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Dead Man's Leap by Tina deBellegarde Banner

Dead Man’s Leap

by Tina deBellegarde

May 1-31, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:
Dead Man's Leap by Tina deBellegarde
DEAD MAN’S LEAP revisits Bianca St. Denis in Batavia-on-Hudson, New York

Rushing waters…dead bodies…secrets…

As Bianca St. Denis and her neighbors scour their attics for donations to the charity rummage sale, they unearth secrets as well as prized possessions. Leonard Marshall’s historic inn hosts the sale each year, but it is his basement that houses the key to his past. When an enigmatic antiques dealer arrives in town, he upends Leonard’s carefully reconstructed life with an impossible choice that harkens back to the past.

Meanwhile, when a storm forces the villagers of Batavia-on-Hudson to seek shelter, the river rises and so do tempers. Close quarters fuel simmering disputes, and Sheriff Mike Riley has his work cut out for him. When the floods wash up a corpse, Bianca once again finds herself teaming up with Sheriff Riley to solve a mystery. Are they investigating an accidental drowning or something more nefarious?

Dead Man’s Leap explores the burden of secrets, the relief of renunciation, and the danger of believing we can outpace our past.
Book Details:

Genre: Traditional Mystery Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: April 5, 2022 Number of Pages: 254 ISBN: 1685120849 (ISBN-13: 978-1685120849) Series: A Batavia-on-Hudson Mystery, #2 Purchase Links: Amazon

Read an excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
He inched toward the precipice, his toes gripping the stone ledge as if they had a will of their own. He lifted his head and squinted into the sunlight still streaming through the blackening clouds. He took in the expanse of rushing water below. In all his eighteen years, Trevor had never seen the creek roil so ferociously. A clap of thunder startled him. His toes relaxed, and he felt as if the slightest wind could take him over the edge. Lightheaded for a second, he regained his footing and his purpose. He had no choice if he wanted all this to stop. He needed to do it. And do it now. The downpour would break again soon. But for now, all he could hear was the rushing of Horseshoe Falls beneath him, the roar drowning out the noise of his past. Of his father. Of his mother. Yes, his mother. He had expected his father to be weak, and wasn’t surprised at all after he left. But his mother? A mother’s love is supposed to be unconditional. At least that’s what she had always said before she had turned their world upside down. It was bad enough when she had played at being the sexiest woman in town. At least when his friends teased him then, it was meant to be fun. But this was worse, far worse. Now they wanted nothing to do with him. Now they used him as a punching bag. His gang no longer looked to him as their leader. They ridiculed him for what his mother had done. From the beginning, he knew those kids were bad news. What choice did he have? In grade school he’d been bullied. Well, he had put a stop to that in high school. Can’t be bullied if you’re the biggest bully. His mother was gone. His father was gone. And now his posse. First, it was the cold shoulder, and a few snide remarks. Then he was cornered in the locker room after the game one day. That was the hardest. He hadn’t taken a beating like that since the fifth grade. But the tables had been turned on him so fast that he never saw it coming. Trevor realized now that they were never friends. They were just a group of trouble makers who hung out together. Good riddance to them. He didn’t need them anymore. Another thunderclap reminded him where he was. On the edge. Right on the edge. He either had to do this properly or he would be going over anyway. Trevor looked over his shoulder one last time and heard a faint commotion in the background. Once they rounded the path, he closed his eyes and jumped. * * * Bianca St. Denis stretched to grab the cord just out of reach above her head and yanked on it with all her force to bring down the attic staircase. She tilted her head to avoid being struck as it made its way down. She unfolded the retractable stairs and put one foot on the first rung. But there she stopped, not sure she could take the next few steps. At forty-two the issue wasn’t her physical ability to climb the steps, she was active, even fairly athletic. The old saying went “the mind was willing but the body was not.” Well, in her case “the body was willing but the mind was not.” She had stayed out of the attic all these months since Richard’s death. She had made do without her ski parka this past winter, and used Richard’s barn jacket she’d found in the mudroom instead. She had made do without the spring curtains she would normally switch out in the living room each March. The winter ones still hung heavy and foreboding. And she made do without the patio cushions she had sewn two seasons ago. She simply sat on the raw wood when she wanted to read or eat in the backyard. She hadn’t realized the number of things she had been doing without by avoiding the attic, not until the town started buzzing about the rummage sale. She pretended it was because she hadn’t had time to search for the items, but she knew better. She took her foot off the rung, bent and picked up the stairs again, refolded them, and let them float to the ceiling. The hatch closed with a neat click. * * * Once Trevor hit the water, his tension disappeared. He welcomed the release and let himself drop. Slowly he was pulled down into the chaos of the rushing water, but his mind had floated above it all. He didn’t feel a thing, he observed it instead. He watched as his body sank, as it swirled in the vortex of the overfull creek. He watched as his body escaped the current and floated peacefully in the murky water. And he watched as he gave in to full renunciation and allowed the water to decide what was to become of him. His thoughts slowed, as muddy as the water surrounding him. They slowed, but he could not make them disappear. He had managed to avoid jumping off Dead Man’s Leap every summer, but this year he knew he couldn’t get away with it. They had already threatened to make sure he jumped this year. That was only part of what the summer had in store for him. Who could he turn to? His grandparents had no idea what he was going through. They always hid their heads in the sand anyway. There was nothing they could do for him. So, he had taken matters into his own hands. He was shocked when his head broke the surface, and despite himself he gasped for air in enormous mouthfuls until he gagged. He bobbed there, undecided, until he finally attempted the few strides to reach the cove. It took him longer than he expected, like swimming in molasses. A cross between his fatigue, his indifference, and the strong current kept him from reaching the bank in the three strokes it would normally require. On his knees, he crawled out of the pull of rushing water and dropped on the shore. * * * Leonard Marshall picked up the package, the paper crinkling in his hand. He carefully unwrapped one layer, then another. Layer after layer until he held the smooth tiny statuette in his hand. He trembled, and smiled, attracted and repulsed at the same time. How could such a tiny thing hold so many emotions for him? So much power over him? It was so small he could cradle it in the palm of his hand. He closed his fingers around it. It disappeared. He opened them again, and there it was. With it came a flood of memories. Exhilarating. His heart raced with a quick pat, pat, pat. The basement door creaked. He took in a breath. Time slowed and his heart with it. Thump……thump……thump. The light clicked on. Another creak. Above him a step, a pause, another step. The door ached on its hinges as it opened wider. The light flicked off. The door closed. The steps faded. He let out his breath. * * * Trevor had never experienced fatigue like this. He crawled onto shore in the shadow of the cliff and collapsed. He never expected to make it out of the water, and now that he had, he lay there drawing in large mouthfuls of air, as if his lungs would never get enough. He stayed there, staring up at the sky, watching the dark clouds shapeshift. The rain would be there any moment, and to his surprise, he welcomed it. As his breathing relaxed, he realized that the pain he felt was a sharp object stabbing his back. He rolled over, removed it, and threw it off to the side. As he turned to lay back down, his blurry eyes focused on the object. It was a bone. A human bone? He scrambled onto his knees and slowly made his way over to it. He was repulsed and fascinated, but mostly he was frightened by the sight of a bone and what that could mean. What had happened here, right here in this cove? In the distance, he heard their drunken voices again. He knelt and grabbed handfuls of dirt to cover the bone. He heard them approach the edge of the cliff. “He came this way. I saw him jump.” “He’s too chicken, he didn’t jump. But when I find him, he’ll jump alright. He’ll jump or I’ll send him flying.” “He jumped, I tell ya. Leave him alone. You wanted him to jump, and he did. I saw him. Let it go, already.” “Yeah, well if he jumped, where is he?” “You think he’s still under? You think he hit his head like that kid a while back?” “I’m telling you, he didn’t jump.” “There’s nowhere else to go but down. Of course, he jumped.” “I’m going in. If he did jump, we’ll find him down there. He’s probably hiding under the cliff.” Trevor carefully picked his way out of the cove. Scraping up against the cliff as close as his body would allow, he followed the contours until he came out on the other side of the falls. With his last bit of strength, he climbed up the rocky trail alongside Horseshoe Falls. *** Excerpt from Dead Man’s Leap by Tina deBellegarde. Copyright 2022 by Tina deBellegarde. Reproduced with permission from Tina deBellegarde. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Tina deBellegarde:
Tina deBellegarde

Tina deBellegarde has been called “the Louise Penny of the Catskills.” Winter Witness, the first book in her Batavia-on-Hudson Mystery series, was nominated for an Agatha Award for Best First Novel, a Silver Falchion Award and a Chanticleer Mystery and Mayhem Award. Her story “Tokyo Stranger” which appears in the Mystery Writers of America anthology When a Stranger Comes to Town edited by Michael Koryta has been nominated for a Derringer Award. Tina’s short fiction also appears in The Best New England Crime Stories anthologies. She is the vice-president of the Upper Hudson Chapter of Sisters in Crime, a member of Mystery Writers of America and Writers in Kyoto. She lives in Catskill, New York, with her husband Denis and their cat Shelby where they tend to their beehives, harvest shiitake mushrooms, and cultivate their vegetable garden. She winters in Florida and travels to Japan regularly to visit her son Alessandro.

Catch Up With Tina deBellegarde: tinadebellegarde.com Goodreads BookBub – @tinadebellegarde Instagram – @tdb_writes Twitter – @tdbwrites Facebook – @tinadebellegardeauthor

 

 

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ItNeverOccuredtoher copy

Welcome to the book tour for It Never Occurred to Her by Michelle Jester! Read on for more info!

It Never Occurred to Her by Michelle Jester

It Never Occurred to Her

Publication Date: November 28th, 2021

Genre: Mystery/ Thriller/ Christian Fiction

For two years Gabriel has followed every lead, no matter how small, in the hope of finding his wife who has been kidnapped. He and the police always seem to be one step behind, until investigators give him information that helps him launch the plan to find her.

When Lena looks up into the eyes of her husband, who she hasn’t seen in two years, she is humiliated and wants nothing more than to run before he recognizes her. And so she does. It’s only when she faces a desperate situation that she is forced to return and ask for his help.

As fate twists its way through both of their lives, they realize it doesn’t matter how much they have prepared to face the realities of losing someone, or finding them again, redemption is in letting go of the past and finding a future just off the beaten path.

TW: Kidnapping/ Torture (Not Explicit)

Available on Amazon

About the Author

Michelle Jester Author Photo88 - sq

Michelle Jester lives in Louisiana with her husband, high school sweetheart and retired Master Sergeant. She is contributing author to the #1 bestseller My Labor Pains Were Worse than Yours, and has been writing poems and stories for as long as she can remember. Michelle is a hopeless romantic who wears a bracelet with a single yellow, rubber duckie charm on it to remind her to enjoy the fun and happy things of life!

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It Never Occurred to Her 101 (4)

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Razing Stakes by TG Wolff Banner

Razing Stakes

by TG Wolff
April 1-30, 2022 Virtual Book Tour
Synopsis:
Razing Stakes by TG Wolff

The first day of summer is the last day of a young accountant’s life. Colin McHenry is out for his regular run when an SUV crosses into his path, crushing him. Within hours of the hit-skip, Cleveland Homicide Detective Jesus De La Cruz finds the vehicle in the owner’s garage, who’s on vacation three time zones away. The setup is obvious, but not the hand behind it. The suspects read like a list out of a textbook: the jilted fiancée, the jealous coworker, the overlooked subordinate, the dirty client.

His plate already full, Cruz is assigned to a “special project,” a case needing to be solved quickly and quietly. Cleveland Water technicians are the targets of focused attacks. The crimes range from intimidation to assault. The locations swing between the east, west, and south sides of the city. This is definitely madness, but there is a method behind it.

The two cases are different and yet the same. Motives, opportunities, and alibis don’t point in a single direction. In these mysteries, Cruz has to think laterally, yanking down the curtain to expose the master minding the strings.

 

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery

Published by: Down & Out Books Publication Date: February 14, 2022 Number of Pages: 294 ISBN: 978-1-64396-245-0 Series: The De La Cruz Case Files, 3rd in series

Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Down & Out Books

Read an excerpt:
Ten minutes dead. The sun shined brightly, no clouds on this first day of summer, the last day of John Doe’s life. Cleveland police Detective Jesus De La Cruz squatted next to the broken body. The warmth beneath his hand testified to the newness of death. Two EMTs had worked to sustain the man’s life. One was at the ambulance now, tending to the tools of his trade. The other stood over the body, shaking his head at the victim. “He was dead before we arrived, Detective. He just didn’t know it.” The EMT peeled off his gloves, finality in a simple act. “Damn it if we didn’t fight for him. In the end, he was just too crushed.” Cruz rose looking east and west, north and south. The crime scene was on the side of a road halfway between East 9th Street and East 55th Street. North Marginal was a two-way street carved between Lake Erie and a spur off I-90 called the Shoreway. Properties cut off by the Shoreway—the Coast Guard station, Burke Lakefront Airport, a private marina, a condominium complex—were accessed from North Marginal. Even at the busiest times of day, vehicular traffic here was scant. Middle of a workday, a steady stream of runners arced around the first responders. “Popular place,” Cruz said, meeting the eyes of a curious runner rubbernecking as he slowed to a jog. “It is,” the EMT said. “Few better places downtown for running. A solid two and a half miles with no cross streets. Whoever hit him came from the east. Blew him up.” The body spoke for itself. No way it could be where it was being hit from the west. Cruz straddled the curb, which was a generous term for the inch separating the driving surface from the running path. A bicycle wouldn’t call it an obstacle. John Doe either never saw it coming or was unable to get out of the way. The impact had launched him into the airport’s tall security fence. The fence bounced him back, the one-hundred-eighty-pound body a pinball rebounding off bumpers. John Doe had been moved, necessary and appropriate as he’d been alive when he was found. “Medical Examiner is en route,” the EMT said. “He’s yours now.” “I’ll take care of him.” Cruz studied the victim. The man was mostly skin. He had taken off his shirt on the warm day, one of the first to be hot. A shirt lay on the edge of the path, marked by an evidence tag. Two other shirts lay close to the body; one black, one yellow and stained with blood. The running shorts covered hip to mid-thigh. He wore socks, shoes, and a fitness device on his wrist. Skin was scraped off his arms, legs, chest, and face, the asphalt unforgiving. An AirPod was in his left ear, the right one missing. Squatting again, Cruz felt the side seams of the shorts, finding zippered pockets. Inside the right one was a slim, card-size piece of plastic, a security badge for a building on East 9th Street. The dead man smiled out of a poor-quality image. Beneath was the name Colin McHenry. “Detective, we found his phone,” one of the officers securing the scene called out. “It’s in good shape. Thumb print pass coded.” “Open it before the ME takes him. Who found him?” “A pair of runners. I parked them under the big tree.” The officer pointed across North Marginal to a small grove on a manmade hill. The two men waited anxiously under the tree, watching the activity. Both were runners. Both were shirtless. Both came to attention as Cruz approached and introduced himself. “I’m Landon Chartres, this is Denny Bradford. We saw him as soon as we came around the bend. He was half in the street.” The otherwise straight line of North Marginal had a large curve bumping out to make space for an exit from the Shoreway. McHenry’s body would have been screened by the fence and shrubs separating the public from the airport’s private property. “We knew someone was ahead of us,” Bradford said. “When you turn onto the Marginal, you can you see all the way to the curve.” Chartres nodded like a bobblehead. “We saw the vehicle that must have hit him. It was the only one that passed us before we got to him. Black SUV. Part of the license plate was LDC. Those are my initials, so it caught my attention. I didn’t catch the make or model.” Bradford looked behind him, to East 9th Street. He repeatedly shifted his weight from foot to foot. “He was only out of our sight to a few minutes. Would you say he had a five-minute lead, Landon?” “At most. Probably more like three or four. We called 9-1-1 and pulled him out of the road. Anyone coming around the curve would have hit him. We used our shirts to try to stop the bleeding.” As a pair of witnesses went, these two were easy, answering questions before he could ask them. They wanted to talk, maybe even needed to talk. “Did anyone pass you from behind, coming from East 9th going east?” The pair looked at each other, huddled like they were on a pitcher’s mound deciding on a call. It was Chartres who answered. “We don’t think so, Detective, but we couldn’t swear to it. We weren’t paying that much attention. But the one that came toward us, the one with my initials, it was flying.” “Is he going to make it?” Bradford asked, hope in his voice. “The ambulance got here fast. We kept pressure on his wounds, like they tell you to.” “I’m sorry, he didn’t.” As if on cue, an engine started. The ambulance pulled away without a passenger. *** Excerpt from Razing Stakes by TG Wolff. Copyright 2022 by TG Wolff. Reproduced with permission from TG Wolff. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author TG Wolff
TG Wolff

TG Wolff writes thrillers and mysteries that play within the gray area between good and bad, right and wrong. Cause and effect drive the stories, drawing from 20+ years’ experience in Civil Engineering, where “cause” is more often a symptom of a bigger, more challenging problem. Diverse characters mirror the complexities of real life and real people, balanced with a healthy dose of entertainment. TG Wolff holds a Master’s Degree in Civil Engineering and is a member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.

Catch Up With TG Wolff: TGWolffCom.wordpress.com Goodreads BookBub – @TG_Wolff Instagram – @tg_wolff Twitter – @tg_wolff Facebook

 

 

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CRIMSON SUMMER

Author: Heather Graham

ISBN: 9780778311829

Publication Date: April 5, 2022

Publisher: MIRA Books

Summary:

 

From New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham, suspense following agents from the FBI and Florida Department of Law Enforcement as they investigate a series of murders linked to conspiracy theorists and doomsday cults.

 

Just when FDLE agent Amy Larson thought she’d wrapped up her most chilling case, she was delivered a red toy horse–a not-so-subtle taunt from a Doomsday cult that she and FBI agent Hunter Forrest hoped they’d taken down. A apparent turf war in Seminole territory in North Florida is the scene of a bloody massacre, and the blame seems to lie with drug cartels out of South America. The trail will take the pair on a cross-country hunt, and deep into a world of conspiracy theories, greed and privilege, where a powerful, hidden group is trying to create civil unrest through violence.

Buy Links: 

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REVIEW

Boy, does Heather really bring it. Right from the Prologue. I was immediately put on the scene. She sucked me into it. Such a beautiful place. I experienced the beauty of the Everglades. The scents, the sounds, the air laden with moisture. Then I was smacked in the face. The blood, the bodies. What a jolt.

As the author introduced the players and deftly wove her plot, my eagerness grew. I had a good feeling this was going to be another killer read.

If you enjoy stories where you think you know where it’s going and then find out you don’t, and intricate plots along with genuine characters, Heather Graham doesn’t disappoint you.

I’ve been working a lot of overtime lately and struggling to stay awake to read. While I didn’t read this straight through, I really wanted to. I felt this need to know what was coming next. Just couldn’t make my tired eyes stay open. It took me two nights and I enjoyed every bit of it. Kudos to Heather Graham for giving me my up all night reading back.

 5 STARS

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Prologue

 

The sun was out, inching its way up in the sky, casting golden rays and creating a beautiful display of color over the shading mangroves and cypress growing richly in the area. The sunlight touched on the streams running throughout the Everglades, the great “River of Grass” stretching over two hundred acres in southern and central portions of Florida, creating a glittering glow of nature.

The sky was gold and red at the horizon, and brilliantly blue above, with only a few soft puffs of clouds littered about. Diamonds and crystals seemed to float on the water.

Such beauty. Such peace.

Then there was the crime scene.

The bodies lay strewn and drenched with blood. The rich, natural earth hues of the Everglades were caught in a surreal image, greens and browns spattered liberally with the color red as if an angry child had swung a sopping paint-brush around.

Aidan Cypress had never understood why the mocking-bird had been made Florida’s state bird—not when it seemed that vultures ruled the skies overhead. Never more so than today.

Now, as he stood overlooking the scene with his crew and special agents from the FDLE, trying to control the crime scene against the circling vultures, Aidan couldn’t help but wonder just what had happened and why it had happened this way—and grit his teeth knowing there would be speculation.

Stooping down by the body of a man Aidan believed to be in his midthirties—with dark hair, olive complexion, possibly six feet in height, medium build—he noted the shaft of an arrow protruding from the man’s gut.

All the dead had been killed with arrows, hatchets, axes and knives. Because whoever had done this had apparently tried to make it look like a historical Native American rampage.

Except the killers hadn’t begun to understand there were differences in the weaponry and customs between the nations and tribes of the indigenous peoples across the country.

In South Florida, the dead man’s coloring could mean many things; Aidan himself was a member of the Seminole tribe of Florida, though somewhere in his lineage, some-one had been white—most probably from northern Europe originally. He had a bronze complexion, thick, straight hair that was almost ebony…and green eyes.

South Florida was home to those who had come from Cuba, Central and South America and probably every island out there. The area was truly a giant melting pot. That’s how his family had begun. In a way, history had created the Seminole tribe because there had been a time when settlers had called any indigenous person in Florida a Seminole.

But while the killers had tried to make this look like a massacre of old, the dead men were not Seminole. They were, Aidan believed, Latino. He could see tattoos on the lower arms of a few of the dead who had been wearing T-shirts; a single word was visible in the artwork on the man in front of him—Hermandad.

Spanish for “Brotherhood.”

“What the hell happened here, Aidan?”

Aidan looked up to see that John Schultz—Special Agent John Schultz, Florida Department of Law Enforcement—was standing by his side.

John went on. “It’s like a scene out of an old cowboys and Indians movie!”

Aidan stared at John as he rose, bristling—and yet he knew what it looked like at first glance.

“Quaking aspen,” Aidan said.

“Quaking aspen?” John repeated blankly.

“It’s not native to this area. Look at the arrow. That wasn’t made by any Seminole, Miccosukee or other Florida Native American. That is a western wood.”

“Yeah, well, things travel these days.”

Aidan shook his head. He liked John and respected him. The older agent was experienced, a few years shy of retirement. The tall, gray-haired man had recently suffered a heart attack, had taken the prescribed time off and come back to the field. They’d worked together dozens of times before. He could be abrasive—he had a sometimes-unhappy tendency to say what he thought, before thinking it through.

A few years back John had been partnered with a young woman named Amy Larson. It had taken John a long time to accept her age—and the fact she was female. Once he’d realized her value, though, he’d become her strongest supporter.

But Amy wasn’t here today.

And Aidan missed her. She softened John’s rough edges.

She was still on holiday somewhere with Hunter Forrest, the FBI agent she’d started dating. They were off on an island enjoying exotic breezes and one another’s company minus all the blood and mayhem.

Aidan stopped lamenting the absence of his favorite FDLE agent and waved away a giant vulture trying to hone in on a nearby body.

Half of the corpses were already missing eyes and bits and pieces of skin and soft tissue.

Aidan sighed and looked around. There were twenty bodies, all of them male, between the ages of twenty and forty, he estimated.

Because he’d noted the tattoos on a few of them, and using his own years of experience, he theorized the dead were members of a gang. Florida had many such gangs. Most were recruits from the various drug cartels, resolved to hold dominion over their territories.

He looked at John, trying to be patient, understanding and professional enough to control his temper. “You know, you may be the special agent, but I’m the forensics expert, and this was not something perpetrated by any of the Florida tribes—or any tribe anywhere. I can guarantee you no one sent out a war party to slaughter some gang members. Someone tried—ridiculously—to make this look like some Natives did this.”

“Hey, sorry, you’re right. Forgive me—just…look around!” John said quickly and sincerely. “It’s just at first sight…well, I mean—wow. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The apology was earnest. “Okay. Let’s figure out what really happened.”

The corpses were in something of a clearing right by a natural stream making its way through hammocks thick with cypress trees and mangroves and all kinds of underbrush.

While the area was customarily filled with many birds—herons, cranes, falcons, hawks and more—it was the vultures who had staked out a claim. The bodies lay with arrows and axes protruding from their heads, guts or chests, as if they’d fought in a bloody battle. And now they succumbed to decay on the damp and redolent earth.

John followed Aidan’s gaze and winced. “It’s a mess. Okay, well…all right. I’m going to go over and interview the man who found this.”

“Jimmy Osceola,” Aidan said. “He’s been fishing this little area all his life, and he does tours. Two birds with one stone. Members of his family work with him and all of them fish and take tourists out here. He has a great little place right off I-75. It’s called Fresh Catch, and his catch is about as fresh as it gets. Catfish. He’s a good guy, John.”

“I believe you. But we’re going to need a break here—you and your team have to find something for me to go on.”

Aidan stared at him, gloved hands unclenching at his sides. John was rough around the edges and said whatever came to mind, but he was a good cop.

He’d be hell-bent on finding out just what had gone on here.

Aidan told him what he’d heard. “Jimmy was out with a boatload of tourists—they’re right over there. See—two couples, a kid who just started at FIU and two middle-aged women. The first officers on the scene made sure they all stayed. Go talk to them. They look like they came upon a bloodbath—oh, wait, they did.”

John arched a brow to him and said, “Yeah. I got it.”

He headed off to talk to Jimmy Osceola and the group with him.

Aidan studied the crime scene again, as a whole.

First, what the hell had all these men been doing out here? A few of them looked to have been wearing suits; most were in T-shirts and jeans.

The few bodies he had noted—not touching any of them, that was the medical examiner’s purview—seemed to bear that same tattoo. Hermandad.

That meant a gang of enforcers in his mind, and he was sure it was a good guess.

Had a big drug deal been planned?

They were on state land, but it was state land traveled only by the local tribes who knew it. The park service rangers also came through, and the occasional tourist who arranged for a special excursion into the wilds.

Bird-watchers, often enough.

All they’d see today, however, would be the vultures.

“Aidan.”

He heard his name spoken by a quiet female voice and he swung around.

Amy Larson was not enjoying an exotic island vacation.

She was standing just feet from him, having carefully avoided stepping on any of the bodies, pools of blood or possible evidence. She was in a navy pantsuit, white cotton shirt and serviceable black sneakers—obviously back to work.

No matter how all-business her wardrobe, Amy had blue-crystal eyes that displayed empathy and caring. She was great at both assuring witnesses and staring down suspects.

“What are you doing here, Amy?” Aidan asked her. “You’re supposed to be sunbathing somewhere, playing in the surf with Hunter.”

“I was.”

“So what happened?”

“It was great. Champagne, chocolates, sun, surf, sand…” She sighed.

“And?”

“And a little red horse—like the one from last month’s crime scene—delivered right to the room,” she said.

 

Excerpted from Crimson Summer by Heather Graham, Copyright © 2022 by Heather Graham Pozzessere. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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About Author Heather Graham:

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Heather Graham has written more than a hundred novels. She’s a winner of the RWA’s Lifetime Achievement Award, and the Thriller Writers’ Silver Bullet. She is an active member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America. For more information, check out her website, TheOriginalHeatherGraham.com, or find Heather on Facebook.

Social Links: Website / Twitter / Instagram / Facebook / Goodreads

 

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Mile High Lab Rat

by Ann Payton

Genre: Mystery

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A page-turning mystery that will strike a chord with anyone who’s coped with a toxic workplace, Mile High Lab Rat is also fun, thought-provoking, and authentic!

Coordinating a college science lab seems a terrific job for this fledgling graduate.

The instructors are fun and appreciative. Maci loves helping with field trips and magic shows, and the intrigues of science are endlessly fascinating.

Except, why all the secrets? The dean orders Maci to say nothing about finding a bleeding man in the parking lot.

Reporting missing lab equipment is also taboo!

When Maci investigates fraudulent expenditures the lab reagents she prepares fail. Toxic fumes from a broken bottle force an evacuation.

To make matters worse, someone uploads a devastating virus into a state-wide system—from Maci’s computer!

While she’s pushing to discover who’s behind the trouble, the instructors conclude that it’s Maci!

Her one loyal ally acts a lot like a stalker. She’s on her own dodging booby traps, bloody threats, and termination.

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**On Sale for Only .99 cents!**

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What Makes a Book Magical?

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Clan of the Cave Bear had me keeping an eye out for saber-toothed tigers as I drove my kids to school. Len Deighton’s Berlin Game brainwashed me into pointing out passersby who were obviously spies. (The trench coat? Duh.) Getting that immersed in a book is the magic I treasure.

I also love traveling by book—getting to know places on an uber intimate level so rarely achieved with an actual visit. James Lee Burke’s Robicheaux series gave me the goods on New Orleans. Carl Hiaasen rules Floridian swamps. John Grisham and Margaret Maron rock the south, Peter Hessler’s River Town shanghiaed my heart to China.

Naturally I consider a strong sense of place essential in my own novels. I wrote my adventure novel Rocky Mountain Walkabout with the idea of showcasing Colorado and giving readers a tour of my favorite hangouts. Then things got out of hand, and my husband and I had to make a run for the border, so I could capture Juarez’s true colors.  My new novel, Mile High Lab Rat explores iconic Colorado scenery as well. My characters take a field trip to Hanging Lake in the Glenwood Canyon because I hiked that trail as a kid. Before I wrote the scene, I repeated the trip and gave every detail the attention it deserved. Breckenridge appears in the book, too, because it always charms me when I pass that way. I tried to buy my mom lunch at the Motherloaded Tavern, but it was closed that day. Funny how some part of me lays claim to places and historical events I’ve explored in my writings.

Genuine characters are also critical to the magic, and I relished bringing my Mile High College instructors and administrators to life with traits I observed in my 20 years working in a college science lab. Have you ever noticed that, even in conversation, some teachers tend to repeat key points, repeatedly? Teachers also tend to be rule breakers. Maybe being a rule maker corrupts a person’s respect for regulations? Or maybe a few rule breakers have colored my judgement…

Maci, my main character is into science and nature and is inclined to wonder what causes odd phenomena: What combination of wind currents formed that strangely shaped cloud? Why are some pinecones drenched in sap while similar cones on the same tree are bare?  Are birds nesting earlier as the climate warms, or are their instincts locked into a cue such as hours of daylight per day?

I’d never really thought about my tendency to analyze such things, but now that I’ve considered it, yes, I’m all for filling life with wonder!

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Sometime in the 90s I decided I needed a dream to pursue between working and raising three children. As the science lab coordinator for a Colorado community college, I enjoyed helping revise lab manuals, so why not become a travel writer? I managed to learn enough to sell freelance articles to a few major publications. Then I wrote a travel adventure novel, which led me into giving lectures on cruise ships and writing another novel. Can’t wait to see where that dream’s going to take me next.

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Paradise Cove by Davin Goodwin Banner

Paradise Cove
by Davin Goodwin
April 1-30, 2022 Virtual Book Tour
Synopsis:
Paradise Cove by Dave Goodwin

Every day is paradise on Bonaire—until something unexpected washes ashore

On the laid-back island of Bonaire, every day is paradise until a seaweed-entangled human leg washes ashore. Combing the beach, retired cop Roscoe Conklin examines the scene and quickly determines that the leg belongs to the nephew of a close friend.

The island police launch an investigation, but with little evidence and no suspects, their progress comes to a frustrating halt. Then, thanks to a unique barter with the lead detective, Conklin finds himself in possession of the case file. He can now aggressively probe for his own answers.

Sifting through the scant clues, eager to bring the killer to justice, Conklin struggles to maintain forward momentum. He has all the pieces. He can feel it. But he’d better get them snapped together soon.

Otherwise, the body count will continue to rise.

 

Praise for Paradise Cove:

“An intriguingly gruesome beginning, sexy location, and a supremely satisfying ending. Paradise Cove is a terrific read.” —Marc Cameron, New York Times best-selling author

Paradise Cove is a wonderful thriller with a great story . . . what makes it special are the perfect descriptions of Bonaire and life on the island.” —Nicholas Harvey, author of the AJ Bailey Adventure Series

“Grab a beer and revisit Bonaire with Roscoe Conklin as your guide in Paradise Cove. A rich cast of characters and an intriguing plot guarantee an exciting trip you’ll long remember.” –Shawn Wilson, author of Relentless

 

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery

Published by: Oceanview Publishing Publication Date: April 5th 2022 Number of Pages: 304 ISBN: 1608094855 (ISBN13: 9781608094851) Series: Roscoe Conklin Mystery #2 | The novels in the Roscoe Conklin Mystery Series stand on their own and can be read in any order.

Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Enjoy this peek inside:
Finished with my morning swim, having pushed myself hard the last quarter mile, I sat on the end of the pier with my legs dangling over the edge. No clouds in the typical Caribbean-blue Bonaire sky and a faint hint of salt floated in the air. The wind shoved waves, larger than normal, against the shore. An iguana lay a few feet away, basking in the sun, overweight from gorging itself on the remnants of the near-by garbage can. It sat motionless, one eye tilted in my direction, the other skewed over the edge of the pier at the water. It was a resident of the area and joined me regularly on the pier after my swims. I had taken to calling it Charlie. As I towel-dried my arms and hair, I noticed two teenaged boys using a stick to poke at an object near the water’s edge, a stone’s throw south of the pier. The object had washed ashore and was covered with random strands of dark seaweed. I watched the boys take a few steps forward, jab the stick at the object, then retreat, as if expecting something to happen. Nothing did, so they repeated the process several times with the same result. Some younger children ventured forth, staying well behind the brave teenagers. Wide-eyed, high-pitched streams of Papiamento—the native language of Bonaire—filled the air as they half-talked, half-screamed. They gawked at the object, the raced back up the beach to their mothers, sitting on beach blankets. One mother stood, nodding her head, and, appeasing the child, walked toward the water. She stopped a few feet shy of the shore. Her eyes widened and she shuffled backward to the other women, grabbed her cell phone, and, with a shaky hand, put it to her ear. She pointed at the object and spoke, her Papiamento not as high-pitched as the child’s, but every bit as excited. Unfortunately, I didn’t understand a word they said, my Papiamento being only slightly better than my Klingon. The base of my neck tingled. I no longer carried a badge, but nearly three decades as a law enforcement officer, specifically with the Violent Crimes Division of the Rockford, Illinois, police department, had trained my curiosity to remain on high alert. Of the hundreds of traits, quirks, and ticks conditioned into my psyche during those years, the sense of inquisitiveness, along with a constant need to know and understand, were the most deeply engrained. I shook my head, stood, and walked down the pier to the beach. This was something I probably needed to see. My sudden movement startled Charlie and he darted to the other side of the pier, both eyes now pointed in my direction. I gave him a shallow wave. “Sorry, Charlie.” The water surface on the west side—or leeward side—of the island remained consistently flat, almost glasslike, aided by a solid wind from the east. The wind also swept most of the seaweed, litter, and other debris out to sea. Few items floated ashore on the leeward coast of Bonaire. Except during wind reversals. Over the last few days, the easterly wind had changed direction and blew in from the west, bringing with it all kinds of surface floaties. I plodded through the sand, closing the distance to the water’s edge. Most likely, an unfortunate tuna or tarpon had met its demise. But based on the actions and behaviors of the children, and the concern of the mother, I quickly changed my mind. A fish washing ashore was too common an occurrence and wouldn’t generate the reactions I’d just witnessed. Then I remembered the epidemic affecting the green moray eels. For some reason, a strange parasite was attacking the green morays, causing the deaths of many. The occurrence was so rare that a group of marine biologists had recently arrived on the island, and with the help of local researchers, were studying the phenomenon. The situation was declared serious, possibly affecting the entire green moray population of the local reefs. When a dead eel washed ashore, the researchers wanted to be informed so they could harvest the carcass for study. The teenagers moved back a few steps as I worked past them and stood over the object. It wasn’t a tarpon or tuna. Or a diseased moral eel. I turned back toward the beach and scanned the area, noticing the increased crowd size. I admit, the word crowd is relative on a small island like Bonaire, but, even so, a small horde of lookie-loos had gathered. Some vied for a better view, meandering closer to the water’s edge. But not too close. I sighed and shook my head. Few things draw a crowd to the beach faster than a human body part washing ashore. *** Excerpt from Paradise Cove by Davin Goodwin. Copyright 2022 by Davin Goodwin. Reproduced with permission from Davin Goodwin. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Davin Goodwin:
Davin Goodwin

Davin Goodwin is a graduate of Arkansas State University and works in the technology industry. He’s been a small business owner, a real estate investor, an aerial photographer and flight instructor, a semi-professional banjo player, and a scuba diver, often seen on the island of Bonaire. Paradise Cove is the second novel in his Roscoe Conklin Mystery Series and he intends to continue writing the Roscoe Conklin series set on Bonaire. Goodwin lives in Madison, Wisconsin, with his wife, Leslie.

Catch Up With Davin Goodwin: DavinGoodwinAuthor.com Goodreads BookBub – @dgoodwin7757 Instagram – @davin_goodwin_author Facebook – @authordavingoodwin

 

 

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Fruit of the Poisonous Tree

Spider Green Mystery Thriller Series Book 1

by Norm Harris

Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Action

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Faydra “Spider” Green is a dedicated Navy JAG lawyer who has lived her life in the shadows of a great and powerful man: her father, former President of the United States William Green. Green cannot heal the wound in his relationship with his daughter. His former power and influence curse Faydra and cause her to wonder if her accomplishments were her own doing.

A lawyer by trade, Faydra is both anxious and excited as she undertakes her first homicide investigation: —the brutal murder of a Navy SEAL. She reasons that a successful investigation will provide her the opportunity to validate her sense of self-worth. Thanks to her remarkable deductive abilities, Faydra soon realizes that the accused man, a Special Ops Marine war hero, may be innocent and that the Navy is using her as a pawn in a complex cover-up.

Meanwhile, a seasoned Navy Sea Captain, Egan Fletcher, whose wife had died eight years earlier, struggles to balance his Navy career with raising a son. When the Navy purposefully pairs him with Faydra in a meeting, the two Navy officers embark on an adrenaline-pumping adventure. It is a top-secret mission- impossible that will take them halfway around the world in an attempt to avert a catastrophic act of terrorism in the form of a biological war.

Set against the dramatic backdrop of Washington State’s Puget Sound and the mystique of East Asia, Faydra’s story revolves around a woman who appears to be as pure as the driven snow—yet, she is driven by an insatiable need to complete any assignment, no matter how dangerous. Along the way, she transforms into a symbol of hope, perseverance, and a woman’s ability to overcome life-threatening events.

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Fay inhaled a massive gulp of air on her arrival at the surface. She searched for the silhouette of either the boat or the Nalon Vet. In the darkness, she could see neither. And where was Andrew? She glanced at her dive watch. “No!” she yelled. Ten minutes late. Good God, of all times to be late!

The Vet was gone, and she was alone—abandoned—somewhere in the Yellow Sea. Her neoprene suit’s buoyancy caused her to float on her back, her feet parallel with her head. There was a calm sea, a full moon, and she felt wholly immersed in a womb of silence. She sensed warmth. What now? The current might carry me to shore. I wonder if I will be dead by the time I wash ashore in the Marquesas IslandsShe talked to herself out loud: “Then again, if I were to wash ashore on a North Korean beach, it would make it easier for the Koreans to find me.”

She floated for a while, then felt a bump. Someone who had experienced a shark attack once had told her before a shark attacks its prey, it first bumps its intended victim with its snout. This person was by no means an expert on the subject.

Fay held her breath and waited. Where is it? The silence was broken by what sounded like thousands of large raindrops striking the surface of the water. Fay knew the sound: a school of small fish was jumping nearby. They do it when a larger fish is chasing them. They leap out of the water to escape the predator who is hunting them. I wish I could jump from the water right now.

Her floating arms spread wide, Fay resembled an ancient religious martyr tied to a cross, looking up at the moon—thinking.

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Arid Sea

Spider Green Mystery Thriller Series Book 2

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Faydra “Spider” Green is a spirited Navy lawyer who wants nothing more than to do the right thing and see justice done. After reconciling with her father, former President William Green, Fay is asked to investigate the mysterious disappearance of Alvin Joe, a retired admiral. He has vanished – seemingly into thin air – from his Florida home, along with secret files for a top-secret military weapon. Alongside her bubbly, quick-witted sister and a handsome, affable Sheriff, Fay sets out to track down Joe. But she soon finds herself embroiled in a deeper and far more sinister plot involving an unscrupulous corporation, the mafia, and a truly evil man who has his sights set on destroying her.

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Fay stood to meet Sheriff Gus and was at once struck by his good looks. She had seen her fair share of handsome men, but this man was gorgeous.

She could often tell a man’s disposition by how he dressed. Sheriff Virgil Gus had come from a fishing expedition, she would excuse him for his fashion faux pas. Had she spotted him, say, at the mall, for example, dressed as he was, she would have been duty-bound to call the fashion police.

His faded blue jeans, black motorcycle boots, a T-shirt, sunglasses, and a Harley Davidson ball cap, suggested, redneck. Faydra could not help but notice the round, silver dollar-sized, worn spot on his Levi jeans right front pocket. Created, perhaps, by a chewing tobacco can resting therein?

“Sheriff Gus, this is Commander Faydra Green,” Mrs. Joe said.

Fay smiled and extended her hand. “Sheriff. Good to see ya.” Being a former first daughter, she had met so many people over the years she could not possibly remember them all. Not to risk offending people by not recognizing him or her, she had adopted what she referred to as her “tofu” greeting. The folksy “good to see ya” greeting, like tofu, went with every occasion.

Virgil removed his sunglasses with his left hand and firmly shook her hand with his right in one smooth motion. “Howdy, ma’am.” He turned to his deputy, “This here’s Deputy Doug.”

Good Lord! Virgil Gus had the most dazzling eyes… deep sea green… much like her own. Mercy! She turned toward Doug, smiled, offered her hand, “Good to see ya, Deputy.” Was Doug the man’s first name or his last? His name badge read “Doug,” she had no clue. She remembered Deputy Dawg, the TV cartoon character from her childhood days, and grinned at the reference.

If Sheriff Gus was a hillbilly and a redneck, he was also a cowboy. He wore big iron on his hip. Fay knew most sheriffs are elected officials. Many have never served as peace officers before taking the office of Sheriff. They are managers or administrators. But the .44 Magnum hung in a black leather hog-leg holster at his hip suggested otherwise.

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Deception Pass

Spider Green Mystery Thriller Series Book 3

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Faydra “Spider” Green has had a storied career as a Navy lawyer, all while juggling being the daughter of a former U.S. President. She has successfully navigated complex diplomatic situations, pulse-pounding legal investigations, and dangerous military missions, managing each time to save the day. But now, Fay finds herself faced with a task unlike anything she has ever tackled before: fierce mafioso Roman Justine, the man who had nearly cost Fay her life, has seemingly returned from the dead. Now, Justine, hellbent on revenge, poses a threat to Fay and national security. Fay will have to go to extraordinary lengths to stop him, even tampering with the bounds of time and space.

Katrinka Lavrova is a young Russian espionage agent discovered by Russian Navy Captain Lavrov at the age of nineteen. Katrinka worked as both a spy and a sparrow since age thirteen to support her aged parents. Lavrov rescues the woman and becomes her guardian. Captain Lavrov introduces Katrinka to Fay. Fay asks Katrinka to help her steal the top-secret plans from Roman Justine’s office safe. Fay grows fond of Kat and offers her a fresh start in the United States. Katrinka dares to hope for a better life by accepting Fay’s offer.

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Fay sensed the presence of Death around her. In the curtains, in the book placed on the nightstand next to the bed. Even in the sunlight streaming through the window across the bed. Death lurked everywhere.

Although she had experienced Death before, including three of her own near-death experiences, Navy Judge Advocate Commander Faydra Green had not gotten used to his genius. Then again, Death was not a person. Although he was, without a doubt, a man. His costume was complete with a giant sling blade and a black hooded cape shrouding his white, pasty face.

Those closest to her seemed to die. Her mother had died twenty-eight years before in an automobile accident. An accident had left her half-sister, JP Fletcher, injured and near death. Her father, former United States President William Green, had died a little over two years ago. And she had killed a man. Oh yes, Fay knew Death quite well.

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The Girl Who Knew Death

Spider Green Mystery Thriller Series Book 4

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Navy lawyer and former First Daughter Faydra (Fay) Green is no longer quite so haunted by the dark events of her recent past and is hoping for some well-deserved rest. But her world is once again turned upside down when a shocking secret about her adopted daughter, Katrinka (Kat), is revealed. But before Fay can help Kat make any decisions about her future, Kat is captured and thrown into an Egyptian prison.

She manages to escape but must flee to safety across Europe, trying to stay one step ahead of several mysterious pursuers. Soon, Fay and Kat discover they are being chased by more than ordinary forces – Azrael, the Angel of Death, has taken a puzzling interest in their situation and a dangerous demon appears to be stalking Kat’s every move. It will take all of Fay’s strength and ingenuity to meet these, and other, challenges looming ahead of her, while Kat must ask herself what she truly wants out of life.

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The tourist dressed in white shorts and running shoes, a tangerine top, a ball cap, sunglasses, and a red backpack descended the gang plank from the ship to the dock at Cruise Ships Dock at Limassol, New Port. Once on the dock, she paused to ensure the two men lurking in the shadows of the terminal building had noticed her. She hailed a cab. Her destination was the Russian Embassy in the nearby capitol of Nicosia.

The trip to the embassy would take almost two hours. Occasionally, she checked to be sure the men were keeping up with her. She wanted to know where they were at all times. Each morning, she began her day with but one simple rule Irishka has once taught her: “Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning, a lion wakes up. It knows it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve to death. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a lion or gazelle. When the sun comes up, you’d better be running.” I must run today. Every day. Without fail, Kat thought.

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Norm Harris’ first novel debuted on an Amazon bestseller list in 2002 and a Writer’s Digest award winner. It was a one-and-done, but now he’s back with a plan to publish the Spider Green Mystery Thriller Series from the first mystery/thriller of days gone by. Except for time spent in military service, he is a second-generation Seattleite (that’s what they call those who dwell in the shadow of Mt. Rainier), with his legal beagle son, K-K, and five giant tropical fish. Norm’s stories spring from his memories of people who he has met and places and the places he has visited as he traveled the world. Diversity, inclusion, and equality are foremost in each story. “Fay is an admirable, tough, brilliant protagonist.” said one reviewer. Said another, “Lt Commander Faydra Green from the JAG Corps is a “take no prisoners” protagonist…” Watch for his four upcoming first quarter 2022 novels, “Fruit of the Poisonous Tree”, “Arid Sea”, “Deception Pass”, and “The Girl Who Knew Death” in what he hopes to be an award-winning mystery thriller series. And in late 2022 his fifth book in the series “Rain and Wind and Fire”. Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed the stories please consider leaving a review!

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Murder Undetected

by Roxanne Dunn

Genre: Mystery, Suspense

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The moment psychologist Brittany Ann Thornton thinks she has her life all dialed in, her perfect little family falls apart and the FBI seizes all her assets. Trouble follows her from Seattle to Paris to the south of France.

Viane Thibaudet, darling of a quaint hilltop town in Provence, has been getting away with murder. But when she attempts to poison her husband, Brittany steps up to stop her.

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Murder Unrehearsed

by Roxanne Dunn

Genre: Mystery, Suspense

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When aspiring young actress Heather Shelton jumps in the car with her dog, Bear, and flees to her family’s mountain cabin to escape an untidy romance, all she wants is peace and time to study for auditions. What she gets is murder. The only witness of a savage killing—and squarely in the cross-hairs of a ruthless assassin—she is injured and left for dead.

Heather knows handsome men are bad news, but hottie lawman Matt McCrae’s smile gets her every time, until he leaves her hanging out as bait to trap the killer. McCrae promises to protect her, but fails, and she faces the killer alone, with only Bear to help.

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Which novel can you imagine being made into a movie?

I can see both as movies.

Murder Unrehearsed is set in the spectacular Cascade Mountains of Washington State. Centered around a remote cabin and a picturesque, old-fashioned summer resort that makes you long for your swimsuit, a lounge chair, and a tall, cold drink; it appears calm and peaceful—the perfect place to bring the family, kick back, and enjoy the sunshine. But evil lurks under the placid surface, and Heather Shelton, the only witness to murder, must face a killer alone.

Striking scenery also forms the backdrop for Murder Undetected, which spans the globe from Seattle to Paris to a quaint hilltop village in the south of France. Two strong, attractive women, one driven by selfish desire, the other by selfless love, become locked in a deadly struggle. Together, external conflict and soul-searching internal conflict create a tense, suspenseful atmosphere. A second mystery and romance drive subplots, one full of suspense, the other full of hope.

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Recently, I ran into an old boyfriend “You’re looking good,” he said, pulling me in for a hug.

I started to smile and say “thanks.”

“… for an old broad.”

Ah, well, being an old broad isn’t all that bad. Instead of rushing off to work each morning, I take my coffee out to my flower garden and plot.

Right now, I’m working on my third novel. Chloe Eugenie Duval finances her Paris apartment and extravagant lifestyle by picking up diamonds and other baubles left lying around by careless owners. I won’t be surprised if a body turns up soon.

When not writing, I’m trying to help save the endangered Pacific Northwest killer whales. And I cook, clean, garden, do yoga, text my grandchildren, update my website, phone my aunts, teach my husband how to make pie crust, and make sure I have clean underwear. My life is rich and full.

To quote essayist John Burroughs, “I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, and all the friends I want to see.”

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ebook of Murder Undetected – 5 winners,

ebook of Murder Unrehearsed – 5 winners

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The Lake Templeton Murders
(Fati Rizvi Private Investigator Murder Mystery #1)
By HS Burney
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Adult Fiction, Mystery, Thriller
Paperback & ebook, 341 Pages
October 27, 2021 by HS Burney

A body washes up on the shores of Lake Templeton, a small town on the coast of Vancouver Island. Sharon Reese, the victim, was a dedicated government employee. Everyone liked her, but no one knew much about her. Was she hiding something? Maybe a questionable past riddled with scandal. And did it lead to her plunge to death, in a drunken stupor, off the dock outside her secluded lakefront lodge?

Was it an accident? A suicide? Or cold-blooded murder? Private Investigator, Fati Rizvi, is determined to find out.
Fati arrives in Lake Templeton to find secrets that run as deep as the City’s sewers. Everyone is hiding something and nothing is as it seems. A cult escapee. A corrupt politician. A struggling airline. A multi-million dollar public-private project to revitalize the Lake Templeton waterfront. How are they all connected?

As Fati valiantly unravels the knots, another body is found on the shore. Is it the same killer? And can Fati stop them before they strike again?

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On the way, I stop at Culver Beach, where Sharon’s body was found. Culver Beach is shaped like a claw, with the shores of Lake Templeton hugging it from one side and the other opening up to the ocean. In high tides, waves batter it from one direction, bringing debris from the neighbouring houses.

It was these waves that carried Sharon once the water besieged her lungs and she stopped breathing. Maybe her killer was hoping that the body would descend to the depths of the ocean, swallowing its secrets. It must have been a rude shock to see the evidence of their crime splashed across the morning papers.

Sharon’s body was half-reposed face-down on the wet sand, deposited on the shore like plastic waste. Clumps of hair were caught in the jagged rocks that edge the receding land, one bloated arm flung over a large boulder, as if trying to find a grip. Her legs floated behind her like windsocks. Silk shirt ballooned over the surface of the water like a parachute.

The crime scene has been cleared up. Culver Beach sparkles in the vestiges of the sinking sunlight, sand glinting like diamond dust. The only remnants of the morning’s tragic discovery – dried boot prints in the grassy sand, left behind by the police.

The nearest house is walled off by a thicket of trees and is currently empty, owned by a businessman who only spends a few months here in the summers. The beach is quiet, with not even a dog walker in sight. I walk on the sand for a few minutes, shoes in hand, reveling in the quietude. I breathe in the fresh air, slightly briny, and crisp enough to open up my nasal pathways.

No answers will be found here. Not for me. I have limited experience analyzing crime scenes. Even though, as a beat cop, I elbowed my way to many sites above my pay grade, attaching myself to the most brilliant detectives like a barnacle. Thankfully, you don’t need to be an expert at crime scene analysis to catch a killer.

And catching a killer is what I do best.

Excerpted from The Lake Templeton Murders by HS Burney, Copyright © 2022 by HS Burney. Published by HS Burney.

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About the Author

HS Burney writes fast-moving, action-packed mysteries set against the backdrop of majestic mountains and crystalline ocean in West Coast Canada. She loves creating characters that keep you on your toes. A corporate executive by day and a novelist by night, HS Burney received her Bachelors’ in Creative Writing from Lafayette College. A proud Canadian immigrant, she takes her readers into worlds populated by diverse characters with unique cultural backgrounds. When not writing, she is out hiking, waiting for the next story idea to strike, and pull her into a new world.

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The Secret In The Wall

A Silver Rush Mystery

by Ann Parker

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The Secret in the Wall: A Novel (Silver Rush Mysteries)
Historical Mystery
8th in Series
Poisoned Pen Press (February 15, 2022)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 400 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1464214948
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1464214943
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B096L9XZ73


Sometimes you can’t keep your gown out of the gutter…

 

Inez Stannert has reinvented herself—again. Fleeing the comfort and wealth of her East Coast upbringing, she became a saloon owner and card sharp in the rough silver boomtown of Leadville, Colorado, always favoring the unconventional path—a difficult road for a woman in the late 1800s.

 

Then the teenaged daughter of a local prostitute is orphaned by her mother’s murder, and Inez steps up to raise the troubled girl as her own. Inez works hard to keep a respectable, loving home for Antonia, carefully crafting their new life in San Francisco. But risk is a seductive friend, difficult to resist. When a skeleton tumbles from the wall of her latest business investment, the police only seem interested in the bag of Civil War-era gold coins that fell out with it. With her trusty derringer tucked in the folds of her gown, Inez uses her street smarts and sheer will to unearth a secret that someone has already killed to keep buried. The more she digs, the muddier and more dangerous things become.

 

She enlists the help of Walter de Brujin, a local private investigator with whom she shares some history. Though she wants to trust him, she fears that his knowledge of her past, along with her growing attraction to him, may well blow her veneer of respectability to bits—that is, if her dogged pursuit of the truth doesn’t kill her first . . .

 

About Ann Parker

Ann Parker is a science writer by day and fiction writer by night. Her award-winning Silver Rush Mysteries series, published by Poisoned Pen Press, a Sourcebooks imprint, is set primarily in 1880s Leadville, Colorado, and more recently in San Francisco, California, the “Paris of the West.” The series was named a Booksellers Favorite by the Mountains and Plains Independent Booksellers Association, and Ann is listed in the Colorado Authors’ Hall of Fame. The Secret in the Wall is the eighth and newest entry in the series.

Author Links: Website / Blog / Facebook / Goodreads / Pinterest

Purchase Links – AmazonIndieBound – Barnes & Noble – Books-A-Million – Nook – Kobo – 

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