suspense novel

Playing with fire can be deadly #MFRWHooks

My latest book is out, a supernatural thriller called REMNANTS OF FIRE. Here’s the story:

Looking for a fresh start, Sara Woods takes a job as a news reporter in a small town. Her first assignment for the Ralston Courier is to investigate of a string of deaths, all young women, all her age.

To deal with chronic back pain, she seeks help at a local healing center. She soon becomes convinced that there is something strange about the Goldstone Clinic. Its doctors and nurses are all the picture of perfect beauty and health, while their patients at first seem to improve and then mysteriously deteriorate.

Dr. Rick Paulsen, a physician at the local hospital, offers to teach Sara how to access her internal power, enhancing hidden skills and revealing secrets from her past. Police officer Brendon Zale also takes an interest in Sara, watching her every move and trying to get close to her.

The deeper she digs into the Goldstone, the harder it is to deny links to the paranormal. Can she
figure out what is going on and who to trust before it’s too late?

BUY LINKS:

Paperback at Amazon • Paperback at Barnes & Noble • Hardback at Barnes & Noble • eBook at Amazon Kindle • eBook at Apple Books • eBook at Barnes & Noble • eBook at Kobo Books • eBook at Smashwords

EXCERPT:

Of all the corpses I’d seen in six years as a news reporter, Lily Kimball’s hit me the hardest. Found in a drainage ditch along Route 24, two inches deep in snow, she wore only a shabby pair of Banana Republic jeans and a red jersey shirt, a dried clot of blood on her forehead where she’d taken a header into a discarded bottle.

In the half-light before dawn, two CSI-types crouched in front of the body taking pictures and samples, thick parka vests protecting them against the thirty-degree early March chill. Each breath left their cold lips as a mist of water vapor.

“Damnedest thing I ever saw,” the lead investigator said to the waiting medic from the volunteer ambulance service, “Why the hell would some girl be out here in the middle of a snowstorm without shoes, without a coat?”

Good question as far as I was concerned. I was freezing my butt off, despite a hoodie under my jacket, black sweat pants and fur-lined boots. I couldn’t return to the office until I had some answers. So far, all I had was her name, thanks to the CSI techs. No evidence of blunt trauma, no gunshots, no bruising—it didn’t even look like the girl had been tossed out of a car. I angled my pad to catch the headlights of the cop car and scribbled some notes, numb fingers slipping on the pen.

“Your tech pulled a bank debit card from her pocket. Maybe she needed cigarettes or something.” I gestured toward the lights of the all-night market a mile or so further along where the road

intersected with Declan Highway.

The officer’s glare roasted his techs for sharing information, then he eyed me. “Who’re you again?”

“Sara Woods, for the Ralston Courier.” I tilted my laminated badge so he could read it.

He squinted at the black and white picture of a pixie-like brunette with a slightly crooked smile, then compared it to my pixie-like face, much more florid in the wintry wind. I tried for the smile, too, in case it helped. “New blood, huh?”

“Just started. I’m covering for O’Neal this weekend.”

The officer chuckled. “He’ll be pissed. He loves dead bodies.” The medic snickered along with him and they walked away, back to the running patrol car. The heated, running patrol car.

With a disappointed shiver, I observed the techs. They hadn’t disturbed the body much, other than to rule out major trauma. Lily’s skin was icy white, her black hair patchy, so thin it lay atop the snow. Bony stick fingers and toes were dark red, almost violet, from frostbite at the bare tips. It seemed like she’d just fallen over into the ditch. Just let go, dead.

Satisfied with their photos, the techs turned over the stiff body. The girl’s pale, sightless eyes stared into the gray miasma of the late winter sky. Nausea crept from my stomach toward my throat. She had to be about my age, twenty-something; about my size too, although those fingers were wickedly thin. What would have compelled me to leave home in a blizzard, half-dressed, ending in a frozen ditch with my life sucked out? I didn’t know what could cause such desperation.

But the goosebumps that rippled across my skin told me it was still out there, lurking.

https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=311084

Meet Levi Bradshaw from Tender Misdemeanors

The magical forests of the Bitterroot.

Levi Bradshaw grew up among these trees, and some feel like old friends. That’s why he risks incarceration and worse with his small band of eco-warriors, putting nails and spikes in the trees so loggers won’t cut them down. His group is made up of many young men, and he takes responsibility for every one, mentoring them into a force to be reckoned with.

It seemed harmless enough, until some other folk joined his little group, others with ties to the larger white supremacist, Patriot movement in western Montana and Idaho. Ron Ranning was their ringleader, and he seemed determined to turn Levi’s small protest into another Ruby Ridge.

Unfortunately, Levi doesn’t have a lot of backup. His parents bought this huge old house, intending to make it into a bed and breakfast for the winter ski crowd in Whitefish and surrounding vacation spots, but they both passed before they could make the dream come true. Levi’s brother Zane bailed after their parents’ death, going to law school and establishing himself in California. Levi’s best friend in the group, Alex Sullivan, had disappeared, and Levi was on his own.

His consulting work manages to keep him afloat, and he’s finishing the house bit by bit as he gets jobs. His companions there are Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern, a pair of Rhodesian Ridgeback brothers who have grown up with him, and a pointer named Ophelia, who he rescued after someone injured her on the road outside his house.

Things are only beginning to swerve out of control when his group is targeted by the Bureau of Land Management, which oversees the national forests and gives permission for logging interests to cut trees. The monkeywrenching Levi’s been doing is against the law, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before they catch up with him.

What he doesn’t expect is the arrival of Caryn Orlane, the BLM officer who finds them at work one afternoon. A mutual staredown at gunpoint is a rough introduction, but he comes to see she actually understands what he’s doing. They both agree the more violent agenda of the Patriot group is something that should be dealt with first.

Levi is attacked by his own people, and realizes he needs Caryn, first as an ally, then as a lover. When she joins him, things only get worse on every side. As the death and destruction spiral, the two wonder if there is a way to survive the madness, and how they can uphold the law and still remain together. If not, they’ll lose each other forever.

Here’s the story:

Caryn Orlane has law enforcement in her blood; her father was a cop, and his father, too. She’s a federal agent in northwest Montana, protecting the old forests and keeping the peace.

Levi Bradshaw also believes in protecting the forests, but has a very different MO. He’s the leader of a group of eco-warriors, determined to save the trees of the Bitterroot by legal—and illegal—means.

When they meet in the woods at gunpoint, their encounter ignites a spark of interest, despite operating on opposite sides of the law. When their worlds turn on them, they only grow closer. If they don’t work together, can either survive?

More information and purchase information: https://alana-lorens.com/tender-misdemeanors/

Exciting book trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HlVFvMZw0a0&t=63s

Everything old is new again

Are you ready for this? Alana Lorens will have a new book out later this year, REMNANTS OF FIRE. Check out this new cover!

Here’s the quick story:

A bad divorce, a broken heart, a need to begin again.

These three things propel reporter Sara Woods to leave her comfortable position working for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and take the first news job that comes along, working as the new reporter for small-town Ohio’s Ralston Courier. Ralston is a sleepy little town that doesn’t seem to have much to offer this big-city girl, but her very first assignment is to investigate a dead body, a young woman found half-frozen on the side of a country road.

But soon the story on this body ties in with others, and she finds herself scrambling to come up with a common link among the dead other than the fact that they’re all young women Sara’s age.

Still recovering from a previous auto accident and struggling with chronic pain, she becomes a patient at the Goldstone Clinic, a local mecca of healing.

But all is not as it seems at the Goldstone,  its doctors and nurses are all the picture of perfect beauty and health. Patients at the clinic first seem to get better, then they deteriorate. Sara enlists the help of Dr. Rick Paulsen, a doctor at the city hospital who shares her concern about the deaths of the young women, one of whom was his own patient. He teaches her through Eastern techniques how to access her internal power, skills she never knew she had, revealing secrets from her past.

Police officer Brendon Zale also takes an interest in Sara, but he acts like a stalker, watching her every move, and he won’t leave her alone. He always turns up at the most suspicious times, especially where the dead bodies are found. What’s his interest in Sara?

As she digs deeper into the story, and more young women die without explanation, she tries to choose allies wisely, but not till the last confrontation does she discover the identity of her true enemy.

By then, it’s too late.

REMNANTS OF FIRE is a supernatural mystery novel, and also a 2009 NaNoWriMo novel, and will be published by Dragonfly Publishing, Inc.  (Formerly titled LOVE ME, KISS ME, KILL ME)

Stay tuned for more news!

Meet Brianna Ward from Voodoo Dreams!
Copyright: svyatkovsky

Brianna Ward travels to New Orleans to let go of so many vexations in her personal and professional life, hoping that the ultimate street party of Mardi Gras would take her “away.” In an exotic city, among strangers, she could let her hair down a little, hide behind a mask, and recharge.

A shiver of frustration ran through her, picking up her pace. She practically ran the three blocks to St. Charles Avenue, where streetcars ran from the west side of the city to downtown for a dollar and a quarter each way. Just as other travelers had done since the 1830s, riding these historical and picturesque cars through the streets under a canopy of broad live oak branches, added a special dimension to the aspect of this vacation as getaway from her normal world. She needed a chance to let go.

Not only because of the Dellenbach antics, though finding one of his cronies practically across the hall certainly dampened her outlook. Her daily modus operandi dictated that she lived with a fist clenched around all the loose ends of her day, hopefully choking the life out of them. Control of everything—her life, her job, her cases—this was how she functioned best.

When her big trial goes bad, corporate attorney Brianna Ward can’t wait to get out of Pittsburgh. The Big Easy seems like the perfect place to rest, relax, and forget about the legal business. Too bad an obnoxious—but handsome—lawyer from a rival firm is checking into the same bed and breakfast.

 Attorney Evan Farrell has Mardi Gras vacation plans too. When he encounters fiery and attractive Brianna, however, he puts the Bourbon Street party on hold. He’d much rather devote himself to her—especially when a mysterious riddle appears in her bag, seeming to threaten danger.

Strangely compelled to follow the riddle’s clues, Brianna is pulled deeper into the twisted schemes of a voodoo priest bent on revenge. To escape his poisonous web, she must work with Evan to solve the curse. But is the growing love they feel for each other real? Or just a voodoo dream?

https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=309668

Buy now!   on         Amazon       Barnes and Noble

Reviewers are loving The Wayward Path by Mark Love

Welcome, Mark!

“The Wayward Path” is the third novel in the Jefferson Chene mystery series, releasing August 3, 2022.  These books are set in the Detroit, Michigan area, which is where I’m originally from.  Detroit has a long history of crime and misbehavior, which always appealed to my story-telling mind. 

I’m a fan of distinctive names. The backstory for Chene (pronounced Shane) is that he was abandoned at birth and found at the intersection of Jefferson and Chene in Detroit.  A mix up on the paperwork led to that becoming his name.  The character was raised in a Catholic orphanage.  Never adopted, Chene has a little difficulty building relationships outside of the people he works with.  He can be a little rough around the edges, but he’s good at what he does. A borderline insomniac, Chene believes his mind is too busy for sleep and his body adapts to that strategy. Chene became a cop and worked his way through the ranks of the Michigan State Police. 

Metropolitan Detroit has a population of over 3 million people, and it covers almost 6,000 square miles, making it one of the largest metro areas in the United States.   With so many smaller cities in this region, I wanted to have a squad of detectives who would cross those territorial boundaries and go wherever their investigation took them.  This team would also be focused on getting results.

After creating the Chene character and others in the first book “Why 319?”  I kept coming up with new story ideas.  The feedback I got from readers was encouraging.  I realized these characters had much more to tell.  That’s what led to the latest book. 

*******

Charity Gray was an intelligent, inquisitive teen who disappeared fifteen years earlier. When her body is discovered, it should be a typical cold case. Before the Detroit police can get started, the FBI commandeers the investigation, with a prime suspect in mind: retired mobster Leo Agonasti.

When Agonasti slips through their grasp, he reaches out to Sergeant Jefferson Chene. Their unusual friendship draws Chene into the thick of the case. Burdened with two reluctant FBI agents, Chene is working against the clock and the feds to find the real killer.

Chene senses they are getting close to the answers. Will he be able to solve the murder and clear the old mobster of this heinous crime before time runs out?

EXCERPT:

MacGregor escorted us to the conference room, knocked twice and opened the door. Standing at the end of the rectangular table was a tall, blonde woman. She was pacing by the window. Seated at the table was another agent in a dark suit. He had a stack of files before him. His dark hair needed a trim.

He shot a disgusted look at the interruption. “What?”

MacGregor hooked a thumb in my direction. “State cops have arrived. This is Sergeant Chene and Captain Cantrell. They are…familiar with Leo Agonasti.”

Pappy pushed MacGregor aside as he entered the room and dropped into a chair. “Y’all need us.”

Sedlak threw his pen down on the table in disgust. It skittered across the surface and was headed for the edge when Pappy stopped it with a fingertip.

“Y’all know where Agonasti is?”

Sedlak went rigid. “We’ll find him, Captain Cornpone. We don’t require any assistance from the locals.”

“So, you do need us.” I slid into the seat beside Cantrell.

“That’s bullshit.”

The blonde had been watching this exchange with interest. She cleared her throat and took a step in our direction. “Your name is Chene?”

“That’s me. And you are?”

“Diana Trevino.” She sat beside me. “I represent Mr. Agonasti. He’s mentioned you occasionally in the past.”

Sedlak’s gaze was flicking across the three of us. He settled it briefly on Pappy. I thought there was a glimmer of recognition, but it may have been my imagination. Cantrell is definitely memorable.

“Why don’tcha take Miz Trevino outside and lemme have a minute with Mr. Sedlak. Mebbe we can speed things along.”

MacGregor was still standing in the doorway. He looked at his boss but got no signal that I could see. I stood and extended a hand to the lady. She took it lightly and grabbed her purse off the table as we exited the room. MacGregor followed and closed the door behind us. He waved at the group clustered around the desks. Banks came forward and escorted Diana Trevino to the restrooms.

“What the hell was that about?” he asked quietly.

“Looks like old home week. Give them a few minutes.”

“You think they know each other?”

I leaned against the wall. “How long has Sedlak been the assistant special agent in charge in Detroit?”

“Three years, maybe four. Why?”

“You think he and Pappy haven’t crossed paths before, between meetings, conferences and task forces?”

Mac shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought about it.”

“If Pappy didn’t know him, he would have shot him for that cornpone wisecrack. They were just playing for the audience. Chances are Pappy reached out to him while we were driving downtown.”

That brought a grin from MacGregor. “Well, that’s a twist.”

I watched Banks bring Diana Trevino back into the office area. She guided her over to the coffee urn.

“How soon can you give me a copy of the case file you have on this homicide investigation?”

Mac scoffed. “Seriously? What makes you think we’re going to share?”

“Pappy isn’t trading recipes for chicken fried steak. You don’t know where Agonasti is. His attorney wouldn’t share that information anyway, even if she knew. So I’d expect this to become a joint investigation within the next ten minutes. Might as well get me a copy. And don’t bother redacting it. I want the whole thing.”

“Damn, you’re cocky.”

I grinned. “There’s a difference between confidence and cocky. You should learn how to tell them apart.”

“Fuck you, Chene,” he said with disgust.

“That’s not very original. You need someone to write some fresh material.”

The conference room door opened and Sedlak waved us in. Pappy was rolling a cigarette slowly between his first two fingers. It wasn’t lit, which I took to be a courtesy on his part. If we were at the post, it would already be trailing smoke toward the ceiling.

“Agent MacGregor will provide you with a copy of our files on this investigation,” Sedlak said. “Probably easiest to give them a flash drive.”

“Make it two,” Pappy said. “May as well git started tonight.”

“You will keep us informed of any discoveries you make,” Sedlak said.

Pappy gave him a curt nod. “Course.”

“And if you learn the whereabouts of Leo Agonasti?”

“Y’all be second to know.”

MacGregor trotted off to make the copies. Pappy and Sedlak continued to stare at each other. I waited in the silence. Five minutes later, Mac returned and handed me a pair of flash drives. I passed one to Cantrell. He tucked it in his shirt pocket and pushed out of his chair.

“Chene, give Miz Trevino a ride home. Ah believe she be done here.”

Sedlak adjusted the knot in his tie. “Yeah, we’re done. For now.”

“Copy that,” I said.

Buy links:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-wayward-path-mark-love/1141467645?ean=9781509242191

https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-wayward-path/id6442843627

Social Media Links

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A small shoebox holds big secrets
  • WELCOME, LYNN GRIFFIN!!

Please tell us, what do you write?

The Twenty-One-Year Contract is a standalone, just like its prequel Secrets, Shame, and a Shoebox. Both are 20th Century Fiction>romance>drama>crime>mystery>suspense. I didn’t realize when I started out, but generally I write romance, filled with characters that have something to say and plot lines that are real life. What happened in history still happens today. I aim to expose that fact.

Do you believe that characters are the most important part of your stories?

Characters wake me up in the middle of the night shouting “hey listen to me, I’ve got something to say, come on write it down!” How can I possibly ignore them? Their stories about strong women, courage, and survival. They are real, honest, hardworking. Though of course some are not so much. There’s always the villain that everyone loves to hate.

Then there’s those who read my books and tell me something that makes my day. One said, after reading Secrets, Shame, and a Shoebox, “I’m so glad Harriet was fired from her job. At least she didn’t have to put up with that dreadful employer!” Another person said, “I hated that CJ. What a monster!” My heart sang. It’s such a compliment and so heartwarming to know that they’ve enjoyed my book. It means that I have done my job. What more can I ask? I’m truly humbled to think my stories provoke thought and emotion.

What’s the fun part of writing and why?

I love the way the characters grab me by the hand and lead me along paths I could never have dreamed of. They tell me what they want to say, and what’s going to happen next. Who would have thought it? I love that, and I love them. They are survivors, though they don’t see themselves that way, they sure are!

Why did you write The Twenty-One-Year Contract that you’re talking about today? 

I’m an observer of life. Like most writers I imagine, and I’ve been fortunate travel and to have worked alongside and taught some amazing people. Those I taught in return taught me. I’ve admired their strength of character, their courage, and will to live. I learned so much from them it has been astounding. Both my published books are standalone.

Then there are those coincidences. How many times have you been on holiday and bumped into someone you know in a far-flung country? Or met someone that you knew as a child and found lived for years just a stone’s throw away? What are the chances? But they’ve happened to me. I bet they have happened to you, or maybe you know someone who has talked their experiences anecdotally at a party or over coffee.

What’s the most difficult part of writing and why?

Okay, well let’s get down to brass tacks. Finding time and that difficult word: Marketing! For me it’s a real issue unless you are a natural born salesperson, which I am not. Some people can sell snow to the Inuit’s!  I’ve never been good at bragging about myself, and that’s what it feels like. Selling my brand, telling everyone I’m great, my books are great. Go out and buy my book. Really, that’s not me. I’m shy enough as it is! But that would be wonderful if you did buy my book. Thank you.

Marketing can also be expensive, not only in time but money, and of course it stops me doing what I love to do most. Writing stories.

My sincere thanks go to every reader who has or is considering buying my book.  Without you lovely readers, writers wouldn’t be needed. So, thank you from the very bottom of my heart.

How do you get to know your readers? What do you learn from your readers?

Reviews are brilliant. They tell a story. I learn from that and thank them for their valuable time and effort and those who share their kind thoughts in other ways.

I also blog. I offer simple writing suggestions for budding authors and share what I’ve learned along the way.

I offer to host authors, new and experienced to give my readers a chance to see who else is out there and share their thoughts.

If there’s anything else I think might be of interest, I post again on social media. And I get a real buzz to hear back from them. However, here comes an apology with regard to my blog. www.wifeinthewest.com because I have temporarily stopped responding to my readership. Why? Because unfortunately I have had over a 1000 scams/trolls ruining perfectly good dialogue my readers, with genuine questions. I take hours to read through messages to weed out the good from the bad. I’ve begun with a clean-up program, hopefully that will resolve the issue.

Oh, and I’ve also recently listed my recent up to date program on my blog so readers knew what is available, rather than them having to trawl through every post.

Kathleen Gray is our central character of The Twenty-One-Year Contract. Kate, as she is now known, agreed I could ask her a question for this blog. I think I floored her when I did. It was difficult for her I have to admit.

“In a nutshell Kate, why did you run away?” Kate gave me such a look.

“In a nutshell?” Her eyes watered, I felt guilty for asking, but she plowed on ever the determined character she is. “I think you know the answer to that, but honestly, I wanted to find my birth mother. But then of course there was Uncle Jack. I absolutely adore him.  Since my parents died… he had to take care of me… I knew he needed to get on with his own life. He needed to settle down, get married, have a family of his own. He couldn’t do that with me hanging around.”

                                                ***

Dorian Craddock is a secondary character in The Twenty-One-Year Contract. She’s pure evil, but in my opinion, she shines out as one of those people you love to hate. I thought I’d push one of her buttons to get a response. 

“Dorian, I think you owe an answer to our readers as to why you feel the need to be so mean to so many people.” I handed her the mic. And started typing furiously.

“I owe the readers an answer, do I? Seriously? Who do you think you are, pushing me about, asking me to tell the readers about my business? Really, I’m mean? Besides, you know full well Harriet and Kate got everything they deserved! It could have been so much worse.” She gave me one of those sly smiles.  “Read the dialogue, read between the lines. You wrote it. I’m owed plenty, as you well know, and I’m going to get what I deserve.”

(Little does she know!)

Tagline: Only a simple shoebox, but full of secrets…

Blurb: Kathleen Gray—talented, a little wild, at times rebellious, but always popular—has a fun, easy life in rural Somerset, with a doting family.

Suddenly, they are gone, everything is changed, and she has only Uncle Jack. Try as he might, he cannot be father and mother to her—he has a business to run and his own life to manage.

Kathleen takes a chance and becomes Kate Westfield, fending for herself in London, with a new life built on her hopes and dreams and new friends. She could hardly have imagined that one of those friends has a shoebox full of answers.

SNIPPET FROM The Twenty-One-Year Contract

‘After a glass of water, Jack made himself a cup of tea and returned to the job in hand. This was going to be much harder than he could ever have imagined. Working deep through the night, Jack methodically sifted through volumes of paperwork until light inched its way through the curtain. Though he felt thoroughly ready for bed, he continued searching, his aim to find at least a smidgen of information about his niece. Randomly tidying up as he went, Jack noticed an encyclopedia oddly extended over one of the top shelves. He tried pushing it back into place. It was jammed. It looked awkward. Pulling it out to check the depth of the book, he found a box file hidden behind. Upon the side panel was one word, capitalized in thick bold lettering: KATHLEEN As the hazy sunlight grew, puzzled, Jack pulled the curtains to lend natural light, took the file off the shelf, sat back in Henry’s chair, and looked inside…’

BIO:

I’ve been happily married for 46 years and lucky enough to be surrounded by my lovely family. I’m lucky to be a grandmother of 5 and had plans to trek the world when we retired. But that was put on hold for good reason. We were in Spain when the invisible big bad wolf arrived (Covid). It changed so many lives,  forever.

Going back in history, I was told I was thick at school. No-one should ever do that, not to anyone. I’ve always had this notion I wanted teach and write, and I did, even though I came out of school with nothing. Just goes to show if I can do it anyone can!

Potted history: Married, two children and did a wide range of jobs: from cleaner, to barmaid, to secretary, to social worker and eventually got my certificates and became a lecturer. Nothing stopped me writing though. It’s a passion. I always wrote around the full-time paid job. Well, the bills don’t pay themselves do they?

When I eventually retired, my husband and I decided to travel.  I still didn’t have the confidence to submit my work. If it hadn’t been for a a couple of good friends and my husband with a: ‘do it before you pop your clogs mate,’ I don’t think I ever would have been in this wonderful position now. I couldn’t believe it when I was offered the contract! Pinch me!

Available now Secrets, shame and a Shoebox / Sequel: The Twenty-One-Year Contract.

Reviews can be found on Amazon, Waterstones, Barnes & Noble, Bookbub, Goodreads, and the books can be ordered at all good book stores near you.

5.0 out of 5 stars Gripping drama

VINE VOICE

5.0 out of 5 stars VINE VOICE: A poignant, disturbing and heart-warming page-turner

  1. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0971T3RGC
  2. https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0971T3RGC
  3. Website: Blog: www.wifeinthewest.com
  4. www.facebook.com/lynngriffinauthor
  5. www.instagram.com/lynngriffinauthoruk/
  6. www://twitter.com/LBGriffinAuthor/
  7.  Title: The Twenty-One-Year Contract
    Series Name: Prequel to Secrets, Shame, and a Shoebox
    20th Century Historical fiction> romance>mystery>suspense
    Page Count: 382
    Word Count: 86297
    Digital Price: $5.99
    Print Price: $18.99

Are you a fan of Mafia romance? Check this out!
 

Privilege

The Valesky Crime Family Book 2

by Tina Donahue

Genre: Dark Mafia Romance 

 

She’ll destroy the mobsters who murdered her brother… unless they kill her first.

District cop Lia Blosky warned her twin brother not to get involved with the Valesky Crime Family. He didn’t listen. Now, he’s dead, tortured horribly before mobsters murdered him. Out for blood, she’ll do anything to see these monsters dead.

FBI Special Agent Adrian Kalin is connected to the Valesky Family in a way he loathes and doesn’t want. His stepfather rules the syndicate and is tired of Lia threatening to kill him and others responsible for her brother’s death. To shut her up for good, he orders Adrian to murder her. Who better than an FBI agent who has no connection to her and knows how to hide evidence?

Adrian resists, but if it comes down to saving Lia or his brothers and mother from Dimitri’s rage, he’ll have to choose family.

In a deadly game between each other and the mob, Lia and Adrian fight to survive… while also surrendering to their undeniable attraction to each other.

This is book two in the Valesky Crime Family series, can be enjoyed independently and has an HEA.

Publisher’s Note: This contemporary dark mafia romance contains elements of mystery, suspense, action, adventure, adult themes, and possible triggers for some readers.

 

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The Valesky Crime Family Book 1

 

A Russian kingpin wants her dead… the only one who can stop it is the man sent to murder her.

Toni Flores loved her dream job working for a respected US senator until he raped her. She’s determined to bring him to justice, no matter the cost.

For years, Dimitri Valesky, head of a Russian crime family in America, has bought off those in government. Just like the senator responsible for Toni’s assault. When she won’t keep quiet about it and risks Dimitri’s business, he orders his stepson Michael to kill her.

Michael’s a lobbyist not a mafia enforcer. He refuses the insane demand, but Dimitri insists. The power he holds over Michael and his brothers is absolute… or so he believes.

Rather than murder Toni, Michael intends to romance her. Once he convinces her to keep quiet about the Senator, she won’t be a target any longer and Dimitri will back off on the hit. The plan falls apart and now they are dodging mafia enforcers, bullets, and Dimitri’s outrage.

Michael and Toni fight to stay alive and save those dearest to them as they also fall hopelessly in love.

This is book one in the Valesky Crime Family series and has an HEA.

Publisher’s Note: This contemporary dark mafia romance contains elements of mystery, suspense, action, adventure, adult themes, and possible triggers for some readers.

 

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Tina’s an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes passionate romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. She’s won Readers’ Choice Awards, was named a finalist in the EPIC competition, received a Book of the Year award, The Golden Nib Award, awards of merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competitions, and second place in the NEC RWA contests. She’s featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.

On a less serious note: she’s an admitted and unrepentant chocoholic, brakes for Mexican restaurants, and has been known to moan like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally while wolfing down tostadas. She’s flown a single-engine airplane (freaking scary), rewired an old house using an ‘electricity for dummies’ book, and is horribly shy despite the hot romances she writes.

 

Website * MeWe * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

 

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Get yourself a savage and stay warm!

It’s the time of year to get yourself a savage and stay warm. Grab a savage, a blanket, and some hot chocolate. You deserve the hottest, sweatiest stories you can imagine as winter sets in. You’ll shed your flannel pajamas for lace and leather when you meet the DeLucas.

Preorder the Savage Bloodline Boxset: https://books2read.com/SavageBloodlineBoxset

Add it to your TBR list on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57656059-savage-bloodline

Download the prequel, Brutal Bloodline for FREE!

https://BookHip.com/PQVFCMB

Get a behind-the-scenes look at the Deluca Family by joining the  Savage Bloodline Readers’ Group or by joining the Savage Bloodline Patreon.

Book Info

Release Date: 3/15/22

ASIN- B092D9RGRW

Taglines

In the streets and in the sheets, there’s one word that describes them best. SAVAGE.

The men of the DeLuca family are proof that the bigger the alpha, the harder they fall… in love.

Universal Buy Link – https://books2read.com/SavageBloodlineBoxset 

Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B092D9RGRW/

Nook – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/savage-bloodline-kenya-wright/1139270630

Apple – https://books.apple.com/us/book/savage-bloodline/id1561989851

About the Series

Long Blurb

Darkness lurks behind their gazes. There’s something sinister about their smiles. Their name incites fear in their enemies. Their touch arouses passion in the women they love. They are the DeLucas. In the streets and in the sheets, there’s one word that describes them best. SAVAGE.

The men of the DeLuca family are proof that the bigger the alpha, the harder they fall… in love.

Download this exclusive anthology featuring 20+ BRAND NEW mafia romances to find out which DeLuca you will fall in love with. But first, you must ask yourself one question: Are you ready to give your heart and body to a savage?

Immerse yourself in this dangerously seductive collection that includes:

*Arranged Marriages.

*Billionaire.

*Enemies to lovers.

*Forced Proximity

*Friends to lovers.

*One Bed

*Second-chance.

*And more!

Short Blurb

They are an international organized crime family known for their lethality and chivalry. Only a fool will mistake their genteel ways for weakness. Cross any of them, and expect to spend the rest of your life watching your back and sleeping with one eye open!

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Tags

#bwwm #mafiaromance #darkromance #anthologies #savagebloodlineboxset #romanceaddicts #romanticsupense #bookaholic

Excerpt

Tears or Rain?

 Someone was going to die tonight.

Someone’s life was going to end before the clock struck twelve. Midnight. Their death would be painful, brutal. No mercy would be shown to them. Anyone who tried to defend them, anyone who got in the way, they too would die. That was the promise Enzo DeLuca had made to his grandfather.

And it was a promise he intended to keep, even if he had to burn the entire city to the ground to do so. Before he could keep his pledge, he first had to bury their fallen. He had to say his final goodbye to the man who’d been more like a father than a grandfather to him. The man who’d raised him. The man who’d nurtured him. The man who’d shaped him into the person he was today.

To this man, he owed his life. For this man, tonight, he was going to take a life. Rain fell in sheets on that cold and dreary January day in Bari, Italy. It was as if even mother nature was mourning the loss of Ermanno Deluca. Unlike most of those around him, Enzo DeLuca refused to stand under the shield of an umbrella.

He wanted to feel the cold rain against his skin. He wanted it to drip down his face like tears. Tears he refused to shed. There would be no crying for him. Not yet. Not until he’d kept his promise to his grandfather. Not until he’d put a bullet in the heart of the bastard responsible for the pain the DeLuca family was feeling today.

Perhaps this rain was a parting gift from his grandfather, who knew Enzo would not feel worthy of crying over his death, not until the person responsible was dead too. Enzo refused to allow his grandfather’s body to grow cold in the earth while his killer lived life to the fullest, making money, eating, sleeping, fucking, living as if he hadn’t caused the death of a Don. As if he hadn’t taken the patriarch of the DeLuca family away from them.

He refused to allow the DeLuca name to be made weak by the actions of a coward. Though he’d yet to kill the person responsible, those who knew Enzo knew that the coward was a dead man walking. A zombie. He could see, he could feel, he could hear, but he was already dead. There was already a bullet chosen for him.

A bullet blessed by his grandfather before he’d taken his final breath and left Enzo to deal with the chaos the coward had created. Yes, the coward was still moving around in the world of the living, but he was on borrowed time. And that time would expire tonight. It had taken Enzo a few days, but he now knew who the killer was and where to find him.

A life for a life. That was the code they lived by. The bastard would pay for his sins with his life. Not only because of the promise Enzo had made his grandfather but also to prove to their enemies that the DeLuca family was still a family of savages. Under his grandfather’s rule, they’d been nicknamed savage gentleman by some.

They kept to themselves and handled their business as gentlemen, Men of Honor. But when fucked with, they revealed just how brutal their bloodline was, how ruthless their organization was. He knew other families were watching and waiting to see if they’d live up to that title. They were watching to see if they would fall apart or rise up now that Ermanno DeLuca was no longer around.

It wasn’t only their enemies who were watching them. Members of the family were also paying close attention. Today, family members from all around the world were attending the funeral of their Don. Yet, half of them hadn’t shown their faces in Italy in years. They’d moved away and only returned home for funerals and weddings.

Some didn’t even come for that. Yet, they’d come for the funeral of Don DeLuca. Not out of respect, love, or loyalty. They came to see if there would be drama and to see if the passing of the title would cause chaos amongst the organization. Already there was speculation of who the new Don would be.

Whispers of who some wanted it to be had already reached Enzo’s ears. Whispering and talking behind backs were actions of weak men. Enzo liked to handle things face to face. And those who were whispering behind his back would soon have to face him. There was another group of people who’d come to the funeral. His grandfather always referred to people like them as vultures.

They were the ones who’d shown up so they could sidle up to the new Leader and try to get on his good side early so they could make requests of him later. Then there were those who were happy the old Don was dead. They were there to verify it for themselves and to silently gloat that they’d outlived Ermanno DeLuca.

If Enzo could, he’d put a bullet in all those who felt that way. Then he’d bury them underneath his grandfather’s grave so that he could rest in peace the same way he’d lived, with his enemies beneath his feet. As Enzo stared around him, he noted that there was one last group of people present. The loyal.

They were the ones who’d truly come to pay their respects to their fallen Leader. Ermanno DeLuca had been hated by many but loved by more. He’d been a fair Don, who’d steered the organization away from wars and into alliances that benefited them. Some had been happy with the changes he’d made. Others had wanted to go back to the old ways.

They wanted to go back to the old days. The days when organizations fought against organizations regularly to prove who was the more ruthless, to prove who should be the king of the streets. Don DeLuca had won that war and claimed that title. He’d found no need to fight continuously.

However, there were some who’d enjoyed the wars, the chaos, the death, and destruction. It was true. The wars had led to the respect their organization and family enjoyed today. It led to them becoming the most feared family in Italy. The name, DeLuca, was feared and respected worldwide. Yet, the wars hadn’t only brought them glory.

It had brought death and destruction to so many of their people. A lot of blood and tears had been shed for them to hold the position they held today. The Don had taught Enzo to respect those who’d died so that he could stand where he stood. He’d told Enzo not to let those blood and tears be shed in vain.

Some of the family didn’t feel the same way. The problem was determining the motives of those around him. It was hard to tell who was for you and who was against you at a time like this. How was he to know who was crying and who wasn’t? Tears or rain? That was the guessing game he was playing. And he was losing.

The voice of his right-hand man, Stefano Masiello, sounded over the comm-link in his ear. “Enzo, after the funeral, you must go to the reception. You have to show your face there. We all do. As soon as the funeral is over, we can head there.”

Enzo was impatient. He didn’t give a damn about a reception. If he could, he’d skip the entire event. It would only be a bunch of motherfuckers, smiling in his face, telling him stories of the old days and things Don DeLuca had done. He’d heard those stories. He’d seen those smiles. Why the fuck did he need to see and hear them again?

“Nod if you agree, Enzo.”

His gaze darted to the other side of the burial site where Stefan stood. He knew Stefan was only looking out for him. He knew he needed to attend the reception to keep up appearances. However, there were more important things he needed to do. He wouldn’t be able to rest until his fingers were coated with the blood of his enemy.

He wouldn’t be able to rest until his grandfather was avenged and the entire world knew it. But the reception was not something he could skip. Therefore, he nodded. A shadow crept overhead, and the chill of the rain ceased descending upon him. From the corner of his eye, he saw his cousin, Vito DeLuca, stepping forward, holding an umbrella.

“The rain is getting harder,” Vito told him.

“I know.”

“But you don’t care, right?”

Enzo nodded. Vito sighed. Both men stood there, silent once more as they listened to the preacher.

“Sorry, I got here late,” Vito apologized.

“At least you came. Some did not. They will pay the penalty.”

“Not everyone was as close to Grandfather as you and I.”

“But we’re all of his blood. And we’re all supposed to come home when we’re called.”

“You’re right. Family is family. We’re bound together by blood. When needed, we must come.”

“You sound like Grandfather.”

“That’s because those are his words. I’m going to miss our monthly chats over the phone.”

“When did you last talk to him?”

“A week before he was shot. If I’d known then what I do now, I would’ve stayed on the phone with him longer.”

Like his cousin, he’d also been playing the ‘If I’d known game’. If he’d known what he knew now, he would’ve spent more time with his grandfather. He would’ve made time to travel with him.

Every time the Don mentioned taking a trip to the States, Enzo’s excuse was always that he was too busy. He’d give anything to take that trip with him now. Enzo swallowed the lump of aguish rising from within him. No tears. Not yet. It wasn’t time.

Facing Vito, he asked, “What were Grandfather’s last words to you?”

“He told me to always remain true to what I believe in. He told me that he trusted me to do what was right for the family, even if it wasn’t of popular opinion.”

“Grandfather talked about you a lot. He liked the road you’d chosen. He said we needed more men like you to keep us on the right path.”

For a while, neither of them said a word. Then Vito asked, “What were his last words to you?”

The Don’s last words to Enzo were much different from what he’d said to Vito. That was because he expected something different from Enzo. Though the weight of his Grandfather’s expectations of him was heavy, Enzo wouldn’t let him down, and he wouldn’t fold under the pressure.

He’d do exactly as he was told. His eyes were glued to the casket as it was lowered into the ground. Goodbye Grandfather. Rest in peace, Don Ermanno DeLuca. No crying. It still wasn’t time for that yet.

“Enzo,” Vito called to him. “What were Grandfather’s last words to you?”

As the casket disappeared, Enzo responded. “He told me to remind them of who we are.”

Savages.

Series Authors

Kenya Wright, Amarie Avant, Xavier Neal, Keta Kendric, Sonja B, Courtney Dean, L Loren, Sage Young, M’Renee Allen, Tiye, Shani Greene-Dowdell, Tamika Brown, Lyndell Williams, Imani Jay, Siera London, PE Kavanagh, Cassie Verano, Amaya Black, Theresa Hodge, Kasey Martin

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You never know what’s hiding in your house: Kimberly Baer

My husband and I started our married life in a tiny, rustic house at the edge of a deep woods. Not surprisingly, we had many encounters with wildlife. Here’s the story of one of them.

Mice With Green Heads

One particularly snowy winter, our house was overrun by mice. We didn’t want to kill the little critters, so we put a big plastic garbage can in our utility closet and baited it with food scraps. Mice would scramble in to get the food, but the slick vertical sides prevented them from climbing back out. Every morning we would find five or more mice huddled at the bottom of the garbage can. We would drag the can three or four hundred yards into the woods (uphill, through deep snow) and release them.

Despite our efforts, the daily mouse counts never decreased. The situation was both perplexing and troubling. How many mice were living in our walls? Dozens? Hundreds? We wondered whether the mice we released in the woods were somehow finding their way back, but dismissed the idea. The distance was too great, the snow too deep.

Nonetheless, I decided to conduct an experiment. One morning I scooped one of the captured mice into a jar and painted the top of its head with green food coloring. The poor thing winced in misery the whole time (“Why is this HAPPENING to me???”). I murmured soothing words and then hiked up into the woods to release it.

The next morning, I found the usual five or six mice in the garbage can—including one with a green head! I repeated the experiment several more times—with the same incredible results. I recalled all those stories I’d heard about lost cats and dogs making their way home over impossible distances. Did mice have the same fortitude, the same mysterious homing instinct?

We moved on to Plan B: driving our wee captives to a wooded area about three miles from our house, on the far side of a creek. (Try to get back now, you little scamps!) We always left a handful of toasted-oats cereal to get them started on their new lives. That did the trick, though our mouse problem was never entirely resolved. Eventually we moved to the suburbs, where our house was occasionally infiltrated by lady bugs, spiders, and ants. But we never again saw a mouse—green-headed or otherwise!

New From The Wild Rose Press: Snowdrop Dreams, Cherry Thumbprint Screams

Annie Barkley lives next to a forest but has worse things than wildlife to contend with. Read about her tribulations in the romantic suspense novella Snowdrop Dreams, Cherry Thumbprint Screams, part of The Wild Rose Press’s Christmas Cookies series.

Check out the book trailer at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=giM9IljM448.

Blurb for Snowdrop Dreams, Cherry Thumbprint Screams:

When Annie Barkley discovers a boy living in the attic of her cookie shop, she’s stunned—and oddly elated. She can almost believe the universe is giving her back the infant son she lost eleven years ago.

Annie senses that something bad happened to the boy, but he won’t talk. All she knows is that he’s terrified of being found. When her long-ago crush, police captain Sam Stern, stops by to inquire about a missing boy, Annie says she hasn’t seen him.

Big mistake. Because that lie might cost her more than a romance with Sam. It also leaves her vulnerable to a ruthless pursuer, one who’s determined to silence the boy for good.

Excerpt:

She was startled by a thump from above, followed by the muffled slide of the attic window, first up, then down. The groan of floorboards beneath traipsing feet.

Goosebumps prickled across her scalp. Why hadn’t she thought to grab something to use for self-defense? A knife or a fork or Gram’s old cast-iron baking pan, which maybe, just maybe, would deflect bullets. There might be a metal nail file in her purse, except she had no time to hunt for it, because the trap door was creaking open, and—oh, God!—someone was coming down the stairs.

Footfalls thudded across the floor, mere feet from where she was hunkered behind the island. Squinting through the grainy dimness, she peeked around the corner in time to glimpse a slight, dark figure creeping into the room out front. She got to her feet and followed.

She came to a halt just beyond the doorway. The big neon clock on the rear wall glowed blue, giving the room a bar-like ambience. The cookie burglar was standing behind the counter to her left, cramming snowdrop cookies into his mouth.

God in heaven, it was a boy. The cookie burglar was a boy. And he was eleven. She was sure of that, even though the light was dim and she was seeing him only in profile. Something about him seemed familiar—his slouched shoulders, perhaps, or the long, straight slope of his nose. He was slender like her, though a few inches shorter. His hair was matted and dark but with a good shampooing would probably be the same tawny shade as her own.

An eleven-year-old brown-haired boy, come down from above to burgle her cookie shop…

She stepped forward with a gasp. “Jonah?”

Purchase link:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Snowdrop-Thumbprint-Screams-Christmas-Cookies-ebook/dp/B09GXM27PR/

Social media links:

Website: www.kimberlybaer.com

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/KimberlyBaer14

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKimberlyBaer/

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Kimberly-Baer/e/B08D3RVKCH/

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/kimberly_baer

About the Author:

Kimberly Baer wrote her first story at age six. It was about a baby chick that hatched out of a little girl’s Easter egg after somehow surviving the hard-boiling process. Sadly, she never managed to get that story published.

Nowadays, Kim writes in a variety of genres. Her paranormal young-adult novel The Haunted Purse was the third-place winner in the 2021 National Excellence in Story Telling Contest (YA category), sponsored by the Central Region Oklahoma Writers. Her middle-grade novel Mall Girl Meets the Shadow Vandal was the bronze medal winner in the 2021 Reader’s Favorite Book Award Contest, Children’s Mystery category. Snowdrop Dreams, Cherry Thumbprint Screams is Kim’s first foray into adult romantic suspense.

In addition to being an author, Kim has worked as a professional editor for the past sixteen years. She lives in Virginia, where she likes to go power-walking on days when it’s not too hot, too cold, too rainy, too snowy, or too windy. On indoor days, you might find her binge-watching one of her favorite TV shows: Gilmore Girls, Friends, The Office, or Breaking Bad.