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Facing The Enemy by DiAnn Mills Banner

Facing The Enemy
by DiAnn Mills
September 4 – 29, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
For the past five years, FBI Special Agent Risa Jacobs has worked in the violent crimes against children division of the Houston FBI. She’s never had reason to believe there’s a target on her back . . . until now.

When the long-awaited reunion between Risa and her brother, Trenton, ends in tragedy, Risa is riddled with guilt, unable to cope with the responsibility she feels over his death. On leave from the FBI, Risa returns to her former career as an English teacher at a local college, only to see her past and present collide when one of her students, Carson Mercury, turns in an assignment that reads like an eyewitness account of her brother’s murder, with details never revealed publicly. Alarmed by Carson’s inside knowledge of Trenton’s death, Risa reaches out to her former partner at the FBI. Special Agent Gage Patterson has been working a string of baby kidnappings, but he agrees to help look into Carson’s background. Risa and Gage soon discover their cases might be connected as a string of high-value thefts have occurred at properties where security systems were installed by Carson’s stepfather and children have gone missing. There’s a far more sinister plot at play than they ever imagined, and innocent lives are in danger.

DiAnn Mills delivers romantic suspense fans a heart-pounding thriller about loss, betrayal, and finding the strength to trust again!

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MY REVIEW

I’ve been wanting to try one of DiAnn’s books and finally got around to doing that. Facing The Enemy was a twisting turning mystery that kept me turning the pages.

Risa was a compelling main character. She lost her brother to a hit and run driver and discovered it wasn’t an accident. It was intentional. But the target was her. I felt so sad for her. The guilt must have been eating her up. It had her questioning her faith and I was glad she sought help for that.

In her determination to find out who was behind her brother’s murder, she comes up with a plan that might help. Knowing she needs help, she enlists the aid of Gage, her old partner at the FBI. Together they begin to put the pieces together. The closer they get, the more their lives are in danger.

I enjoyed the blush of romance between Risa and Gage. Felt like they were a good match. In their line of work they see some horrific things, brush shoulders with despicable people. Finding a partner who understands you and supports you, isn’t easy. No one should go through that alone.

I felt the suspense building and building. While I read, I became so immersed in the story. Paid close attention to everything I read. Didn’t notice anything around me. And when I reached the ending I was able to finally relax, relieving the tension in my neck and shoulders.

4 STARS

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Praise for Facing The Enemy:

“Riveting! In her signature style, Diann Mills expertly weaves a gripping tale of ever-increasing danger. Captivating, authentic characters along with surprising twists and turns drew me deeper into this engrossing thriller and kept me on the edge of my seat until the last page. I still can’t stop thinking about it!” ~ Elizabeth Goddard, bestselling author of COLD LIGHT OF DAY

“I’m a longtime reader of suspense thrillers, but DiAnn Mills’ latest, FACING THE ENEMY, made me gasp with surprise. The issues involved in the story—adoption and the families who long to love children—are close to my heart, and that emotional connection held me by the heartstrings. Not to be missed! ” ~ Angela Hunt, author of WHAT A WAVE MUST BE

Facing The Enemy Trailer:
Book Details:

Genre: Romantic Suspense

Published by: Tyndale House Publishers Publication Date: September 2023 Number of Pages: 352 ISBN: 9781496451941 (ISBN10: 1496451945)

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | ChristianBook

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Chapter 1

Houston, Texas July 29 Risa
Twelve years ago, my younger brother fell into an abyss of drugs and alcohol. He chose his addictions over Mom and Dad—and me. Prayers for healing fell flat, but none of us gave up, proving our belief in unconditional love. Then yesterday he called, and my hopes skyrocketed. Trenton said he missed me and wanted to make amends with his family, beginning with his older sis. We chose to meet at a popular restaurant for a late dinner within walking distance of my apartment. A knock on my cubicle jolted me back to reality. Gage, my work partner, towered in the entryway and grinned. “Hey, what’s going on?” The sound of his voice caused me to tingle to my toes. “Thinking.” “Obviously, you were a million miles away.” His blue-gray eyes bore into mine, the intensity nearly distracting me. I leaned back in my comfy, ergonomic chair. “My brother called.” “Trenton? The guy you haven’t seen in years?” “The same.” “And?” “He wants to meet tonight for dinner, to talk about making amends.” Gage shook his head. “Risa, he has a record a mile long. He’s planning on manipulating you, squeezing every penny he can get.” I picked up an old photo of Trenton and me as kids. Dad had snapped it while we were in our tree house. I swiped at a piece of dust, then replaced it beside my photo of Mom and Dad. “I must give him a chance. He’s my brother.” “What if he’s gotten himself in over his head and needs his FBI agent sis to bail him out?” I bit into my lower lip. Gage’s words had a level of truth, even if I didn’t want to admit it. “I want to hear him out.” Gage stepped closer. “I don’t want to see you hurt. Remember three years ago when he called you from a bar demanding money, cursed you until you hung up?” The soft gentleness in his whispered tone said more than friend to friend. “Think about canceling the dinner or let me go with you.” Emotion rose thick in my throat. “You mean well, and I—” Catching myself, I nearly said love. “I appreciate your concern. But I’ll be fine. Want me to call you afterward?” He nodded. “I can run by if you need to talk.” I peered into the face of the man I adored. “I will. Promise.” # I arrived early at the restaurant to meet Trenton, anticipating his contagious smile perfected by an overpaid orthodontist. The phone attempted to keep my attention, but my mind swirled with how I wanted tonight to move forward against the reality of what had happened in the past. The host approached me. Trenton walked behind him, towering several inches above the short man. I held my breath and stood, not feeling my legs, only my pulse speeding at the sight of my brother. Trenton chuckled low, the familiar, dazzling, heart-crunching expression that had always touched me with sibling love. Clear brown eyes captured mine. Gone were the dilated pupils and bone-thin body. My brother held out his buff arms, and I rushed into them. “Risa, you look amazing,” he whispered. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” “Nothing could have kept me away.” I stepped back, noting the miracle before me. Telling Mom and Dad wasn’t a part of tonight’s plan, but I wished they were here. We’d all be blubbering. I swiped at a tear and feared a humiliating sob would replace my already-fragile composure. “I want to remember this moment forever.” Please stay strong this time. “Me too, Sis.” He gestured to the booth. “Sit, and let’s talk and eat.” I slid in and he took the opposite side of the table. A server presented us with menus and asked for our drink order. “We’ll have two Dr Peppers,” Trenton said. He remembered my favorite drink. No mention of alcohol. I breathed in deeply to steady myself. I wanted our reunion to be special, not me a weeping mess. “I’ve missed you.” Trenton cocked his head, and the mischievous brother from days gone by appeared. “I’ve been clean for four months. Working steady and enrolled in night school for the next college term.” He took my hands, and his features grew serious. “But before I say another word, I’m sorry. I promise you, I’ll never hurt you, Mom, or Dad again. Please forgive me for the mess I made of my life and dragging my family through the stench of it.” I’d heard this before, from his teen years into his twenties. Dare I believe our prayers had been answered? “I forgave you years ago. All we ever wanted for you is a healthy body and mind.” “Thanks, Sis. I know you’ve heard this ‘I’m sorry’ junk before, but I’m well on my way.” His words warmed me like a quilt on a chilly night. “I can see it, feel it. Why tell me first instead of Mom and Dad?” “Great times with you growing up that never left me.” Memories rushed over me . . . The time we went camping by ourselves and it snowed. Birthdays. Christmases. All the treasured times I believed had vanished into the chasm of addiction. The server returned with our drinks, and Trenton released my hands. “Have you decided on your order?” the server said. Neither of us had picked up our menus, but I often frequented the restaurant and ordered a vegan dish. Trenton opted for their pork chop and fixings. “And I’ll take the bill.” He pointed at me. “No arguments.” “My treat when we have dinner again.” “Got it.” “You were about to tell me something about us.” He rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “Two things stand out. The first one happened when I was four, so that made you ten. You were watching me trying to climb an oak tree in the back yard. I was crying because my short legs couldn’t swing high enough. Then I felt your hand on my shoulder. You boosted me up onto the branch. Climbed up with me. No long after that, Dad built us a tree house.” “I loved that tree house. You had your space and I had mine.” “What I’ll always remember is what you said to me. ‘Trenton, I’m your big sis. I’ll always help you. I promise.’” I blinked back the ocean of hopeful tears. “Thanks. I remember our times in the tree house, our private little world.” “One more reason I contacted you. I was six and you were twelve. For three summers, Mom and Dad put me in swimming lessons, but I couldn’t put my head underwater. Not sure why. You convinced Mom and Dad that you could teach me how to swim. So every day we went to the neighborhood pool, and at the end of two weeks, I was swimming. I trusted you.” I took a deep breath. Be aware of manipulation, Risa. “Thanks.” I raised a finger. “I remember being a high school junior and this jerk of a guy followed me home. Wouldn’t leave me alone. You punched him in the nose.” Trenton laughed. “My voice hadn’t changed yet, but I wasn’t going to let him bother you.” “That’s love, Brother.” Oh, Trenton, let this be for keeps. I’m afraid to believe the nightmare is over. “And we’ll make many more crazy times together. Do you have plans for Saturday morning? I volunteer at a community center for kids at risk. We have a mixed basketball team, and I could use some help with the girls.” I shivered. What a blessing to have my brother back. “All I need is a time and place.” “You never fail me, Sis.” He took a long drink of his Dr Pepper. “Are you writing?” I grinned. “Dabbling here and there.” “I never understood why you left a safe job as a college prof and writer to the dangers of the FBI?” He shrugged. “Other than your wild side that you kept more in check than I did.” “Teaching and writing short stories with a few successful publications failed to fill my adventure deficit. Every time I read about a crime, I wanted to be the one working the case. Dad said I couldn’t create a crime and solve it—I had to be actively involved.” “Your personality better fits law enforcement. Still married to the FBI?” I wiggled my shoulders. “Of course. Five years ago, I moved to the Violent Crime Division, specifically Crimes Against Children. It’s stressful and emotional, but protecting children suits me.” He frowned. “Because of me?” I blinked. “A little. My main reason is what happened to the little girl who lived across the street from us.” “Right.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry her death still bothers you. Isn’t there a special team for finding missing kids?” “Child Abduction Rapid Deployment or CARD. They’re an elite, specialized team, and that’s all they do. That’s not my role, but we often work together.” “What do you investigate?” Trenton seemed interested in my job, another first. “My partner and I investigate kidnappings, pedophiles, pornography, online predators, human trafficking, involuntary servitude, parental kidnapping, and any other situation that fell into the ‘violent crimes against children’ bucket.” “I remember you were the neighborhood babysitter.” He gave me his unforgettable impish grin. “And I also remember how much fun you had learning how to handle a car at high speeds.” I couldn’t conceal my laughter. “Guess I’m part daredevil. Blame Dad for that. I remember loving to watch him race cars.” “He’d still be at it if Mom hadn’t insisted his speed-loving days were over.” “When he taught me to drive, I learned a lot of tricks,” I said. “He already knew I was danger on wheels and asked Mom to teach me.” He laughed. “Any potential brothers-in-law?” I waved off his remark. My thoughts swept to Gage. Maybe I had found him, but that was a future conversation. “Nope. My job scares them off. I had more dates during my stint as a dull college professor.” “You dull? Never. You just haven’t found the right guy. Pray about it, and if there’s a guy good enough for my sis, he’ll appear.” I startled. “Did you say pray?” “Think about it. Who but God could have turned me around? Helped me walk away from drugs, alcohol, and so-called friends?” Even in his good days, Trenton had steered away from mentions of faith. Maybe he had changed. “I don’t know what to say.” “That’s a first.” He chuckled. “You always had more words in one day than I had in a week. But honestly, no more jail. No more being tossed out of an apartment because I couldn’t pay the rent. No more waking up and not remembering the night before.” Wow. A true miracle. I swiped at happy tears. “I can’t wait to tell Mom and Dad.” He leaned over the table as though to tell me a secret. “I’ll do the honors very soon.” When our food arrived, he asked to say grace. I was so glad our eyes were closed, or he’d have seen a leaky faucet. We chatted through dinner. Laughed about some of the goofy things we’d done as kids. Time seemingly stopped, and my half-full cup of blessings spilled over with joy. “Will you tell me about your healing journey?” I said. “You can hear for yourself when I talk to Mom and Dad.” He moistened his lips. “Do you trust me enough to walk you back to your apartment and call them from there? I mean, does your building have a lobby area with a little privacy?” “It does, but you can call from my apartment. Trenton, they will be incredibly happy.” “I hope so.” I was so focused on our conversation that I didn’t think I tasted my favorite dish. We finished and he paid the bill. Outside the restaurant, a few people mingled, and the night sky hosted a half-moon, alerting me to how long Trenton and I had talked. I breathed in thankfulness and expectations for a positive tomorrow. At the crosswalk, we waited for the pedestrian sign to signal our turn. “How long have you lived in this fancy high-rise?” he said as we ambled across the street. “Two years. I like the busyness and excitement.” “It must be in your DNA. One day, I want a small place in the country where it’s quiet.” “Never for me. I’ll visit you though.” The humid heat mixed with exhaust fumes spiraled around us. “What are you taking in college?” “Psychology. See if I can’t help a few kids understand life and avoid pitfalls.” “Incredible. I’m so pro—” Trenton grabbed my shoulders and thrust me several feet ahead next to the curb. I landed on my side and rolled over. What—? A horrible thud. A woman screamed. Tires squealed. Horns blew. Stinging pain radiated up my leg, side, arm, and head. In agony, I managed to roll over and glance at the street. My brother’s body lay in the intersection, a twisted mass of flesh and blood. *** Excerpt from FACING THE ENEMY by DiAnn Mills. Copyright 2023 by DiAnn Mills. Reproduced with permission from DiAnn Mills. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author DiAnn Mills:

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DiAnn Mills

DiAnn Mills is a bestselling author who believes her readers should expect an adventure. She is a storyteller and creates action-packed, suspense-filled novels to thrill readers. DiAnn believes every breath of life is someone’s story, so why not capture those moments and create a thrilling adventure? Her titles have appeared on the CBA and ECPA bestseller lists; won two Christy Awards; and been finalists for the RITA, Daphne Du Maurier, Inspirational Readers’ Choice, and Carol award contests. DiAnn is a founding board member of the American Christian Fiction Writers, a member of Advanced Writers and Speakers Association, Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers, Jerry Jennings Writers Guild, Mystery Writers of America, and International Thriller Writers. She speaks to various groups and teaches writing workshops around the country.

DiAnn has been termed a coffee snob and roasts her own coffee beans. She’s an avid reader, loves to cook, and believes her grandchildren are the smartest kids in the universe. She and her husband live in sunny Houston, Texas.

DiAnn is very active online and would love to connect with readers: DiannMills.com Goodreads BookBub – @DiAnnMills Instagram – @diannmillsauthor X – @diannmills Facebook – @diannmills YouTube – @diannmills

 

 

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A legal thriller about a grandson accused of murdering his grandmother which morphs into a scandal that shakes the very foundations of the Hawaii legal system…

 

 

Title: Tropical Scandal
Author: David Myles Robinson
Publisher: Bluewater Press, LLC
Pages: 291
Genre: Legal Thriller/Suspense/Mystery



goodreads add to

 

When
Pancho McMartin, Honolulu’s top criminal defense attorney, takes on the
case of Dayton Kalama, a young drug dealer accused of murdering his
grandmother (tutu), Pancho is faced with a daunting amount of evidence
pointing squarely at Dayton. But as Pancho, together with his private
investigator, Drew Tulafono, gradually pull back the layers of deceit,
they begin to uncover hints at what is beginning to look like the
biggest scandal ever to hit Hawaii’s legal community. This book is pure
fiction, but is inspired by true, scandalous events which shook
Honolulu’s legal community to its core. 

Amazon

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Book Excerpt  

I was surprised when my current lover, Padma Dasari, asked me to meet with Isaac Goldblum, a legendary Hawaii trial attorney who, now in his eighties, was an alcoholic still representing clients. I had made known my intolerance for those attorneys who fell prey to addiction

yet refused help—all while still accepting clients. They were walking malpractice cases who risked everything they’d worked for in their own lives—not to mention the lives of their

clients—by living and working as functional drunks or addicts.

Being a trial attorney was stressful. Being a criminal defense trial attorney was particularly stressful. Aside from the relatively rare innocent defendant, our customer base was composed of criminals who, generally speaking, were not the warmest and fuzziest people to deal with day in and day out.

Whether they were guilty or innocent, their lives were in our hands—a situation only the most jaded and burned-out counsel didn’t find stressful.

My surprise didn’t arise from the fact that Padma knew Goldblum. She was the former medical examiner for the city and county of Honolulu, and just as I had cross-examined her many times in her capacity as coroner, so had Goldblum. My surprise arose from the fact that Padma knew Goldblum had been one of my early heroes. He was most famous for having won an acquittal for two Hawaiian teenagers who had been charged with the murder of a prominent haole (Caucasian) businessman. The public outcry against the Hawaiian kids had been reminiscent of the uproar in the Deep South when young black men were charged with the rape of white women. It was scary. Goldblum was vilified for taking the case.

As he later said in an interview for the Honolulu Advertiser, he knew that anything short of proving who the real killer was would fall on deaf ears. His cross-examination of the

businessman’s administrative assistant, who’d been having an affair with the dead man’s wife and who ultimately confessed to the murder, was nothing short of brilliant.

I had shared my early hero worship of Goldblum with Padma, but I had also made it clear that I now harbored a healthy dose of contempt for the man, who seemed intent on destroying his own legacy. At the time, Padma had not tried to defend Goldblum.

We were enjoying a quiet Saturday afternoon at Padma’s Kahala Beach condo when she broached the subject of my meeting with Goldblum. “He lives here, in the next building,”

she said. “He’s invited us to stop by for a cocktail at about four.”

I stared out from her oceanfront lanai at the tranquil ocean.

The palm fronds on the coconut trees fronting the beach barely twitched. One lone puff of a cumulous cloud hovered in the bright blue sky.

“Why?” I asked. “Why would I want to go have a drink with a drunk who should have put himself on inactive status years ago?”

Padma stared back at me with her piercing dark eyes. I half expected her to admonish me for being too judgmental—a trait I seemed to have developed in recent years. “Isaac asked to

meet with you. We know each other from court, and he knows I live in this building, and he knows we’re in a relationship. I think he came to me rather than you because he knows—or at

least suspects—that you aren’t much of an admirer of his.”

Padma had been born in India and had done volunteer work as a doctor in Bangladesh, but she had lived and worked in the United States for most of her adult life. Nonetheless, she

still retained the remnants of an accent, which was melodic and soothing. No doubt she was a calming influence on many people grieving the loss of a loved one. She had been instrumental in

helping my mother in New Mexico get through the early stages of the loss of my father. Just the tone of her voice seemed to take the wind out of my judgmental sails.

“Okay, but do you know why he wants to meet?”

She gave a small shake of her head. “Something about a case. That’s all I know.” She paused for a beat. “Look, I know he’s a drunk and you hate the fact that he’s still going to court, but you have to admit: drunk or sober, the man knows the law and probably still has pretty good instincts. I doubt he would ask to meet with you if he didn’t think it was important.”

I resisted the temptation to make a snide remark and instead looked at my watch. It was three-thirty in the afternoon. “Why’d you wait until now to tell me about this?”

Padma’s beautiful brown face broke into a mischievous grin. “So you wouldn’t have time to obsess about it.”

I laughed. “Jesus, Padma. We’re not even married and you play me like a fiddle.”

“I love the fiddle,” was her only retort.

 

 
About the Author
 

 

 

David
Myles Robinson has always had a passion for for writing. During the
late 1960’s and early 1970’s, while in college, Robinson worked as a
freelance writer for several magazines and was a staff writer for a
weekly minority newspaper in Pasadena, California. Upon graduating from
San Francisco State University, he attended the University of San
Francisco School of Law. It was there that he met his wife, Marcia
Waldorf. In 1975 the two moved to Honolulu, Hawaii and began practicing
law. Robinson became a trial lawyer and Waldorf eventually became a
Circuit Court judge.   

Upon retiring in 2010, Robinson completed his first novel, Unplayable Lie. He has since published eight more novels. 

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

Author Kevin R. Doyle will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Don’t forget to enter!

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

The Litter

by Kevin R. Doyle

 

 

Genre: Horror

Synopsis

They kept to the shadows so no one would know they existed, and preyed on the nameless who no one would miss. Where did they come from, and who was protecting them? In a city that had seen every kind of savagery, they were something new, something more than murderous. And one woman, who had thought she had lost everything there was to lose in life, would soon find that nothing could possibly prepare her for what would come when she entered their world.

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MY REVIEW

Whoa. I’m a huge fan of horror. Been reading it and watching it since I was a youngster. I don’t expect the characters to always be well fleshed out as the author’s often kill them off quickly. And the plot doesn’t always have to be well written. I often read a scary book for easy, fast entertainment. Probably why I enjoy those B Movies so much.

What Kevin Doyle did with The Litter was immerse me in his story to where I had to remind myself it was just a book. Nothing bad was happening to me. It was that well written.

The title and cover promised that horror waited in the pages, and it did. As did the synopsis. Gruesome attacks, suspense around every corner and all the horror you could hope for. Whatever prowls the streets is hazardous to your health.

This was a straight through read for me and I read it at night. In the dark. The only light came from my eReader. What was that? Was there something creeping up behind me? The hairs stood up on my arms. Talk about a bad case of the heebie jeebies.

5 STARS

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Pam said.

“Still think it was a dog?” her partner asked.

“What else could it have been? It doesn’t take the ME over there to know that this guy’s been all chewed up.”

“What I’m getting at is it may not have been a single animal.”

“Come again? Are you thinking of a pack or something?”

“Well,” Gonzales said, “just looking at it . . .” He waved his arm in the direction of the mess on the pavement.

“That’s insane, Enrico. Who the hell ever heard of a pack of dogs attacking people in the middle of a city?”

“You ever hear of one dog doing anything that even remotely looks like that?”

“What about rats?” she asked the older cop, fearful he would laugh in her face.

“I actually thought of that myself for a moment there. It’s not the most far-fetched of possibilities.”

“No?”

“Not at all. Once, I saw what was left of an old wino eaten by rats, back when I’d been on the force not much longer than you have. But that was a guy who’d crawled under the porch of a house, probably trying to escape the weather. Besides, long ago as it’s been, from what I remember, that body didn’t look anything like this.”

“No, huh?”

“Not really, no.  It looked more like he’d been nibbled on till he was worn down to practically nothing.”

Pam pointed towards the corpse.

“That’s not a bunch of nibbles,” she said.

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About Author Kevin R. Doyle:

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A retired high-school teacher and former college instructor, Kevin R. Doyle is the author of numerous short horror stories. He’s also written four crime thrillers including The Group and The Anchor, and one horror novel, The Litter. In the last few years, he’s begun working on the Sam Quinton private eye series, published by Camel Press. The first Quinton book, Squatter’s Rights, was nominated for the 2021 Shamus award for Best First PI Novel.  The fourth Sam Quinton book, Clean Win, was released in March of 2023.

 

Author Links: Website / Facebook / Goodreads

 

BUY LINKS: Amazon / B&N / Smashwords

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I’ve Watched You Die

by Karina Banks

 

Publication date: September 22nd 2023
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult

A young woman, cursed. A rebellious prince in hiding. A forbidden love that will threaten two worlds…

There are two main things I’ve learned since my life turned upside down. The first is, if you speak of someone’s death before it happens, you’ll be blamed for murder. The second? If the hottest guy you’ve ever seen kisses you, and thanks you for saving his life, don’t argue.

I watched him die, over and over. So many times. The vision is always the same and there is never one damn thing I can do to save him. I don’t know why I can’t dream about normal things, like going to school naked, or spiders. I hate spiders. No, I’m lucky enough to see strangers at the moments of their deaths.

The only thing keeping me sane is knowing the visions aren’t real.

Until the accident. The blood. He dies in my arms.

At least, I thought he did. But now he’s here, telling me I saved his life. Telling me unbelievable stories about monsters and gods and destiny. Promising to protect me.

If none of this is real, why am I afraid of the creatures hunting me? And if I saved his life, why are the nightmares back, stronger than ever? What is this thing lurking inside me, eager to strike?

I don’t know, but I’m freaking out.

I’m afraid what I think is real, isn’t. And what I know is not, just might be.

Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

The creature’s eyes dart back and forth between me and Ryker, as if taking its time, contemplating who to kill first. Ryker takes advantage of its hesitation, shoving me away. “Dani, go! Run!” The command is raw and guttural, impossible to ignore.

I take off, running as fast as I can toward the school. Adrenaline rushes through my bloodstream like a bomb went off inside me. There is no thinking. I have tunnel vision. All I see is the grass in front of my feet. The door that leads to sanctuary inside the school building. All I hear is blood pounding inside my skull and the rush of air as it bursts in and out of my lungs. It’s as if I’m breathing fire.

I’m halfway there. He said he’d be right behind me. I can’t hear him. Where is he?

I risk a glance back, over my shoulder. I expected him to follow. When I look behind me, I see he’s still staring the creature down. He has a dagger in one hand and he is slowly circling the monster, waiting for it to strike.

Shit. What is he thinking? Is he trying to buy me time? I don’t need more time. I’m almost there. Worse, that thing huge, easily the size of four large men. Maybe it is, because I count eight legs sticking out of the goo.

I slow to a jog, then stop, turning completely to watch him and the creature pace one another. As Ryker did with me, with each step he’s moving just enough not to incite an immediate attack, but positioning himself for a straight shot away, toward the school’s garden.

No. Oh, God. Shit.

I know how this ends. I just saw it. There are more of them, in the garden. Waiting. An ambush. They are here to kill him. Why? Why? Why?

I sprint toward him, away from the school. Away from safety. I can’t allow him to run for the garden. More of those things are waiting. They’ll gut him. Cut him open. He’ll bleed out, blood soaking the gravel path. Just like my vision. No. No. No.

“Ryker! Run! They’re in the garden! It’s a trap! It’s a trap!”

I scream at him, my legs pumping as fast as I can make them go, faster than any track meet or workout I’ve ever run. A terrified part of me knows it’s not fast enough.

I push my muscles to their limit, trying to reach him in time. I don’t know what I can possibly do to help him against that thing, but two is better than one. It has to be. We’ll run for the woods. Anywhere but that fucking garden. Literally anywhere.

“Dani, no! Get back!”

“The garden! It’s a trap!” I sprint, my gaze dropping to the abandoned high heels shoes on the grass. The four inch points aren’t exactly one of my grandad’s shotguns, but they’re better than nothing. That thing has eyes, doesn’t it?

I’m forty meters away when the creature lunges at Ryker. He is looking at me, yelling at me to run.

My heart stops dead in my chest. I yell out a warning, but it’s too late.

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Reading, Writing, and Murder (Chocolate Martini Sisters Mystery)
by Brenda Whiteside and Joyce Proell

 


Reading, Writing, and Murder (Chocolate Martini Sisters Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
2nd in Series
Setting – Wyatt, Arizona (fictitious setting)
Independently Published (September 19, 2023)
Print length ‏ : ‎ 273 pages
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0C4G6GZLN

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At the writers’ conference, murder tops the program.

Aspiring mystery author Emma Banefield and travel writer Nicole Earp are excited to attend a writers’ conference during their latest sisters’ getaway. Nic’s birthday should be all about relaxation, writing, and a chocolate martini to toast another trip around the sun, but the climate at the gathering rumbles like a sudden desert thunderstorm.

When sparks fly between the keynote speaker and her timid assistant over a handsome mystery author, the subtitle on this anticipated tranquil weekend spells drama. If a heated love triangle, bruised egos, and betrayal aren’t enough to upset the atmosphere, the conference banquet erupts into a drunken brawl and sends the place spinning. After a body is discovered, Nic and Em do what they do best—snoop—and become embroiled in a mystery that jumps off the pages of a true-crime bestseller.

With more than enough suspects and little time, the amateur sleuths have their hands full finding the killer. But can the competitive Chocolate Martini Sisters solve the crime before the prickly chief detective does, or will a murderer outwit them all?

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Enjoy this peek inside:

As Nic dropped the phone into her bag, the inn doors opened. Two women, one she recognized from the conference leaflet, entered. Literary Agent Shannon Valdez surveyed the lobby with a commanding air. The brochure didn’t show her Amazon-like stature. Tall, large boned, yet curvy, she struck a pose, one tan, spiked-heel on a step, with her free hand tucked in a pocket of her trendy, calf-length belled trousers. A creamy, white sweater beneath an unbuttoned, blue, knee-length coat completed the image. Nic didn’t recognize the shorter woman with shiny, ebony hair and alabaster skin, but the brochure stated additional agents might be added at the last minute.

They strolled toward the registration desk when Seth Dawes approached them. He must have flown from the school to the inn to beat Nic. “Shannon and Nell. Good to see you both.” He clasped Nell’s hand with both of his.

“Hi, Seth.” Shannon air kissed each cheek. “I see you’re giving a presentation on author and book promotions.”

“I am and looking forward to it. This should be an interesting conference, only you’d think they could’ve gotten a better keynote speaker.”

“Who knows if she’ll even show?” The literary agent waved a hand. Electric blue, manicured nails cut the air. “Lola’s not above screwing over anyone if a better deal comes along.”

Seth leaned in, a smirk on his lips. “I happen to know she’s in town, but you’re right. Who knows what she’ll pull. Too bad they didn’t put “watch your back” in the fine print under her bio in the conference brochure.”

The threesome shared a laugh.

“I need to check in. See you later, Seth.” Shannon led the way to the front desk.

Dawes reversed course toward the Azul Saloon.

She relaxed against the sofa. Apparently, not everyone adored Lola Dufrane. She wanted to rub her hands together. Drama and writer-fun—all in the same weekend.

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About the Authors

Joyce Proell is the award-winning author of Amaryllis, Eliza and the Cady Delafield mysteries: A Deadly Truth, A Burning Truth and A Wicked Truth. Along with her husband and little dog, Nellie, she lives in Minnesota in her very own little house on the prairie. She loves to hear from readers.

Website    Facebook    Amazon Author Page   Goodreads Author Page

Brenda Whiteside is the award-winning author of romantic suspense, romance, and cozy mystery. After living in six states and two countries—so far—she and her husband have settled in Central Arizona. They admit to being gypsies at heart and won’t discount the possibility of another move. They share their home with a rescue dog named Amigo. While FDW fishes, Brenda writes.

Visit Brenda’s Website   Facebook    Twitter    Blog    Amazon Author Page    Goodreads Author Page    BookBub     Instagram  

Join her Newsletter Group here.   

Purchase Links
Amazon US   Amazon UK    Amazon Canada

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Ragtown

by Kelly Stone Gamble

 

Publication date: September 12th 2023
Genres: Adult, Historical

Helen Carter lives in the back seat of her father’s Model T in the harsh Nevada desert, surrounded by thousands of desperate souls trying to endure the hardships of the Great Depression. When her father dies while working on the Hoover Dam diversion tunnels, she finds herself alone. In this unforgiving landscape where marriage, prostitution, and starvation seem to be her only viable choices, Helen is determined to defy society’s expectations of a young woman and create her own American dream. She relies on her resourcefulness to survive but soon realizes she can’t go it alone.

Ezra Deal, a young dam worker, brought his sister to Nevada in search of the father of her child, only to have the man reject her. Tragically, both his sister and the baby pass away during childbirth, leaving Ezra with a profound sense of guilt. Determined to distance himself from any further responsibilities, he focuses on his job and locating the man who callously denied his sister. But when he learns that his friend Helen is running from not only the law but also a Las Vegas gangster, he must decide between his independent lifestyle and helping her.

As Helen and Ezra grow closer and become more invested in the diversion of the Colorado River from its course, their lives parallel this monumental change. Ezra can picture building a life with Helen, but she has other ideas. With the help of a thirteen-year-old runaway, a few prostitutes, a dead desperado, and Ezra, Helen embarks on a journey to live life on her terms.

Incorporating actual dramatic events gleaned from the oral histories of the dam workers, Ragtown highlights a time in American history when ordinary men and women overcame the challenges of the Great Depression and thrived.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

EZRA

When we reached the camp, a circle of ten or so men surrounded another, who quickly shifted from one man to the next, cussing and threatening them with a hayfork. In the center of the circle, two small figures lay naked on the ground. Their hands and legs were spread wide apart and appeared to be tied to tent stakes. They weren’t moving.

Ben was coughing uncontrollably when he reached us. “Dear Lord,” he said in between coughs. “What the hell happened?”

“One of the boys gave a can of beans to Johnny-behind-the-rock without asking his daddy first.

They’ve been out there for over an hour now,” Helen said.

“Where did he get a hay fork?”

“He used it for a tent pole. Tore down the whole thing to get to it.”

I alternated my stare between the man jabbing at the spectators and the two small bodies on the ground. I didn’t want to get stabbed, but somehow, we had to get to those boys, and none of the other men seemed too keen on making a move.

Ben whispered something to Helen, and I heard her say under her breath, “If Ranger finds out we have a gun—”

“No.” I reached for Ben’s arm. “You’ll get fired. You can’t do that.”

Ben shook his arm loose. “Those boys are gonna die before Ranger gets here. I can’t let that happen.”

I could see the boys clearly now. They couldn’t be more than six or seven. Their skin was as red as a cock’s comb. I walked toward the circle, trying to focus on the man with the hay fork while others in the crowd tried to reason with him to no avail.

Too much going on and not enough sleep, or maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly, but as he turned his back to me to jab his weapon at someone else, I broke the circle and tackled him from behind. We hit the rocky ground together, me landing on top, the hay fork a few feet away.

The man struggled against me, and I hit him square in the temple with a closed fist. Then another. And another. I felt all the anger inside of me boiling up—anger at my father, at Billy, and even at Grace for dying on me, and I hit him again. He bucked and threw me off him, swearing as he rolled over. He tried to get to his feet, but I kicked him hard in the abdomen with my booted foot, throwing him back to the ground. I grabbed the hay fork and raised it high over my head, directly above him. His face tensed, and his dark eyes filled with anger.

As I lowered the fork, a strong hold around my midsection pulled me away, and I missed my mark by inches. “That’s enough, son,” Ben said from behind me. Four men held the offender down and, after untying the boys, hog-tied him with the same rope to keep him until Ranger arrived.

The boys’ skin had started to blister, and they were covered with red ants. I turned away, unable to look at them, and focused on Helen. “Are they alive?”

“Barely.”

Author Note: Johnny-behind-the-rock was mentioned in one of the many oral histories related to Ragtown. Too old to be employed on the dam project, he lived alone behind a large boulder with nothing to his name but the clothes he wore. He rarely came from behind his rock, moving throughout the day to stay in a shady spot. He rarely spoke and survived on what others gave him. He was known only as Johnny-behind-the-rock. I don’t know his story, I’m not sure anyone does, but I’m sure it was tragic to live as he did. I wanted to remember him in some way, even if it is only a mention in a work of fiction.

The ant scene is a fictionalized account gleaned from a true event that took place in Ragtown. I included it to show the cruelty that desperation can breed.

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About Author Kelly Stone Gamble

I want readers to take something away from my books and short stories: something memorable, whether it be an interesting protagonist, an emotion or a moment in time.

Depending on what characters decide to sit beside me on a particular day, I may write historical fiction or quirky, dark humor.

My interests are as diverse as my writing. I am at home fishing on a river, riding horses in the mountains, reading on a beach, hiking through the desert or playing pirate with my friends.

I don’t believe in growing old and I refuse to grow up.

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Ruth A. Casie, a USA Today Best-selling author, has released the third standalone Regency romance novel in the Return of Ladies of Sommer by the Sea series.

Come check out an excerpt of THE LADY AND THE ROGUE and celebrate with us!

Be sure to enter the giveaway.

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The Lady and the Rogue

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Synopsis:

Feisty and passionate. He’ll enjoy making her fall in love with him…or die trying.

In the shadowy depths of London, Lady Euphemia Brandt, a renowned concert pianist, is mistaken by an English nobleman for his intended rendezvous. She defends herself, losing her reticule in the process. Reluctantly, she takes coins from her attacker and secures a carriage home. Their eyes lock, and they share a searing kiss, altering their lives forever.

At an affair honoring the Prime Minister, Euphemia discovers that the rogue who accosted her is a much sought-after, wealthy member of society. Struggling to resist his attraction, she battles memories of their kiss.

Cayden Whitford, the Duke of Thornton, seeking a woman with vital information, mistakes Euphemia for his contact and is surprised by her swift blow and the ensuing kiss. Intrigued, he vows to find her. At a dinner party, Thornton leans she is the daughter of a trusted advisor and masquerades as a suitor to discover her allegiance.

As Thornton unravels Euphemia’s wit, logic, and passion, his initial mission falters. He’s fallen in love with her.

 Author Ruth A. Casie:

RUTH A. CASIE is a USA Today bestselling author of historical swashbuckling action-adventures and contemporary romance with enough action to keep you turning pages. Her stories feature strong women and the men who deserve them, endearing flaws and all. She lives in New Jersey with her hero, three empty bedrooms and a growing number of incomplete counted cross-stitch projects. Before she found her voice, she was a speech therapist (pun intended), client liaison for a corrugated manufacturer, and vice president at an international bank where she was a product/marketing manager, but her favorite job is the one she’s doing now-writing romance. She hopes her stories become your favorite adventures.

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Read an Excerpt

“This is our second dance, Your Grace. Do you care about gossip?”

The dance started.

“Not at all. And you, my lady? Do you care about gossip?”

He led her through the steps with a strong yet gentle hand.

“I won’t be here long enough to take notice. To the ton, the gossip is only fun if they can watch their target squirm. I’d rather not be their source of entertainment. You, on the other hand, will have to endure it for weeks.”

He laughed as he spun her around. To him, the discomfort would be worth it.

With her in his arms, a spark grew into a flame that drew him closer to her with every step and every turn. Though he maintained the expected propriety, it was clear to anyone who cared to look that something was happening. An attraction that threatened to ignite into something… explosive.

Effie remained stoic, ice-queen-like. But her very stillness accentuated the tension between them. When she finally gazed into his eyes, she was caught in his web of desire, and he didn’t allow her a way out.

As the music came to an end, she was left breathless and flushed. The intense passion that had shone in her eyes was gone, replaced by her usual detached and aloof manner. Thornton wondered if he would need to constantly play music to keep her fiery desire alive, to melt away the icy barrier she erected around herself.

He escorted her off the dance floor and settled her with her mother.

“Thank you, Lady Euphemia. You made an ordinary waltz quite exciting.” He focused on her mother. “Thank you, ma’am, for an enjoyable evening.”

“Are you leaving so soon, Your Grace?” The duchess gave him a pained look, then glanced at Effie.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I have things to prepare for an early morning meeting.”

He took his leave, letting Effie believe she’d won, but she didn’t know how persistent he could be.

As he reached the door across the room, he felt a sudden tug on his sleeve. Glancing to his right, he saw that it was Lady Euphemia. He was surprised when she tucked her arm in his.

“What are you up to, Thornton? You danced with me twice this evening. You assisted me with the challenge. You have the entire room whispering.”

He stopped and faced her. “What would you like me to do?” He glanced over her head at the people that filled the ballroom. “I can make an announcement that you are very much available.”

She pulled him out of the room. “You wouldn’t dare.”

They arrived at the door. “Mr. Gregory, His Grace’s carriage, please.”

The butler went outside to call up his carriage.

“No. I wouldn’t. I’ll think of a way to protect you.”

He saw his carriage coming into the drive. He pulled Effie into his arms and kissed her. He had wanted to do it since he spotted her hours ago.

He found her lips even softer than he had remembered, with a sweet and fresh taste. He allowed himself to deeply kiss her, passionate yet gentle, savoring every moment before finally pulling away. They stood staring into each other’s eyes, breathing heavily, the air thick with longing and desire.

“Something to remember me by,” he whispered in her ear.

He stepped back. The passion was back in Effie’s eyes. That’s the way he wanted to remember her. Effie. He kissed the tip of her nose and was gone.

 

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When passion and revenge clash, love could unravel a deadly feud to which no one is left standing…

 

Title: Precious Burdens
Author: Avery Sterling
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Pages: 324
Genre: Historical Romance

Sarafina di Ramonicci sets sail for America as the promised bride in an arranged political marriage.       

Taken
prisoner at sea, she clashes with her captor and demands freedom, only
to discover he is planning her future husband’s demise, with her as a
pawn in their deadly feud. The challenge of escape tests her loyalty to
family, human decency, and love.  

Captain
Nye Tarquin is a dangerous man. Left to die on the streets of New
Orleans, he swears retribution on the man responsible. When he makes
Sarafina part of his plan, he isn’t prepared for the fiery vixen aboard
his ship, nor his desire to claim her as his own. When passion overtakes
honor, he’s torn between his heart and his need for justice.  

Amazon / B&N

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Book Excerpt  

A grin formed on his lips. “She belongs to me now,” he said, his voice was as cool as his expression. “And when Cornell comes for her, I’ll be waiting to return the favor… only I’ll succeed, where he did not.”

Sarafina’s fingers curled around her goblet. “What makes you think he’ll come for her?”

“He has several reasons to take the bait. Cornell will demand satisfaction for his humiliation.”

“His humiliation?” She sat up straighter. “What about hers? Do you understand what people will think when they find out she was held hostage here? If her intended is murdered and she’s left stranded, this will leave her utterly alone. What will become of her, then?”

“She’ll marry someone better than the likes of Cornell, I hope,” he replied dryly.

She slammed her goblet down and flew to her feet. “And who would want her?”

He remained seated. “I’m doing her a great service,” he said calmly, leaning on the arm of his chair. “You have no idea the kind of life she would’ve been subjected to.”

“So, you’re her savior now?”

The captain pushed off his chair, and straightened to his full height. She kept her glare locked with his, but keeping it steady was becoming as difficult as her breathing. “Maybe,” he said.

   “That’s an absurd notion,” she replied.

   “Is it?” he asked. He stepped towards her, and she stepped back in unison, until the back of her legs hit the chair.

 

 

 

About the Author

 

 

 

Avery Sterling’s love
for the romance genre began in her teen years when she picked up her
first novel. She was captivated by the sweeping scale of emotions
brought about by the words. The experience catapulted her towards
learning the art of wielding a breathtaking adventure, with a love that
felt authentic. Wanting to inspire people with her own thoughts and
words, she finished her first novel at sixteen. It was a step towards
understanding the essence of what she wished to create. 

Most of her youth was
spent traveling, searching out the romance and beauty in her
everchanging world. From the waves that crashed against the rocky shores
of Downeast, Maine, to the warm breezes of the Caribbean, she
discovered that love was universal, apparent in its grandest and
simplest of forms. Her goal is to write novels an audience can relate
to, one that conveys the truth and nature of love…with all the steamy
romance. 

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Sponsored By:

 

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Werewolf Queen wasn’t on her middle aged bingo card…

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In the Midnight Hour

A Midnight Madness Nightcreature Novel Book 3

by Lori Handeland

Genre: Paranormal Women’s Fiction

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Just when I thought it was safe to go home…

I’ve been running too long. I’d gotten sloppy. Sloppy gets you captured. But it turns out, the very one I thought I had to hide from, saved me.

I just want to live peacefully. But happy family, er, pack reunions don’t seem to be in my future. When my secret is used against me, I’m forced to run again. This time, help comes from the most unexpected source, the greatest werewolf hunter of all time, Edward Mandenauer.

To get what we both want—the end of the sadistic, yet sexy, werewolf Zane—Edward and I join forces. But Zane isn’t working alone. Nor is he who or what he says he is. He’s much, much more…

All I want is the life I believed I’d lost, but at this rate, I’ll end up captured, imprisoned, enslaved . . . or dead.

From the voice of New York Times bestselling author Lori Handeland, the final installment in the Midnight Madness trilogy takes you deep into her Nightcreature world, complete with the humor, depth of characterization and fast-paced plot lines the author is known for while showcasing her incredible range.

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

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I strolled down the deserted streets of Wisconsin’s capital city and tried to think of a plan. I could only come up with one.

The first person I saw getting out of a car was in the employee lot of a twenty-four-hour diner. I approached her, and she smiled. I was an older woman, nonthreatening, no danger. I felt bad about what I was about to do, but I did it anyway, smiling back as I touched my fingertips to my temple. “Give me your car keys, then go to work.”

She repeated my instructions, handed over her keys, and reached into the midnight-blue Hyundai SUV for her purse.

“Leave it.”

Sadly, my borrowed pockets held nothing but lint. Should have thought ahead and asked my daughter for some cash—though like most Gen Zers, she rarely had any. But what difference did stealing make on top of grand theft auto?

At the next gas station, I used the woman’s cell phone—no password, shame on her—to search for the Leonard farm, then scribbled the address on a stray receipt. I tossed her phone into a sewer grate before heading inside where I bought a burner, then asked for a map of Wisconsin.

“You could just get this one.” The clerk pointed to a more expensive phone. “Then you could GPS it.”

I’d have to connect to my personal provider for that. And the entire point of tossing my own phone days ago, as well as tossing the phone of the waitress I’d robbed just now, was so Gideon couldn’t find me.

I shook my head. “Maps?”

The guy pointed to a revolving wire carousel hidden behind a display of energy drinks, which contained maps of Wisconsin and the surrounding states.

“I don’t know the last time anyone bought one of these.” The clerk scanned the barcode. “I hope it doesn’t send you down a road to nowhere.”

I wasn’t worried. The roads of northern Wisconsin didn’t change much. The Department of Transportation spent its budget on the byways that got the most use, for instance, the ones that went into and out of big cities or those that went into and out of the state. Considering those restored Victorians, Viroqua had been there since the mid-to-late 1800s, which meant the roads surrounding it had been there that long as well with only baseline maintenance and little to no rerouting.

In less than two hours, I turned off a highway that had been mostly deserted and rattled down the rutted gravel driveway that led to the Leonard farm. The moon’s silvery glow had been dulled to pewter by a sky filled with clouds. I still heard the moon singing, but her voice had waned, night by night, since she’d been full. According to every werewolf I knew, that music would grow louder as she waxed from new to full.

The just-sprung buds of corn in the fields fluttered, their shade a muted moss shrouded in ice, while the mud in the barnyard recalled a cup of espresso, the puddles undulating like a raven’s wing. In that vista of sepia, the white clapboard house and outbuildings shone pearlescent.

The night held its breath, but all I heard were the clicks of a cooling engine and the beginnings of a breeze. Shouldn’t there be the lowing of cows? Shouldn’t there be cows? Shouldn’t there be someone waking up to deal with the cows?

The porch steps creaked like those in a Gothic novel. I’d read quite a few once I’d discovered that Gothic lit became popular during the Victorian period. I’d been partial to Dracula. Kind of hilarious now.

I lifted my hand to knock, and the door screeched open. Maybe not so hilarious. If there were werewolves, were there vampires?

“Bloody hell.” I bit my tongue to stem the hysterical laughter that bubbled up over my choice of curse words. “Hello? Anyone home?”

As I didn’t want to be shot for trespassing, I remained perched on the threshold. Then it occurred to me that while that might hurt, it probably wouldn’t kill me because the chances of a dairy farmer in Viroqua packing silver cartridges were slim to none.

I stepped inside. “I have information about Natalie.”

I’d thought of little else during the two-hour drive, but what could I tell the Leonards that wouldn’t get them wiped out by a werewolf for knowing it? All I had were two truths and a lie—she’d been kidnapped by sex traffickers, then killed. And me? I was with the FBI task force handling the case.

I’d believed it when Ash said it; I hoped the Leonards would believe it when I did. If not, I’d have to push them to do so, as well as to keep the news to themselves. Didn’t need any real FBI agents following up.

Not a great plan, but I had to work with what I had.

I listened for the sounds of someone getting out of bed, opening a door, flushing a toilet. All I heard was another creak. I wished I had a gun, but my fangs and my teeth and my inability to die except by silver were pretty good weapons.

However, I was here to tell the Leonard family a partial truth. I wasn’t going to be able to do that if I was a wolf. And I wanted to tell them, needed to. There were many, many girls who weren’t coming home. Many, many families who would never know where they’d gone or what had happened to them. This girl I could do something about.

I took a breath to call out again, and the door slammed behind me. I would have blamed the wind if not for the gun barrel pressed to the base of my skull. I went very still.

“I told you I’d kill you the next time I saw you.”

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What are your top 10 favorite books/authors?

 

Lord of Scoundrels-Loretta Chase

One for the Money-Janet Evanovich

Heaven, Texas-Susan Elizabeth Philips

Guilty Pleasures-Laurel K Hamilton

Deal Breaker-Harlan Coben

To Kill a Mockingbird-Harper Lee

Jane Eyre-Charlotte Bronte

The Best Man-Kristan Higgins

The Shadow of the Lynx-Victoria Holt

The Promise of Jenny Jones-Maggie Osborne

 

How long have you been writing?

 

40 years.

 

Do the characters all come to you at the same time or do some of them come to you as you write?

 

The main characters are usually there when I start but not completely.  Others just walk on in.  Surprise!

 

What kind of research do you do before you begin writing a book?

 

I do a lot of reading and Googling on settings and occupations. Then I start writing and do more specific research as I go.

 

Do you see writing as a career?

 

Yes.  It has been my only career.

 

What do you think about the current publishing market?

 

Different from how it was when I started, that’s for sure.

 

Do you read yourself and if so what is your favorite genre?

 

I read quite a bit and the only thing I don’t read much of (except for research) is non-fiction.

 

Do you prefer to write in silence or with noise? Why?

 

Complete silence otherwise I get distracted.

 

Do you write one book at a time or do you have several going at a time?

 

One book at a time.

 

If you could have been the author of any book ever written, which book would you choose?

 

Harry Potter!

 

Pen or type writer or computer?

 

I brainstorm with pen and yellow legal pads. I write on the computer, though I did start my first book on a typewriter.

 

A day in the life of the author?

 

I’m up very early so I can hit my elliptical, then I walk the dog and make coffee.  Next it’s dealing with my social media and any emails I put aside from the day before.

 

I try to start writing by 9 am.  Once upon a time I would write from the minute my sons got on the bus until they came home, but these days I’m lucky to get in 3 hours before I need to deal with promotion details for any sales I have running or books I am releasing.

 

Then there’s life . . .

 

As the only child of an elderly mother, there is a lot to handle.  And I must admit that my 3 grandchildren are dazzling and I am frequently dazzled beyond the point of anything else.

 

Do you have any advice to offer for new authors?

 

Keep writing.  The only way to fail is to quit.

 

Describe your writing style.

 

Fast paced plot and true to life characters dealing with astounding situations.

 

What makes a good story?

 

Great characterization, structure and pacing.

 

What are you currently reading?

 

Elin Hilderbrand’s THE FIVE-STAR WEEKEND.

 

What is your writing process? For instance do you do an outline first? Do you do the chapters first?

 

I’m a pantser all the way.  I’ve tried to outline and find I get bored with the story, which means I don’t continue with it. 

 

Sometimes I will write the first chapter or two, then sketch an overview of the turning points and the ending, though all that is subject to change along the way.

 

What are common traps for aspiring writers?

 

Editing the beginning over and over, which means never reaching “the end.”  Push through.  The number of people who start a book, then don’t finish a book is epic.  Anything can be fixed but a blank page.

 

If you could tell your younger writing self anything, what would it be?

 

Start self-publishing the instant you hear about it.

 

What’s the most difficult thing about writing characters from other genders?

 

There is always the temptation to create men the way you want men to be. And, to an extent, this is what writing romance is about.  However they need to be realistic too.  It’s a balancing act.

 

How long on average does it take you to write a book?

 

I used to be able to write a 90,000+ word book in 3-4 months.  Now it would take me 9-12 months.  It is what it is.

 

Do you believe in writer’s block?

 

I do, I do, I do believe in writer’s block. The only way I’ve found to cure it, and sometimes only for a little while, is to push through the book I’m working on, don’t look back. Eyes on the prize of “the end.”  

 

Then edit, edit, edit.

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Blame It On Midnight

A Midnight Madness Nightcreature Novel Book 2

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I saved my daughter. But how do I save myself?

I did what I had to. Try and kill my girl? I will end you faster than you can say have mercy. Sure I broke a cardinal pack rule, which will get me executed by my mate. If they find out. If they find me.

Saved from capture by Zane, the sexiest of sexy werewolves, my rescue comes with a price. Zane wants a favor, one that could cause an all-out pack war. The last thing I need is to make more enemies, but lives are at stake if I don’t make a stand.
Not only that, but I have a secret. An impossible secret that is going to turn the entire werewolf world upside down.

From the voice of New York Times bestselling author Lori Handeland, a new volume in her Nightcreature world, complete with the humor, depth of characterization and fast-paced plot lines she is known for while showcasing the author’s incredible range.

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

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I found the country lane that led to where I was going. Several minutes later, the overgrown driveway spit me into a clearing tucked into a deep, dark wood. The place had always given me Hansel and Gretel vibes, but now, considering, it felt more Little Red Riding Hood.

I cast uneasy glances at the thick, dense trees, which, thanks to my fairy-tale thoughts—curse them!—appeared to heave and hum. Despite the ungodly hour, seemingly every available light fixture blazed within the gorgeous log home.

Why Frankie—my late husband’s assistant, a beautiful young man with ridiculously long, dark lashes and very shiny teeth—had built a place that fit him as well as shitkicker boots fit a gazelle had always been unclear.

Frankie’s baby—a peacock-blue 1957 Ford Fairlane convertible—shone beneath the light of the undulating moon, and before I could even knock, the door swung open.

Middle of the night and Frankie matched his car. Smooth. Cool. Classic. His cream trousers held a perfect crease, and his apricot button-down had never known a crinkle. The only indication of the ungodly hour were his bare, narrow feet.  We matched.

I lifted my hand. “Hi.”

His unwrinkled brow wrinkled. “People have been searching for you.”

Old news. The only one who hadn’t been, come to think of it, was Frankie. And now that I did think of it, and considering . . . everything . . . that was suspect.

“I told them you were visiting a friend.”

Oh. Right. I had said that. Had, in fact, pushed him with my mind—my innate werewolf gift—into believing it despite—

“Then someone mentioned you don’t have friends.”

That.

I had contractors. Suppliers. Consultants. I had made Patrick’s Victorian family home into a showplace once featured in Architectural Digest, something that had made Patrick proud of the place for the first, and last, time I could recall.

I had neighbors. Fellow members of charitable organizations. Spouses of other politicians. Basically acquaintances. I’d never fit in. Not anywhere. Ever. Except with Patrick. With Gideon. And I hadn’t wanted to.

But now would have been a good time to have friends. Someone I could go to for help besides my husband’s lover. But you get what you get.

The wind chose that second to rustle through the trees and waft the scent of rotting walnuts across my face. I tensed and whirled, spreading my arms wide, putting myself between that scent and Frankie.

But behind me—to the left and to the right—there was nothing but trees, and when I took another whiff . . . more nothing. Because I’d killed the last werewolf that smelled like that. I knew I had.

“Sarah, what the he—?”

I shoved Frankie inside and slammed the door, flicked the lock, looked for a dead bolt. Didn’t find one, but a dead bolt wasn’t going to help if a werewolf wanted in. A werewolf would just jump through one of the far too numerous windows.

“Did you ever consider storm shutters for those?”

“To prep for the hurricane that isn’t going to hit Wisconsin ever?” Frankie asked.

I started turning off the lights. “Better safe than sorry.”

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Nothing Good Happens After Midnight

A Midnight Madness Nightcreature Novel Book 1

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They say a mother will do anything for her child . . . I’m living proof

This nightmare began when I got the call every parent dreads. My daughter, Jenna, was missing from her college campus. Of course, my mind went to the worst place. After all, my late husband was a powerful senator. Was this some political payback?

I call in a favor and soon I’m partnered with an FBI sex trafficking agent. He tells me local girls have been disappearing for some time now, and he finally has a lead. But what we find at that abandoned warehouse is something out of a horror movie.

Werewolves! Two rival packs, their alphas fighting, winner take all––the pack and the trafficked girls. The werewolves must replenish their breeders, recently decimated by a virus that killed only the females.

But Jenna’s been keeping a secret, which only makes two of us. Though I should be angry, I know the lies I’ve told play a huge role in why we’re here. I’ll do anything to make it right. No way is my girl going to become a sacrificial mate for the greater good––even if she is the ‘chosen one.’ So, I do what any mother would do, I take her place, offering myself to Gideon, the winning alpha, as his mate.

Gideon’s goal is to live in harmony with the human world, but there are others who exist for the power, for the violence, and they don’t plan to let peace prevail.

There’s a civil werewolf war brewing and I am right in the middle of it.

From the voice of New York Times bestselling author Lori Handeland, a new volume in her Nightcreature world, complete with the humor, depth of characterization and fast-paced plot lines she is known for while showcasing the author’s incredible range.

Amazon * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

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.

When the phone rings in the middle of the night, everything changes.

Mother always said: Nothing good happens after midnight. I’d found in my forty-one years on this earth, in that at least, Mom had been right.

I sat up so fast I jiggled the mattress. I froze, my gaze shifting to, then away from the empty side of the bed. I still hadn’t gotten used to Patrick not being there. Would I ever?

The shrill slice of sound continued to cut through the oh so silent night. I only had one ringtone left on my allowed calls after that indelible hour of midnight, and this was it. My heart rate increased from WTF? to OMG!

“Jenna?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Sullivan. It’s Cammy.”

I searched my memory for the identity of Cammy, feeling slow, stupid despite the far too rapid rate of my heart.

Spring, same time two years ago, my OB had diagnosed the reason for my newly sluggish brain and sudden ability to fry eggs atop my head as premature menopause.

Look at it this way, you won’t have to worry about getting pregnant for very much longer.

Not that I had for decades. However, having my body betray me like that—basically saying I was old, when I never really got to be young—had stung. It still did.

Cammy’s tentative voice brought me back to the right now. “I’m Jenna’s roommate.”

My skin prickled with heat and a fine sheen of sweat started up at my hairline. “What’s wrong?”

“Jenna hasn’t been here since Tuesday.”

Here being the University of Wisconsin. I’d been so proud when Jenna had decided to go to UW like me. Or like the me I could have been, would have been if not for her.

“Tuesday,” I repeated. “But it’s . . .”

Come on, brain, don’t fail me now!

Thursday! I thought at the same time Cammy said, “Thursday.”

For an instant, I was near ecstatic to have concluded something at the same speed as a millennial. Then I did the math, never my strong suit even before all the brain-fart BS. “That’s two days, and you’re just calling me now?”

“Sometimes she pulls an all-nighter. Stays at the library or goes to a study group. But she lets me know. I didn’t really worry until I called her phone, and it was . . .”

My skin did that prickle again. Jenna’s phone was in Cammy’s hand, obviously, since she was talking to me on it. That I hadn’t asked why earlier put another notch in my losin’ it belt.

“Her phone was in her backpack,” Cammy continued. “In her room, along with her laptop and her books.”

Cammy paused, waiting for me to fill in the blanks. Jenna probably wouldn’t be studying without her backpack, and the notes and books and computer within. But even if she’d grabbed a few things and left the rest, she never would have left her cell phone. I didn’t think it had been out of her sight—more accurately, out of her hand—since I’d handed it to her when she was ten.

“In Lunar Lake, anywhere can be reached from anywhere in a handful of minutes,” Patrick had argued. “Even if she falls off her bike and breaks her leg, someone’s gonna be at her side quicker than she can make a call. She’s safer than safe, like every other kid in town. What are you worried about?”

When I lifted my eyebrows, he’d blinked, said, “Oh,” and that had been the last Patrick had said about that. He knew why I was the way I was better than anyone. It was one of the reasons I’d married him.

I’d devoted my life to raising Jenna. She was everything. The only thing. When she’d gone to college, I’d been proud but also terrified. This exact scenario—a midnight phone call, a missing child—played through my mind far too often. Sadly, what I should do about it had never played through as well.

“Hello?” Cammy’s worried voice broke into my thoughts. She probably thought I’d fainted. Or stroked out. I was tempted.

But all Jenna had was me now, and all I had was her. If that meant facing my greatest fear again, I’d face it. What choice did I have?

She was my baby.

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**FREEBIE ALERT!**

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Get the first Nightcreature novel, Blue Moon for FREE!!

Get it on Amazon

.

Lori Handeland is a five-time nominee and two-time winner of the prestigious RITA™ Award from Romance Writers of America, as well as the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over sixty novels spanning the genres of paranormal romance, urban fantasy, contemporary romance, historical romance, historical fantasy and women’s fiction. Her novel Just Once received a coveted, starred review from Library Journal and was optioned as a feature film by Catalyst Global Media.

Lori set her sight on being an author at the age of ten. She remembers sitting at a typewriter before she knew how to type, pecking out a story about a family who went into space. As an only child her summers were spent with that typewriter, television, and, above all, books. As a young adult, she got sidetracked by the need to make a living. She worked as a waitress and later enrolled in college to become a teacher.

Lori lives in Southern Wisconsin with her husband of over thirty-five years. In between writing and reading, she enjoys long walks with their rescue mutt, Arnold, and visits from her two grown sons, awesome daughter-in-law and perfectly adorable grandchildren.

Website * Facebook * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Rise Of Dresca organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Author Tim McKay will be awarding a $40 Amazon or B&N Gift ardC 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.

Rise Of Dresca

by Tim McKay

 

https://i0.wp.com/blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-qJKw_NBfwA-GWNIAINguCLHvfbIesOVnF4RfJ4wMhsYXAeF07W6RJo_78bhthODHAn6unybvwbI6ExJ1x3n4Fx0poRpDERQatkKYRsdiDI4yGzbwyrBNfWdRFJmVJ1947dfLbjsXEaJ9Sxx8s2gnzS0oxXGNWvqsmSY4k_5oaz4I1Of1SzkBXVqrLac/s4950/BookCover_RiseofDresca_SC_Final_Front.jpg?ssl=1

 

Genre: YA / Dark Fantasy

Synopsis

From the pits of an ancient darkness, a new power is rising.

******

Ceremai has fallen.

After a decade of struggle for independence, a fledgling nation collapses under the unrelenting force of invasion.

Join an unlikely band of allies on a journey beset by shadow and intrigue, pulled by the strings of fate to the source of a new evil.

A lord’s daughter turns assassin. An orphan girl discovers her power. A captain plots in vain.

And the last soldier of Ceremai finds his destiny.

Witness the dawn of a new age, and learn if what evil intended for harm…

… can become something far more terrible.

 

Enjoy this peek inside:

“I’m not much of a teacher,” said Sevora. She unclipped her scabbard and pulled the long blade free.

“I’ll bet,” said Datha with a snicker, just loud enough to regret it when Sevora sent him her most withering look.

“I’ll do my best to keep up,” said Vald. As he pulled Seth’s korossa from its worn scabbard, the blade seemed to ring. Sevora could have sworn she saw a faint blue light glimmer along its edge. She’d have shrugged it off if not for Seth’s wide eyes, which quickly turned serious.

Vald handed the scabbard to Seth, then twisted the sword in a narrow flourish, gripping hard on the hilt and shifting down into a stance Sevora recognized. Vald wasn’t showing off. She was about to be challenged.

She drew herself up. “Read… ahem… ready?”

Vald nodded.

Sevora shot forward, left arm straightened and her sword piercing the air where Vald’s bulk had been. He’d stepped left, pivoting and catching her blade with a stiff but powerful undercut. The force pulled her arm up and around so she stumbled two steps over.

She’d left her side open and knew what was coming. Vald closed in with a sweeping diagonal slash that her hasty defense barely caught. He pressed his korossa on hers and it took all her strength to keep her own blade from digging into her shoulder. Their eyes locked.

For the first time since the dragon swarms flew east, she was afraid.

About Author Tim McKay:

https://i1.wp.com/blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZA41ULLbr5hv1s0cssg7MH-3SJ98dnnwvIhDqqII4LK1sUSRAZFcYox4jkjoE2WE8_jB7SNRQ4veYiUitd65QFS7asHdo0YCVuM45dhrTWpKi3h_bEIg1Rt4CwdePTqWQBI_Wy23JSkcjdUdZ0MYcJUpSYTUFz8vqrACF2Rnv_Nse0RRUeN4trpB3Bg/s2880/Author%20Image%20TimothyMcKay0014_Resize.jpg?ssl=1

Tim McKay is a writer, editor, and marketer from Ottawa, Canada. He used to be a pastor, still cares about good and evil, and still strives to create meaningful experiences for others. He has degrees in history, theology, and public policy, along with a diploma in professional writing, but likes nothing more than hiking in the woods, running along the Rideau Canal, and connecting with the people he loves. Oh, and reading a good book.

Author Links: Website / Twitter / Instagram

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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.