Archive for the ‘thriller’ Category

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 A tenacious TV reporter has 48 hours to illegally enter Cuba, find
her sister, and avenge her mámá. Don’t miss the
spine-tingling sequel to Emmy-award winning journalist Linda Hurtado
Bond’s immersive thriller, All The Broken Girls.

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All the Missing Girls

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by Linda Hurtado Bond

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Genre: Thriller, Suspense

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Once you enter their world, there is no escape…in this gripping and
undeniably chilling thriller from Emmy-award winning journalist Linda
Hurtado Bond.

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As a crime reporter for a Tampa TV news
station, Mari Alvarez knows when an investigation enters dangerous
territory. But with her estranged sister missing and almost no
information to go on, Mari can’t trust anyone but herself to find
the truth. Now she has just 48 hours to sneak into Cuba undetected,
track down her sister…and pray to her orisha that she’s not too
late.

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This is nothing like reporting in her neighborhood,
though–a place she knows like the back of her hand. In Havana she
has no contacts and only an ice-cold trail of cryptic clues. When
Detective Tony Garcia offers to help, Mari puts aside her instincts
and tries to let someone in. But soon they’re caught in a maze of
lies, deception, and an undercurrent of the island’s own
witchcraft, a sinister Brujería.

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Every lead draws Mari
further into this world of shadows, especially when her sister isn’t
the only young woman who’s gone missing. Each step pushes Mari and
Tony toward a revelation they never saw coming. And as they close in
on the horrifying truth, one thing becomes clear…no one will let
them leave Cuba alive.

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Day One

 

One a.m.

Forty-seven hours left

Tony’s family farm

We tiptoe through a dimly lit garage. Enrique goes first, Orlando

second, his GoPro out and recording. I’m holding on to Orlando’s shirt. Tony walks

behind me. We lug our gear with us, so moving isn’t easy.

 

As we enter the house through the kitchen, I take note of one single

light bulb hanging without a cover from the ceiling. It sways as we pass, casting light in

waves across the bare cement walls.

 

Towels cover the windows, even though it’s still dark outside.

Enrique pulls back a sheet hanging over an open archway, and as

soon as we walk through, nervous energy embraces me. Candles burn in place of

lamps, and the glow illuminates eager faces. Almost a dozen of them.

“Americano!” A one-armed man, in a faded Nike T-shirt and ripped jeans, pulls Tony in

with his stump and slaps him on the back with his good hand. “Americano!”

 

Tony gives a few pats but pulls away.

The Americano seems uncomfortable with raw emotion.

Similar greetings swirl around us, like an emotional tornado wanting

 

to suck Tony up.

 

They must all be relatives of his, crammed into this living room,

moving around so quickly, I can’t tell if the floor is shifting or it’s me. The heat and

humidity add to the feeling the room sways, like I’m riding waves.

 

Most of those gathered are older men, but there are two women, a

couple of teens, and one three-legged dog, an ugly, multicolored mutt with sad blue

eyes.

 

One of the women draws me into her arms, hugging me; Spanish

endearments roll into my ear. My heart swells in reaction to the smell of lavender on the

woman’s skin. The scent reminds me of my Abuela Bonita’s Violeta perfume. I squeeze

my eyes shut. I will not cry.

 

My clothes, moist from the five-hour boat ride from America, must

be dampening her dry clothes. I’m starting to tremble, so I don’t want to be held tightly. I

really need to pee, but I’m ashamed to ask, because Tony is busy being washed around

in this tsunami of a family reunion. Orlando is busy recording. All of that is more

important than my needs.

 

Tony hasn’t seen these family members since he left Cuba as a

baby. Twenty-eight years ago. It hits me—he, too, has lost family, if not to murder or

kidnapping, to separation by both water and politics.

 

The first time his mother invited me to dinner at her house in Tampa

a month ago, Tony didn’t eat, because he was too busy caring for his ninety-year-old

grandfather. Watching him feed the older man, stroking his hair, helping him to bed,

stirred something in me.

 

His grandfather must have meant a lot to the owners of this house,

too, because a painting of a younger version of him hangs on the living room wall. He’d

been a dissident, and because of a few rallies against Fidel Castro, he’d been arrested

and imprisoned. When he finally made it to America, his physical and mental state had

been damaged beyond repair. Tony became his caretaker, a constant reminder, he told

me, of Cuban suppression, imprisonment, and torture.

 

Tony’s temporal artery pulses. He didn’t come to Cuba only to help

me; he came for the revenge against those who wronged his family. And to save those

he could.

 

We stare at each other, no words needed.

His conflicted emotions weigh heavy in my chest. My heart aches. It

 

literally hurts. For him. For me. For us.

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Also by the Author: 

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All the Broken Girls

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Get it on Amazon

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 Linda Hurtado Bond is an award-winning journalist for Tampa’s Fox 13
by day and author of romantic thrillers by night. She has won 13 Emmy
awards, numerous Society of Professional Journalist and Associated
Press awards, as well as a Florida Bar and an Edward R. Murrow award.
A breast cancer survivor, she’s also active in the Tampa community
with The American Cancer Society, Hooked on Hope, and The Shoot for a
Cure, raising money and awareness any chance she gets. She’s the
mother of five, four athletes and an adopted son from Cuba. She has
passion for world travel, classic movies and solving a good mystery.

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In the Pale Light by Westley Smith Banner

IN THE PALE LIGHT
by Westley Smith
August 12 – September 6, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:

When Clay Graham and his family are found slain in the parking lot of his struggling business, the police suspect Clay’s troublemaker brother, Terry. Terry claims he was drunk the night of the murders and passed out at home. With little evidence against Terry to make an arrest, the case soon goes cold. Shunned from the community, harassed by the locals who believe he’s a murderer, and suffering from an undiagnosed illness, Terry lives alone on his farm, punishing himself for his past indiscretions. Then Pennsylvania State Police Trooper Henry Miller, who has ties to the town and the Graham murders, shows up with newly discovered evidence that kick-starts the case all over again. Now, before his illness kills him, Terry sets out, battling against small-town secrets and old grudges, racing against time to stay one step ahead of both the State Police and his own impending death, to finally find out what really happened to his family and hopefully prove himself and innocent man –if he is one.

 

Book Details:

Genre: Crime Thriller

Published by: Watertower Hill Publishing Publication Date: August 13, 2024

Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads | Watertower Hill Publishing

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MY REVIEW

Terry Graham is running out of time. He’s dying. And he needs answers. Answers to who killed his family and why. He’s consumed with thoughts of vengeance. The town and law enforcement long suspected him of the murders. When State Trooper Henry Miller comes back in town with new evidence on the cold case, Terry struggles to stay a step ahead and exact that vengeance.

Terry wasn’t a likable character. He drank too much. Fought too much. Had a hair-trigger temper. I tried to feel sorry for him. Reminded myself of his circumstances. It was hard, since his character hadn’t changed much since before the tragedy. I think that’s what really made the story work for me. I kept reminding myself of the victims and got behind Terry.

Terry also did a credible job of sniffing out witnesses and information on the murders. He didn’t always approach them in an agreeable manner but he was getting answers. Sifting through the self interest and lies and zeroing in. This kept the suspense ramped up. As Terry got closer to those answers, so did I. And I couldn’t wait to find out how it wrapped up.

A man out for vengeance. Not at all a sympathetic character. Yet, I was on his side. How cool is that!

5 STARS

 

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Enjoy this peek inside:
December 25th, 2015
The emergency lights from the Hickory Falls Sheriff’s Department Ford Interceptor flashed across the snow when it pulled into the Graham Video store parking lot. The sheet of white should have been untouched by tires at 6:45 a.m., and the snow-covered green Jetta, sitting in the far left-hand corner of the parking lot should not have been there. Two different sets of tire tracks cut through the pristine snow. One set belonged to the Jetta. The other set made a large circle in the snow before making its way back toward Main Street. The officer brought the SUV to a stop about five feet from the Jetta; its headlights bathed the car in the frigid darkness. Unable to see past the Jetta’s frosted snow-covered windows, a building sense of unease began to crawl over him, tightening the flesh to his bones. The officer’s shift had been easy that night. He had not responded to any emergency calls, nor had he had to pull anyone over. A Christmas miracle itself. But all that had changed fifteen minutes ago while he was patrolling Broke Run Road, when Sheriff Will Daniel’s voice came over the radio. “Call just came in. We got a report of shots fired at the Graham Video store. Caller says they saw a man running across the parking lot, carrying what appeared to be a shotgun. The suspect reportedly got into the passenger side of a blue sedan before it took off with two others inside. Need you to check it out,” Daniel had said. Why the hell is the sheriff in at this hour? the officer had wondered. Shouldn’t Susan be on the call desk? And what’s going on at the Graham Video store? Now on scene, with the first cracks of gray sky beginning to materialize through the night horizon, he radioed back into the station. “I’m at the Graham Video store. I’ve located a V-dub Jetta. It’s an early 2000s model. No sign of anyone else, including the reported blue sedan. Though there are two sets of tire tracks in the snow, indicating another vehicle was present.” He glanced at the video store’s entrance. There were no broken windows and no ajar door to indicate a robbery had occurred. The place appeared buttoned up tight. “No signs of a break-in, Sheriff. Getting out to inspect the vehicle.” “Ten-four,” Sheriff Daniel’s voice came back over the line. “Proceed with caution.” Again, the officer thought it was strange that the sheriff was in at that hour, and on Christmas morning. Where was Susan Green? She usually worked the overnight shift; she should still have been at the station, working the dispatch desk. Still, the officer knew, she could have gone home for any number of reasons—the holiday, the storm, or maybe a family member had fallen –ill—and the sheriff had filled in for her. Pushing the thought from his mind, the officer returned to the pressing matter at hand. Stay focused. Stay sharp. Stepping from the SUV, the blowing snow and driving wind bit at the officer’s exposed skin, penetrated his clothes. Zipping his jacket up to his chin, he started toward the car, trudging through the shin-deep snow. As he neared the Jetta, pelted with snow and ice so hard it stung, he noticed a set of footprints leading away from the passenger-side door toward the second set of tire tracks before vanishing. The tracks were nearly filled in with fresh powder, but it was unmistakable what they were. He assumed this was where the person had gotten into the second car—an old blue sedan. Looking back to the Jetta, he saw something smeared along the top of the passenger-side door. Whatever it was had frozen to a hard, ruby-colored substance. He eased in for a closer look. lood! Frozen blood. A strange tightness gripped the base of the officer’s neck as if Death had wrapped a cold, boney hand around him and begun to squeeze. His heart rate quickened. He placed his right hand on his sidearm and identified himself. “This is the Hickory Falls Sheriff’s Department. If there’s anyone inside the vehicle, would you please step out?” There was no reply. The car was dead still. The only sound across the parking lot was the howling wind and the ice pebbles hitting the closest metal lamp post. Not wanting to disturb what he believed to be blood on the passenger-side door, the officer lumbered through the deepening snow, around the front of the Jetta, to the driver’s side. Reaching down, he took hold of the handle and pulled. The driver’s side door was locked. He took a deep breath of cold air, sending what felt like ice daggers into his lungs as he tried to steel himself for what he might find inside. His teeth began to chatter, and an internal shudder tremored in his core and quickly expanded to the rest of his body. “I’m asking anyone inside to identify themselves and step out.” He waited, but when no one replied, he said, “If you do not comply, I will be forced to inspect the vehicle. Last warning.” Silence. No movement came from within. The car’s stillness bothered him—like it was dead. But that was impossible. Cars could not be deceased like humans or animals. So why was he getting the dreaded feeling that death emanated from it? Placing his gloved hand on the window, he brushed the light dusting of snow away and bent down to look inside. The officer recoiled at what he saw or who he saw staring back at him. His feet slipped out from under him, and he went down onto his backside, hard. Snow kicked up when he hit the ground, and for a moment he was cocooned in falling white powder, protected from what he had seen. But when the snow settled, the officer was again gazing at the driver’s-side door of the Jetta. There, he saw a man’s pale face pressed against the glass, the muscles twisted and tightened in agony. His eyes were open and locked directly on the officer with a vacant, lifeless stare, pleading with him, even in death, to save him. Too late. I’m too late to save you. The officer shot to his feet; snow fell off his uniform in large patchy clumps. And though the temperature was in the teens, he felt sweat break out across his back and forehead. Moving gingerly toward the Jetta again, the officer realized he knew the dead man looking back at him. Clay Graham—the owner of the Graham Video store. He removed his Maglite from his belt and turned it on. Bending, he shone the beam through the ice-crusted driver’s-side window and began to scan the car’s interior. That’s when he saw them. He pressed a gloved hand over his lips, suppressing the scream that wanted to leap from his throat at the horrific sight of carnage and death inside the Jetta. It wasn’t just Clay Graham dead inside the car but also his wife, Claire, and their teenage daughter, Sidney. *** Excerpt from In the Pale Light by Westley Smith. Copyright 2024 by Westley Smith. Reproduced with permission from Westley Smith. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Westley Smith:

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Westley Smith

Westley Smith had his first short story, Off to War, published when he was just sixteen. He is, more recently, the author of two horror novels, Along Came the Tricksters and All Hallows Eve, as well as the thriller Some Kind of Truth. His short fiction has been published in various magazines and websites. Wes lives with his wife and two dogs in the beautiful woodlands of southern Pennsylvania–the perfect place to hide a body.

Catch Up With Westley Smith: WestleySmithBooks.com Goodreads BookBub – @wssmith100 Instagram – @wsmithbooks Facebook – @westleysmith100

 

 

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To Preserve, Protect And Destroy

by Matthew D. Saeman

 

 

 

Synopsis (from Amazon):

NASA Geologist Unearths Deadly Martian Stones: A Race Against Time to Thwart Catastrophic Mission and Save Millions from Imminent Disaster!

In To Preserve, Protect and Destroy, we follow the gripping journey of Terrence Sullivan, a dedicated NASA geologist, as he is thrust into an unexpected mission of universal importance. Tasked with the perilous job of collecting volatile stones from the hostile terrain of Mars, Terrence is initially led to believe that his mission is purely for the safety of the universe. These are no ordinary stones, but the very same that caused the catastrophic end to the first terraforming mission on the red planet.

As the narrative unfolds, Terrence uncovers the chilling truth behind his mission’s ultimate goal. The stakes are higher than he could have ever imagined, with the fate of his crew and millions of innocent lives hanging in the balance. The ship is set to return to Earth, but with a deadly cargo that could cause it to crash land in the Middle East, resulting in an unimaginable disaster.

Caught in a web of deceit and danger, Terrence must navigate the treacherous path of duty, morality, and survival. With time running out, he is forced to make decisions that will not only determine his fate but that of humanity itself. Will he be able to thwart the impending catastrophe and reveal the truth to the world, or will he become another casualty in this deadly game of power and control?

To Preserve, Protect and Destroy is a thrilling exploration of space travel, the fragility of life, and the lengths one man will go to protect it. It is a testament to the human spirit’s resilience and the power of truth in the face of overwhelming odds. This gripping tale is sure to captivate fans of space exploration and those who relish in seeing the mighty fall. Prepare for a journey that will take you to the edge of your seat and beyond, as you delve into the heart-stopping world of To Preserve, Protect and Destroy.

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Enjoy This Peek Inside:

“Madame Speaker, the President of the United States.”

Having been formally introduced to this joint session of Congress, President William Dowd III made his way down the center aisle of the House of Representatives chamber. The stark blue carpet matched his eyes perfectly and complimented the expensive, custom tailored suit he wore. As he proceeded, he was inundated with hands to shake, all of which he ignored. The president’s face resembled that of a boxer preparing to defend his belt, focused solely on the fight he’d been training for. He wanted no distractions and his pace was nearly at a slow jog.

Passing the podium from which he’d speak, President Dowd made his way to the back of the ceremonial seating posts where he shook hands with his Vice President and the Speaker of the House. He then headed back to his podium, stood and waited for the applause from half the audience to quiet down.

“Madam Speaker. Mr. Vice President. Members of Congress, Madam Chief Justice, and associate Justices of the Supreme Court. I’m certain you are all well versed in the subject of World History, so I won’t presume to educate you on this particular topic. But please bear with me as I highlight the most important tenet of the Nazi party’s rise to power.”

The president, certain his speech’s opening was a shock to all, allowed the audience to murmur for a few seconds before proceeding. “In 1918, shortly after the end of World War I and the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, a man named Anton Drexler formed the foundation of what would come to be known as the Nazi party. His beliefs and philosophy centered around German nationalism. Nothing wrong with being a patriot, right? Unfortunately, for the nearly 84 million people who would lose their lives as a result of the Second World War, Drexler’s ideology was steeped in the blaming of anyone not belonging to the Aryan master race for every problem the German people encountered. And once Adolph Hitler, a gifted orator, joined forces with Drexler, it was only a matter of time before what started as a fledgling, some would say outlandish, concept began taking root with the German people and eventually garnered full fledged acceptance.

“It’s been many decades since the thankful end of World War II, the Holocaust, and the Nazi party. But has it been too long? Are we, as citizens of this great country, in danger of forgetting the atrocities committed by one man with a silver tongue? ‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’ George Santayana, a Spanish American philosopher spoke these words in 1905, more than a century ago… and they couldn’t be more applicable today. I received the video I am about to show not more than twenty four hours ago. It was captured by an agent who has been working undercover for several years amongst the terrorist organization ISIS in Iraq. I called together this joint session of Congress so that all of you could see first hand the danger posed by Abu al-Hussein, the newly crowned leader of this lawless organization, now that he has convinced Al-Qaeda and the Taliban to join forces with his in an effort to complete their Caliphate dream of uniting all Muslims around the world. The Muslim faith is one of honor and respectability, but al-Hussein and his newly formed regime have bastardized this proud religion, converting it into an organization replete with decadent thugs. Once the leader gets a taste of power, his appetite won’t be satisfied. And as has been too painfully recognized many times over in days gone by, once the mob mentality takes control, there is no way to stop it before the loss of too many lives.”

As President Dowd stepped away from the podium, the Vice President and Speaker of the House took the seats next to his in the front row. The lights slowly dimmed as a large projector screen was lowered. It reached its extent with a metallic thud, causing some in the silenced gallery to jump. And then the video began to play. Shot with a cell phone, the operator was close enough to the speaker for his words to be heard and the thousands upon thousands of mesmerized onlookers to be seen clearly. Though Arabic was the language used by al-Hussein, an English translation of his delivered message was displayed at the bottom of the screen.

It was clear from the way he spoke and the hand gestures used, that he had familiarized himself with Hitler’s greatest hits. Every statement flowed methodically and strong, and the pace with which he spoke was slow enough to ensure all listeners, no matter their learning level, could easily understand the points he was attempting to make. He used strategic pauses in order to keep his audience intrigued, and the expression on his face was one of genuine care for his people.

According to the translation, al-Hussein was bemoaning the loss of so many centuries stolen from them by infidels from foreign lands and the loss of life resulting from infighting amongst their own kind. He touted the new regime as having seen enough of their own blood, and that now was the time to band together in order to rebuff any opposition who tried standing in their way. Upon hearing these words, the crowd drew to a near frenzy of approval, and as al-Hussein saw this, he took a step back from the microphone so he could relish in his success.

The remainder of the footage resembled a political rally comprised of no opposition to the speaker being celebrated. Everything al-Hussein said was gladly accepted and then answered by thunderous waves of applause. He concluded his remarks by indicating this unification was only the beginning. That as one with Allah, they were capable of anything.

It was dead silent as the screen went dark and began rising back toward the ceiling. When the lighting brightened, and as the president walked back to the podium, he could see the challenged faces of all in the auditorium; some uncertain, some frightened, but most categorically mad.

“Though other world leaders have viewed this footage, none seem to have seen it with the concern that I… and you now have. They are considering al-Hussein with a lack of concern as did President Roosevelt, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, and President Lebrun of France with Hitler. The difference, of course, being that the three men I just named had no reason to believe the worst could happen. Now that we have seen the possibilities, it would be irresponsible of us not to act. And since we, the United States of America, remain the greatest country ever created by God, the responsibility falls upon our shoulders.”

The president received a standing ovation, and allowed it to persist a bit longer before furthering his thoughts aloud. “Of course, I’m not asking for a declaration of war. There are those in Iraq as well as other countries in the Middle East who deplore the movement which has begun gaining footage. My recommendation is to send in a single battalion of highly trained soldiers who will train the young men and women of these countries how to fight for what they believe in; a democratic way of life where you’re not told how to dress or whether or not you can hold a job other than raising children and bowing to your spouse’s every whim.”

The round of applause President Dowd earned following that statement was similar to the one al-Hussein received, the only difference being that no one in the House of Representatives chamber fired off their guns in celebration.

“Let me be clear. Our soldiers will be nowhere near the front line. In fact, they will be safely back home long before any aggression takes place. I simply ask you all to consider the potential ramifications of allowing al-Hussein’s movement to swell, and to remember the mistakes made in the past that took so many lives. God bless you, and God bless America.”

On his journey back up the center aisle, President Dowd’s pace was much slower. He shook every hand thrust his way and showed genuine appreciation for the verbal bi-partisan support he received. But in the quiet space of his own mind, he wondered how long it would take these people to realize they’d just been duped, or if they ever would.

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MY REVIEW

Do I think we’ll ever set foot on Mars? Yes. But not for a long time. There’s too much still to learn about traveling such a long distance. Do I think once we do go there it will be exploited? Yes. There’s always those who hunger for power and wealth waiting for a new way to get it.

To Preserve, Protect And Destroy. Such an apt title. Something is discovered on Mars. People are sent to retrieve it. Some want to study it. Some want to bury it. And some want to use it. There’s that saying…” just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

I was pulled in right from the first couple of sentences. Those brief descriptions put me there. I learned what was on Mars. Thought about what it might mean and formed my own opinions. Shared the excitement, fears and desires along with the crew. And kept turning the pages. I needed, no, had to know what the outcome was.

As I neared the end of the book all I thought was, “there’s no place like home.” And I hoped the last few pages showed me it was still there.

I enjoy science fiction stories. Especially those that might be able to happen. Throw in characters I grow to care about and some bad guys I’d like to drop kick, and I’m a happy camper.

4 STARS

 

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Interview With Author Matthew D. Saeman

On writing:

 

How did you do research for your book?

The majority of the research I did was from the Geological perspective since I knew very little about that branch of science. That information was readily available online, as was everything I needed regarding NASA, the White House, and the President.

 

Which was the hardest character to write? The easiest?

The hardest character to write was President Dowd since I’ve never met a U.S. president, especially one of his ilk. The easiest was Terrence Sullivan since I based most of his emotions after my own.

 

Where do you get inspiration for your stories?

I keep an open mind, and when an idea pops into my head I ask myself two important questions: Has it already been done and would it be fun to write?

 

What advice would you give budding writers?

Since I still consider myself one, my advice is something I tell myself every day: Trust your gut and write stories YOU think would be fun to read.

 

Do you have another profession besides writing?

I teach High School Special Education.

 

How long have you been writing?

As far as novels, only six or seven years. Prior to that I wrote screenplays and short stories.

 

Do you ever get writer’s block? What helps you overcome it?

I don’t believe in “writer’s block.” The only times I have difficulty progressing with a story are when the story has a fundamental flaw that must be fixed. Once it is, the “block” goes away.

 

What is your next project?

I have a friend who fell while rock climbing. She’s kind enough to allow me to use her experience in the story I’ll write… though I have no idea what that’ll be yet.

 

What genre do you write and why?

The majority of the stories I write are Suspense/Thrillers, mostly because there are so many fun ways to tell interesting stories in that genre.

 

What is the last great book you’ve read?

Legion by William Peter Blatty.

 

What were the biggest rewards and challenges with writing your book?

The biggest reward was finishing it, the biggest challenge was having the patience not to start writing before the outline was solid.

 

Which authors inspired you to write?

Gordon McAlpine was a friend who inspired me to do what I love.

 

 

 

On rituals:

 

Where do you write?

Resting comfortably on my couch.

 

Do you write every day?

If I’ve got a story that’s flowing well, I write every day. My goal is at least 1000 words a day.

 

In today’s tech savvy world, most writers use a computer or laptop. Have you ever written parts of your book on paper?

Never. I write on my phone, it feels more personal.

 

Fun stuff:

 

If you could go back in time, where would you go?

1700s USA. I’d love to see first hand how our founders worked together.

 

Favorite travel spot?

The Republic of Ireland

 

Favorite dessert?

Chocolate fudge cake… the richer the better.

 

What’s the funniest thing that ever happened to you? The scariest? The strangest?

The funniest was when I ordered a lamb stew that had a hoof in it, the scariest was when I almost accidentally dumped Ray Bradbury out of his wheelchair, and the strangest was hearing a cat crying outside our house that sounded like a small child.

 

Any hobbies? or Name a quirky thing you like to do.

No real hobbies, but when watching a TV show or movie, I enjoy checking my phone to see how tall the actors are.

 

If there is one thing you want readers to remember about you, what would it be?

I’m hysterically funny, despite what my wife and daughter would say.

 

What TV series are you currently binge watching?

I just finished Defending Jacob and am about to begin Billy the Kid.

 

What is your theme song?

“The Modern World” by The Jam

 

What song is currently playing on a loop in your head?

“22” by Taylor Swift. My daughter listens to her nonstop!

 

What is something that made you laugh recently?

A YouTube video where a guy is on the phone at work and his colleagues placed a tarantula on his shoulder. His reaction was priceless!

 

What is your go-to breakfast item?

An apple with reduced fat peanut butter.

 

What is the oldest item of clothing you own?

 A ratty t-shirt I refuse to throw away. It’s at least 20 years old.

 

Who was your childhood celebrity crush?

Kathy Coleman who played Holly Marshall on Land of the Lost (the TV show).

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Guest Post

I’m fascinated that EVERYONE doesn’t love to write. The thought of crafting a story from scratch, developing the characters and plot in whatever form of outline works best, then writing one chapter after another until the book is finished makes me giddy! Being a High School teacher, it’s rare for students not to ask “How many sentences do we have to write?” when I give them a writing assignment. They make it sound as if the process were the equivalent of a root canal with no novocain, which is why I do my best to make it as interesting as possible. I first tell them there are NO wrong answers. I compare writing to painting, explaining that every artist sees things in their own way, then showing them how I do it and how much fun it can be. Does this procedure work with every student? Absolutely not. But it does allow their minds to open up just enough to get the work done, and for some, exposes a love for the written word they never knew they had.

In sixth grade, my teacher asked us to write a Halloween story. To this day, I still remember how cathartic it felt to craft that one page piece. It’s something inside that can’t be defined but it truly exists. I do believe all of us possess this creative gift, yet most choose to ignore it. To each their own. I love writing. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of either the story I’m currently working on or the one I’d like to write next. I’m a dedicated soul, an attribute passed down from my parents. When I begin a project, no matter what kind, I finish it. When it comes to writing stories, completing them provides a sensation of pride from which I derive my optimistic outlook on life. I’m thankful every day that I’ve chosen this facet as my creative outlet, if for no other reason than it allows me an internal peace which, in these crazy times, seems so hard to come by for too many.

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About Author Matthew D. Saeman:

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Matthew D. Saeman, a native of Orange County, CA, is a distinguished graduate of Cal State Fullerton. He has dedicated his life to shaping young minds as a Special Education teacher in San Diego. His personal life is as fulfilling as his professional one, being a loving husband and a doting father to one child. A proud owner of a Great Dane, Matthew’s life is a blend of compassion and commitment.

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Author Marketing Experts tags for social media: Instagram / Twitter

Purchase Links: Amazon / Goodreads

 

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KILLER WEED
by Manning Wolfe
July 29 – August 16, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
Merit Bridges Legal Thrillers

 

GET READY FOR A LEGAL SHOWDOWN, LIKE NO OTHER, IN MANNING WOLFE’S GRIPPING THRILLER, KILLER WEED!

Austin attorney, Merit Bridges, steps up to defend a client whose twin sons are targeted in a fiery attack on a lucrative medical marijuana field. Once again, Merit is thrust into a dangerous game of deception with a corporate giant pulling strings. With their ruthless hired gun, Raiden Prince, eliminating obstacles with chilling precision, Merit finds herself in a high stakes battle for justice. As Merit thwarts the ambitions of the dangerous corporation, Prince turns his sights on her. With his mastery of disguise, he lurks in the shadows. But Merit, her clients, and her trusted team aren’t going down without a fight. Can Merit navigate a labyrinth of legal issues, protect her client, and survive Raiden Prince? Prepare for a twisty confrontation that no one can see coming. From award winning author Manning Wolfe comes the fifth installment in the electrifying Merit Bridges Legal Thrillers. Can be read in any order. DIVE IN TODAY! Killer Weed will keep you on the edge of your seat!

 

Book Details:

Genre: Legal Thriller

Published by: Starpath Books Publication Date: July 25, 2024 Series: Merit Bridges Legal Thriller, Book Five

Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

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MY REVIEW

Sometimes, not often, I come across a book that bogs down when going into detail about how something works. Not so with this book. I found it amazing. Never knew how difficult it was to legally farm pot. The author did her research. She shared the ins and outs of the legal hemp and marijuana business. For those who manage to get one of the licenses to grow pot, there are so many hoops to jump through. So much red tape. That’s where the politicians and lawyers play a huge part. They navigate through the confusion, making sure the players are on the up and up.

The illegal pot business is dangerous. So is the legal one. It’s a business that brings in billions. For some, they would do anything to get a piece of that pie. From threats to sabotaging the crops, to arson and even murder.  Killer Weed indeed. It’s a fast paced thriller with some characters that you’ll love and some that you’ll want to…. well, erase from the picture. This is my first dive into the series and now I want more.

4 STARS

 

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Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1
Raiden Prince prowled the field on foot, a solitary figure moving purposefully in the dark through the field of tall green leafy stalks. The summer night wrapped around him like a shroud, making his eyes appear as black as pools of Texas crude oil and concealing his clandestine mission. In the velvet light, only the shape of the vegetation was visible, but the outline of the three-pronged leaves was unmistakable. He threw gasoline from a red gas can onto the field of hemp, backing up as he worked, so as not to soak his jeans or work boots with the flammable liquid. He returned the red can to the bed of his pickup, retrieved another gas can and moved to the opposite side of the field. There, he emptied the flammable liquid onto a greenhouse made of a steel frame and plastic sheeting, filled with high grade medical marijuana plants, some labeled Peanut Butter Breath, and others Blue Dream. The silence of the night was broken only by the rhythmic chirping of dog-day cicadas, and Prince’s off-key rendition of Red Headed Stranger. He did his best Willie Nelson imitation in his practiced backwoods Texas accent. He mimicked the elastic voices, that he’d heard most Texans use, by eliding certain syllables. All the vowels were stretched out in the middle of each word, and the end of them clipped, especially ones ending in ing. The music was just to set the mood for the evening’s tasks. He preferred rap. After he’d soaked the greenhouse, Prince backed toward the two lane county road as he threw the last of the gasoline. He then moved out of the field, onto the caliche roadbed, where he walked back to his old rusty pickup truck and placed the second gas can in the bed beside the first. # Brad and Thad Lane, each on an ATV with custom paint jobs and extra-large wheels, cut across the pasture from their picturesque home on the hill above the expansive farm owned by the Lane family. They often rode late at night when they could sneak out without waking their mother, Gladys. She was a heavy sleeper, as the pure of heart often are, but she was still a protective mother and didn’t like the twins roaming the acreage in the dark. Brad, the larger of the two, now shirtless, and already tan, played defensive end on the local high school football team, the Giddings Buffaloes. Thad, three minutes younger, wearing a white wife-beater undershirt, played tight end and was the more talented of the two. He was often compared to Travis Kelce because he was fast and often carried the ball in for the team’s touchdowns under Friday night lights, a Texas passion. Riding around the family farm was not an issue for the seventeen-year-olds, even at night. They knew every inch of the family property, as they’d been using it as their personal playground since they could walk. They had certain hiding places for their special crops. Not marijuana, there was plenty of that. Their secret was growing small patches of maize or clover near their bird blinds so they could enjoy a good season of dove hunting in the fall. It was called baiting, and was illegal, but this was their land, and they didn’t follow many rules once they entered the gate to the property they called home. The twins cut low into a narrow creek bed caused by hundreds of years of rain runoff, then peaked again at the top of a low mound overlooking the growing fields. From their vantage point atop the rise, Brad spied a solitary figure below, near the county road, his movements casting eerie shadows against the moonlit landscape. Brad’s brow furrowed in confusion as he pointed out the intruder to his brother. “Who is that?” Thad’s eyes narrowed as he squinted into the darkness, his instincts going on high alert. “Don’t think I know him. What the hell is he doing?” They watched the intruder move further onto the country road, then recede, taking a squarish object that appear to be a gas can with him. The man placed the can in the back of a pickup and returned to the edge of the field. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and just as he was about to thumb the heel, the twins came tearing down the rise, bearing down on the intruder on their ATV’s, while shouting obscenities. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “This is private property, Asshole.” At that moment, Prince thumbed the wheel, sparking the flint, and tossed the flaming Zippo, lighting up the edge of the field. The fire caught and expanded flaring toward the twins. They zigged and zagged, skirting the field and avoiding the flames by driving through a wet creek at the edge of the heat. Marijuana smoke puffed out of the burning field and then the greenhouse, the plants expelling gases that smelled sweet and exotic. Prince moved back toward his pickup, placing his right hand in his pocket and grabbing his keys to expedite his exit. He moved quickly, but the twins were quicker. Thad bounded his ATV up out of the creek bed and headed straight for Prince. Thad knocked Prince down with the front bumper, and Brad came charging up behind Thad. Prince pulled himself up, dropping his truck keys in the onslaught, and picked up a large limb that had fallen from a nearby oak. He swung it over and caught Brad across the chest with the heavy weapon before Brad could come to a complete halt, knocking him from the ATV. The machine continued into the roadbed and across to the neighboring fence, where it was caught by barbed wire and abruptly died. Thad did a wheelie in the road, turned back, stopped his ATV, and jumped off to help his brother. While he was bending over Brad, Prince came up behind him and slammed the same offending tree limb into the back of Thad’s head, knocking him out cold. Prince went down again as his right leg gave way from the injury caused by Brad’s ATV. Prince got up, limped nearer to the twins, and hit them again, although they were both already unconscious. “Stay down.” Prince sat down on a nearby rock outcropping to catch his breath and assess the situation. The fire popped and flared as he watched and listened for fire trucks that might have been dispatched. The two young men had seen his face and his truck. He could not risk their exposing him or his employer to scrutiny. Feeling the urgency to leave the scene of his crime, he made a decision. He limped back over to the bodies and dragged each twin in turn to the edge of the flames, leaving first Brad, and then Thad to be consumed by the fire. Prince then returned to his truck, but when he put his hand in his pocket to fetch his keys, there was nothing there. It was only then that he remembered dropping them when the first boy’s ATV had taken him down. He limped back to the area where he had been hit and searched the leaves, grass, and waning Bluebonnets with the flashlight on his phone. His search was in vain, and when he heard the siren of an approaching fire truck, and the grinding sound of another ATV coming closer from the direction of the farmhouse, he jumped into his truck and jerked the wires from beneath the dashboard. He hot-wired the engine, and it sparked and sputtered to a start. Prince threw gravel on his exit from the roadside and headed down the county road, leaving a trail of white caliche dust to mingle with the smoke from the burning field. *** Excerpt from Killer Weed by Manning Wolfe. Copyright 2024 by Manning Wolfe. Reproduced with permission from Manning Wolfe. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Manning Wolfe:

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Manning Wolfe

MANNING WOLFE, an award-winning author and attorney residing in Austin, Texas, writes cinematic-style, smart, fast-paced thrillers and crime fiction. Manning was recently featured on Oxygen TV’s: Accident, Suicide, or Murder. * Manning’s legal thriller series features Austin attorney Merit Bridges, including Dollar Signs, Music Notes, Green Fees, and Chinese Wall. * Manning’s new Proxy Legal Thriller Series features Houston attorney Quinton Bell and includes: Dead By Proxy, Hunted By Proxy, and Alive By Proxy. * Manning is co-author of Killer Set: Drop the Mic, and twelve additional Bullet Book Speed Reads. As a graduate of Rice University and the University of Texas School of Law, Manning’s experience has given her a voyeur’s peek into some shady characters’ lives and a front-row seat to watch the good people who stand against them.

Catch Up With Manning Wolfe: ManningWolfe.com Goodreads BookBub – @ManningWolfe Instagram – @manningwolfe TikTok – @manningwolfe Pinterest – @manningwolfe Twitter/X – @ManningWolfe Facebook – @manning.wolfe

 

 

Tour Participants:

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Join In for YOUR Chance to WIN:

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

 

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

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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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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.

.

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.

.

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
* Bookbub
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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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Website
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* Bookbub
* Amazon
* Goodreads

.

 

.

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For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

.

 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?

.

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
* B&N
* Kobo *
Bookbub
* Goodreads

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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!

.

 

.

 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.

.

Website
* Facebook * X
* Instagram *
Bookbub *
Amazon
* Goodreads

.

 

.

Follow the blitz HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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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.

~~~~~

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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The Author is running a Giveaway for a Shark Plushie.

Click HERE to enter.

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TOUR PARTICIPANTS

June 20 – The Mystery of Writing – SPOTLIGHT

June 20 – Mystery, Thrillers, and Suspense – SPOTLIGHT

June 20 – Brooke Blogs – SPOTLIGHT

June 21 – Baroness Book Trove – SPOTLIGHT

June 21 – Novels Alive – REVIEW

June 21 – Sapphyria’s Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

June 22 – StoreyBook Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

June 22 – Celticlady’s Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

June 22 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

June 23 – Ruff Drafts – SPOTLIGHT

June 23 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT

June 24 – Christy’s Cozy Corners – REVIEW

June 24 – Books, Ramblings, and Tea – SPOTLIGHT

June 25 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – REVIEW

June 25 – Maureen’s Musings – SPOTLIGHT

June 25 – Rosepoint Publishing – REVIEW

June 26 – Literary Gold – SPOTLIGHT

June 26 – Elizabeth McKenna – Author – SPOTLIGHT

June 26 – Boys’ Mom Reads! – SPOTLIGHT

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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.