Inheritanceis the first in The Lost Bride Trilogy – a tale of tragedies, loves found and lost, and a family haunted for generations.
1806: Astrid Poole sits in her bridal clothes, overwhelmed with happiness. But before her marriage can be consummated, she is murdered, and the circle of gold torn from her finger. Her last words are a promise to Collin never to leave him…
Graphic designer Sonya MacTavish is stunned to learn that her late father had a twin he never knew about—and that her newly discovered uncle, Collin Poole, has left her almost everything he owned, including a majestic Victorian house on the Maine coast, which the will stipulates she must live in it for at least three years. Her engagement recently broken, she sets off to find out why the boys were separated at birth—and why it was all kept secret until a genealogy website brought it to light.
Trey, the young lawyer who greets her at the sprawling clifftop manor, notes Sonya’s unease—and acknowledges that yes, the place is haunted…but just a little. Sure enough, Sonya finds objects moved and music playing out of nowhere. She sees a painting by her father inexplicably hanging in her deceased uncle’s office, and a portrait of a woman named Astrid, whom the lawyer refers to as “the first lost bride.” It’s becoming clear that Sonya has inherited far more than a house. She has inherited a centuries-old curse, and a puzzle to be solved if there is any hope of breaking it…
INHERITANCE (The Lost Bride Trilogy Book #1) by Nora Roberts is a wonderful ghost story that pulls you in immediately. The problem for my review is defining it. It is not a straight romance because you do not get the HEA in this book, but you do get a contemporary romance subplot and there are plenty of love stories told throughout the discovery of the family’s history. It is a historical suspense/thriller as well as a contemporary suspense/thriller. It also can be considered women’s fiction with the strong friendship between the main female characters and prominent secondary female characters. This story is all of the above.
Like every one of Nora Roberts books I have read, the characters all come to life and are memorable. Her storytelling and pacing are always engaging, and I find I always finish her books in only one or two sittings which is what happened with this book. This book has a lot of character development necessary to bring the lost brides to life and set up the background for the mystery/suspense plot. The only reason I did not give it a full 5-star rating (4.5 gets rounded up on the review sites anyway) is because it ends on a giant cliffhanger…and I do mean giant. This is a personal pet peeve for me and yes, I do realize it is a trilogy, but there is not even a partial wrap-up. And then, the next book in the trilogy does not come out for ten more months. Not one, but ten! AAGH!
The setting is a gothic historical Victorian mansion called Lost Brides Manor in small town Maine which has a ghost maid who cleans everything and one of the brides communicates with a wonderful playlist of songs for every occasion that always left me laughing. The witch ghost is menacing, and I am looking forward to her being banished. Since Sonya is a graphic designer and Cleo is an illustrator, both can work from the mansion, and it is through their jobs that they meet and interact with the town’s business owners and occupants. The dog that Sonya rescues, and the dogs of the male main characters, Trey and Owen are a great addition for a dog lover like me.
I do highly recommend this multi-generational family mystery/suspense/thriller with paranormal/supernatural ghosts, strong female characters, and developing romances even though it is killing me to wait for the next two books in the trilogy.
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About the Author
Nora Roberts is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than 200 novels, including Shelter in Place, Year One, Come Sundown, and many more. She is also the author of the bestselling In Death series written under the pen name J.D. Robb. There are more than five hundred million copies of her books in print.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE FEARLESS ONE (Osborn Brothers Book #2) by Lori Foster on this HTP Books Romance Blog Tour.
Below you will find a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Summary
He had it all planned…until she showed up.
Jedidiah Stephens came to the Colorado Rockies for one reason: to uncover the truth behind the fire that killed her family. She’s been chasing down clues, and everything has led her to an isolated campground. Her plan is to get a job there so she can investigate who comes and goes. Getting involved with her boss, Memphis Osborn, the ruggedly handsome groundskeeper, is definitely not part of the plan.
When Jedidiah arrives on the scene, Memphis just knows she’s up to something. He can see the desperation in her eyes and warily agrees to hire her. As they work side by side, Diah triggers his deepest protective instincts—and the chemistry between them ignites.
But the more Diah digs into her family’s past, the more secrets she unravels…and the more afraid she becomes. She lost everything once before. She’ll never forgive herself if now she loses Memphis, too.
THE FEARLESS ONE (Osborne Brothers Book #2) by Lori Foster is a gripping, fast paced romantic suspense featuring another Osborne brother fighting injustice. While this story can easily be read as a standalone, there are carryover characters from the first book, and I enjoyed it more by reading The Dangerous One first.
Jedidiah “Diah” Osborne and her dog, Tuff arrive at the Colorado campgrounds Memphis Osborne has purchased to rehab and use in his plans. Diah is qualified in all the trades and really needs the job, but she also has her own reasons for showing up at this particular campground. When Diah begins sneaking around, she does not realize Memphis knows her every move.
Diah and Memphis feel a powerful attraction to each other, but they are both hiding secrets. When they warily agree to work together, Memphis’ protective instincts are on full alert, but Diah begins to fear her past may come back to take Memphis from her, too.
I have enjoyed this entire fictional world of vigilante characters from The McKenzie Series and then this offshoot of books with The Osborne Brothers. Diah’s past was heartbreaking and yet she was so strong and determined through it all even when she believed she was always afraid. Memphis was an excellent hero who was protective, smart, and sexy. I loved the witty back and forth dialogue between them before and after their secrets are revealed. The sex scenes are super-hot and explicit, but not gratuitous. The suspense plot in this book has a lot of set-up and you do not find out Diah’s background until half way through which made it drag a bit for me in the first half, but the second half takes off at a fast pace to the climax.
Overall, an exciting romantic suspense with wonderful main characters.
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Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
For early April, the Colorado weather was unseasonably warm. Probably in the low sixties with enough sunshine to make it feel warmer. Jedidiah Stephens, who went by Diah for short, loosely held Tuff’s leash in the only available finger she had. Loaded down with supplies, she made her way along the rutted, occasionally muddy road leading to the budget campground.
Hard to call the miserable path an entry, though. Surely the guy who’d bought the place planned to fix it up a little before he opened in mid-May. If not, she’d see what she could do about it. At the very least, the potholes needed to be filled and everything regraveled. Otherwise, anyone pulling a camper was in for a really bumpy ride, possible damage to the undercarriage of their travel trailer, and there was a good chance they’d get stuck.
Checking the time on her phone, she saw that she was thirty minutes early. Hey, it wasn’t easy to be timely when she relied on others for her transportation. Good thing she’d found a nice woman who’d let her, her number-one guy, Tuff, and her luggage hitch a ride in the back of her pickup. Talk about getting jostled, and now she was more windblown than ever.
Not that she cared. This was the chance she needed to solve the mystery, rid herself of nagging questions and finally get on with a new, better life. Free.
Oh, how she wanted to be free.
She couldn’t change the past or stop the occasional nightmare; she understood that. But by God, she could put an end to running, and in the process forge a new future.
If she let it, excitement and even a little nervousness would take over. Ruthlessly, she tamped down those two disagreeable emotions. The owner’s brother had sent her here, so her early arrival shouldn’t be a big deal. Supposedly, she was a shoo-in for the job.
“Can’t be too much farther,” she said to Tuff, who looked up at her with a frown of concern. For real, her dog was a world-class worrier, but this time Diah had to agree with him. It was starting to feel creepy. The long road in, lined by tall aspens and pines, was plenty isolated. Other than the sounds of critters in the trees, the area was dead silent.
Don’t be such a chickenshit… You gotta toughen up… Jesus, you’re a scaredy-cat.
She’d heard those comments too many times to count. Worse than hearing them?
Knowing they were true.
To the right of her, something rustled in the underbrush—and effectively stalled her breathing. Tuff went alert, staring in that direction, then dismissed it. Almost immediately to her left, a flock of birds took flight, stripping a year off her life. Tuff sidled closer.
Automatically, she sought to reassure him, and in the process reassure herself as well because Tuff’s nervousness always became her own, and vice versa.
Putting a hand on his neck, appreciating the contact with another living creature, she gently rubbed. “Yeah, maybe I should have asked that lady to drive us right up to the campground, huh? I hadn’t figured on it being such a hike, though. His street sign should give a damn clue, right?”
Tuff looked forward and perked his ears.
“Squirrel?” she asked, because she could handle a critter. “Rabbit?” But no. She heard it now, too. Singing. And there up ahead, finally, the winding road opened to a clearing, with a small parking lot on the right and a wooden shed that served as a gatehouse and check-in station on the left. Right now the shed was empty, but it had been recently painted and looked big enough to accommodate a few people. Nearest the road was a drive-through window, so visitors wouldn’t have to get out to check in for their stay.
Thank God they’d finally reached the campgrounds. With a duffel bag hanging from one shoulder, her packed tent slung over the other, and a suitcase in her hand, her shoulders were killing her. The soft suitcase was a roller, but not on this pitted, bumpy path.
Seriously, she wished she were stronger. Wished she were braver, too.
Sometimes she wished she were someone else entirely.
As Tuff strained against the leash, he almost got away from her. Quickly readjusting her free hand, not just a few fingers, Diah said, “Quiet,” in her low command voice, and although Tuff’s furry lips rippled, he didn’t make a sound. Such a smart boy. So many times over the past two grueling years, she’d given thanks that Tuff had come into her life. He was her best friend, her protector and pretty much the only reason she ever smiled. “We’ll sort of sneak in, okay?”
A muffled, “Fft,” was Tuff’s reply. And yup, she grinned.
When she got to the check-in, Diah unloaded her belongings beside it. Looking around, she took in several small cabins that appeared newly repaired. Some trees had been trimmed, RV and tent lots were mostly cleared, but overall the grounds were a work in progress.
Straight ahead, not too far from the entry, a larger cabin—which by no means made it large—appeared to be the source of the singing. She heard, “Love me, love me, saaaay that you love me,” in a high falsetto and couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh, man, Tuff, do you hear that?”
“Lovefool” by The Cardigans. If she hadn’t heard it in a bar during karaoke night, she’d have no idea. The drunken chick who’d sung it then hadn’t done as good of a job as this guy. He really belted it out with gusto.
Snickering, she said to Tuff, “No time like the present,” and led him along to the cabin, around to the side and there… Ho boy.
Naked.
Using an outside shower.
Forget the warmth of the sunshine. It was freaking April in Colorado.
Thank God a concrete block half wall kept her from seeing him in all his glory, but holy moly, what he showed was enough to keep her gawking. Dude had seriously hot, muscular shoulders and flat abs… Heck, she could see the tops of his hip bones, too. It was a mighty fine display, one she hadn’t been prepared for.
Tuff sat down, maybe mesmerized. Diah’s legs were suddenly shaky enough that she wouldn’t mind sitting, too.
Lounge back and watch the show? Would’ve been nice.
Unfortunately, she was a human adult, not a dog, so she had to announce herself. She tried loudly clearing her throat, followed by a sharp “Ahem.”
Nothing.
Face turned up, he sang out another verse while rinsing shampoo from dark brown hair a few inches too long. When was the last time she’d seen anyone built like him, all firm, ropy muscles on a tall frame?
Yeah, that’d be never.
Not once in her twenty-four years had she ever encountered any guy, anywhere, who looked like this one.
Shameful to admit, but she eyeballed him a little longer before saying again, louder this time, “Ahem.”
Pausing in midverse, he cocked open one dark blue eye, framed by spiked lashes. He spotted her and at his leisure, without a hint of haste—or modesty—pushed back his wet hair and got both eyes open.
Intently watching her now, no longer singing, he…continued his shower.
What. The. Hell.
A big soapy hand went over his throat, the back of his neck, across his chest and beneath one arm.
He was so damn attractive, her heart ping-ponged around in her chest. Since he didn’t speak, she assumed she’d have to. “Hi, I’m, um…” Who was she? Oh, yeah. “Jedidiah Stephens. Appointment at three.”
Turning his back to the water, not at all put off by being caught in the buff outside, his gaze moved over her body, but quickly came back to her eyes. “I don’t have any appointments.”
She went blank for a moment before the obvious answer came to her. “Oh, hey, I’m sorry for disturbing you.” Belatedly remembering that people were usually put off by her intent stare, she turned to give him privacy. But yeah, she wasn’t comfortable with anyone at her back so she shifted again, facing to the side. If he tried to leave the shower to approach her she’d catch him in her peripheral vision, but at least her gaze wasn’t directly on him. “I’m looking for Memphis Osborn.”
“He’s busy showering.”
Confusion hit her. “You’re both showering?” How… Why…? Thoughts of mud wrestling or some other sexy activity flashed through her mind. Two sweaty guys. Muscles straining…
Sucked that she’d missed it.
A gruff, short laugh came from him and he said, “You’re not seeing the big picture. I’m Memphis, I’m showering and I don’t have any appointments.”
Chagrin brought her around so that she fully faced him again. Yup, still gloriously naked. How could she not stare? “You own this place?”
Beside her, Tuff stirred. The poor dog was as tired as she was and no doubt ready to bed down somewhere for a nap.
“Guilty. As you can see, I haven’t opened yet.”
“I know the place isn’t open.” She resisted adding “Duh.” As if explaining to a little kid, she spoke slowly. “I have an appointment about a job.”
His gaze dipped over her bare legs, making her wish she’d worn jeans instead of shorts. Yeah, if only she’d had a chance to do laundry, but it wasn’t always possible on the road. His attention lingered for a mere heartbeat before returning to her face…and roaming over her every feature as if figuring out who—or what—she was. Rude!
Because she’d ogled him, too, she couldn’t really get huffy about it… The hell she couldn’t! She was fully dressed, not prancing around outside bare-assed. “Take a picture, why doncha?”
“You wouldn’t mind?” He reached for the cell phone he’d left on the top of the half wall near a folded towel. As he lifted the phone, the music that came from it abruptly died.
The sudden quiet was jarring.
He pretended to take aim.
Belatedly, she found her voice, which erupted with irritation. “Look, I was told to be here and that you’d hire me.”
“Sight unseen?” Shaking his head to deny that, he set the phone aside, turned off the water and reached for the towel—which he only slung around his neck. “I don’t think so.”
Swear to God, she could see steam rising off those impressive shoulders. Her palms tingled at the idea of touching him, maybe coasting her fingers over the swells of muscle. “Aren’t you freezing?”
“Little bit.”
Yet, he didn’t dry off. “Is there a reason you’re showering out here instead of inside somewhere?”
“Yeah.”
She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. Fine, she could play this game. “Wanna share?”
Amusement tugged at one corner of his very sexy mouth. “Might as well, since you’re still here.” He made a halfhearted effort at drying himself. “I’ve been living in this cabin, which is the biggest on the grounds, but still not big enough for me.”
“Seriously?” It looked great to her.
“The shower was especially small,” he explained, “so I’m extending the back end with a larger bedroom and bathroom. It’s not quite done and until it is, I have more room out here.” He eyed her again. “Used to have plenty of privacy, too, until some girl and her dog just showed up out of the blue.”
Odd that the words were disgruntled, but the tone not so much. If anything, he seemed amused. Maybe she was going about this all wrong. After adjusting her tinted glasses, she tried on a congenial smile. “This is Tuff.”
“What is?”
“My dog. His name is Tuff.”
Glancing down, he gave a short laugh at the dog’s sleepy expression. “Hey, boy. Are you really that tough?”
“T-u-f-f,” she explained. “He came with the name when I adopted him. He’s fast, smart and super protective.” She tacked on the last just in case he wasn’t as easygoing as he seemed and had any thoughts of hassling her.
Disinterested in all the human chitchat, Tuff yawned.
“He’s also tired.” Memphis searched the area. “Where’s your car? I didn’t hear you drive in.”
“I walked.”
Skeptical, he asked, “From where?”
Right. Nowhere was near so the question made sense. “We hitched a ride in the back of a woman’s truck. She dropped us off by the camp sign.”
“The camp sign that’s a little over a mile away?”
That far? Hmm. Maybe she could garner some sympathy and that’d soften him up. “Only a mile?” To add an edge of drama, she put a hand to her back. “Felt longer with me carrying all my gear and leading the dog. I think it took me a good forty minutes.”
Lacking even an ounce of pity, he grinned. “Great exercise, right?” He turned a finger in the air. “I’m stepping out now, so unless you want your feelings hurt, you might want to turn around.”
“Why would it hurt my feelings?”
He hitched one of those big shoulders. “No idea, but you’re acting all affronted that I’m out here naked, on my own property where you shouldn’t be, showering in a place that’s none of your business, so I assumed you’d object.” After spewing that mix of nonsense and censure, he waited.
Left with no choice, she gave him the truth. “Eh, since you’re a stranger and everything, I’d prefer to keep an eye on you.”
“What a weak excuse. Admit you want to see me.”
Of all the… She folded her arms and tried to glance away. Couldn’t quite do it, though. “I won’t stare.” She wouldn’t. Her stare had gotten her into trouble too many times.
Had gotten her hurt as well. A long time ago, she reminded herself, and yet it was a lesson she’d never forget.
“Suit yourself.” The towel wasn’t nearly big enough to adequately wrap around his lean hips, but he came out from behind the block wall anyway.
And strolled away.
“Hey.” Diah hustled after him. “Where are we going?”
“I’m going for clothes, and you aren’t invited.” He glanced back. “Much as you’d apparently love to watch.”
Damn it. She had to do better about staring—and usually she did. Given how good he looked, she’d cut herself a little slack for the lapse.
Ignoring his jibe, she aimed for a marginally reasonable comment. “I’ll wait out here.”
Keeping his back to her, he said, “No reason. I’m not hiring you.”
Unacceptable, so she stalled with a question. “You don’t have a shower room here for guests?”
Idly, he pointed in the direction of a concrete building farther out. “Right there, but it’s still loaded with spiders.”
Even as she shuddered, she prodded him by asking, “Squeamish about bugs?”
“Not particularly, but I’d as soon not shower with them.” He went up a few wooden steps to his front door.
Rather than keep chasing him, Diah acted like everything was on track. “Go ahead and get dressed, then I’ll explain.”
At that, he dropped his head forward and laughed.
She waited to see what he’d say, but with another shrug, he opened his door and went inside.
Damn. Now what?
Pacing away, her every step kicking up debris in the gravel walkway, Diah tried to plan. She came up blank. He had to hire her, period. In fact, thanks to Memphis’s brother and his wife, she’d already considered herself hired. They’d offered her assurances.
Could she use that to her advantage?
Twenty minutes later, he still hadn’t returned. People didn’t take that long to get dressed. It was a nice day. Underwear, shorts, a shirt…presto. He’d be done in under a minute.
So he was dodging her. Did he think she’d give up and leave? Fat chance.
She considered knocking on his door, but that wasn’t a great way to make a good impression on a job interview.
If she could turn this into an interview.
If she hadn’t just been completely dismissed.
Crap, what if he was calling the police or something?
Tuff whined, and that helped strengthen her resolve. She hadn’t come this far just to give up. True, she wasn’t the bravest person. So what? She had perseverance and initiative. “Come on, buddy. We both need a rest and Mr. Naked can just do whatever the hell he’s in there doing. I’m not budging unless I’m dragged away.”
Lori Foster is a New York Times, USA TODAY and Publishers Weekly bestselling author and a recipient of the prestigious RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. She lives in Central Ohio, where coffee helps her keep up with her cats and grandkids between writing books.
To save her missing sister They’ll confront a nightmare past…
A mysterious family tree. A man thought long dead. Dahlia Easton has few solid clues to find her sister, missing for a year. But she’s in danger the moment she reaches Wyoming’s backcountry. To protect her, cold case investigator Grant Hudson must confront his town’s unresolved nightmares—even as an unspeakable threat from the past is fast closing in to silence him and Dahlia for good…
Discover more action-packed stories in the Hudson Sibling Solutions series. All books are stand-alone with uplifting endings but were published in the following order:
Book 1: Cold Case Kidnapping Book 2: Cold Case Identity Book 3: Cold Case Family Feud
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
COLD CASE KIDNAPPING (Hudson Sibling Solutions Book #1) by Nicole Helm is the start of a new cowboy romantic suspense series featuring the Hudson family of siblings based in Wyoming on their ancestral ranch. The five siblings each specialize in a different aspect of HSS (Hudson Sibling Solutions) that specializes in solving sold cases.
Dahlia Easton is searching for her sister Rose who disappeared a year ago in Texas, but she believes through her research was transported to Wyoming. She hires HSS to help her find answers.
Grant Hudson, the second eldest Hudson sibling, served as a Marine and has now returned to help on the family ranch and work cold cases for the family business. Grant is assigned Dahlia case and soon discovers it has ties to the town’s past, a cult everyone thought destroyed years ago.
As they work together to discover what happened to Rose, they find themselves at the center of a deadly threat from the past.
I really enjoyed this story and introduction to the Hudson siblings. Dahlia is a mix of vulnerability, strength, and determination that makes her an appealing heroine and Grant is a protector who feels responsible for everyone who needs to learn to believe in the strength and abilities of not just Dahlia, but his siblings as well. There is more suspense in this story with the romance being a slow burn, but it also felt as though it progressed at a believable pace. There are no sex scenes in this story. I am excited with the set up of this series as the siblings each having their own strengths and I already find them interesting.
I recommend this first in a new series. fast paced, and engaging cowboy romantic suspense. I am looking forward to reading all the siblings’ individual stories.
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About the Author
Nicole Helm is the national bestselling author of fast-paced romantic suspense for Harlequin Intrigue and down-to-earth contemporary romance. Her Intrigues routinely land on the Publishers Weekly Bestseller list, and she’s received starred PW reviews for her contemporary romances. All of her books are known for their down-to-earth characters, emotional depth, and happily ever afters.
In her spare time, Nicole loves losing herself in genealogy research, watching Cardinals baseball, and hiking with her family. She lives in Missouri with her husband and two sons.
PROMISE NOT TO TELL (Sons of Anson Salinas Book #2) by Jayne Ann Krentz is the engaging and fast-paced second book in the Sons of Anson Selinas trilogy. This trilogy features the now three adult men Anson Salinas rescued as children from a cult compound when the leader of the cult set it all aflame. This book can easily be read as a standalone romantic suspense, but there is an overarching crime mystery plotline connecting all the main characters in this trilogy and I feel have enjoyed the stories better by reading them in order.
Art gallery owner Virginia Troy has been battling anxiety attacks ever since the night her mother died, and she was rescued from a burning barn on a cult compound. One of the artists Virginia represents was a surviving member of the cult until she commits suicide. Virginia has doubts about the suicide after receiving a photo of the artist’s last work in her a series of paintings and hires the P.I. firm run by Anson Selinas and his sons to investigate.
P.I Cabot Sutter was raised by Anson after he rescued him from the cult compound fire. Cabot is determined to help Virginia not only with her case, but to discover if the man who is the main cause of their nightmares has returned. As Cabot and Virginia follow the clues, both find their lives endangered even as they discover an emotional connection that neither has ever had with anyone else.
I love this trilogy so far. The overarching mystery plotline of the trilogy is interesting on its own, but the way it has shaped the lives of the main characters is compelling. The romantic suspense plot has plenty of surprises and twists, and it kept me guessing all the way to the conclusion. Both Virginia and Cabot still have emotional difficulties or quirks that not everyone can understand from their childhood trauma, and it was so wonderful reading how they dealt with each other physically and emotionally and then came together romantically. There are a few sex scenes, but they are not gratuitous, and the care Cabot takes with Virginia makes them very sweet. The ending has me now anxiously waiting for the last book in the trilogy; I will finally get to meet Jack and hopefully see the demise of cult leader, Quinton Zane.
I recommend this exciting second romantic suspense in this trilogy from an author who never disappoints.
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About the Author
The author of over 50 consecutive New York Times bestsellers, JAYNE ANN KRENTZ writes romantic-suspense in three different worlds: Contemporary (as Jayne Ann Krentz), historical (as Amanda Quick) and futuristic (as Jayne Castle). There are over 30 million copies of her books in print.
She earned a B.A. in History from the University of California at Santa Cruz and went on to obtain a Masters degree in Library Science from San Jose State University in California. Before she began writing full time she worked as a librarian in both academic and corporate libraries.
Ms. Krentz is married and lives with her husband, Frank, in Seattle, Washington.
ACT OF VALOR (True Blue K-9 Unit Book #2) by Dana Mentink is an action packed Christian romantic suspense in this True Blue K-9 Unit series published by Love Inspired Suspense. This is the second book in the series featuring another of the Jameson brothers who all work in the NYPD K-9 unit with their varied K-9 partners. This is easily read as a standalone with a HEA and a complete crime suspense plot, but there is an over-arcing murder mystery that is in all the books of this series, so I am reading them all in order.
Violet Griffin works as a ticketing agent at La Guardia as well as helping in her parent’s family restaurant. When she encounters a suspicious passenger, she suddenly finds herself the target of a drug smuggling ring that wants her dead. When she is attacked in the employee lounge, Zach is in the airport with his beagle and saves her, but her attacker gets away.
NYPD K-9 Officer Zach Jameson and his drug sniffing beagle, Eddie, are in time to save Violet this time, but she is determined to live her own life and makes protecting her difficult and leaves her open to attack. Zach and Violet have been friends since childhood, and he is determined to protect her by bringing down the drug ring that is threatening her life.
As Zach guards Violet their chemistry ramps up. Violet refuses to ruin her friendship with Zach if he does not return her feelings of more than friendship, but she is willing to pray for and with Zach since he has lost his faith in God with the murder of his brother while trying to stay alive and bring down the drug ring.
This is a well written Christian romantic suspense that kept me reading from start to finish. The romance was believable with Violet and Zach both realizing how much they cared for each other, but afraid to lose their long-term friendship. The arguing between the two was humorous even though it was over serious matters. There are no sex scenes and yet the chemistry and love are there. There are strong faith and prayer elements throughout the story, but they are well placed and never slowed the story. The suspense is action packed and fast paced. I loved Eddie and enjoyed the balance between his work attitude and his lovable and at times naughty personality when not working. I was glad there was mention of a little progress in the murder mystery that is spread over the entire series, but I wanted more.
This is an exciting and thrilling Christian romantic suspense that ticked off everything I would hope for in this type of genre book.
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About the Author
Dana Mentink is a USA TODAY and Publisher’s Weekly bestselling author. She’s written more than forty mystery and suspense novels for Love Inspired Suspense, Harvest House, and Poisoned Pen Press. She is honored to have received two ACFW Carol Awards, a Holt Medallion Award, and a Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE LOST BOYS OF BARLOWE THEATER by Jaime Jo Wright on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
It promises beauty but steals life instead. Will the ghosts of Barlowe Theater entomb them all?
Barlowe Theater stole the life of Greta Mercy’s eldest brother during its construction. Now in 1915, the completed theater appears every bit as deadly. When Greta’s younger brother goes missing after breaking into the building, Greta engages the assistance of a local police officer to help her unveil the already ghostly secrets of the theater. But when help comes from an unlikely source, Greta decides that to save her family she must uncover the evil that haunts the theater and put its threat to rest.
Decades later, Kit Boyd’s best friend vanishes during a ghost walk at the Barlowe Theater, and old stories of mysterious disappearances and ghoulish happenings are revived. Then television ghost-hunting host and skeptic Evan Fisher joins Kit in the quest to identify the truth behind the theater’s history. Kit reluctantly agrees to work with him in hopes of finding her missing friend. As the theater’s curse unravels Kit’s life, she is determined to put an end to the evil that has marked the theater and their hometown for the last century.
Genre: Romantic Suspense, Christian, Historical Published by: Bethany House Publishers Publication Date: October 2023 Number of Pages: 384 ISBN: 9780764241444
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
THE LOST BOYS OF BARLOWE THEATER by Jaime Jo Wright is a wonderfully atmospheric Christian romantic suspense/mystery story for the Halloween season. This story is told in dual timelines by two female heroines trying to find loved ones lost in the eerie Barlowe Theater in Kipper’s Grove, Wisconsin.
The female heroine in 1915 is Greta Mercy. After the death of her parents and her eldest brother, she is trying desperately to keep her younger brothers with her. Her brother, Leo disappears with two other boys in the Barlowe theater. Her storyline was very believable and felt appropriate to the period. The female heroine in the present is Kit Boyd. Her best friend disappears in the Barlowe as they are filming with a crew from a TV show about psychics and skeptics. While I understand some adoptees have abandonment issues that make it difficult to trust and form attachments, Kit brought up her issue with this continually and I lost my sympathy with her because it just became annoying. Both women meet men that assist them with their investigations and become their HEAs. There is no sex and I felt little build up or chemistry to their relationships.
I really loved the intricate plots in the dual timelines that constantly had me guessing if this story was going to delve into the paranormal, spiritual, or just pedestrian criminal human realms. My angst level was high while I was reading this book, and I could not stop until the solution of both timelines. The discussions of faith, spirits and demons, and skepticism were interwoven in the timelines and illustrated the differing beliefs in the differing time periods. Both stories are based around missing loved ones and even though they were different, they blended perfectly.
I recommend this Christian romantic suspense/mystery for a haunting good read.
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Excerpt
1
Greta Mercy
October 1915 Kipper’s Grove, Wisconsin
Sometimes death came quietly. A phantom swooping in and siphoning the last remnant of a soul from one’s body, leaving behind a shell of a person who once was and would never be again. Other times, death decided that dramatics coupled with terror were its preferred method of delivery. Tonight, that was the chosen form death took.
Screams echoed throughout the theater’s golden, embellished auditorium and drifted upward to the domed, hand-painted ceiling, where Putti flew as angelic, childlike spirits over the mass of onlookers.
A shoulder rammed into Greta’s arm as a husky man, far too large for the narrow seats, pushed his way past her toward the center aisle.
“Let me pass!” he barked. Urgency spurred him forward. “I’m a doctor, let me pass!”
The vaudeville lights on either side of the stage boasted letters a through g, with the g lit and distinct over the other letters.
“I’m letter g!” The doctor shouted while those in front of him jostled to the side or hurried ahead to move out of his way. Doctors were assigned specific letters from the vaudeville lights, and if they were lit, a doctor was needed—either at home, on call, or in the vicinity.
The vicinity was here. It was now.
Onlookers continued to gasp and protest. Women in beautiful silks and satins hurried to the back to find respite in the upstairs ladies’ room. Men in evening wear catapulted over seats and to the floor on the far left of the auditorium.
Greta was frozen in place, her seat having flipped up against its back so she could move. But her eyes were fixed with horror on the scene unfolding. They lifted to one of the box seats above the floor, where men, including the doctor, were congregating en masse. The gilded box was a flurry of activity. A man embraced a woman, who fought and clawed at his hold. Her screams had many onlookers staring at her, including the performer in her violet gown and befeathered hair. Moments before, her vocals had swirled around them all in a cadence of beauty and refined music. Now, her mouth was open, her face pale, her entire pose aghast. She had captured an enthralled audience, all whose gazes toward the stage had kept them from seeing what Greta had seen. Greta, who shouldn’t have been here to begin with. She didn’t belong with the pomp and circumstance, the heady scent of perfume and cologne, which made her mind thick and her eyes wander. They’d wandered to the box seat, and she’d witnessed what no one else had. The white hands stretching, reaching over the side, dangling . . .
“It was a child!” The horrified cry slipped for the third time from Greta’s lips. She could hear herself screaming and was unable to stop. Her screams had ripped through the performance as the child in a white nightdress plummeted into the shadows of the floor’s obscure corner.
The woman in the box seat had been pulled from view, its red velvet curtain shut swiftly.
“It was a baby!” Greta rasped out as horror strangled her.
“Greta. It’s all right.” The reassuring voice of her friend, Eleanor Boyd, as well as the comforting grip on Greta’s arm finally stilled her.
Greta focused again on her friend—her wealthy friend who should not be her friend at all.
Eleanor’s blue eyes were round with fear that must mirror Greta’s own. Her blond curls swept upward and were twisted with pearls. Her dress was a baby-blue silk. Any other moment, Greta would have soaked in the awe that tonight she, Greta Boyd, who could barely keep her family fed and clothed, was sitting among the elite, pretending to be one of them. But now? It hardly mattered. The borrowed corset that tucked in her waistline, the aged but wearable pink dress she had borrowed from Eleanor, and even the gloves she wore on her dry, cracked hands—none of them mattered now.
“What happened? What did you see?” Eleanor clutched at Greta’s arm.
Greta couldn’t reply. The sheer magnitude of the moment, the honor of being in the audience of the Barlowe Theater had been overwhelming . . . until she’d seen it. The baby launched over the side of the box seat. Like a cherub from the mural above, it had taken flight before it disappeared.
Greta’s knees gave out, and she fell to where her seat should have been had it not folded in on itself. Her hip struck the polished wood arm.
“Greta!” Eleanor reached for her.
Greta felt Eleanor’s brother on her other side, grabbing for her waist to give her support. But it was too late. She had collapsed to the narrow walkway between the seats. Her knees hit the carpeted floor.
Was she the only person who had seen death’s swift visitation tonight? The only one who had witnessed its evil intent as it ripped the babe forcefully from its mother’s arms?
It wouldn’t survive. It could not. The fall was too far, too great.
Death had decided to match the theater’s reputation for drama and awe. Greta couldn’t tear her gaze from where she’d seen the small form disappear on its way to its resting place on the floor of the Barlowe Theater.
The babe had slipped. No, it had been tossed. Its mother’s screams still echoed from the hallway beyond the curtain. Those in the crowd cried “Accident,” “Traumatic mishap,” and other such things. But Greta knew differently. She had known before she came tonight, and she should have stayed away.
Barlowe Theater was not a place that brought joy and entertainment, as was its supposed purpose. No, it had already taken lives in the construction of it, tortured the ones who dared stand in its way, and now it was hunting those innocents who had happened into the shadows of its deadly interior. The theater was cursed.
Kit Boyd
October, Present Day Kipper’s Grove, Wisconsin
Death stuck with a place. Once the blood had seeped into the carpet, the flooring, the walls, it stayed there, long after the stains were removed. They were the testament to lives robbed of their rightful journey through time. Cut short. Obliterated. Bludgeoned into nonexistence. Smothered by the grave, burrowed into by the worms—
“Hey!”
Fingers snapped in front of Kit Boyd’s face, and she startled out of her staring into the dark, narrow stairwell that led beneath the stage of the Barlowe Theater.
“Get with it, bruh.” The fingers snapped again. Kit looked up at the taller man beside her. He was overweight and smelled like pizza, but he had a nice face. His name was Tom, they’d told her, the crew from the TV show Psychic and the Skeptic.
“Sorry.” Kit offered him a wince. She’d paused on the first concrete step while her best friend, Madison, the psychic medium, Heather Grant, and the skeptic investigator, Evan Fischer, disappeared into the bowels of the theater. Tom the cameraman was held back by her hesitation. She gave him a warning look, though the theater’s darkness in the midnight atmosphere probably hid most of her expression. “You do know people died here . . . have disappeared here.”
“That’s the point.” Tom waved her forward, the camera on his shoulder blinking a red light. “But I need to catch them on film if I can, and you’re in my way.”
Fabulous. She was on camera. That would probably make the show too. Kit Boyd, the quirky sidekick to Madison Farrington, the historical activist, the beauty, the granddaughter of the town’s ambitious CEO of all things expansion, modern, and money-making.
“Hello?” There was definite irritation in Tom’s voice.
“I’m going! I’m going.” Kit hurried down the steps. She’d taken them many times before. Anyone who was native to Kipper’s Grove, Wisconsin, had grown up in the Barlowe Theater at one point or another. Dancers had tapped and glided across its stage in recitals, high school glee clubs with dreams of Broadway had warbled off-key through its hall, and the local theater guild had put on such plays as Arsenic and Old Lace and The Music Man. Kit hadn’t been in any of those. Instead, she was the one backstage handing bottles of water to the performers, smiling and cracking jokes to encourage the stage-frozen little six-year-old dressed in a yellow tutu with glitter on her cheeks.
“Oh, c’mon!” Tom hissed, his irritation past the point of being hidden. How he’d gotten behind her anyway was a faux pas for filming. He was supposed to stick close to the stars of the show, Heather and Evan. And boy, did those two get along famously—not.
“Whew!” Kit wheezed under her breath, not caring if Tom heard. “I’d try to avoid those two if you could.”
“Yeah, well, I have a job to do.” Tom squeezed past Kit as she hugged the cement-block wall at the bottom of the stairs to let him through. He elbowed her arm and didn’t bother to apologize. He probably felt as if she owed him that luxury. The luxury of being annoyed.
Okay, fine. She did.
If she was being honest, Kit wasn’t a fan of the Barlowe Theater past dark. Which was the cliché of all theaters built just after the turn of the century. It was dark. Haunted. The place was like a tomb. Crank up some vaudeville music and the place became a literal haunted house of horrors for Halloween. And Kit hated Halloween. The darkness, the Gothic look and feel, Halloween was for morbid people who thought Edgar Allan Poe was romantic in his mystery and lore instead of macabre and bleak. Hadn’t he died questionably? She’d heard a podcast once that claimed the poet might have been murdered, contrary to the popular belief that his death had been the result of some fatal malady undiagnosed.
Kit shook her head to clear her thoughts. Mom said cobwebs couldn’t possibly gather in her head because she had too many ideas. Mom was right. Kit would never be accused of having an underactive imagination.
A finger jabbed into the back of her shoulder.
“Stop it!” Kit spun to glare at the offender.
No one was there.
Her skin began crawling. “Gahhhhhh!” She waved her hands wildly at the unseen ghost finger. Probably her imagination, but whatever. She had let Madison sucker her into a ghost hunt for the popular ghost-hunting television show. This was her penance? Getting poked by an elusive spirit?
“Sorry, God.” Kit mumbled an apology to the Almighty, who was probably rolling His eyes at their attempts to mess with the spirit world. But this was Madison. She believed anything was possible. Kit had been raised to believe that this type of anything was probably demonic. There had to be a middle ground. Hadn’t there?
Kit hurried around the corner, stubbing her toe on a bolt that rose half an inch up from the floor. Dampness and time had warped the theater’s floor, making it uneven. She leaned against the wall, rubbing her bare toe. Flip-flops on a ghost hunt. Bad idea.
She looked around—well, as best as she could. The basement was dark, as were the dressing rooms to her right, sized like prison cells. The short hall to her left leading directly below the stage was also dark.
“Hello, darkness,” Kit crooned quietly, craning her neck to peer ahead. “Hello?” she tried again, this time louder.
No answer.
“Seriously, someone?” Kit was beginning to share Tom the cameraman’s annoyance now. Two argumentative television stars, her best friend, and a cameraman didn’t just vanish within minutes. The basement wasn’t that huge.
But it was Barlowe Theater.
“Tom?” Kit hissed, daring a few steps into the dank blackness. “Madison?”
Again, no one answered. The only light was a flickering bulb that had to be a wattage short of worth having at all. It buzzed too. Of course it did. If this stunt was for show dramatics . . .
“Madison!” Kit shouted. In the ten years since they’d graduated high school, she had followed this woman around. She was owed some loyalty in return. “If this is for ratings, it’s unkind of you!” Kit yelled. Her words echoed back at her.
“Madis—”
Light slammed into her face, blinding Kit. She raised her hands as the flashlight’s beam collided with her eyes.
“They’re gone!” It was Tom.
Kit could see the whites of his eyes just beyond the flashlight he swung around wildly.
“What do you mean?” Kit tried to take captive Tom’s arm as he flooded the hallway with the light, then a dressing room, then the ceiling. His camera wasn’t on his shoulder.
He wasn’t filming.
Kit’s throat tightened. Okay, that wasn’t a good sign. “Where’s Madison?”
Tom swung the light back in Kit’s face. “Where’s Evan? Where’s Heather? Where’s my team?” His voice shook with undisguised concern, turning fast into panic. “How big is this place?”
“Not that big.” Kit pushed past him. Concerned now. This had gone too far. Madison and her harebrained schemes to keep her own grandfather from ruining the historic downtown. Make it famous, she said. Put it on TV, she said. Make viewers defend Kipper’s Grove, she said. “Madison!” Kit shouted, anxiousness seeping into her voice. “Stop this! It’s not funny!”
Tom’s light bounced on the floor in front of them as Kit spun around and marched back toward him. She shoved past his husky chest and down the short passage to the door leading under the stage. Her fingers curled around the doorknob, its old mechanics making it wobbly beneath her grip.
Kit jerked it open.
She fell back with a shriek, colliding with Tom, who had come way too close behind her.
Heather, the medium from the show, stood stock-still facing them. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, her skin white in the flashlight’s glow.
“She’s gone.” Heather’s monotone voice filtered through the passage.
Kit words were stolen from her as her stomach dropped.
“Who’s gone?” Tom demanded.
“Madison.” Evan Fischer, the cohost, the skeptic, and the all-around grumpy hero of the show strode past his partner. Heather’s expression didn’t waver as her eyes remained fixated on . . . whatever she was staring at in the spirit world beyond. “Madison’s gone.”
Evan left less than a few inches between his face and Kit’s as he bent his six-foot frame down to meet her five-foot-four one. “Where is she?”
“I don’t kn—”
“Where. Is. She?” He cut off Kit’s answer as unsatisfactory.
Her breaths came shorter, faster. She could feel Tom behind her. She was sandwiched between him and Evan, with Heather staring into the great abyss.
“I told you. I don’t know.” Kit heard the quaver in her voice. She shoved her trembling hands into her pockets.
“She’s gone.” Evan slapped the wall, glaring at Tom, who was speechless. “Is this a scam? A stunt?”
Kit couldn’t answer. Of course, the show would think it was a ploy by Madison. A publicity ploy. But it went deeper than that. Far deeper. Kit sagged against the wall, the air not reaching her lungs as it should.
She prayed then. Prayed that Madison really was messing with them. That she had simply gone too far ahead beneath the stage and left them behind.
But the theater was hungry, and everyone in Kipper’s Grove knew it was only a matter of time before this hunger added to the stories of death and spirits. That’s how the theater was, after all. Drama. Suspense. And the unearthly way that such things drifted through its rafters.
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Author Bio
Jaime Jo Wright is the author of nine novels, including Christy Award and Daphne du Maurier Award winner The House on Foster Hill and Carol Award winner The Reckoning at Gossamer Pond. She’s also the Publishers Weekly and ECPA bestselling author of two novellas. Jaime lives in Wisconsin with her cat named Foo; her husband, Cap’n Hook; and their two mini-adults, Peter Pan and CoCo.
