medicine, and practiced pathology for over twenty years. Her other works include The Erica Rosen MD Trilogy, Ties That Kill, and The Organ Broker.
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A relentless thriller that explores the unbreakable bonds
that transcend time.
.
.
What Goes Around
by Michael Wendroff
Genre: Thriller
‘Relentless and gritty, Wendroff
expertly weaves a narrative that begs, “just one more page”.’ J.D. Barker, New York Times bestselling
author
EVIL HAS MANY FACES Chilling murders terrorize a town and bring together two detectives to face
the hardest tasks of their lives. Jack Ludlum, who relies on his brawn to get
things done, is now paired with his archenemy, 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
the detectives’ 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. ‘Starts off at a breakneck pace and doesn’t let up until it reaches its
unexpected conclusion.’ Lisa Black, New
York Times bestselling author of the Locard Institute thrillers ‘An adrenaline-fueled novel, the action breathlessly driven by two
detectives 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, New York Times bestselling author ‘Fast-paced propulsive thriller that doesn’t let up – highly
recommended!’ Lori Brand, author
‘I could barely put this book down! The
twists and turns. The references to current political climate and the
unanswered “who dun it” questions kept me engaged until the last page. Great
read. Fast paced and an unexpected ending. Kudos for Wendroff’s debut novel!’ –
Amazon review
‘I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The story
keeps you on the edge of your seat. He is a colorful writer and the characters
just come to life. They become very real, and the interplay between them is
really intriguing. I highly recommend this book.’ – Amazon review
**Paperback
edition just released Oct 7, 2025 – Get it now!**
“It was midnight in the garden-less apartment. Good and evil were still at odds.
A cold wind whipped by, rustling the leaves while he was wrestling with his thoughts.
He hadn’t slept at all the prior night and couldn’t think straight now. He didn’t want to be
there but ended up going along—mostly to make sure things didn’t get too out of hand.
He and Dylan had watched Jose enter the basement apartment a few minutes
earlier. They checked their supplies one more time under the moonless sky. They peered
at each other, dressed in black, faces covered in charcoal powder, the whites of their eyes
the most evident part of their visages. A cat screeched in the distance. An owl fled to the
heavens. Dylan nodded to him.
He took out his hammer, and with one loud crash, he smashed through the window,
pieces of glass exploding around him.”
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When did the title “What Goes Around” come to you?
I have to admit that it came from my publisher, not me. My name had been “Perennial.” My publisher came to me and said that for a thriller, they thought they could do better. Now, in my marketing career I would often have ad agencies come in and show me a number of ads and I would normally end up having them make revisions or come back with new ads. I thought the same thing would happen here, but it didn’t. As soon as they suggested What Goes Around, I knew that was it! Not only does it sound like a thriller, but it totally ties into the entire book’s theme. Plus I also think the potential reader that sees the title completes the phrase in their own mind, so I’ve already made a connection with them.
Described as relentless and gritty and about to go into second print…what do you want us to know about the book?
It’s actually now into its third printing, I’m proud to say. It was published in the USA,UK and Australia in hardcover. You can get it at The Island Book shop in Venice. It is also available on Amazon in eBook and audiobooks. I’m amazed how popular audiobooks have become. And to my surprise, my agent sold foreign translation rights in Japanese, Hungarian, and Italian.
You mentioned, “relentless and gritty,” and I was thrilled to see that the author who said that has now made it to #1 on the bestseller list. In fact, JD Barker’s full quote was, “Relentless and gritty, Wendroff weaves a narrative that begs, ‘just one more page…'” And that’s exactly what I wanted to achieve–a page turner that the reader can’t put down.
Promoting the book is a challenge but with an MBA in marketing and your background in the publishing field in a literary agency you may’ve seen what it takes. And now that you’ve achieved a lifelong goal of writing your own book, what’s next?
I always wanted to write a book and it was really the pandmic that got me going-there was that periodof time when you couldn’t do anything, couldn’t even play tennis or go to the beach. So I was out of excuses and went at it. Rightnow, I’m spending a lot of time promoting it. Authors have to realize that today, writing is only 50% of their time, the other 50% is marketing. I’ve done a lot of podcasts, been reviewed by a lot of bloggers (I’m really happy the reviews have been great), and attend a lot of events, including book clubs. The bookclubs sem to really enjoy having a real writer at their meetings, providing insights about the novel as well as the writing and publishing process. In fact, I’d be happy to join any of your readers book clubs (contact me at wendroffm@gmail.com).
My next goal is to write my second book. I’ve plotted it and researched it, so now time to start writing! It will be another thriller and feature the two main characters from What Goes Around, as publishers tend to like series. It’s like building a brand.
What inspires you to write and tell us about your process. Do you write at a certain time, place…You mentioned your office and pool area.I notice you recently enrolled in the Citizens Police Academy in Venice to learn to shoot a taser….what are other things you enjoy researching for your stories. Do you feel it worked for you starting with an outline?
I love writing, and my process is plot, research, write, and edit.
I usually write in the mornings, when I’m freshest, either in my office or at the pool. The water inspires me, that’s another reason Venice is great-beaches, ponds-I don’t even mind the alligators staring at me. I usually sit at my pc to get the story going, and not worry about things like grammer or the specific words, I just want to get the writing flowing. The next morning I will reread what I’d written, and try to make it real writing. Make sure every word fits with the others, make sure each sentence fits with the others. Add the analogies and metaphors. After that’s done, I’ll start scribbling out the next party of the story on my pc, which will be re-written the next day. That process of write then rewrite continues everyday, until I can write my favorite two words: The End
But before I actually start the writing itself, comes the plotting. There are actually two types of writers-plotters and pantsers.Pantsers simply sit in front of their computers and write by the seat of their pants. They have no idea where the story is going. That’s not be. I have to know everything upfront, so after ideating I write a detailed plot outline. I need to know not only what the ending will be, but where I’ll plant the red herrings, and where I’ll put the twists and turns. Nut it’s not like things won’t change. Once I became really attached to one of my characters, and the plot called for the character to die, but I couldn’t do it. I had to change the plot. Another time I did kill off a character I loved, but my wife yelled at me because I was walking around for a week in depression. She said “They’re not real!!.” But to an author, they are real!
The other thing I do before writing is the researching. Sure there’s Google and Chat GPT, but what I found is best is talking to people who do the types of things that are in your book. Living in Venice, I had a lot of resources. I’d come to know FBI agents and police officers and chiefs. And the Venice Police department is great. It was important for my book to talk to a female detective and they put me in touch with one of their own, Courtney Zak. She was great, and a lot of her insights are in the book. The Venice Police Department actually runs a “Citizens Police Academy” where you can learn about all the different facets of the things they do, and I just finished it, which I highly recommend for anyone.
So talking to people for research is critical. Now, I don’t think I spoke to any serial killers…
Anything you want to share about family, kids, upbringing? I like that quote your mother said when you were born, “Nice to see you again.”
My mother was an editor at major New York City publishing firms. I distinctly remember her on a weekend sitting cross-legged on her bed, manuscript pages, strewn about, and red pen in hand writing editorial comments all over the pages. So at least I was prepared for my editor’s comments on my book. They weren’t in red pen, but the comments in the margins of the word document were as instructive. But I wasn’t surprised.
She remarried a literary agent, who had many thriller and mystery writer clients, so I probably got my love of the genre from reading all those books, free! Unfortunately he’s no longer with us, but I think still had an impact. My agent had been shopping around my manuscript to publishers, which takes a lot of time. But the very next day after my stepfather died, my book was sold! So I think I had a little help from above.
Is there an anecdote you could share about authors you ran into when growing up?
Actually, I’ve got one for both!
My stepfather was a literary agent and one of his clients was the bestselling author, Robert Ludlum (many know him for the Jason Bourne movies with Matt Damon). Once I got to stay at his winter home in St. Thomas. I remember waking up one morning, going into his living room and seeing him on the couch writing on a yellow legal pad with a pencil. That’s how he wrote his 450 page novels, by hand! While I admired Ludlum’s plotting and prose, I couldn’t do that! Thankfully, when it came time for me to write What Goes Around, I had a PC!
Regarding Capote, I grew up in a bit of a literary milieu, then went to NYU for business. It was when writing my MBA thesis that I was able to marry my love of books with my new love of marketing, as my thesis was on “Marketing in the Publishing Industry.” In fact, the industry’s trade journal, Publishers Weekly, excerpted my thesis in 3 editions, and paid me. That was the first time I got paid for my writing–I liked that!
During the research for it I interviewed a lot of publishing executives. One time I was waiting outside the office of the Editor-in-Chief for Simon& Schuster, and finally the door opens, and I’m ushered in and who do I meet–Truman Capote! As a thriller writer, meeting the author of In Cold Blood was amazing! And he looked exactly as you’d imagine.
What advice do you have for aspiring writers?
Believe in yourself and never give up.
Write every day, even if it’s only 10 minutes.
Learn your craft–there are so many opportunities! Online courses (I took courses on BBC Maestro from Lee Child and Harlan Coben). Conventions-Thrillerfest in NYC puts on great craft seminars. There are writing groups too. Read in your genre and never stop learning.
What advice would you give to your neighbors about life?
Wow,that’s a big question.
But I guess it boils down to be nice. Because, What Goes Around, Comes Around!
Michael Wendroff
is the author of What Goes Around, a
debut thriller published by Bloomsbury, which bestselling author Eric Rickstad
calls a “brilliant debut,” and bestselling author Lisa Black says, “starts off
at a breakneck pace and doesn’t let up until it reaches its unexpected
conclusion.” Plus, #1 bestselling author J.D. Black says, “Relentless and
gritty, Wendroff expertly weaves a narrative that begs, ‘just one more page…’”
The book was
inspired by what his mother said to him the second he was born: “Oh! How nice
to see you–Again!”
Michael has an MBA
in marketing from NYU, and was inducted into their Hall of Fame. He is a global
marketing consultant. He shares his time between New York City, Sarasota,
Florida, and Lake Garda, Italy. He is married and has three wonderful children.
His mother was an
editor (watching his mother scribbling in red ink on manuscript pages at home
on weekends prepared him for his own editor’s comments!). She remarried a
literary agent, so Michael was friendly with many authors, 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).
What Goes Around was launched in the USA, UK, and Australia,
and foreign language rights have been sold in Italian, Japanese, and Hungarian.
The hardcover went through 3 printings, and now the trade paperback is
available (along with audio book and e-book).
Fun fact:
Michael’s great-grandfather was brought over by Thomas Edison from the
University of Copenhagen to work with him. He holds a number of patents,
including for plastic buttons. Michael proudly wears button- down shirts
whenever he can.
Publication date: October 14th 2025
Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller
“Intense, a little bruising, and it doesn’t let you walk away untouched.”
— ★★★★★ Reader Review
Some weapons are born. Others are made.
She is the perfect operative.
A discarded orphan, remade by the very hands that broke her.
Trained to seduce. Conditioned to kill. Reborn as Elara Everhart.
They gave her new names. New faces. New identities, whichever the mission required.
Now, they call her Raina.
And they’ve sent her into the lion’s den.
Her target: Axel Voss. Billionaire. Powerbroker. Threat.
He’s everything she was trained to dismantle.
But he sees too much. Speaks too little.
And when he touches her, he wakes something she was never meant to feel.
She is the weapon they created.
But he’s the variable they never planned for.
What begins as a mission spirals into obsession.
And survival will cost more than her cover.
Because the most dangerous thing isn’t failing the mission,
It’s forgetting who the real enemy is.
If you love psychological thrillers with espionage, romantic suspense, and heart‑stopping twists, The Black Rose will keep you breathless until the very last page.
“To master the art of the strike, first let the target marinate in your charm and wit, until they are ripe for the taking.” – Elara Everhart
I stepped out of the cab and into the gallery, the air instantly changing around me. Heads turned. Eyes followed. The black Dolce & Gabbana dress I wore fit like it had been sewn onto my skin, elegant without trying, powerful without needing to speak. My hair, sleek and black, fell in glossy waves down my back, every strand precisely where it belonged. I walked with purpose, each step measured, as I took in the room.
It didn’t take long to find him.
Axel Voss stood in a more secluded wing of the gallery where the crowd had thinned. I spotted him across the space. His back was to me, dressed in a tailored dark gray suit that fit too perfectly to be anything but custom. His frame was lean and strong, his posture relaxed, hands tucked in his pockets as he studied a painting. He wasn’t just looking. He was dissecting it.
My attention moved to the guards. Two of them. Strategically placed in opposite corners of the room, trying not to look like security. They blended in well enough with the other patrons, but their eyes told the truth. Constantly scanning.
I inhaled and adjusted the strap of my dress. I ran my hands over my curves, making sure everything looked in place. My cue had come.
Each step felt burdened, as if what I was about to do had sunk deep into my limbs.
The rhythm of my heels against the marble echoed faintly. I moved closer, slipping into his orbit. I was near enough now for him to catch the light scent of my perfume, floral, soft, meant to linger without announcing itself.
I stopped beside him, eyes landing on the painting he was analyzing. It was abstract, wild with motion. Crimson slashed across the canvas, tangled with violent blues and fractured gold. The brushwork oscillated between jagged bursts and smooth sweeps, an unsettling mix of control and chaos.
I spoke, keeping my voice soft and level. Close enough to feel intimate, just loud enough to be heard.
“The intensity of the strokes is remarkable,” I said. “The way the colors collide feels almost violent, yet there’s a strange harmony in the chaos.”
He didn’t respond. Not verbally. But I felt it. His attention was on me now as much as the art. I let the silence stretch a second longer, then continued, my tone calm, analytical. “It’s as if the artist was fighting an inner battle. Conflict and catharsis, all bleeding onto the canvas. The jagged strokes speak of anger or defiance, but the way the hues blend reveals a deep vulnerability… like they couldn’t commit to full destruction.”
I leaned in just slightly, examining the layers of the painting, voice dropping.
“It’s the tension that makes it work. The pull between restraint and abandon. It feels… raw.”
The silence settled again, delicate but dense.
Then I allowed a smirk to touch my lips.
“Or maybe they just threw paint at the canvas after a bad day and decided to call it art.”
That broke it. He turned toward me, finally.
His eyes met mine.
Heat flashed between us. The force of his gaze hit harder than I expected.
My breath caught, not out of fear but from the pressure of it. He was already trying to read me.
I knew that look. He was hunting for the truth inside my performance.
I didn’t flinch.
Even when my pulse started to climb beneath my skin, I held my ground.
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The gallery around us faded. It was just him. Just me.
Then I stepped back, breaking the moment on my terms.
I turned without hesitation and walked away, slipping into the flow of bodies beyond the archway. My retreat was smooth.
Behind me, I felt his gaze linger, and so did the eyes of his guards.
I didn’t need to look back to know he was still watching the space I had just walked away from.
Back in the main gallery, I finally exhaled. The encounter had gone as planned. I had said what
I needed to. Played the part.
But the crackle between us wasn’t part of the plan.
And I felt it. Still pulsing through me.
This was only the beginning. One step into a game layered with risk, manipulation, and consequences I wasn’t sure I fully understood.
But I had just stepped onto the board.
And Axel Voss had noticed.
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About Author Frances Paul:
Frances Paul is an author of emotionally charged, high-stakes fiction that captivates readers with its mix of psychological suspense, romance, and intricate plotting. Her work explores the fine line between love and survival, delving into themes of resilience, sacrifice, and the secrets we keep.
She is the author of Sea of Scars, a moving story of loss and redemption, and The Black Rose, a gripping psychological thriller that draws readers into a world where trust is dangerous and every choice carries lasting consequences.
With a distinctive voice and a cinematic style, Frances creates unforgettable characters and layered narratives that linger long after the final page. Her passion for storytelling comes from a lifelong fascination with the human heart and its capacity to endure even in the darkest of circumstances.
