thriller

Best fiction book 2023 winner! #MFRWHooks

Thanks, N.N. Light’s Heaven for selecting REMNANTS OF FIRE as Best Fiction Book reviewed in 2023! In a previous version, this story languished in a small publishing house that never really wanted it. But after some redding up, now it’s an award winner! Check out the excerpt, and enjoy!

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.

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?

Click here for buy links, excerpt, information, video, and reviews:

Wonderful news!

I try not to be super “HEY LOOK AT ME!!!” here, even though I suppose that’s what the purpose of the blog is. LOL. But on this occasion, I just can’t help it.

I chose to ask for my rights back for three of my books that had been with diverse small press that were not helping me sell books, or even listing them correctly at Amazon. Tired of being the red-headed step-child, if you will, I found a new publishing home, totally rewrote them and got them on the publishing track again.

One of the three is supernatural thriller REMNANTS OF FIRE, which came out in September from Dragonfly Publishing.

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.
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?

Wondering if it’s for you? See the trailer here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZeEyWTTZIo

Still wondering? Don’t take my word for it– after multiple 5-star reviews, the book has been nominated for Fiction Book of the Year at well-known review site N.N. Light’s Book Heaven. We’ll know next week how we did, but I’m beyond excited.

Stay tuned for updates. And please let your friends and family know about this book. Better yet, it’s on sale for those with ereaders from now through December 31 at smashwords for 99 cents!! As my dad used to say, you can’t beat that with a stick! Although I don’t know why you’d want to… he said a lot of weird things, come to think of it.

ANYWAY. Please check out the book, now that it’s done right. Thanks, readers, and Happy Holidays!

Disturbing, at best

In my latest book, REMNANTS OF FIRE, one of the clues Sara Woods has to use in her investigation of the Goldstone Clinic is the history of the lead doctor, Francesca Ruprei. From the first moments Sara enters the clinic, she is struck by paintings which were made by the doctor.

“Abstract oil paintings lined the walls, bearing angry, thick strokes of paint, jagged thrusts in vertical lines of red, gray and black. I did not like them in the least, but they were strangely compelling. I had to tear my eyes away.”

Is it possible that the doctor encoded these paintings with magic commensurate with her own powers? Why else would someone have such a visceral reaction?

Looking through some pictures this week at Depositphotos.com, I came across these examples, finding them quite like what I had in mind. What do you think?

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.

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