Archive for the ‘thriller’ Category

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

Author January Bain will award a $25 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

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

Death Secrets

by January Bain

 

 

Genre: Crime Thriller

Synopsis

A gripping thriller that explores the lengths one will go to for family, and the resilience needed to stand against the darkness.

In the shadow of Alaska’s towering peaks, Anna Hale is haunted by a past painted in flames and betrayal. Marked by the tragic death of her mother and the scars of a childhood marred by violence, Anna has fought tirelessly to build a semblance of normalcy, only to have it shattered again and again. The latest blow comes when her sister, Tia Pace, vanishes without a trace, reigniting old wounds and casting Anna into a nightmare where she’s the prime suspect.

As she grapples with her stepfather’s execution and the weight of suspicion, another crisis looms: Zoe Pace, her other sister, has disappeared in an eerily similar manner. The only clue a sinister black rose and a chilling letter. When her brother Josh, now a dedicated cop in the Anchor Police Department, begs for her assistance, Anna is pulled back into the fray. Despite the agony of reopening old wounds, she embarks on a desperate quest to unravel the mystery of her sisters’ disappearances.

Faced with the unforgiving Alaskan frontier, Anna must confront a tangled web of corruption and deceit, with a copycat killer moving in the shadows. With every tick of the clock, Anna’s hope for a normal life slips further away, but her resolve to find her sisters and bring them home burns fiercer than ever. Will Anna’s journey through the cold, dark paths of Alaska lead her to her sisters, or will she find herself lost in the depths of a conspiracy that threatens to consume everything she holds dear?

Dive into this chilling tale of loss, courage, and the relentless pursuit of justice against the backdrop of Alaska’s unforgiving wilderness. Order your copy now.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Anna Hale cranked up the volume on her headphones, desperate to study for her high school English exam scheduled for the morning, but the hypnotic beat couldn’t mask the loathed voice of her stepfather growing louder by the second.

“You whore! Sneaking around and giving me those pious looks. You don’t think I don’t know better. I should throw you out right now, you and your bitch of a daughter!”

The soft sounds of her mother trying to pacify him were indistinct, impossible for her to hear.

Pass out already, old man.

She tried forcing her mind on the textbook, but the lines of printing blurred, making it hard to concentrate. If the subject at hand was a math or science quiz, she’d ace both without much effort. And that one computer module they’d had this semester had fascinated her. She yearned for a career in data processing, discovering all the secrets. That was if she got a choice. Her stepfather was threatening to make her leave school early to help bring more money into the household. She rolled her eyes in disgust. The guy just couldn’t hold down a job. Never his fault, like his shitty attitude wasn’t a factor. Or that his breath so often stank of booze, and his body of stale sweat.

The conversation from earlier between her and her mom bothered her like a harbinger of things to come, making it harder to focus. “I’ve made arrangements. If anything happens to me—go next door. Alex and Cindy Pace will look after you. And you get along so well with Josh and the twins.”

Her mom had talked over Anna’s every denial of anything ever happening to her. Anna was going to keep her mom safe. Learn karate or something badass at the gym to give her the upper hand. But her mom had made her promise and she had gone along with it. Anna didn’t want her mom worrying more than she already did, not that she wouldn’t stay and help her if worst came to worst. She’d never desert her mom. They had to stick together, no matter what.

Another loud series of barks drew her attention away from her favorite daydream of getting a high-paying job, of taking her mother far, far away. She’d also warned her to stay out of it, that her stepfather couldn’t help himself having to work at a job he hated, but Anna’s stomach churned with the effort. She wiped her damp palms on her patched jeans, straining to hear, the test long forgotten.

A loud crashing sound of something falling erupted downstairs. She dumped the headset and jumped off the bed, then raced down the narrow staircase in her sock feet, her pulse hammering in her ears, her head about to explode. She rounded the sharp corner that composed the L-shaped kitchen and living room, the clean but faded linoleum with most of the square-shaped pattern worn down to gray splotches, slippery beneath her feet. Her disgusting bear of a stepfather stood over her mom, his meaty fists raised like a boxer, his pugnacious face darkened by raw hatred.

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About Author January Bain:

January Bain is an award-winning author who firmly believes that stories unite us, that good stories help us to discover the commonality of the human experience by supporting values, empathy and understanding. She writes with her heart, mind, and soul, hoping that her novels will touch your life, giving you moments of freedom as you fly with her to other worlds.

Bain has had the pleasure of select novels being turned into games, and her work is also available in different languages.

January and her husband live in rural Canada on peaceful acreage where a variety of wildlife comes to visit regularly and expect to be fed and paid attention to.

Author Links: Blog / Twitter / Facebook / Facebook / Goodreads / Instagram / TikTok

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

The Garden Girls by Jessica R. Patch Banner

THE GARDEN GIRLS
by Jessica R. Patch

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June 24 – July 19, 2024 Virtual Book Tour
Synopsis:
FBI: Strange Crimes Unit

 

On a remote Outer Banks island, a serial killer collects his prized specimens. And to stop him, an FBI agent must confront his own twisted past.

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FBI agent Tiberius Granger has seen his share of darkness. But a new case sets him on edge. It’s not just the macabre way both victims—found posed in front of lighthouses—are tattooed with flowers that match their names. There’s also the unsettling connection to the woman Ty once loved and to the shadowy cult they both risked everything to escape. Bexley Hemmingway’s sister has gone missing, and she’ll do anything to find her—including teaming up with Ty. That may prove a mistake, and not just because Ty doesn’t know he’s the father of her teenaged son. It seems the killer is taunting Ty, drawing everyone close to him into deeper danger. As the slashing winds and rain of a deadly hurricane approach the coast of North Carolina, the search leads Ty and Bex to an island that hides a grisly secret. But in his quest for the truth, Ty has ignored the fact that this time, he’s not just the hunter. Every move has been orchestrated by a killer into a perfect storm of terror, and they will need all their skills to survive…

Praise for The Garden Girls:

“A perfect storm of thrilling suspense and intricate plot twists that will leave readers breathless!” ~ Nancy Mehl, author of the Ryland & St. Clair seriesThe Garden Girls by Jessica R. Patch is a hold-your-breath-and-pray novel full of suspense and unexpected twists. This gritty and compelling story is outstanding in every way. Highly recommended!” ~ Colleen Coble, USA Today bestselling author “In a word, WOW! The story caught me up and didn’t let go to the final page. Tight action, beautiful pacing. **Highly Recommended**” ~ Carrie Stuart Parks, best-selling, award-winning author “‘Riveting!’ Jessica R. Patch has created an immaculate psychological thriller that will leave the reader racing through the pages. Well-written characters and a plot that sizzles and crackles with danger made this story impossible for me to put down, and yet I didn’t want it to end. . .it’s that good. The Garden Girls will leave you breathless from the non-stop suspense filling the pages and wanting more from this amazing author” ~ USA Today Bestselling Author Mary Alford, author of Among the Innocent “Buckle your seatbelt! Jessica R. Patch is about to blow you off the road with The Garden Girls. The story will grab you on the first page and won’t let go until The End!” ~ Patricia Bradley, USA Today Best-Selling romantic suspense author of Counter Attack Book 1 in the Pearl River Series

 

Book Details:

Genre: Christian Psychological Thriller

Published by: Love Inspired Trade Publication Date: April 23, 2024 Number of Pages: 367 ISBN: 9781335463074 (ISBN10: 1335463070) Series: FBI: Strange Crimes Unit, Book 3 || Each is a Stand-Alone Novel

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Harlequin | JessicaRPatch.com

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MY REVIEW

I’ve not read previous books in this series but The Garden Girls Was an easy stand alone read for me. The author filled in pertinent past events and personal history’s of her main characters. Ty Granger, an agent for the FBI’s Strange Crimes Unit which specializes in cases with religious elements, has lots of history. No stranger to how religion can be used for nefarious purposes as he was raised in a cult, Ty and his unit set off to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. Someone is murdering young women and posing their bodies at lighthouses. Each girl has tattoos she’d not had before being taken. One of the girl’s that’s missing is right out of his past. She escaped the cult but can she escape The Artist?

I’m a fan of psychological thrillers. I binge and re-watch tons of shows like Criminal Minds and lots of movies. And my book shelves are full of the genre. Give me a great teaser for an opening that sets the hook, which this author did, and I allow myself to be caught. Then, like a bloodhound, I’m on the scent, following the clues and trails given to me, but also letting my mind go off trail and pause to wonder what if this or what if that.

There are religious elements in the book too. It feels and flows naturally and the characters are more genuine because of it.

If you enjoy a complex psychological thriller that leaves you thinking about what you just read after finishing it, this is one I urge you to read.

4 STARS

 

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Enjoy this peek inside:
Prologue
Sharp claws scrape along my neck. Back and forth. Back and forth. Buzzing fills the room, and I strain to open my eyes but they’re like molasses, thick and sticky and slow-moving. My stomach jumps and the room shifts as my blurred vision registers red walls and coffee-colored concrete. I inhale a hint of bleach and incense with a spicy note as I shift to survey the rest of the room, but my muscles ripple like languid water. The air-conditioner kicks on, and the cold air raises chills across my naked body. I’m…naked. A fist squeezes my lungs as panic rips through my system. My memories are disjointed. Where am I? How did I arrive here? What is happening to me? What has already happened? Shoe soles click on the floor and silence my questions. I am not alone. Or…I wasn’t. The door closes with a quiet click. Get up. Move. Run! Gripping the sides of a massage table, I roll off, and my bare feet hit cool flooring. The walls close in and shift, and my stomach roils. Something is wrong. Off. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors cover an entire wall, and my breath catches as reality comes into view. Pink flower buds wend through a vine of black along my neck and upper back. Confusion clouds my senses, and I stand cemented in place gawking at the angry red skin, sore and tender and smeared with glossy petroleum jelly. A tight knot grows in my throat, and tears stab with heated force against the backs of my eyes. I have to get out of here. Behind me, I spot a twin bed with luxurious sheets and a thick white comforter as well as tattooing equipment. My hands tremble. Am I in a tattoo parlor? Why is a bed in here? Lying on the floor next to the bed is an old iron cuff attached to a thick, heavy chain that is anchored to the wall. Why is that in here and where are my clothes? I snatch the downy comforter and drape it over my exposed body. Run. Run. Run! I open the door but have no clue which way to go or where he is or how long until he finds and cuffs me to that bed. I’ve been trapped before at the hands of a vicious predator. Old memories surface and spur me across the carpeted flooring. The hall veers left. My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness as I flee to safety—no. To a dead end. Defeat leaches like muddy water into my soul, and my chest aches. The only choice is to turn around. But he’s in that direction. Sweat slicks down my temples and spine, springing up through my pores like an underground fountain as I return the way I came. I see what might be a crack in the wall. Light seeps in from the other side. As I approach, I discover it’s a door made to look like part of the wall. I swallow hard and guide my fingers along the smooth wood until I feel a lever. I push it and the door releases, but it takes some grit to open it enough for me to slide through. I expect some kind of lair or dungeon or God knows what—a wall with torture devices and cages—but it’s not. It’s a living room with wall-to-wall windows overlooking dark water. Where is he? I suck in a breath as creaking registers on the stairs. There’s nowhere to hide, and the comforter is bulky and will easily give me away. I have no option but to ditch it in the corner. I can’t dwell on modesty. Outside. I dart toward the sliding glass door, silently slide it open and slip out into the warm night air before scrambling to the edge of the balcony. I crouch to make myself small, like when I was a child and needed to obscure myself. Maybe he doesn’t realize I’m gone, but then it hits me. I didn’t shut the secret door concealing the other rooms. A sob bubbles to the surface as I shake uncontrollably like I’ve woken from anesthesia. The ground is far below me. I’d die or break my legs, maybe my spine. But I’d rather die than go back to that room. To that chain. To more tattoo needles. To him. I draw up my knees and wait, pray. Hope. When the door doesn’t open, I scoot across the deck, the raw wood digging into tender flesh, but I need to see if the coast is clear. What if he’s standing at the door, waiting? Watching? I hear something and freeze. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi…I count silently until I reach Twenty Mississippi and scoot again. I can’t be sure if he’s nearby. If he is, deep in the marrow of my bones, I know the kinds of things that await me. I know what evil men can do. I’ve seen it. Experienced it. Finally, I muster the courage to peep through the door. The room is empty and dimly lit from the one glowing lamp. I creep inside; my brain is fuzzy and spins. No footsteps. Only bulging shadows in the corners. I slither across the Berber carpet and inhale the newness. A set of stairs is on the other side of the open living concept. About ten feet of space isn’t occupied with furniture which means when I make a run for it, and he enters the room, I’ll have no cover. If he doesn’t and I make it downstairs, he could still be waiting for me. I try to form a defense plan, but my brain might as well be sludge. Making my move, more out of my flight response than logic, I army-crawl across the open space to the stairs. Two sets of six. I practically roll down the first set and pause. He’s not there at the small landing. Six more to go. This time I move slower, ignoring the adrenaline shouting sprint. I can’t. He could be waiting and I need to listen. One…two…three…four…five…six. I pause again at the bottom of the stairs. No light befriends me on the ground floor. Only darkness—and darkness is never a friend. Darkness is deceptive, offering false security. Nothing good transpires in darkness. It’s not a refuge to hide. But a place to be found. In the dark, I can’t see my predator, but I know he’s lurking. The door is five feet away to freedom, and I sprint for it. Hope blooms in my chest. I mutter a prayer as I run. Three feet left. Two. Thank God, I’m here. I twist the knob. It’s locked. A cry cracks loose inside me, but I hold it down and fumble with the dead bolt. Shuffling sounds across tile. Closer. Closer. I manage to turn the dead bolt and pull on the door, but it sticks. He’s coming. The clicks are methodic, slow and measured as if he’s in no hurry. Like he knows I can’t escape. It’s a game. Please. Please. Come on! The door opens and I slip out, forcing myself to stay calm in case my mind is playing tricks on me and it’s not him. This time, I make sure to close the door behind me. The air is balmy and the wind rustles through the grass. The briny sea air washes over my tongue and the marsh grass swishes as I dart down a private boardwalk that leads…I don’t know where. I only know to run and eat up the ground and create distance between me and the house of horror. Between me and him. Thick walls of clouds block the moonlight. A door slams. Then I hear something. Thwupt. Thwupt. Thwupt. He’s dragging something across the boardwalk. I dare not turn to look. He’s coming. Slow and methodical. Silent. Only the awful dragging noise. Nothing comes into view but marshland and water surrounded by clusters of trees. Alligators lie in wait. I can’t remember how I know this. There are snakes and snapping turtles too. But he’s behind me. Plopping noises in the water draw my attention, and I freeze. What is it? Will it approach me or prey on me if I enter too? I can’t risk staying on the boardwalk. I ease myself into the icy depths and it steals my breath. Slime oozes over my feet, and I sink into mire. Murky water reaches my waist, sending a shock along my abdomen, but I can’t gasp. Instead, I push through the grass and hope the stirring due to my movement won’t alert him of my location. Sharp twigs and rocks gouge into the bottom of my feet, and I crunch my bottom lip to keep from crying. Marsh grass appears soft at a glance, but it’s strong and sharp like knitting needles and stabs into my flesh and tender places where I’ve been tattooed in flowers. Ahead is a patch of dense trees that would conceal me even in daylight. A huge splash sends ripples only a few feet away, startling resting birds to flight. Now I know what’s been causing the dragging noise. A canoe. He’s cutting through the narrow channels and at an advantage. I can’t stop now. I push through the mud, which tries to hold me captive, and toward the dense thicket of trees. I finagle my way inside, but it’s like camping in a thorn bush, and nettles rip my flesh. A quiet cry escapes my throat, and I cover my mouth. Did he hear me? Does he know I’m here? I shiver in the water, my teeth chattering as something lightweight drops onto the crown of my head and skitters into the thick layers before I can catch it. I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my jaw to muffle a scream. What hideous legged creature is creeping through my hair? What swims unseen below my waist? Plop. Plop. Plop. Fish, alligators, snakes…him? “Daaaah, daaaah, dah daaaah,” his rich buttery tone sings. It echoes through the wetland and sweeps over my skin like icy talons. “I’ve got all night,” he continues singing. “I’ll take my time.” I cup my hands over my mouth to silence my chattering teeth. He’s close. So close. “I’ll find you. There’s nowhere to hide,” he belts out as if we’re in a Broadway show. His voice is magical and terrifying. “You belong to meeeee…You want only meee…” I can’t stay here. He’ll find me. I work as silently as possible out of the thicket and away from the concentration of his voice. I hoist myself onto the wooden boardwalk because he believes I’m in the water. Rushing is out of the question. He’ll hear my footfalls. Slow and steady is about all I can muster anyway. My legs might as well be licorice sticks. He’s still singing and slicing an oar through the water as I forge ahead, quickening my steps by a small measure until I finally reach the end of the boardwalk and am on dry ground. In the woods. The woods mean I’ll find a road at the clearing. Help will drive by, and I’ll flag it down to freedom. I wait a beat while my eyes adjust to greater darkness. The trees loom overhead, and the ground is mushy and mixed with sand. I stub my toe, tripping over roots jutting out, but press on. There’s a path and I follow it. Bike path maybe? My feet are cut and bleeding and my head pounds. The path curves, then straightens out, and I halt. Not a road. Not freedom. Before me is a long stretch of beach littered with driftwood and shells that cut into my feet. Beyond the beach is the endless sea. No homes. Only wetland to my back and the sea everywhere else. I have no boat. No canoe. Nothing to propel me to freedom. I’m on a private island, and I finally remember how I arrived. *** Excerpt from The Garden Girls by Jessica R. Patch. Copyright 2024 by Jessica R. Patch. Reproduced with permission from Jessica R. Patch. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Jessica R. Patch:

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Jessica R. Patch

Publishers Weekly Bestselling Author, Jessica R. Patch is known for her dry wit and signature twists whether she’s penned a romantic suspense, a cold case thriller, or a small-town romance. When she’s not getting into fictional mischief with her characters, you can find her cozy on the couch in her mid-south home reading books by some of her favorite authors, watching movies with her family, and collecting recipes to amazing dishes she’ll probably never cook. Sign up for her newsletter “Patched In” at www.jessicarpatch.com and receive a FREE short thriller exclusive to subscribers. Jessica is represented by Rachel Kent of Books & Such Literary Management.

Catch Up With Jessica R. Patch: www.jessicarpatch.com Goodreads – @JessicaRPatch BookBub – @JessicaRPatch Instagram – @JessicaRPatch Threads – @JessicaRPatch Twitter/X – @JessicaRPatch Facebook – @JessicaRPatch TikTok – @readjessicarpatch

 

 

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 A crumbling bluff, two unsolved homicides, and a woman on the edge.
Haunted by her husband’s untimely death, Kate must navigate
treacherous waters and leave Crest Lake and her tragic past
behind…before it all unravels.

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The Bluff

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by Bonnie Traymore

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Genre: Psychological Thriller

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“Gripping and full of surprises, The
Bluff
is a clever psychological
suspense with layered characters and an atmospheric setting. Traymore
masterfully ratchets up the tension little-by-little until the
shocking,
explosive end.”
Tracey
Devlyn, 
USA Today bestselling
author

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What do you
have to lose, Kate?” Ryan asked me, as we stood on the bluff
looking out on Lake Michigan.

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Turns out, almost everything.

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When I first moved
from Manhattan to this small town six years ago, I worried about many
things. I worried about finding a job. I worried that I’d be bored.
I worried that my relationship with charming photographer Ryan
Breslow was moving too fast. But I never worried about whether the
ground beneath my feet would crumble—both literally and
figuratively.

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My marriage didn’t
go as I’d imagined. A year ago, Ryan met his untimely death in a
car accident that’s still under investigation. Isolated and alone,
all I wanted was to sell my home and leave Crest Lake and its painful
memories behind.

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But with my home
inching ever closer to the edge of the crumbling bluff, the property
has become unmarketable. All of us on the lakefront have lost chunks
of property, and tempers are at a boiling point about what to do
next.

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And now, on the
evening of a contentious vote about how to fix this pressing issue,
my nemesis on the shoreline committee has been murdered. I know how
it looks, but it’s not what it seems. I have to get my plan passed
and cash out.

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Because I have secrets.

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And they won’t stay buried forever.

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**Releases Sep 1st – PreOrder Now! **

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Amazon
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Bonnie Traymore is the award-winning, Amazon best selling author of
page-turner mystery/thrillers that hit close to home. Her books
feature strong but relatable female protagonists. The plots explore
difficult topics such as jealousy, infidelity, murder, and the impact
of psychological disorders, but she also includes bits of romance and
humor to lighten the mood from time to time. She’s an active status
member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of
America.

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Follow the reveal HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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 The truth can be deadly.

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Shady Justice

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by Rena Koontz

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Genre: Thriller, Romantic Suspense

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 TV Crime Reporter Rylee Lapiz is determined to discover who murdered
her best friend’s mother. When her confidential informant is also
brutally killed, panic hits her like a tsunami wave. Will she be the
killer’s next target?

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It’s a horrifying fact that the
two homicides are linked, and she knew both victims. What connects
the socialite with the drug addict? Reporting these stories is no
longer merely an assignment, it’s a personal quest to avenge their
deaths. But uncovering the truth is dangerous. Dread drowns her in
denial as she delves deeper into the crimes. She’s terrified that
she might personally know a murderer.

Her dogged
investigation uncovers critical evidence the police overlooked. But
instead of listening, she’s astonished and frustrated when
detectives begin to suspect her. Is there anyone she can
trust?

Buy Shady Justice and follow Rylee Lapiz
as she navigates a treacherous landscape of deceit and betrayal in
search of the facts. Every reveal could be her last. Can she report
the truth before becoming the next victim?

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Amazon
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His stomach growled. Since he’d emptied it in the grass, he craved a cup of coffee. As if reading his mind, the local crime reporter for the TV station he regularly watched stepped into his line of vision, two lidded coffee cups in her hands. She grinned, raised the cups in the air and lured him to the yellow crime scene tape cordoning off the area.

“Good morning, Detective. Black right? I brought one for Parker, too.” Funny, he’d been dealing with her longer than Bentley, but she never called him by his first name. He wondered again about Bentley’s affinity with women.

“Lois Lane, fancy seeing you here.” He reached for the Dunkin’ cup.

Rylee Lapiz grinned. “Heard it on the scanner. Was on my way to City Hall for a budget meeting. Thought I’d swing by and hear you tell me you can’t tell me anything.”

Chaney genuinely laughed, always amused by her optimism. “I can’t tell you anything.”

“I figured. Doesn’t hurt to ask, though. Can you at least tell me if it’s male or female? That would give me enough to tweet for the morning news and might make my editor tell me to stay here. The City’s in financial trouble. There’s nothing new to report there.”

“Since when do you cover politics?” She’d been the crime reporter for more than two years, to his knowledge. Always hustling, even though her news station was rated fourth in the market. In his opinion, her station was the best and most accurate, even when it came to forecasting the weather, which his arthritis did equally as well.

“Covering for the beat guy. He called in sick. I hoped you’d rescue me and give me a story.”

He laughed, admitting to himself that he enjoyed talking with her as much as he did verbally sparring with Bentley. In general, he hated the news media but, as reporters went, Lapiz was fair, totally unimpressed with herself despite having accumulated numerous journalism awards. She’d proven she was interested in only the facts and not sensational headlines, like her competitors. And she’d earned his trust a year ago when details about a murder were communicated to him with her in earshot. He’d instructed her the information was off the record and she’d kept her word and not reported it until he consented. It wouldn’t hurt to toss her a crumb.

“Female.”

“Old or young? White or black.”

He chuckled. “You said only one question.”

“Technically I didn’t but—” Her focus moved behind him and he turned to see Bentley approaching, tapping the side of her face with her forefinger. She reached for the cup Lapiz held out.

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How it all started

If you’re already familiar with me as an author, you’ve heard this story.

I guess I’ve always been a writer. I say that because when my mother died and my sister and I were cleaning out her cedar chest, I found a stack of rubber-banded pages, a few in envelopes, some folded, a couple on five-inch spiral notebook paper.

They were notes I’d written to my mother when I was younger, beginning with the lined paper we used in grade school when we learned to write. Remember those? Two bold lines with a dashed line in between so we knew where the lower-case letters stopped. I was pretty good at staying in the lines.

In high school, when my English teacher asked what I planned to do with my life and scoffed at my answer – “I want to be a teacher – he chided me that every female in the building planned to be a teacher. Didn’t I know I had a talent for writing?

I hadn’t yet discovered the collection of missives my mother kept, some starting with “once upon a time” and my favorite, “Mother, I don’t think you love me anymore.”

So no, I didn’t think I could write. He convinced me to enter an essay contest that I won! It was the first time I ever saw my name in print in a publication. Couple that with the first novel I stole from my sister’s reading shelf, The Flame and The Flower, and I was hooked. I wanted to write a book like that someday.

I made my career as a newspaper reporter, which involved writing every day, most days with a deadline looming. And I won awards so I was good at it.

Always in the back of my mind, though, was that thought that I wanted to write a book like Kathleen Woodiwiss had done.

“One book,” I told my husband. “I just want to see my name on the cover of one book.”

My first book was published in 2012. Shady Justice is number 10. I’m already 18,000 words into book number 11. And again, my peers have honored me with awards and five-star reviews.

I guess I really can write!

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 Rena Koontz is an award-winning author who was a career journalist.
She writes about real events she covered as a news reporter in
Pittsburgh, PA. and Cleveland, OH., weaving them into intriguing love
stories. Her passions are her husband and her dog. Not necessarily in
that order.

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

Author Gloria Pearson-Vasey is awarding a $10 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

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

Shushan Portal

by Gloria Pearson-Vasey

 

 

Genre: Science Fiction / Thriller

Synopsis

After her sister dies, Meara Deleaney invites her bereaved nephew, Jackson, to accompany her on a book tour to Canada’s Atlantic provinces. Fearful of leaving the security of her apartment, Meara bolsters her courage by recalling the imaginary dragons she and her sister slew as children behind the hollyhock hedge.

As they travel in a motorhome from park to park and bookstore to bookstore, Meara and Jackson are unaware of the manipulating forces intent on preventing their return home. They do, however, realize they are being stalked and therefore welcome the company of another touring author, criminology professor Bartholomew Wolfe.

A long-standing professional relationship between the authors builds to romance and a persuasive invitation to seek shelter at the professor’s lodge. However, to reach the lodge, Meara—now accompanied by her nephew, niece and mother—unsuspectingly travels through a portal which exits in a future dimension near a fortress.

From there, the family is escorted under guard through dangerous territory to a lodge where metaphorical dragons lie in wait, and security comes at a price.

Enjoy this peek inside:

Mystified, they grabbed up their bags and followed Gabe (the lodge manager) along the shore toward a solitary balsam fir. At their approach, a baby bird sitting in a sandy hollow at the base of the tree hopped off and disappeared into a clump of wild grasses.

“We’ve reached our end of the portal,” said Gabe. “It’s important we all huddle together in the hollow vacated by the bird so no one gets left behind as we transition from the OD to the FD.”

Feeling rather foolish, his guests exchanged quizzical smiles as they shuffled together into a loose cluster.

“You’re not huddling! Lean into the person beside you!” commanded Gabe.

“Mother needs to sit down soon,” protested Meara.

“Yes, I’m feeling a bit shaky and I can barely breathe,” said Agnes. “Enough of your inane prattle.”

Assuring them they would soon be enjoying comfortable transportation, Gabe asked them to close their eyes and count out loud to ten. They reluctantly complied, and by the count of four, all slipped into an ever-darkening vortex and lost consciousness. When they regained bewildered awareness, they were at the edge of a wooded area overlooking the stark walls of a fortress enclosing a medieval castle.

“The Shushan Citadel,” whispered Gabe, pointing toward the fortress.

“Can we go in?” asked Penny.

Gabe hushed the girl and hastened his charges toward a multi-legged vehicle camouflaged in dull paint splotches. He identified the vehicle as a solar-wind-powered Centipede and assisted them in entering through a door in its transparent dome.

Within moments of seating themselves, the passengers realized the Centipede was moving.

About Author Gloria Pearson-Vasey:

Gloria Pearson-Vasey weaves contemporary issues into her novels, and likes a story – be it literary fiction, historical fantasy or science fiction – to be authentic and end on a note of hope.

A member of The Writers’ Union of Canada, Pearson-Vasey has also penned non-fiction books on autism and pilgrimage.

The author feels blessed for experiencing the joy and chaos of merging child raising with career, camping, travel and pets.

She lives in a picturesque Ontario town, and enjoys reading, music, country drives and time with family and friends.

Author Links: Website / Facebook / Twitter/X / Goodreads

Purchase Links: Amazon / Amazon CA / Indigo / Booktopia / Waterstones / Abe Books

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Breach: A Terrifying Summer Adventure
by Holly S. Roberts

 


Breach: A Terrifying Summer Adventure
Psychological Thriller
Setting – Off the coast of California
Publisher ‏ : ‎Independently Published (March 22, 2024)
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 202 pages
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8320606989
Digital: Wicked Story Telling (June 20, 2024)
ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CQYXJ3T1

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Craving the vastness of the open sea, Kate and her family set out on a journey of forgiveness and healing aboard Ryan’s Gift, their newly remodeled yacht. After a tragic accident, it’s imperative that Kate returns to the ocean, the place she once called home, in an attempt to restore her spirit.

In the middle of their idyllic voyage, the nightmare begins. With no power or communication, a monster lurks below the surface and the family must find a way to defeat the darkness before it destroys them.

Experience this gripping story of a family’s fight for survival and a terrifying reckoning from the deep.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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“Eighteen months had passed since the accident that left Kate with an incomplete spinal cord injury, taking away the use of her legs. The rehabilitation center staff had believed her fortunate for retaining some sensation below the waist, but Kate had never felt unluckier” .

“Kate examined the water looking for a dorsal fin. Slight waves from the Sea Doo rocked the yacht. She wheeled herself frantically toward the stern, her pulse hammering as the real threat lurked unseen below”​​.

“Kate’s voice was a whisper, her hands tense on the wheels of her chair. ‘Ryan, hold on,’ she breathed as the shark’s massive silhouette darted beneath the yacht toward her daughter”​​.

“With every ounce of her being, Kate focused on the rolling waves. ‘This ends today,’ she declared, determination lining her features as she prepared to defend her family from a terrifying nightmare”​​.

About Holly S. Roberts

Holly S Roberts is the USA TODAY bestselling author of thrillers, mysteries, and romance. Her Detective Eve Bennet crime series is a #1 Amazon bestseller. She’s a retired homicide detective who worked high-profile cases in Arizona. Holly lives high in the mountains with her husband and two spoiled dogs.

Author Links: Website / Facebook / Instagram / TikTok / YouTube / Goodreads

Purchase Links

Amazon/Kindle Unlimited

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Click HERE to enter.

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Elephant Safari by Peter Riva Banner

ELEPHANT SAFARI
by Peter Riva
June 24 – July 19, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
A MBUNO & PERO THRILLER

A documentary team hiking through East Africa collides with a gang of deadly poachers, in this gripping adventure by the author of Kidnapped on Safari.

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Years of filming, extreme dangers, and daring rescues have taken their toll on documentary producer Pero Baltazar and his team. To relax and reconnect with the East African wildlife they love, Pero organizes a walking safari for him, his camerawoman Nancy Breiton, and their elite guide Mbuno Waliangulu. Still, Pero has trouble truly disconnecting from work. When the team comes across a herd of elephants making their annual migration north of Lake Rudolf, Pero decides the team will film their journey from Kenya into Ethiopia along the Omo River. What begins as a peaceful trip quickly turns into a chaotic nightmare as the trio crosses paths with a crew of poachers whose ivory sales are financing terrorists. The three are determined to protect the endangered herd from slaughter, and Mbuno enlists the help of local tribesmen. But the corruption of ivory poachers has deep roots that stretch to UN refugee camps, Chinese gangs, and the Iranian elite Islamic Revolutionary Guard. Faced with overwhelming odds, the trio must now rely on Pero’s contacts in the CIA, as well as Mbuno’s skills in the bush, if they hope to ever return from this excursion alive . . .

Praise for Elephant Safari:

“If you’re in the mood for an African thriller series to add to your summer reading pile, Peter Riva has got you covered. Riva’s impressive career has provided him with plenty of inspiration for his novels, which he writes as a form of relaxation.” ~ The Lakeville Journal and The Millerton News “Many readers will enjoy this story for its fast pace, engaging characters, and insights into world politic. I particularly loved the depth of knowledge about the natural history and ecology of the East African landscape. This may be a thriller but it’s also an important book about the killing of elephants for their ivory tusks.” ~ Sharman Apt Russel- John Burroughs Medal winner

ELEPHANT SAFARI Trailer:

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Book Details:

Genre: Action and Adventure Thriller

Published by: Open Road Media Publication Date: January 30, 2024 Number of Pages: 302 ISBN: 9781504085335 (ISBN10: 1504085337) Series: The Mbuno & Pero Thrillers, 4 | Each is a Stand-Alone Novel

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | BookaMillion | Goodreads | Open Road Media

Enjoy this peek inside:
In modern Kenya and most of East Africa, elephant were dying out, Mbuno knew this and lamented. His chest ached for them. Gone were the innumerable small herds of his youth, mostly replaced by farms, settlements, human sprawl, and tourist attractions. What elephant remained had their age-old pathways and migration routes blocked, stopped, fenced, and constantly monitored. White men came and collared them, watched them on scopes, darted them, sampled them, and even shot them when they became a nuisance to farmers with cash. What elephants modern man did not manage in parks were easy prey for poachers. The days of the Liangulu hunter were over. Mbuno knew this, accepted this, and did not mind even half as much as he mourned the passing of the realm of the elephant. All of Africa had once been the realm of the elephant. As the largest beast, immune to the normal prey and hunter battles going on all around, the elephant set the pace of the land, fertilized the forests, cropped the prairies, and paved the migration routes that all the migratory species followed. In times of drought, their superior intelligence showed where water could be found and even taught man to dig in dry riverbeds for a boundary layer of precious liquid. They created mud holes for mud baths to keep the insects at bay, used also by Cape buffalo and rhino. Over the millennia, they brushed aside acacia thorns and baobab saplings with equal ease creating the open plains. And, in time, Africa’s rhythm resounded to the beat of their feet and their migratory timekeeping. Without the elephant ruling the land, the land fell into the discordant rhythm of the upright apes and began to fracture. Mbuno had known the last best years of the elephant’s realm and, sadly, was now witnessing the fall of Africa’s harnessing stability. Without the elephant to freely roam, the balance of nature would be broken, herds would grow to enormous size in protected parks and, outside that protection, devoid of traditional hunters, herds could be led by weak leaders who would fail to protect them from ivory hunters. Mbuno had heard this had happened before. At the end of the slave and ivory trade, in 1911 there were fewer elephants than now and the herds were only brought back from extinction by White Hunters—led by Teddy Roosevelt—using farm and ranch husbandry methods – culling every senile cow and bull. Young, vibrant, herds repopulated the migration routes. But now the elephant and Mbuno’s tribal way of life were both threatened once again. Mbuno looked back to make sure Pero and Nancy were crouched, waiting a few hundred yards away as he instructed. He then inched closer to the worrying herd, prone again, a sharp stone rolling under his hip painfully. He dared not move quickly, the bush above him would vibrate. He stopped any forward movement as he spotted feet, the small grey feet of a baby elephant, a mtoto. One foot had an encircling, red, puss-oozing sore. Behind the mtoto’s feet stood the mother. Mbuno could see the way the weight was shifting on both mother and child that the mother was soothing the young one who would be in pain. Silent pain, the sign of a strong herd leader. Or a very frightened herd, one that is being hunted. The mtoto’s sore had been caused by a wire snare that had probably dropped off. Mbuno had seen this far too often. Now Mbuno felt compelled to do something, not just observe. It was now a matter of honor, duty, and common ancestry, not to mention his responsibility for the safety of his safari charges. Mbuno’s mind made decisions quickly. In the bush, life and death were often just moments apart. Soundlessly, moving no bush or twig, he retreated the way he had come, donned his pants only, and set himself into a running crouch. It was his usual hunter’s pace, swift, determined, and ready for a change in direction. Circling the place where he knew the herd to be, he stayed four hundred yards away at least. Starting downwind and determinedly coming full half circle until he announced his presence to their sensitive noses, he tested their resolve. When he was sure they had smelled him, he knew there was real danger here because there was no charge, no bellowing threat, no foot stomp. The elephants could smell that he was only one man and also that he was a man of the bush. As Mbuno had feared, they clearly had a more dangerous enemy threat nearby, for they did not give themselves away. He continued his crouching circling run, sweating from adrenaline and the jini of the hunt. For he was hunting, but not elephant. When he was three-quarters the way around his circle, he sensed, and then diving behind a fallen log on his stomach, he saw the men just outside the forest’s edge. One was sitting on a pickup truck’s hood and two stood in the flatbed. They wore no uniform. The man sitting was dressed as an Arab with a face scarf and camouflage trousers and bush shirt. He had binoculars but no gun. And two standing tribesmen looked like Pokot, Mbuno thought–northern, violent Maasai cousins. Hunters, not cattlemen. The two tribesmen had black rifles with yellow wood stocks and foregrips. Mbuno knew AK-47s when he saw them. Mbuno had seen these types of poachers before. They snared a baby and, in its squeals, it attracted the herd; close and closer until the slaughter would be efficient, deadly, machine gun rapid. Standing behind a tree trunk on tiptoe, peeking out, Mbuno saw the panga (machete) on the flatbed tailgate, unsheathed, its 12-inch blade glistening, freshly sharpened. The back of the truck held two freshly drawn tusks; the brown blood still not yet black. The herd had been running and not just because of the mtoto. Mbuno did not hesitate, did not reason, did not moralize. In the bush, the law of the land was kill or be killed. These men had killed, wasted the life of elephant, wanted to slaughter the rest, and were dishonorable. He saw them as little more than wanyama—vermin—to be stopped. Without altering his run, he circled behind the pickup and approached them from behind, soundlessly, before the men could even know he was coming. *** Excerpt from Elephant Safari by Peter Riva. Copyright 2024 by Peter Riva. Reproduced with permission from Peter Riva. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Peter Riva:

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Peter Riva

Peter Riva has traveled extensively throughout Africa, Asia, and Europe, spending many months spanning thirty years with legendary guides for East African adventurers. He created the Wild Things television series in 1995 and has worked for more than forty years as a literary agent. Riva writes science fiction and African adventure books, including the Mbuno & Pero thrillers. He lives in Gila, New Mexico.

Catch Up With Peter Riva: www.PeterRiva.com Goodreads BookBub Instagram – @peterriva_author Facebook – @peter.riva

 

 

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Clowders

by Vanessa Morgan

 

Publication date: March 1st 2018
Genres: Adult, Supernatural, Thriller

Clervaux, Luxembourg. This secluded, picturesque town in the middle of Europe is home to more cats than people. For years, tourists have flocked to this place – also known as “cat haven” – to meet the cats and buy cat-related souvenirs.

When Aidan, Jess and their five-year-old daughter, Eleonore, move from America to Clervaux, it seems as if they’ve arrived in paradise. It soon becomes evident, though, that the inhabitants’ adoration of their cats is unhealthy. According to a local legend, each time a cat dies, nine human lives are taken as a punishment. To tourists, these tales are supernatural folklore, created to frighten children on cold winter nights. But for the inhabitants of Clervaux, the danger is horrifyingly real.

Initially, Aidan and Jess regard this as local superstition, but when Jess runs over a cat after a night on the town, people start dying, one by one, and each time it happens, a clowder of cats can be seen roaming the premises.

Are they falling victim to the collective paranoia infecting the entire town? Or is something unspeakably evil waiting for them?

Their move to Europe may just have been the worst decision they ever made.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

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MY REVIEW

They say cats have nine lives. What that means in the lovely isolated town of Clervaux, Luxemburg is they take nine. That’s right. When a cat dies, nine human lives are taken.

When an American family moves to Clervaux, they believe the legend is just that, a legend. But then a cat is killed and not long after someone dies. One down, eight to go.

This started out so hopeful. A scenic little town, friendly inhabitants, and lots of cats. But slowly, the atmosphere darkens. Strange noises are heard. Something prowls in the house at night. Claws click across the floor. Food disappears, Shadows hide a hunched over figure. And the friendly neighbors become not so friendly. Sounds like a good movie, doesn’t it? Thanks to the author’s talent for showing the story, it felt like I was watching it.

It takes a lot to give me the creeps. I’ve read a bunch of horror stories and watched lots of movies. A few scenes in this book are so creeptastic! There’s this scene where something is stalking the next victim. It moves boldly through the crowd of tourists. They think it’s part of something put on to entertain and take pictures of it, even as it attacks. I’d like to think I’d know the difference. I read it over again and still got creeped out.

Soft kitty. Warm kitty. Little ball of fur….. Not!

4 STARS

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“Who is she?” Eleonore asked when Jess drove her to school Friday morning.

“Who’s who?” Jess countered, not sure what her daughter was talking about.

“The girl. The one who’s always watching us.”

“No one’s watching us,” Jess said.

“Yes, there is. All the girls in my baking class say the same.”

Normally, Jess wouldn’t have put much thought into such a remark – children can say weird things sometimes. But now it seemed Eleonore might be right. Jess felt like there was indeed someone watching them, no matter what they were doing.

She felt it everywhere she went. When she took Eleonore to baking class, when she was lying in bed at night, even in the shops. But not all the time.

Some of the time.

More often than not, everything seemed normal, and then all of a sudden, she felt as if someone was checking up on her. Sometimes it was only briefly, like a minute or so, but at other times, she could feel it for several hours.

Sometimes she could feel it on the streets.

But mostly at home.

And never outside Clervaux.

You’re imagining things, she told herself.

In fact, every day since she’d arrived in Europe, it had gotten worse. More and more, she’d get that tingly feeling, and know that someone behind her was watching her. She’d try to ignore it, tried to resist the urge to look over her shoulder, but eventually the hair on the back of her neck would stand up, and the tingling would turn into a chill, and finally, she’d turn around.

And nobody would be there.

Nobody, except for the cats. The sight of cats waddling along the pavement had never seemed eerie to her, but the fact that they were always there, no matter where she was – on the sidewalk, at the main square, in a café, in the forest – made her skin crawl.

Whenever she was running errands in Clervaux, she kept looking into store windows, but it wasn’t the merchandise she was looking at; it was the reflection in the glass.

The reflection of something sinister watching her.

Sometimes she could have sworn she saw something. The reflection of a small, squatting figure. But then she glanced over her shoulder and all she could see once more were the cats of Clervaux staring back at her.

She decided to not let her imagination get to her, to resist the urge to glance over her shoulder every few seconds.

And then her daughter muttered the words, “Who is she? The girl. The one who’s always watching us,” and the paranoia tightened its grip on her once more.

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About Author Vanessa Morgan:

Vanessa Morgan is the editor of the movie reference guides When Animals Attack: The 70 Best Horror Movies with Killer Animals, Strange Blood: 71 Essays on Offbeat and Underrated Vampire Movies, and Evil Seeds: The Ultimate Movie Guide to Villainous Children. She also has had one cat book (Avalon) and four supernatural thrillers (Drowned Sorrow, The Strangers Outside, A Good Man, and Clowders) published. Three of her stories have been turned into movies. She has written for myriad Belgian magazines and newspapers and introduces movie screenings at several European film festivals. She is also a programmer for the Offscreen Film Festival in Belgium. When she’s not working on her latest book, you can find her reading, watching movies, eating out, or photographing felines for her blog Traveling Cats.

Author Links: Website / Facebook / Instagram / Twitter / Pinterest / Amazon

 

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Lost in the wilderness, a desolate barracks becomes a perilous attraction for risk-seekers drawn to the heart of nowhere, as a ruthless gang turns the abandoned settlement into a deadly trap with escalating provocations and brutal violence.

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Urbex Predator

by Jen Boele

Publication Date: February 4, 2024

Pages: 394

Genre: Horror / Thriller

A relic from
the Cold War, the old barracks beckon photographers, influencers, and
adventurers, shrouded in secrets and peril. Nela and Tess dare the eerie
ruins for their photography thesis, while Zander, Yelka, Vivien, and
Damon embark on a simultaneous shoot. Amid the abandoned shadows,
Yelka’s group runs into Steven and his ruthless gang, initially
outsmarting them. Yet, Nela and Tess fall victim to a nightfall ambush,
escaping but torn apart. As adrenaline courses through the gang, they
stalk Yelka and her friends, unleashing a relentless manhunt. Vivien
becomes their captive, setting off a chain reaction. Tess encounters
Damon and Yelka, while Nela, guided by Ben, the barracks’ security
manager, races to find Tess. Yelka strives to rescue Vivien, trapped in
an abandoned outdoor pool. On his lone pursuit, Zander witnesses the
gang’s brutality, delving into a darker realm within himself, spurred by
the horrifying thrill of Steven’s actions. The scene propels Yelka,
Damon, and Tess into a frenzy, unleashing chaos to liberate Vivien. Nela
and Ben, attempting to overpower the gang, witness Yelka and Vivien’s
escape as the gang closes in. With the arrival of Steven’s older
brother, Henry, the stakes are set; the old military hospital transforms
into a battleground. No one is to leave alive, and a matter of life and
death ensues. In the ruthless clash, Nela and Yelka emerge as the lone
defenders, while Zander pursues a mission for his own catharsis. In
Henry’s basement, dubbed his Hades, the teams converge for a
pulse-pounding final duel, where survival is the ultimate prize. 

You can pick up your copy at Amazon.

 

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AUTHOR GUEST POST
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Can you tell us what your book, Urbex Predator, is about? 

Absolutely! ‘Urbex Predator’ is a heart-pounding thriller that takes readers on a gripping journey into the depths of horror and suspense. Set against the eerie backdrop of abandoned Cold War-era barracks, the story follows two groups of urban explorers whose innocent photo shoots quickly turn into a fight for
survival. As they navigate through the desolate ruins, they encounter a gang of depraved hoodlums whose menacing presence escalates into brutal violence. What unfolds is a relentless battle, where the boundaries between life and death blur, and the characters are forced to confront their deepest fears.

 

It’s a pulse-pounding narrative filled with unexpected twists, sinister secrets, and unforgettable characters. Get ready for an adrenaline-fueled ride that will leave you on the edge of your seat until the very last page!

Can you tell us a little about your main and supporting characters?

Absolutely, that’s a fantastic inquiry, delving into a crucial aspect of the book. The issue of character count has been raised by some readers, prompting me to create a comprehensive character cheat sheet available for download on my website. However, I respectfully disagree with the notion of an excessive character count. In a horror novel with a high body count, each character serves a purpose, contributing to the intricate tapestry of the narrative.

Let’s zero in on the key players: Nela and Tess, inseparable friends embarking on a journey to document the abandoned barracks for Nela’s photography thesis. While Nela exudes focus and determination, Tess dreams of a glamorous modeling career, their dynamic akin to yin and yang, revolving around their differing perspectives on photography’s significance.

Enter Yelka and Zander, childhood companions drawn to urban exploration for the sheer thrill of discovery. Yelka radiates warmth and curiosity, relishing in the exploration of abandoned sites, while Zander harbors unspoken affections for Yelka, channeling his expertise in urban exploration to fuel her passion. Accompanying them are Vivien, Yelka’s sister, an emerging social media influencer, and her manager Damon, solely focused on bolstering Vivien’s online presence.

When faced with the menacing gang of hoodlums, our protagonists find themselves navigating a perilous struggle for survival, prompting reflection on who will survive and, as a famous quote suggests, what will be left of them. Prepare for a riveting exploration of friendship, survival, and the shadows that lurk within the abandoned corridors of the human psyche.

Your book is set in abandoned Cold War-era barracks. Can you tell us why you chose this location in particular?

“Urbex Predator” is fundamentally grounded in the realm of urban exploration, making the selection of an abandoned locale as the primary setting a natural choice. I envisioned an isolated, secluded world nestled amidst the wilderness, drawing inspiration from my personal experiences in urban exploration. Old military compounds emerged as the quintessential backdrop, offering vast expanses far removed from urban hubs.

These compounds, apart from the barracks themselves, encompass a myriad of structures including housing, medical facilities, sports arenas, and even entertainment outlets like cinemas and theaters. Exploring these vast expanses is akin to stepping into a time capsule reclaimed by nature, evoking sensations reminiscent of an apocalyptic film set, albeit grounded in reality.

The compound depicted in “Urbex Predator” is entirely fictional, crafted as an amalgamation of various abandoned barracks I’ve encountered. Adhering to a cardinal rule of urban exploration, disclosing the exact location of these sites to the public is strictly forbidden. While real-world locations akin to those in the book exist, their anonymity must be preserved to uphold the integrity of the urbexing community.

And let’s not forget a cardinal rule of horror storytelling: transgression invites peril. In “Urbex Predator,” as in any horror narrative, defiance of established norms invariably leads to dire consequences. It’s a chilling reminder that in the realm of horror, breaking the rules comes at a grave cost.

How long did it take you to write your book?

Absolutely, each book I embark on brings its own unique journey, and “Urbex Predator” was no exception. The genesis of this tale began with a burst of inspiration in October/early November, with the first threads of the narrative taking shape by the dawn of the new year, 2022. It was a swift process, as I delved into the story’s intricacies, spending the following four months weaving together its tapestry.

However, the trajectory of my writing journey encountered an unexpected pause in late February, prompted by the onset of the conflict in Ukraine. The chilling realities of the abandoned Cold War-era barracks mirrored the unfolding horrors of the real world, causing a momentary hesitation in my creative process. Yet, I resolved not to succumb to the shadow cast by Russian aggression, both in Ukraine and across the global consciousness, and persevered in bringing this tale to fruition.

By autumn of 2022, the manuscript stood complete, poised for the scrutiny of test readers whose invaluable feedback shaped its final form. Following a series of reviews and revisions, “Urbex Predator” made its debut in Germany by the year’s end, marking the culmination of one phase of its journey. The subsequent translation into English unfolded across the expanse of 2023, a testament to the meticulous care invested in ensuring its accessibility to a broader audience.

In hindsight, while the act of writing itself spanned a mere four months, the entirety of the creative process encompassed a year-long odyssey. Each moment, each pause, and each revision bore witness to the evolution of “Urbex Predator” from a mere concept to a tangible reality, poised to enthrall and captivate readers across borders.

What has been the most pivotal point of your writing life?

Let me take you back to a pivotal moment in my writing journey—one that forever altered the course of my storytelling. It all began with my debut book, “Sunshine,” a crime thriller sparked by the adrenaline of TV’s “Breaking Bad.” Excitedly, I handed it over to friends for their honest feedback, expecting accolades and applause. Instead, I received a bewildering response: “Jens, that’s a nice short story.”

Confusion swept over me. How could my magnum opus be dismissed as a mere short story? As we delved into the narrative together, their insights unveiled a critical truth: storytelling isn’t just about pace; it’s about depth and development. “Why does the drug dealer suddenly turn into a psychopath?” they queried, prompting a deeper reflection on character motivation and narrative arcs.

In that moment, I realized the power of structure and attention to detail in crafting compelling tales. Our drug dealer wasn’t just a villain; he was a complex soul wrestling with his demons. His struggles with substance abuse, compounded by toxic relationships, laid bare the fragility of his existence. Beneath the facade of bravado lay a man clinging desperately to his last shred of identity—the business he built from the ground up.

As we journeyed alongside Mr. White Junior, witnessing his rise amidst the unwavering support of friends, we simultaneously mourned the tragic descent of our flawed antihero—the bad boy drug dealer. It’s moments like these—moments of introspection and revelation—that shape the very essence of storytelling, inviting readers to immerse themselves in worlds both familiar and fantastical, where every character, every twist, holds a piece of our collective humanity.

What kind of advice would you give up and coming authors?

Ah, now that’s a question that cuts to the heart of the matter—the business of writing. It’s not just about crafting compelling plots or spinning tales; it’s about mastering the art of selling your story to the world. Picture this: You’re a brilliant wordsmith, armed with plots that could rival Shakespeare, but without the know-how to market your masterpiece, you’re a ship lost at sea.

Welcome to the world of modern publishing, where authors are not only writers but also savvy marketers. Gone are the days of relying solely on publishers; today, you’re the CEO of your literary empire. You’ll find yourself donning multiple hats—graphic designer, editor, SEO analyst, social media guru—the list goes on. It’s a daunting prospect, I won’t sugarcoat it. But here’s the reality: Either invest your time or your money, because there’s no shortcut to success.

Lesson number two? Brace yourself for the rollercoaster ride of defining success and weathering disappointments. Even with meticulous planning and stellar execution, there’s no guarantee of overnight fame and fortune. But amidst the uncertainty lies the beauty of the journey. It’s a test of resilience, a testament to your unwavering commitment to the craft.

So, gear up, my fellow wordsmiths. Arm yourself with discipline and determination, for the road ahead is anything but smooth. But remember this: Amidst the challenges lie moments of unexpected triumphs—cherish them, for they are the fuel that powers your writer’s soul.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

We better find a way out quickly. The editorial’s deadline is getting close, we can’t afford any further delay.

Damon’s words lay upon the group like a heavy burden. He was good at making his personal problems everybody’s business. When he felt spoiled, he meant business. And Damon wasn’t done yet.

“Moreover, we have no Wi-Fi here. Zero, nada, not a bit.”

He let the words sink in, then added, “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t post anything out here.” He put his phone away and joined Zander.

“Here’s how it’s going down: While the girls are taking photos, you’re looking for an exit that will get us out of here A–S–A–P. Get it?”

“We’ll take the pictures, don’t worry about it” Yelka hooked in from behind. “And tonight, from our hotel, we’ll be able to watch your follower numbers skyrocket in no time.”

“I assume so,” Damon replied curtly. “The sore point in the planning is the way back. But Zander will take care of that. And I know for sure he’ll find a really fast way out for us.” Appreciatively, he patted his shoulders.

“Damon, when do you think we will break the 30,000 mark? I really want that to happen by this weekend.”

“Yes, starlet, we can definitely do that. Your pretty sister will do a fantastic job and Zander will get us back to the hotel in no time.”

Zander wasn’t concerned about Damon’s problems at all. If it were up to him, Vivian should just do blunt erotic shots on the beach or in a studio. Or better, shoot soft porn. That was what it was all about, after all. Maybe he would watch that too. Vivian naked in the sand. Hmm … Anyway, none of this had anything to do with the fascination of abandoned places. And this barracks had so much of it to offer.

“If we continue along this path through the forest, we will soon reach the residential block. From there, another path leads to the recreational facilities. There is a pool, a sports field and a theater, but it could also be used as a cinema. In parallel …”

“Sis, shouldn’t we take a picture of me in this outdoor pool?” Lasciviously, Vivian played with the strap of her top.

“Absolutely” laughed Yelka.

Why wasn’t she actually on his side? After all, he had planned the whole trip just for Yelka. Zander wanted everything to be perfect today. Yet, that wouldn’t work with Vivian and Damon. Honestly speaking, they shouldn’t have joined in the first place. When the forest suddenly opened up to reveal a settlement, Zander’s heart began to pound faster.

Weathered multi-story apartment blocks rose into the sky, overgrown with birch and fir trees. Moss clung to the entrance areas; ivy sought its way upwards. The scenery looked like a modern Sleeping Beauty castle, sprung from the premonition of a sinister dystopia.

For a moment, the group stopped and let themselves be captivated by the magic of the place. Speechless, their eyes wandered up the multi-story buildings, lingering on the dark building openings and absorbing the surreal atmosphere.

“This is incredible,” Yelka was the first to return to her words. She put an arm around Zander and hugged him. “Just incredible.”

Zander felt overwhelmed. His excitement was looking for a channel. “Considering that the residents lived here for 40 years, and nature has taken over for 30 years, then … well …” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Zander was overwhelmed, both by the place and by Yelka’s closeness.

“Darling sister, you can start thinking about whether you want to be photographed on the steps or the old climbing frame” Yelka indicated as she dug her camera out of the small backpack.

“The steps are great!” exclaimed Vivian, settling down on the moss-covered steps.

“Perfect,” Damon joined in again as well. “That looks excellent, starlet! Lie back, let your hair fall to the right.”

Zander walked thoughtlessly over the moss that covered the former street. Here, families must have once walked home, children played on the sidewalk, and vehicles drove north to the barracks. With a kick, he plucked the green from the ground and looked at the dark asphalt. This was how the place had been left nearly three decades ago.

He squatted down and let his fingers slide over the old pavement. A shiver came over him. At that moment, he felt the same fascination for these places as Yelka. Stealthily, he glanced over at his secret love as she took photos of her hot sister.

Vivian had leaned back dramatically, her chest up, her hair hanging down behind her. Her belly was exposed, her breasts pressed against the top. She stretched her long legs, like she was riding a bicycle.

Zander’s gaze drifted off to Yelka, who held her camera with both hands. She was shifting positions from time to time. Although she was wearing cargo pants, boots and gloves, she didn’t look one bit less sexy than her younger sibling.

He averted his eyes and let them roam over the facade of the apartment block again, only to look back over at the sisters.

“So, now …” Damon was about to intervene in the shooting when heavy dog barking made their blood run cold.

Yelka stopped her shots, Vivian lost body tension and Damon turned his head.

The big, short-haired yapper hung on the leash of a young guy in his early 20s. His tattooed arms were pumped up, stretching a red shirt. His chest jutted out as he stood wide-legged, holding the dog. A sharply cut face framed his full lips. He wore a gold necklace, his hair was shaved short. Behind him, four boys and a girl had set up. Two of them held metal pipes in their hands, brandishing them menacingly.

“Good day to you all!” The words didn’t sound like a greeting, but more like a threat. “This is private property. No trespassing!” As if to underline his words, the dog growled insistently. The group slowly approached. Those two men carrying the batons grinned menacingly. “The whole compound is surrounded by a concrete wall.”

Yelka was the first to speak up, “Hey, we’re just taking pictures, we’re not destroying or stealing anything.”

“So what?” told Ryder Yelka. “Fuck it, you guys are still illegal. There are signs on the outside walls and gates that state that this place is off limits.”

“Yeah, but you’re still coming here,” the dark-haired boy with the scratched forearm shouted.

“Even though it’s forbidden.”

The group had surrounded the four, leaving no way out. Gazoo barked at Vivian, tugging at Ryder’s leash.

“What you are doing here is forbidden, you know that.”

“Okay, we made a mistake,” Yelka tried to concede. “How about we pack up and get out of here?” Seeking help, she looked over at Zander, but he was transfixed.

“Yeah, you just thought so.” A grim smile played around Ryder’s face. “I want to see everyone’s IDs!”

“IDs out!” repeated Jesse, roaring.

Yelka looked at Zander first, then at Damon. “Please, let us just go our merry way and everything will be cool,” she offered the boys.

Damon had regained his composure and was surveying the situation. Yelka and Zander getting married would be more likely than these guys being security guards. There was danger in the air. They were in the middle of nowhere and were being threatened by a gang of rednecks, carrying a loose dog.

Dave lifted the steel pipe and touched Yelka’s chin. “Ain’t nothing cool here,” Ryder told them. “Either you show us your IDs or else.”

As if to make an example, Dave hit the ground with his club.

Yelka flinched. Gazoo jumped up at her, held back only by Ryder’s leash. “Chop, chop, IDs out!”  Ryder roared indignantly.

“I think we need to make a cut here!” With a brisk step, Damon put himself between Yelka and Ryder. “To me, it seems like a misunderstanding.”

For a moment, there was silence. Gazoo stopped barking, Dave’s steel pipe hovered in the air, and Ryder waited to see what Damon would say.

“My name is Duke. Damon Duke, of Duke Executives.” He spread his arms and stood between Ryder and Yelka.

“We rented this location today to hold a photo shoot.”

He pointed to Vivian, who was still sitting on the steps. “This is Vivian Donahue, one of our most important models, known as Violet-D.”

Damon waited a moment, watching the gang as they stared over at Vivian. He could see the aggression draining from the young men’s faces. Desire appeared in their eyes.

“We are taking pictures for the centerfold today. Vivian’s work needs a relaxed atmosphere. So, I’d be grateful if we could do the shoot without any further disruptions. Later, I’m sure she’ll have time for a short meet and greet with autographs. If you have any further questions, please contact Councilor Wilbanks. Please carry on, we don’t have any time to lose. Hush, hush!”

A stunned silence hung over the scene. The gang hadn’t quite taken their eyes off Vivian when it dawned on them that they had just been set up. Yelka and Vivian were already preparing to resume the photo shoot when Ryder suddenly straightened up again. “Are you kidding me? I want to see your fucking IDs–no photos until I say so!”

“Good,” Damon turned abruptly and held out his ID to Ryder, “that’s me, Damon Duke.” He gave him a moment to compare ID photo and face, then pulled out his cell phone. “And now I’d like to know what company you’re with.”

Damon held the phone to his ear and waited for Ryder’s answer. But he remained silent.

“Mr. Wilbanks, this is Damon Duke speaking. I apologize for the interruption. Contrary to our agreements, we were evicted from the place by security.” His and Ryder’s eyes met. “They didn’t hire any security at all? Then I assume this is a misunderstanding.”

Dave looked at Ryder, waiting for any reaction. But he just stared at Damon indecisively.

“No, I don’t think we need police here. Thank you very much, and again, I’m sorry to bother you.”

Damon dropped the phone into his purse, then pulled out a slew of business cards. “Here you go.”

First, he handed Ryder his card, then to the rest of the gang. “We’re still looking for security employees. If any of you want to make money, you’re more than welcome to contact me.”

Dazzled, the gang looked at each other. “Have a nice day! Now, starlets, we’ll move on to the next location.”

Ryder looked grimly after the Urbexers as they walked on. Soon they would find out what kind of a nice day they were going to have.

 

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About the Author

 

 

Jens Boele, a veteran media designer in
the entertainment industry, brings over two decades of cinematic
expertise to his writing. Born in Germany in 1975, Jens embarked on his
writing odyssey in his youth, culminating in the publication of his
debut book, “Sunshine,” in 2015. This was followed by “Hurensohn,” and
his latest spine-tingling creation, “Urbex Predator.” Jens is a
genre-bending author, specializing in horror and crime thrillers. His
narratives often blur genre lines, weaving intricate tales that plunge
readers into the darkest corners of the human psyche. Jens’s
storytelling brilliance lies in his fascination with the criminal mind;
his villains are always profoundly human, offering readers a chilling
examination of the psychological aspects of the criminally insane. Jens
sets himself apart by seamlessly integrating classic horror with the
gritty authenticity of the present day. This innovative fusion imbues
his narratives with a dynamic quality, seamlessly blending archaic
thrills with contemporary intrigue, resulting in an immersive reading
experience that resonates with both vintage enthusiasts and present-day
readers alike. Jens Boele’s latest endeavor takes his work across
borders, as “Urbex Predator” becomes his first book to be translated
into English. A globetrotter with deep connections to the United States,
Jens’s passion for exploration and his international perspective,
nurtured by family and friends in the US, shine through in his writing,
offering readers a captivating blend of horror and cultural diversity.
Visit Jens’ website at https://jensboele.com/.

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Sponsored By:

 

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It appears you can go home again,
but sometimes, you shouldn’t.

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Come Home to Death

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by Marilyn Levinson

Genre: Suspense, Thriller

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“A master of the mystery and
suspense genre.”
—Midwest Book Review

Erica
Parker has barely been a bride nine months when two thugs show up at
her apartment while her husband is away on one of his infamous
business trips, claiming he owes their boss a large gambling debt.
Frightened for her life, and without any other options, she heads for
her childhood Long Island home she escaped three years ago. And swore
never to return.

The aunts who raised her are as
interfering and controlling as ever, but soon as the family attorney
advances the rest of her trust from her parents’ life insurance,
she can return to normalcy. Except he refuses, instead spouting
nonsense about how, if she waits, she will soon inherit millions. On
her twenty-fifth birthday.
Problem is, someone doesn’t want
her to live that long.

Her aunts are harboring secrets,
people are turning up dead, her husband is nowhere to be found, and
someone’s trying to kill her. It appears you can go home again, but
sometimes, you shouldn’t.

*Fans of Janet
Evanovich, Lisa Gardner, and Mary Russell will enjoy “Come Home
To Death” by Marilyn Levinson

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Amazon
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A former Spanish teacher, Marilyn
Levinson writes mysteries, romantic suspense, and novels for young
readers. Her Golden Age of Mystery Book Club series was a King Rivers
Life Magazine’s “Best of 2014,” and on Book Town’s 2014
Summer Mystery Reading List. She’s an Agatha nominee, a Library
Journal “Pick of the Month,” on Goodreads’s list of the 200
“Most Popular Books Published in 2017,” a Suspense Magazine
Best Indie, and was on Book Town’s Summer (and) Fall Reading Lists.
She also writes under Allison Brook.  She is co-founder and past
president of the Long Island chapter of Sisters in Crime. She resides
in New York with her family. www.marilynlevinson.com

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Website
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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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To see all of my giveaways go HERE.