Posts Tagged ‘thriller’

Insensible Loss by Linda L. Richards ~ Review And Giveaway

Posted: September 27, 2024 in Excerpt, giveaways, reviews, suspense, thriller
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Insensible Loss by Linda L. Richards Banner

INSENSIBLE LOSS
by Linda L. Richards
September 9 – October 4, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
The Endings Series

 

Her life is over . . . yet somehow she carries on

After attempting to sever all ties to her life as a hired assassin, a woman struggles to understand who she has become. She knows she doesn’t want to kill again–but it proves to be a difficult habit to break, particularly in a world where people are after her and those she loves most. Adrift and disconnected, she meets an old woman: Imogen O’Brien, a world-famous artist who has spent the last three decades living a hermit-like existence on a rustic desert estate in a national forest. Imogen invites her to stay and work for her, offering mentorship in return as the woman deepens her own interest in art. What quickly becomes apparent is that elements of Imogen’s past are shrouded in danger, sorrow, and darkness. Rather than growing as an artist, the former hitwoman soon finds herself enmeshed in a dangerous mystery with strands that stretch decades into the past.

Praise for Insensible Loss:

“Deception, loss, and the past all collide in this propulsive thriller. A skillfully crafted plot combined with memorable characters makes Insensible Loss a must read.” ~ James L’Etoile, award-winning author of Face of Greed and the Detective Nathan Parker series

 

Book Details:

Genre: Thriller/Suspense

Published by: Oceanview Publishing Publication Date: September 17, 2024 Number of Pages: 320 ISBN: 978-1608095148 Series: The Endings Series, Book 4 | Each is a Stand-Alone

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

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MY REVIEW

I’ve been wanting to try this series. My plan was to start at the beginning but, even though I started further into the series, this easily read as a stand alone. Mind you, I do plan to go back and start at the beginning now. The characters are so genuine and the main protagonist is an assassin trying to leave that world behind. Her name is never revealed. She’s been living in a forest with her dog. His name we do get to know, Phil.

Phil is the reason she’s where she is now. He took off and chasing after him led her to Imogene, an artist living in seclusion. The older woman offers her a job. Okay, that’s a good start. But Imogene lives secluded for a reason and the former assassin will have to use her talents once again.

In suspense thrillers I usually expect a whopping opening and loads of action throughout. Insensible loss didn’t go that way. It was quieter suspense and thrills. Sneaky ones the author made sure you might not see coming. I didn’t feel an urgency to keep reading, but in a way, I did. I’d think, okay, this is a good place to stop for now. Then, I’d keep reading. Like when you’re eating a snack and think I’ll just eat one more. This book made me hungry for more.

4 STARS

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Enjoy this peek inside:
CHAPTER ONE
I am gazing into an abyss. When I plant my feet on the edge of the cliff, all I see is a canyon yawing below me. I see the canyon, and my feet, tightly laced into trail runners. Below and beyond my tidy feet, red rock can be seen everywhere, edges softened by millennia, but deadly still. And steep. Arcadia Bluff. It has a gentle sound, this location. But the reality is anything but gentle. A rough rawness that would seem to be able to accommodate anything one pitched in that direction. Wild west. There’s that, but also more. The secrets of an earth so raw and new, it doesn’t know what it wants to be when it grows up. It happens that the physical landscape matches what is going on in my heart, but this is mere coincidence. And anyway, everything is connected. I am in a remote part of one of the largest national parks in the United States, and I am all alone, but for my dog. Again, aside from that dog, I feel as if I have been alone for my whole life, but that isn’t true. What is true: everyone I’ve ever loved is dead. Some of them by my hand. But all of that was before. Here is now. I stand on Arcadia Bluff and the canyon below my feet seems to careen out endlessly. The aforementioned abyss. The red rock, dotted by trees and even the occasional cactus, seeming to sprout from the rock at odd angles, because the perpendicular drop doesn’t support normal growth. In the distance, far below me, I see a sliver of silvery blue. Maybe it’s a river or the edge of a lake, but when I look straight down, between my feet, I see nothing but rock and cactus and peril. It gives me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach to look down, so I try to avoid doing that. We drove in my old Volvo to get here, the dog and I. The car is dear to me. I’ve had it a long time and it performs elegantly. Like a tank. An elegant tank. It is a premium car, or it was, but now it is ancient. In good condition, but unremarkable, one of the things about it that I’ve always cherished: it has never drawn comment. And no one would suspect that under the trunk’s false bottom they would find two Bersa Thunder 380 handguns and a whole lot of cash. The car is now my home, my armory, and my bank. Who needs anything more? Well, maybe I do. But never mind. The journey, that’s the thing. To get here, the path we traveled in that old Volvo is a forestry road. The road is marked on maps as little more than a trail. It is unpaved and unremarked. And putting it that way—the path we traveled—makes it sound like a destination. It wasn’t that. It is just the place where, for the moment, we have ended up. When this moment is complete, we’ll travel some more. Maybe come to something else. It’s what we have now, this life made of almost nothing. As you will have guessed, this state of near nothing didn’t happen overnight. A while ago I left behind the hollowed-out shell of the life I had created. The sham. The farce. The life in which I lived while I processed all of my grief. Tried to process all of my grief. Do you know what I discovered? You don’t process grief. It lives inside you, waiting for you to trot through the minefield that is life. Waiting for you to make just that one step and the grief explodes back into your face. If you were to process it—like cheese, like peanut butter—at a certain point it would be smooth and glossy and perfectly digestible. Consume it and forget it. But grief isn’t like that. It waits around because all it actually wants is to bite you in the ass. I sound bitter. The tonic in a vodka drink. I don’t mean to, but there you are. Sometimes what you feel overrides everything you know. After I left said reconstructed and hollowed-out life, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was basically—entirely?—homeless. My dog. And me. Homeless and aimless. I had my car. Several handguns. A few small things that I had come to treasure. And a whole whack of cash. The cash was necessary, because this is what I no longer possessed: any form of identification or credit cards. Or anything that said I was a person at all. I had simply disappeared. You mostly can’t do that forever. A myriad of small things will trip you up. You can’t travel by air. You can’t book a motel. You can’t call an Uber. Or bank. When you start to think about it, there are more things you can’t do than what you can. After a while you need a landing spot. And you need a plan. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Here goes another run. Once upon a time—like a fairy story—I was a mom. A wife. A cornerstone of my community. I had a house. A pebble-tech pool. A minivan with leather seats and televised communication. I had all of the accoutrements of suburbia, right down to the suburb. Tree-lined streets that I traveled to get to my job and take my kid to his school. I had attractive but not fiendishly manicured lawns. A home. That’s what it was. My husband, my son. Me. We were a family. We had a home. One day there was an accident. People were killed. My child. Ultimately my husband, too. I was unexpectedly alone. All I had was a whole bunch of mortgaged crap I hadn’t even dreamed of wanting in the first place. After a while of being alone and having no money, I needed a new job and I started taking contracts to kill people. You see how my narrative breaks down right there? I mean, everything was going along well, from a storytelling standpoint. I’d engaged your sympathy. Maybe even your interest. And then— boom!—I blow all that goodwill with a simple revelation. Yes. Killing people. For money. What kind of nice lady does that? No kind, that’s what. But it let’s you know at least part of why I run. And so here we are. Standing on the edge of a cliff. And I’m not expecting to jump.

CHAPTER TWO

Lately I’ve noticed that I have become afraid of the dark. It doesn’t make sense to me. I am aware of no new trauma that might have led to this condition. Nyctophobia. I have read about it. I have googled, as they say. I’ve “done some research.” So I know a little about the condition that currently plagues me. I’ve read that it is fairly normal or, at least, not uncommon. I’ve read, also, that fear is healthy. In our natural state, I guess, fear is what keeps us alive and safe. For months, I have found myself waking from peaceful slumber and moving to instant terror when the dark is encountered. The dog smells the fear, or at least that is what I guess. When I wake in this way, I can hear him rustling about as he comes to me. He lays his muzzle on whatever part of me he can reach: my hand or my arm or even a bit of toe. And he’ll stay there like that, breathing quietly, until my demons have passed, or I turn on a light. Usually, I turn on a light. There are things you can do, that’s what I’ve read, as well. And there is evolved language around it. You can deal with your triggers or work at desensitizing yourself to darkness. This sort of healthy self-examination has never been my forte, and so after a while, I come up with my own solution: I begin to sleep with the light on. It keeps the demons at bay. All of this would probably be of more concern if we had a home anymore, the dog and I. But we don’t. As I said, we are traveling, no destination in mind other than a vague and distant future that at present has no shape. Every day, we cover many miles in the Volvo. The forestry roads in Arizona’s Cathedral National Park seem endless. The park itself seems endless, as well. We keep traveling, only occasionally surfacing for fuel or other supplies. We do that at small gas stations either within the park or just on the outskirts. Places that take cash and don’t ask questions. Then we delve right back into the depths of the park. We just drive and drive and drive, stopping only for calls of the body, as well as those infrequent times when I run out of steam. At those times, since we are out—literally and actually—in the middle of nowhere, I just stop the car, then pitch the small tent that lives over top of the false bottom of the trunk. And then I try to rest. The closest I ever get to actual rest is when the dog settles down somewhere near me, then gets to snoring peacefully. Something about that sound is hypnotic to me. I’ll surf behind it until, sometimes, falling under the spell of the simple, primal cadence, I fall asleep. In and out, in and out. I float away on a column of dog snores that lead to core sleep, when my subconscious scrambles to make up for time lost. In the morning we pack up and head out again. Where are we going? Why? I don’t have answers. I don’t even have questions. All I know is that everything is behind me. I’m not hopeful about what is in front of me, but it’s better than going back. Everyone knows that you can’t go back. *** Excerpt from Insensible Loss by Linda L. Richards. Copyright 2024 by Linda L. Richards. Reproduced with permission from Linda L. Richards. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Linda L. Richards:

 

.Linda L. Richards is the award-winning author of over a dozen books. The founder and publisher of January Magazine and a contributing editor to the crime fiction blog The Rap Sheet, she is best known for her strong female protagonists in the thriller genre. Richards is from Vancouver, Canada and currently makes her home in Phoenix, Arizona. New for 2024: INSENSIBLE LOSS, the fourth book in the Endings series featuring a reluctant hit woman struggling towards the light. Linda’s 2021 novel, the first in this series, ENDINGS, was recently optioned by a major studio for series production. Richards is an accomplished horsewoman and an avid tennis player, and is on the National Board of Sisters in Crime.

 
Catch Up With Linda L. Richards: LindaLRichards.com Goodreads – @lindalrichards BookBub – @linda1841 Instagram – @lindalrichards Threads – @lindalrichards Twitter/X – @lindalrichards Facebook – @lindalrichardsauthor

 

 

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

Panic Peak by William A. Liggett ~ Review And Giveaway

Posted: September 20, 2024 in giveaways, Interview, reviews, thriller
Tags: , , ,
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  Panic Peak by William A. Liggett
Category: Adult Fiction (18+), 254 pages
Genre: Cli-Fi Thriller 
Publisher: Consilience Press LLC
​Publication Date: February, 2024
Content Rating: PG-13: Very occasional f-word and sh*t in dialog

Book Description:

How can a single glacier grow dramatically while hundreds are shrinking around the world?

This paradox confronts a young glaciologist Kate Landry as she looks down at her research site buried under shocking mounds of new snow. Little does she know that Mount Olympus is in the bulls-eye for a sophisticated geoengineering experiment being conducted by a scientist who has convinced a secretive international oil cartel to fund his dubious climate modification techniques. While Kate struggles to understand why the glacier is growing and begins to unravel the entire nefarious scheme, she also struggles to avoid the unraveling of her developing relationship with social psychologist Grant Poole. The more Kate uncovers on the glacier, the more her own life is at risk. Can she expose the unethical and dangerous geoengineering operation without being caught before she’s stopped? And at what risk to her life?

BUY THE BOOK:
AMAZON 
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MY REVIEW

I’ve only read a few cli-fi thrillers and after reading the synopsis I thought this was a good one to try. It didn’t disappoint, in many ways.

A mysterious iceberg that appears to be growing while others disappear. What’s behind that? Natural or man’s interference.

The setting, Mount Olympus. Subzero temperatures and isolated. Where the environment is an adversary. That’s something I really like in a story. A test of human endurance all it’s own.

A hidden agenda, along with the requisite villain. A must for any good thriller book.

And a female protagonist. One who’s double tough, self confident and willing to stick to what she knows is true. But also, flawed. Which makes her believable and makes you rout for her.

I thoroughly enjoyed Pain Peak and now want to see what else the author has to offer.

4 STARS

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Guest Interview with William Liggett, Author of Panic Peak

  • Your main character is a woman who is passionate about her research and teaching. How did you arrive at that?

I was raised in a family with a strong, well-educated mother and three sisters. I have always thought that women’s contributions should be respected as much as men’s. If we ignore the voices of female scientists, we are losing half of the knowledge we could otherwise gain.

I wanted Kate’s leadership and commitment to scientific knowledge and aspiration to save her glacier to inspire her students and others. Not everyone responds well to her passion for her work, which creates a challenge for my character, but also reflects the tension in our culture.

  • What inspired you to write a book about geoengineering?

After publishing my first cli-fi novel, Watermelon Snow, I was visiting with a climate scientist friend, Yaga Richter, who recommended that my next novel deal with geoengineering. She had been studying this controversial subject using computer models, and she described some of the concerns that her fellow scientists had. For example, someone might actually inject chemicals to block solar radiation without authorization. Also, unanticipated side effects such as droughts, floods, and wildfires could result from altering the climate. Since I began writing my novel, articles that describe geoengineering studies and concerns have increased exponentially.  It has become a hot topic.

  • Based on the scenes you describe it sounds like you’ve spent time on Blue Glacier. Can you say more about that?

Years ago, I lived in the research station on the side of Mount Olympus, Washington, between June and September collecting data as an employee of the University of Washington’s Blue Glacier Project. Our crew was flown to the station one at a time in a single engine ski plane that landed on the snow and took off down the side of the snow-covered mountain. Part of our assignment was to measure the depth and rate of flow of the glacial ice. This required us to carry equipment from the top to the bottom of the glacier while taking care not to fall into the deep crevasses along the way.  We learned to appreciate the raw beauty while skirting the many hazards. It was a perfect setting for an adventure (Watermelon Snow) and a thriller (Panic Peak).

  • Describe your next book in the Warming World Adventures series.

Panic Peak places Kate at the center of the action with Grant supporting her, often from a distance. It features her passion for her work, but also permits her scientific and mountaineering skills to shine. My next novel will feature Grant’s approach to combating global warming and will reflect his positive worldview. As a social psychologist, he sees ways to overcome the resistance to climate mitigation that others don’t see or agree upon.

Because I believe people are hungry for progress and good news about the climate, I’m thinking of setting my next novel in the future when humanity has gotten the climate under better control. Perhaps Grant is now in his 70’s and his granddaughter is eager to learn what he and others did to bring about the reversal of a climate disaster. I’m thinking of her documenting his story as a tribute to him and her grandmother, Kate.

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Meet the Author:

Bill Liggett writes fiction that blends behavioral and earth sciences in the recent cli-fi (climate fiction) literary genre. His goal is to paint a hopeful future based on solutions to global warming.

He holds a BS in geology and an MA in education, both from Stanford University, and a PhD in applied social psychology from New York University. Among the many positions he has held over the years, he taught in high school and college, conducted behavioral science studies for IBM, and consulted with health care and educational organizations.

Wherever he lives, he loves being outdoors. Home for him has included the West Coast, East Coast, Alaska, and now Colorado, the state of his childhood. He and his wife, Cathy, live in Niwot, Colorado.

connect with author:  website ~  X/twitter  ~ facebook ~ instagram ~ goodreads

 
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PANIC PEAK by William A Liggett Book Tour Giveaway

 

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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Alexandr by Chris DeBrie ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway

Posted: September 9, 2024 in Excerpt, giveaways, thriller
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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Alexandr organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Chris DeBrie will award a $20 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

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

Alexandr

by Chris DeBrie

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Genre: Graphic Novel Thriller

Synopsis

Alexandr is a professional hitman with one client. His recent marriage to a childhood friend has him ready for retirement. But he doesn’t yet realize that his final target is different than all the rest. Follow Alex into a version of Earth which includes superhumans, witches, and otherworldly beings. DeBrie brings you dozens of characters and situations, seemingly all on the same course to destruction.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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About Author Chris DeBrie

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DeBrie has published more than fifteen comic books and novels, including the mystery “Cap’n Random”. He has produced music for rockers and hip hoppers, coached youth basketball, hoards a special Swedish meatball recipe, and tutors elementary school students. Call him a multihyphenate, or a jack of all trades, master of none… your choice. Find us on socials by typing “With Lurv” into your browser.

Author Links: Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / MeWe

Purchase Link: Amazon

FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

Peek Inside And Giveaway ~ She’s Got The Time by M.O. Mack

Posted: September 5, 2024 in Excerpt, giveaways, thriller
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She’s Got The Time

by MO Mack

 

(Suite #45, #3)
Publication date: August 29th 2024
Genres: Adult, Thriller

From author M.O. Mack comes the third, heart-stopping thriller in the Suite #45 series, SHE’S GOT THE TIME.

SENTENCED FOR A CRIME SHE ONLY WISHED SHE COMMITTED…

Emily has broken plenty of rules. Some she regrets. Others, well, not so much.

Running from her husband Ed for example? No regrets. He was a controlling predator who trafficked women while working for the FBI. But had she known she’d end up working for a group of hit men, she might’ve made different choices. Big regrets.

On the bright side, the group only kills bad guys. On the not-so-bright side, every cartel south of the border wants the group dead, and she’s number one on the cartel’s list.

Emily also regrets trusting Charge, her hit man boss. She regrets caring about him more than she should.

But when the feds arrest her for the murder of her ex, Emily knows she’s been set up, and all signs point to Charge. Why would he do this to her? The prison is filled with cartel gangs, and there’s a price on her head.

Can she find a way out before her time is up?

The clock is ticking…

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“I thought you loved me,” she said, knowing now that the confession he’d made after she’d saved him all those weeks ago had just been another lie.

Charge jerked his head back, like she’d taken him off guard. “What’s that have to do with anything?”

“It’s everything.” Because he’d told her that while he’d been preparing to do the hit on Ed, he’d watched her from afar and fallen for her. He’d said it was the reason he’d helped her after she’d run from Ed. “You’ve been playing me this entire time. Haven’t you? The story about you loving me was a scam to get me to keep working for you.” And it had worked. He’d probably done it because he believed she’d eventually lead him to Ed.

“I don’t have time for this right now. And I’ve proven my loyalty to you.”

“No. You said whatever you had to in order to make me trust you.” She hung her head. “I can’t believe I fell for it.” Not to mention, she’d started having feelings for Charge. She’d taken a life for him. She’d risked her own ass, too.

“I’m sorry you think that,” he said smugly, “but it doesn’t change the situation or what has to be done next.”

“And just what’s that? Am I supposed to take out the warden next? Or the head of one of the gangs here so you get paid?” She pushed back in her chair. “I’m done, Charge. Done.”

“Don’t be silly. You won’t get out of this prison alive unless you pull your head from your ass, Justine, and follow my instructions.”

This again. And why did he always call her Justine when he wanted to control her? Did he think it was some kind of psychological magic wand to garner compliance?

He went on, “You only have a day, two max, before someone realizes you have a ten-million-dollar price on your head. You don’t have much time, but it’s enough time to—”

“No, Charge. No more. I’m not buying into your crap. I mean, look at where I am.” She tried to throw her hands in the air, but they were chained to the table. “We both know I’m not getting out of here. Not after I killed that guard. At best, I’ll survive a week, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to enjoy what little time I have left.”

About Author M.O. Mack:

Obviously, M.O. Mack is a cover. Don’t bother looking for the author’s true identity. She must remain secret due to the sensitive information written in her stories…

Okay, most of all that is total rubbish! M.O. is a full-time author from the great state of Arizona, who loves making stuff up and hates a slow story. The faster the better! Most days, M.O. tries to avoid the news (too icky) so it doesn’t interfere with writing nail-biter stories.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Newsletter

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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.

all the missing girls by Linda Hurtado Bond ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway

Posted: August 25, 2024 in Excerpt, giveaways, suspense, thriller
Tags: , ,
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 A tenacious TV reporter has 48 hours to illegally enter Cuba, find
her sister, and avenge her mámá. Don’t miss the
spine-tingling sequel to Emmy-award winning journalist Linda Hurtado
Bond’s immersive thriller, All The Broken Girls.

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All the Missing Girls

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by Linda Hurtado Bond

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Genre: Thriller, Suspense

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

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

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

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

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Amazon
* Apple
* B&N
* Google
* Kobo
* Entangled
Publishing * Bookbub
* Goodreads

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Day One

 

One a.m.

Forty-seven hours left

Tony’s family farm

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

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

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

 

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

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

waves across the bare cement walls.

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Tony gives a few pats but pulls away.

The Americano seems uncomfortable with raw emotion.

Similar greetings swirl around us, like an emotional tornado wanting

 

to suck Tony up.

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

eyes.

 

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

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

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

my eyes shut. I will not cry.

 

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

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

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

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

important than my needs.

 

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

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

kidnapping, to separation by both water and politics.

 

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

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

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

stirred something in me.

 

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

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

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

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

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

me, of Cuban suppression, imprisonment, and torture.

 

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

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

he could.

 

We stare at each other, no words needed.

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

 

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

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Also by the Author: 

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All the Broken Girls

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Get it on Amazon

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

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Website
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* Amazon
* Goodreads

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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To Preserve, Protect, And Destroy by Matthew D. Saeman ~ My Review

Posted: August 7, 2024 in reviews, Science Fiction, suspense, thriller
Tags: , , ,
0

To Preserve, Protect And Destroy

by Matthew D. Saeman

 

 

 

Synopsis (from Amazon):

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

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

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

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

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

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Enjoy This Peek Inside:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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MY REVIEW

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

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

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

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

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

4 STARS

 

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Interview With Author Matthew D. Saeman

On writing:

 

How did you do research for your book?

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

 

Which was the hardest character to write? The easiest?

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

 

Where do you get inspiration for your stories?

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

 

What advice would you give budding writers?

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

 

Do you have another profession besides writing?

I teach High School Special Education.

 

How long have you been writing?

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

 

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

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

 

What is your next project?

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

 

What genre do you write and why?

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

 

What is the last great book you’ve read?

Legion by William Peter Blatty.

 

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

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

 

Which authors inspired you to write?

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

 

 

 

On rituals:

 

Where do you write?

Resting comfortably on my couch.

 

Do you write every day?

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

 

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

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

 

Fun stuff:

 

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

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

 

Favorite travel spot?

The Republic of Ireland

 

Favorite dessert?

Chocolate fudge cake… the richer the better.

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

What TV series are you currently binge watching?

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

 

What is your theme song?

“The Modern World” by The Jam

 

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

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

 

What is something that made you laugh recently?

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

 

What is your go-to breakfast item?

An apple with reduced fat peanut butter.

 

What is the oldest item of clothing you own?

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

 

Who was your childhood celebrity crush?

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

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Guest Post

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

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

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About Author Matthew D. Saeman:

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

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Author Marketing Experts tags for social media: Instagram / Twitter

Purchase Links: Amazon / Goodreads

 

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew!

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.

Twice Hung by Vanessa C. Hawkins ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway

Posted: July 19, 2024 in giveaways, Mytery/Thriller, suspense
Tags: , , ,
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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Twice Hung organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Vanessa C. Hawkins will award a $10 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

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

Twice Hung

by Vanessa C. Hawkins

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Genre: Mystery / Suspense / Thriller

Synopsis

Ethel Arsenault’s been hearing noises in her brother’s house ever since she arrived from Summerside, but when he turns up dead, could the supernatural be to blame, or her sister-in-law Dolly whose been caught talking to herself when night falls?

Ethel isn’t sure, nor is she happy when she’s left alone to care for Ernest’s estate. Was her brother the victim of sweet, little Dolly Arsenault, or is some other sinister force at work? The city of Charlottetown is quick to point the blame at Dolly, but now Ethel has been hearing things in the house…

… or is it just her imagination?

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Enjoy this peek inside:

The days were dandelions, sprouting and flourishing and wafting away in puffs to seed more weeds anew. Though the roads had been muck-filled and swampy when they’d arrived, gradually they were becoming less burdensome and easier to promenade when the days were hot. Ernest’s trip had been postponed, but that meant he spent the days at work, oftentimes taking a break to show Ethel the delights of Queen’s Square and Victoria Row or holed up in his study pouring over papers and the occasional glass of gin.

Ethel was enjoying her days at Eden Hall, wandering outside in the small gardens, or taking a stagecoach in town with Miss Murphy to appraise the daily catch and supply of vegetables hauled in from the neighbouring farms. Though the nights were seldom peaceful, Ethel had resolved to keep her concerns private. No one else in the house seemed bothered or affected, so she often napped during the afternoon, dozing after writing in her journal or upon finishing a few chapters of Little Women.

 “I’m certain there must be something in the attic,” Ernest grumbled at breakfast one morning. His departure had been finalised for the next day and a few men had been around to load up a few personal effects he had packed for the voyage. It was a beautiful midweek morning, and the windows in the dining room had been removed to let in the scent of grass and sunshine.

Dolly was sitting opposite her husband at the little breakfast table, while Ethel was in the middle. Both women looked up from their plates to regard Ernest as he poured a fresh cup of tea for himself.

“Adella-Ray, will you not check the liquor cabinet in the study for a bottle of the blueberry spirits? There’s a touch of maple in it that I’m sure will stir the tongues of the Americans.”

The serving woman was in the foyer, handing an order for milk to the carrier before she turned towards the study as asked.

“The attic?” Dolly piped up, directing the conversation backwards. She was picking around the sauce of her eggs benedict, combing it over the white poached pillow like a toupée on a bald man’s head. “Is there something up there that you forgot to pack?”

Ernest shook his head. “No, but I think an animal has gotten up there somehow. I’ve been hearing it scuttling around the last few nights.” He looked up and smiled, as though to excuse his ramblings. “I’ll ask Al to take a look. I don’t want it scaring you ladies while I’m gone for work.”

~~~~~

 

About Author Vanessa C. Hawkins:

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A life-long lover of horror, Vanessa wrote her first story in the genre when she was only in grade five. It was titled Mutilated and it warranted her a trip to the school guidance counsellor. A lifetime later, she continues to write about anything that suits her fancy. She was afforded second place in the David Adams Richards Prize this year, and honourable mentions in the WFNB writing competition for her novel A Child to Cry Over. With over a dozen publications under her belt, Vanessa was celebrated as a bestselling author with Books We Love Publishing for the sale of over a thousand copies of The Curious Case of Simon Todd! She lives with her husband Brendon and daughter Bernie in New Brunswick.

Vanessa is the author of the following BWL Publishing Inc. releases:

The Curious Case of Simon Todd

Bunker Blitz

Ballroom Riot by Vanessa C. Hawkins & Tara Woodworth

Author Links: Facebook / Website

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Shady Justice by Rena Koontz ~ Guest Post And Giveaway

Posted: July 12, 2024 in giveaways, Guest Post, Romance, suspense, thriller
Tags: , , ,
1

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 The truth can be deadly.

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Shady Justice

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by Rena Koontz

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Genre: Thriller, Romantic Suspense

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Female.”

“Old or young? White or black.”

He chuckled. “You said only one question.”

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

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How it all started

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I guess I really can write!

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

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Website
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Amazon
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Follow the blitz HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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Shushan Portal by Gloria Pearson-Vasey ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway

Posted: July 10, 2024 in Excerpt, giveaways, Science Fiction, thriller
Tags: , ,
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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Shushan Portal organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

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

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

Shushan Portal

by Gloria Pearson-Vasey

 

 

Genre: Science Fiction / Thriller

Synopsis

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

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

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

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

Enjoy this peek inside:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we go in?” asked Penny.

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

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

About Author Gloria Pearson-Vasey:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Secrets And Photographs by A. K. Ramirez ~ Review And Giveaway

Posted: June 24, 2024 in giveaways, Mytery/Thriller, reviews
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Secrets and Photographs by A. K. Ramirez Banner

SECRETS AND PHOTOGRAPHS
by A. K. Ramirez

   

June 17-28, 2024 Virtual Book Tour
The Marissa Ambrose Witness Series
Synopsis:

 

How do you stop a killer you can’t even see?

It’s been two years since Detective Marissa Ambrose nearly lost her life working the Couple’s Killer case, but time hasn’t stopped the vivid nightmares. She still carries the heavy guilt of her partner’s death, and the Seattle Police Department refuses to support her theory that the suspect they arrested had an accomplice. With her ex-husband regretfully out of the picture, Marissa was supposed to be focusing on adjusting back to something resembling normalcy in her quiet tourist town. Then the letters came.

Unmarked envelopes full of photographs have been arriving at Marissa’s door. Candid shots of her at home. Now, Marissa is certain the missing murderer is stalking her, tracking her every move to finish what he started. As she obsesses over the strange images, the Seattle PD unexpectedly asks for her help. A serial killer is on the loose and targeting members of the Port Townsend community. Despite a personal connection to the first victim, Marissa agrees to pin her badge on once more.

The photographs are piling up and the suspect can’t be seen by surveillance cameras. Like a ghost, this killer is haunting her.

Praise for Secrets and Photographs:

“This book is Amazing!! I couldn’t put it down. I need book 2!!!” ~ Nicola Jamieson

“We love a messy family and a plot thick with dark and winding paths. Truly enjoyed this book and read it very quickly! I am very excited to get a signed copy of the next book that was just released!! AK Ramirez is “one to watch” in the crime/thriller genre. You have a fan for life now.” ~ Molly Badgett

“I had the pleasure of meeting this author in Richmond at a convention. I really enjoyed the story. The author pulls you in from the first page. Quick read” ~ Chris Kennedy

“A friend recommended this book to me as I was looking for a new mystery novel and I was so sad when it ended because I wanted more! The writing was exceptional and the story captivated me. Twists I didn’t expect had me reading this book in record time. Absolutely recommend!” ~ Melissa Brown

“I’m a sucker for a good crime novel and this one kept me hooked. I also love books set in the Pacific Northwest – I might be biased since I live in the PNW but I thought the author did a good job of using the coziness of Port Townsend to contrast with the horror of the crimes. I’m looking forward to reading book 2!” ~ April O’Brien

“I was hooked on the book from the beginning. It was a great read. I really enjoyed it and would recommend it to anyone that likes mystery and suspense.” ~ Diana

“I wasn’t sure how much I enjoyed this book at the beginning. It felt like it was moving very slowly. In fact, I was wondering if there was ever going to be a murder when I was about a third done. Then a couple minutes later, a murder! That’s when the book sped up! I had a little trouble keeping the two investigations separate. The twist was great! And I did enjoy how the two cases crossed. I felt for Marissa that no one believed her and was thankful when the police started listening to her. She’s a great detective and I’m looking forward to revisiting her and hopefully solving the big mystery soon!” ~ CMC

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery Thriller Published by: 4 Horsemen Publications Publication Date: November 15, 2022 Number of Pages: 362 ISBN: 9781644506639 (ISBN10: 1644506637) Series: Marissa Ambrose Witness Series, #1

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | 4 Horsemen Publications

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MY REVIEW

This book…… How do I love thee. Let me count the ways.

One: Suspects. Plenty of them. In the shadows, hovering just out of sight, or right in my face. It creates a bigger challenge to sift out the red herrings and find the right direction that leads to the villain.

About those suspects.  In Secrets And Photographs, the first suspect that pinged my radar about a third of the way through the book ended up with me being right. It was something I now can’t quite put my finger on that made the character stand out. I reread that whole scene several times but never nailed it down. But, there’s more than one crime, and the second suspect that pinged my radar seemed kind of obvious. I knew better than to just assume and actually kind of forgot about that one for a while. But, the character kept popping into my head as I continued reading and is number one on my list. But, since that crime is continuing into the next book, I’ll have to wait and see if I was right.

Two: The title and cover are perfect for this book. I’ll explain. There are secrets. So many. And you won’t get to know all of them. That will come in the next book. And photographs. That’s the killer’s calling card. His signature. And a way to torment his victims. The cover perfectly compliments the title. Both beautiful and chilling.

Three: Characters. I came to care about several. Especially the main character, Detective Marissa Ambrose. She was kidnapped by a serial killer and was the only victim that had ever survived. So damaged. Emotionally and physically scarred. Medication and alcohol an important coping tool. Her panic attacks are debilitating. Leaving her vulnerable. Though she thinks she’s weak, I think she’s incredibly strong.

Four: The feels. So many. Marissa has some amazing support from long time friends and her family. The author worked her magic and made so many of them genuine. I laughed with them. Got mad with and at them. And cried. Several times. Whew….

Five: The ending. I got some answers. Was left hanging on others. I loved this book and so many of the characters. No way I won’t read more of this series.

5 STARS

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Enjoy this peek inside:
Chapter 1

Marissa felt cold. She couldn’t see anything, a blindfold tied tightly against her eyes. Music blared against her ears, the throbbing in her head synced with the beat of the music. The cold, rough concrete burned her bare legs, and every time she attempted to adjust them, she felt sharp sensations rush through. She was stiff and cold and tired. Her right hand was handcuffed to something that felt heavy and unbreakable, though she tried to pull away. Time had blurred, and her mind swam, unable to focus on anything. She was thirsty, hungry, and tired. Marissa had never been so frightened in her life.

Someone grabbed her by the arm, squeezing tight as they unlocked her cuff from whatever she was attached to and ushered her along. She whimpered in protest and tugged away from the fingers that dug into her. She thought she heard a laugh in her ear over the music before that hand shoved her hard. She nearly toppled over but fell into another set of hands that caught her in their arms. These weren’t as rough and didn’t grip her as tightly. They held her up as she pulled her legs back under her, and one of the hands rubbed her arm where the other had aggressively gripped. She could feel his breath on her neck as his lips touched her ear, whispering something she couldn’t quite hear.

She gasped, sat up with a start, and sighed, acknowledging she was safe in her room. Ellie was lying on top of her legs, her cold nose poking at her in concern. She rubbed Ellie’s ears, feeling her heartbeat slow to normal. Her chest heavily convulsed as tears fell down her cheeks. Pulling the dog in close, she hugged her tight—a solid reminder she was no longer in that place but inside her bedroom, in her home. Safe.

“Good girl,” she whispered, gripping Ellie’s fur. The shepherd leaned in close, burying her cold nose into her neck.

Leaning back, Marissa glanced over at her clock. It was nearly five. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs.” With a heavy sigh, she shifted as Ellie bounced off the bed and toward the door. Marissa swung her legs over the side and winced, aches traveling through her body from her heels as they hit the floor. “It’s going to be a day,” she mumbled and forced herself to stand. It was still dark outside, and she was sure the air outside was cold, but the old house was warm. It may have been old, but her mom had updated everything except for the walls. Marissa wandered into the bathroom; she could still hear Ellie bouncing in the hallway, excited to start her day. She did not share the dog’s enthusiasm. She washed her hands and stared at the reflection that stared back at her. Her dark hair was a tangled mess, and dark circles were under her eyes. Marissa remembered when she took pride in how she looked, brushed her hair several times a day, and had a whole skincare routine. She had been a beauty queen when she was younger. It all seemed so pointless now. Her eyes drifted from her face down to her shoulder with the long, dark scar. Then they drifted to the scar that ran from the bottom of her collarbone across her chest. Her tank top covered most of it, but she knew the rest ran down her side and to her back. She was full of scars now. She turned the light off and followed Ellie to the hallway, stopping at the top of the stairs. It was the same every morning: the stairs were always daunting. Her ankles locked up like they usually did, forcing her to take slow and precise steps. Once she reached the bottom, she headed to the kitchen and opened the back door, letting Ellie bound out into the dark yard. Sunrise was still a way off, but the sky was beginning to lighten. She went to the cabinet above the sink and dug out her meds. Since her recovery from the events at the warehouse, Marissa had received a long list of diagnoses: fibromyalgia brought on by trauma, panic attacks, PTSD, and arthritis. Not to mention a rapid heart rate they couldn’t pin down, chronic migraines—so many meds. Putting on her tea kettle, she set up her teacup and waited for the water to boil. It had taken some time, but Marissa had made her childhood home her own again. Her mom had signed the house over to her while she healed, which gave her full rein to do as she pleased with the place, taking the opportunity to downsize without selling. Port Townsend was not where Marissa thought she would be, especially after so many years in Seattle. She loved the city: the noise, the crowds, the food. The fact that almost everything was open until at least midnight. Not like this tourist town, which felt like it had a town-wide bedtime of 9 p.m. It was known as a charming, quaint town by the sea, and as far as she was concerned, it had lost its charm decades ago. Slowly but surely, the house was coming together. She sighed, grabbed her hoodie off the hook by her back door, and threw it over her head while letting Ellie back inside. Her mom had done all the hard stuff, remodeling the upstairs and downstairs to an open-concept floorplan and updating the plumbing and electricity. Marissa could see her front door, the living room, the dining room, and a study from the kitchen. Below the stairs was a full bathroom. As the tea kettle screamed, she poured the water into the cup and watched the steam rise. This was not where Marissa expected to be at thirty-six. Growing up, all she wanted was to get the hell out of this town. She would be married to her high school sweetheart with kids, living in a big city, and making detective. The funny part was, Marissa had married her high school sweetheart. Twice. They’d also had two divorces. She had been living in a big city, owning not one but two properties in Seattle. She had made detective, reaching incredible heights as one of the youngest promoted in her unit. And now, she was back in her childhood home, divorced and alone, still a detective but benched for the unseen future. It felt like a punishment. Of course, some of it was her doing. She had pushed Jared away and moved back home. Her nightmare wasn’t only when she slept. Her precinct had done all but call her a liar during her recovery when she told them there was more than one assailant. She couldn’t see, so it was simply her word. She had undergone so much; she couldn’t have been sure. That was what her unit had said because it didn’t fit into the profile the SPD had given. People she had trusted with her life didn’t have her back. She paused for a moment before retrieving the hidden key from her hutch and carefully climbing onto her counter. Despite telling herself she wouldn’t, most mornings she would pull down the box. She winced, pain stretching through her leg as she reached the top of her cabinets to recover a lockbox. Once it was on the counter, she paused as her feet hit the ground. She hoped that one day, something new would stand out. Some tangible clue she could hold in her hands. Ellie came right alongside her and whined, sensing her discomfort. Marissa stretched a hand down, scratching her ear as she unlocked the box and let the photographs pour out onto the countertop. There were candid shots of her going about her day, walking down the street, leaving the bakery, checking her mail. A good stack of them was just Jared. Sometimes they would arrive weekly, and sometimes she would go a few weeks without receiving anything. Or maybe it was just a good reminder of why this was her life now. Why she had chosen to be here, alone. A reminder that her life was in danger. Local cops and SPD, while agreeing she was a victim of a stalker, wouldn’t connect it to that case because before the warehouse, Marissa hadn’t received any photos. She had been given police protection across the street, but she knew no one had taken her seriously. In the eyes of the law, she hadn’t been threatened and couldn’t identify anyone. She only had pictures that appeared on her doorstep or in her mailbox. She kept them safely locked away, spending most of her days trying hard to forget them. But too often, she found herself thumbing through them. It had become an almost daily ritual. Once she was satisfied the tea had steeped long enough, she returned the photos to the box and put everything back in its place. Her former partner, Tom, would tell her dwelling over the same pieces of evidence wouldn’t get her anywhere. He had always given her advice like that. He had been so much like the older brother she’d never had, having been the oldest of three sisters. Taking her mug with both hands, she headed out to the backyard, not bothering to turn the light on. She stretched out on her swinging bench and scrolled through her socials. Occasionally, she found her eyes wandering over the backyard, watching for anything or anyone out of place. She knew there was always an officer across the street, watching over her and her home, but they hadn’t proven very helpful yet. They hadn’t managed to see who or how things were being left on her doorstep. The early morning air was chilly and quiet. The only noises she could hear were Ellie’s panting as she plopped herself down next to Marissa and the occasional breeze blowing by. She glanced at the clock on her phone. Barely any time had passed. Putting her feet up, she finished her tea, put the empty cup down on the side table, and looked out into her dark yard. She needed to rest, but she knew sleep would keep eluding her. She didn’t want to sleep anymore; the nightmares had worsened. If she had stopped to think about it, she would have realized why. All that mattered was every time she closed her eyes, she was back there again. *** Excerpt from Secrets and Photographs by A. K. Ramirez. Copyright 2024 by A. K. Ramirez. Reproduced with permission from A. K. Ramirez. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author A.K. Ramirez:

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A. K. Ramirez

A.K. Ramirez is a mystery writer tucked in a corner of the Pacific Northwest. She likes to weave mystery, and family drama with a little bit of romance all in one. She has participated in NaNoWriMo on and off for years, reaching her goal three times with three different novels, in both the mystery and fantasy genres. When she isn’t writing, she runs a dog training, boarding, and daycare facility or spends time with her husband, kids, and pack of dogs.

Catch Up With A.K. Ramirez: www.akramirezwrites.com Goodreads Instagram – @AKRamirezWrites Threads – @AKRamirezWrites Twitter/X – @AKRamirezWrites TikTok – @AKRamirezWrites Facebook – @AKRamirezWrites

 

 

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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