Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for TRIAL BY FIRE: A Devastating Tragedy, 100 Lives Lost and A 15-Year Search for Truth by Scott James.
This is a nonfiction book about a horrific fire by an author who did exhaustive research for the truth which reads as smoothly as a work of fiction. I could not put it down!
Below you will find a book description, my book review and the author’s bio and social media links.
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Book Description
In only 90 seconds, a fire in the Station nightclub killed 100 people and injured hundreds more. It would take nearly 20 years to find out why—and who was really at fault.
All it took for a hundred people to die during a show by the hair metal band Great White was a sudden burst from two giant sparklers that ignited the acoustical foam lining the Station nightclub. But who was at fault? And who would pay? This being Rhode Island, the two questions wouldn’t necessarily have the same answer.
Within 24 hours the governor of Rhode Island and the local police commissioner were calling for criminal charges, although the investigation had barely begun, no real evidence had been gathered, and many of the victims hadn’t been identified. Though many parties could be held responsible, fingers pointed quickly at the two brothers who owned the club. But were they really to blame? Bestselling author and three-time Emmy Award-winning reporter Scott James investigates all the central figures, including the band’s manager and lead singer, the fire inspector, the maker of the acoustical foam, as well as the brothers. Drawing on firsthand accounts, interviews with many involved, and court documents, James explores the rush to judgment about what happened that left the victims and their families, whose stories he also tells, desperate for justice.
Trial By Fire is the heart-wrenching story of the fire’s aftermath because while the fire, one of America’s deadliest, lasted fewer than two minutes, the search for the truth would take twenty years.
TRIAL BY FIRE: A Devastating Tragedy, 100 Lives Lost and a 15-Year Search for Truth by Scott James is a new nonfiction book about the horrific fire at The Station nightclub in 2003. The author uses exhaustive research and intersperses personal accounts into a work of nonfiction that reads as easily as a work of fiction. I could not put it down!
It was supposed to be a night of fun and partying watching the hair metal band Great White perform at The Station nightclub in Rhode Island. After local warm-up bands, the lights go out and suddenly the band’s road manager sets off four large pyrotechnics which catch the foam on the back wall on fire. The foam is on all of the walls and ceiling and is as effective as gasoline at spreading the fire and within seconds the inside is filled with a black fog of smoke and the entire building is engulfed in flames.
The author takes the reader through the entire tragedy and introduces the reader through family and friends accounts to some of the individuals who died that day, some of the survivor’s stories and the families of both. Then the story follows the investigations into who is responsible, while continuing to intersperse victim’s stories. The author points out the mistakes made and reported and the series of events and decisions that led to unintended consequences and the terrible number of deaths.
I was completely engrossed in this story. (I remember the terrible story when it was on the national news, but like all other news stories, unless you were personally affected it fades from your life.) Mr. James takes the reader to the very beginning and through his research and the passage of time which separates actual facts from the hype and rush to judgement immediately after an event like this, he writes a narrative that illuminates the cascade of errors made and continues to follow survivor’s stories. I believe the author does an excellent job of illuminating the truth about the good and bad of all the major players involved in this tragedy.
I highly recommend this book!
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Author Bio
A New England native, Scott James first came to prominence for exposing government waste and malfeasance by creating the long-running investigative series “You Paid for It” at WLNE-TV in Rhode Island. His work in television news received three Emmy awards and numerous journalism honors, including the prestigious Associated Press News Station of the Year, twice. He’s a graduate of the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism.
Since 2009 Scott’s reporting has appeared in The New York Times. His eponymous weekly column about the San Francisco Bay Area ran from 2009 to 2012, and his stories received national and international coverage from other media, including The New Yorker, The Guardian, CNN, ABC News, CBS News, “The Colbert Report,” and “Chelsea Lately.”
In the world of fiction, writing under the pen name Kemble Scott, he’s the author of two San Francisco Chronicle bestselling novels, The Sower and SoMa, which was a finalist for the national Lambda Literary prize for debut fiction and the #1 bestseller in the Doubleday Book Club’s InSightOut division.
Scott lives in San Francisco. He’s a member of the board of directors of Litquake, the city’s literary festival, and co-founder of the Castro Writers’ Cooperative, a co-working community for writers.
Today I am on the Harlequin Trade Publishing 2020 Fall Reads Blog Tour for Women’s Fiction and Romance. I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for RESCUE YOU (Dogwood County Book #1) by Elysia Whisler.
Below you will find an author Q&A, a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book and the author’s bio and social media links.
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Author Q&A
Q: What themes can readers find in your book, Rescue You?
A: One big theme was nailed on the front cover: “Everyone needs saving sometimes.” In this book, all the characters, human or canine, are saving each other in different ways and at different times. I enjoyed playing with some of the ways in which a character could be either a hero or someone who needed saving. I liked taking a pair of sisters, a big, strong Alpha male and a handful of rescued dogs and showing how any one of them could be either the hero or the saved, despite gender, birth order or human status, depending on the situation.Which brings us to, “love wins.” There’s some ugliness in this book, for sure, just like there is in life. But I always want to believe that love can win the day.
Q: With the sisters working with rescue dogs in the story and the hero working with veterans at his gym, are either of these elements something near and dear to your heart in real life?
A: Yes, both! Though I’ve never run a dog rescue like the sisters in the book, I’ve adopted rescue dogs and cats all my life. Military vets are definitely near and dear to my heart. My father served over thirty years in the military, my grandfather fought in WWII, and I grew up steeped in military life and culture. As a massage therapist, my most rewarding work comes from massaging for CAUSE (Comfort for America’s Uniformed Servicemembers). CAUSE is a non-profit program that provides wounded service members free massages twice a month. I love being able to give back to the men and women who have served us.
Q: What is something you can share about this pair of sisters and their relationship that might not have made it into the book?
A: Constance and Sunny always watch The Matrix together on Sunny’s birthday. They share popcorn and quote lines. It’s a ritual they started when the movie came out in their youth.
Q: Do you own any pets? If so what kind? If not, what kind would you adopt if you could?
A: I currently share a home with four dogs, four cats and a rabbit named Lieutenant Dan. Recently deceased are two guinea pigs. All rescues.
Q: Is this your first book that you have written? If not, what was your first book?
A: I’ve been writing books since I was about eight. They started out as short, handwritten books, but I was writing full length novels by the time I was a young teen. I had a word processor (like a typewriter but with editing capabilities) that I’d begged my parents for as a birthday present. I wrote a historical romance, a contemporary romance and a western (with a woman hero!) “Rescue You” is actually a combination of two novels I wrote and then wove together.
Q: Did you always want to become an author?
A: Yes. Always. When I was young I mailed a handwritten book to a publisher’s address I found on the copyright page of one of the many books on my shelf. Just put this handwritten book I wrote in a big envelope, slapped stamps on it and mailed it to them. They were actually kind enough to mail it back. They included a note saying that all submissions had to be typewritten. I look back on that and laugh at my young, naive self but also with surprise at the kindness of that publishing company. They paid out of pocket to return that book to me when most would dump it in the trash.
Q: What was the process of becoming a published writer like for you?
A: I won a writing award in high school. When I was in college, I wrote a lot of short stories and placed in competitions like the F. Scott Fitzgerald and The Sandy. Once I started writing novels, I entered those in contests, too, and won or placed quite a few times. After gaining that confidence, I started querying agents. This was back when almost nobody accepted email queries, so that was a long waiting game. I wrote several books and queried them at different times before getting an offer of representation.The road to publication after that was long. I told my agent, the fabulous Sara Megibow, that we were ahead of our time when I started out. My stories never fit neatly into genre, were kind of quirky and always had really strong, bold heroines, which weren’t necessarily popular like they are today. Everyone wants strong women now, and genre bending is more acceptable, so I’ve finally come into my own.
Q: Describe your hero using only 3 words.
A: Gritty-sweet Alpha.
Q: What is your advice for aspiring writers?
A: If you’re writing, you’re already a writer. You don’t need anyone’s approval to make it so. Publishing may be an end goal to that, and if so, know that the game changes and you have to meld art into business. Put in the work, get feedback, hone your craft, listen to your editors. It’s a tough industry for sure, but in the immortal words of Tom Petty, “In a world that keeps on pushing me around … I won’t back down.”
Q: Do you create outlines for your book or do you just start starting one scene at a time?
A: It’s weird–I’m a super organized person but I barely outline at all. I always tell myself I’m going to try to outline more, but my process goes more like this: I get inspired by an idea, a scene, a moment, a person, a song. I expand that into a possible cast, have a vague starting point and probably a big scene in the middle that doesn’t know where it’s going to end up, just that it WILL be in there, and then most likely an ending (but not always). I’ll jot those down. When I actually start writing, it’s important to me to nail the opening before I move on to any other part of the story, even though the opening might change. After that, the process gets even messier: I think, re-read, jot a couple sentences in the outline, write in my head, write for real, edit, maybe go for a long walk and listen to music and decide where the story goes next. I edit a lot as I go. I’m not a “vomit on the page” writer. I’m more of a two steps up, one step back kind of person.
Q: What is your next writing project?
A: The next book in the series is called “Forever Home” and is currently with my editor! This story is about a kick ass, motorcycle riding, Marine Corps Veteran heroine who catches the eye of Detective Sean Callahan. There’ll be fitness, sleuthing, romance, an abandoned dog who loves the motorcycle shop, and, of course, some face-time from Constance, Sunny and Rhett.
Q: Where can readers find you and your work online?
A: Visit me at my Web site: www.elysiawhisler.com. There’s a bio, information on events, upcoming books and press. There are links to order Rescue You, links to follow me on Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads and Facebook and a place to sign up for my newsletter!
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Book Summary
She needs a fresh start. He’s got scars that haven’t healed. With the help of some rescue dogs, they’ll discover that everyone deserves a chance at happiness.
After a year of heartbreak and loss, the only thing keeping Constance afloat is the dog rescue she works at with her sister, Sunny. Desperate for a change, Constance impulsively joins a new gym, even though it seems impossibly hard, and despite the gym’s prickly owner.
Rhett Santos keeps his gym as a refuge for his former-military brothers and to sweat out his own issues. He’s ready to let the funny redhead join, but unprepared for the way she wiggles past his hard-won defenses.
When their dog rescue is threatened, the sisters fight to protect it. And they need all the help they can get. As Rhett and Constance slowly open up to each other, they’ll find that no one is past rescuing; what they need is the right person—or dog—to save them.
RESCUE YOU (Dogwood County Book #1) by Elysia Whisler is the first book in a new Women’s fiction series that had me hooked from the very first chapter. This is a new author that I will definitely be following into the future.
Constance and Rhett are such wonderful characters. Both broken and yet when they meet, they know just what the other needs even as they work through obstacles of their own. It is not a relationship that comes easily, but I believe the author handled the speed and interactions realistically. The use of Rhett’s extreme fitness center, Semper Fit, as a place for physical as well as emotional change had me as intrigued as the dog rescue, Pittie Place which had all of the sisters’ dynamics playing out around it.
Constance and Sunny’s relationship as sisters, who love each other dearly, but have had certain roles forced on them evolves as both sisters change throughout this story. The relationships with the men in their lives adds to the dynamic, but does not stop their growth and love for each other. Every character in this book is fully fleshed and play a pivotal role in the overall story.
While emotionally dense with several real-life serious situations and problems, the author was still able to make this story easy to read with touches of humor. This book covers rescue dogs and puppy mills, sister relationships, depression after death of a loved one, divorce and PTSD all with an authority that never had me doubting the research and knowledge of any one topic.
I highly recommend this book and new author! I am anxiously waiting for the next book in this series!
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Excerpt
One
Constance slammed on her brakes. Steam rose from the street as rain gurgled through the ditches. She killed the engine, stepped into the pattering droplets and scanned the shoulder of the road. Nothing there but the remains of a goose carcass. “Where are you, boy?” Constance gave a low whistle.
It hadn’t been her imagination. The picked-over goose only made her more certain she’d seen a dog, weaving through the foggy afternoon air like a phantom. A lost dog, with his head bent against the rain as he loped along the muddy ditch.
Constance whistled again. Silence, but for the sound of rain hitting the trees that lined the road. “Maybe I’m just tired.” She’d done a lot of massages today, which made her feel wrung out. Constance almost ducked back into the van, but halted.
There he was: a white face with brown patches, peeking at her from behind a bush. “Hey, boy.” Constance squatted down, making herself smaller, less threatening. The dog watched, motionless. Constance drew a biscuit from her coat, briefly recalling the cashier’s amusement at the grocery store today when she’d emptied her pockets on the counter, searching for her keys. Five dog biscuits had been in the pile with her phone, a used tissue and the grocery list.
“Dog mom, huh?” the elderly cashier had said.
“Something like that.” More like dog aunt, to all of the rescues at Pittie Place. Her sister, Sunny, had quite the brood.
Constance laid the biscuit near her foot and waited. A moment later, the bush rustled and the dog approached. He had short hair and big shoulders. He got only as close as he needed to, then stretched his neck out for the prize. As he gingerly took the biscuit, Constance noted a droopy abdomen and swollen nipples, like a miniature cow.
So. He was a she. Constance inched toward her. The dog held on to the biscuit, but reared back. Constance extended her fist, slowly, so the mom could smell her. “You got puppies somewhere?”
The dog whimpered, but crunched up the biscuit.
“Where are your puppies?”
The dog whimpered again. Her legs shook. Her fur was muddy, feet caked with dirt. She had blood on her muzzle— probably from the dead goose. By her size and coloring, Constance decided she was a pit bull.
Constance rose up, patted her thigh and headed toward her van. She slid open the side door, grabbed a blanket and spread it out, but when she turned around, the dog was several yards away. Her brown-and-white head was low as she wandered beneath a streetlamp, the embodiment of despair in the drizzle that danced through the light.
Constance followed, slipping on the leaves that clogged the drainage ditch. The dog glanced once over her shoulder, but her pace didn’t quicken. Constance decided her calm demeanor was working, keeping the dog from fleeing. And let’s be honest: the biscuit hadn’t hurt. Chances were, the dog would be happy to have more as soon as she got wherever she was going. “Let’s see where you’re headed, then. Show me if you’ve got a home.”
Constance followed her across the road, around the curve and down the narrow lane. Frogs popped like happy corn all over the slick street, but the chill of the oncoming winter slithered through Constance’s blood.
She followed the dog for a good quarter mile. Even before she hooked a left down the unpaved road hidden behind the trees, Constance had figured out that the mama was headed to one of the handful of empty places that sat decomposing on the hundred or so acres the Matteri family owned. Constance paused only long enough to squelch the sizzle of anger that bubbled up inside before she pressed on, determined to know if the dog was a stray or a neglected mother from Janice Matteri’s puppy mill.
Constance took the same turn and watched as the dog neared the abandoned house up ahead. Nobody had lived there in years. It was only a matter of time before it became condemned. The dog bypassed the crumbling porch of the old colonial and went around back. Constance knew little daylight was left, and she hadn’t brought a flashlight. She broke into a trot, clutched her coat tighter around her and didn’t slow until the dog came back into view. Constance followed her, her heart thumping harder with each step.
The dog passed the rusted chain-link fence and disappeared over a rise in the property, near an old shed so overgrown with trees it was only recognizable by a pale red door. Just as she reached the hill, Constance heard a squeak. The sort of high-pitched noise that echoes from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Another squeak came. And another. She crested the hill and saw the dog slink inside the shed door. Constance got to the shed and pushed inside. The dog had reached her destination: a battered old mattress, three shades of brown, lying a few feet inside. The mewls, now loud and hungry, came from a shredded section of the mattress.
Constance narrowed her eyes. At first, she counted only two bobbing, brown heads, but as she drew closer there was a third. Then a fourth. The last one didn’t move nearly as much, just sort of waded on his stomach. The puppies had cocoa-colored fur and black muzzles. Eyes open. The ones that moved didn’t really walk, just stumbled into each other, like drunks. Mama dog curled around them and they all wiggled toward her abdomen.
Constance knelt down next to the mattress and watched the suckling puppies. She decided they were about two weeks old. The air in the shed smelled of sour milk, poop and urine. She dug out another biscuit and reached, slowly, her hand in a fist to protect her fingers, her gaze on the mama for any sign she was upset, such as pinned ears, bared teeth or a raised ridge of fur down the back. The energy around the mom and her pups was calm, to the point of exhausted. Constance had certainly helped with enough of Sunny’s dogs over the years to know. She offered the biscuit and the mom took it. With her mouth busy, Constance carefully touched the smallest puppy, who shook so hard the tremble came from deep inside, beneath his skin and fur, straight from his bones.
Constance rose slowly and did a quick search of the vicinity for more puppies, which turned up nothing but trash, vermin and an old orange crate, which she brought over to the mattress.
Now to see if Mom was going to accept help.
Though daylight was precious, Constance waited until the pups were done suckling before she offered a third treat. “Let’s go back to my place,” Constance said as Mom accepted the biscuit. “My sister has a rescue for critters, just like you. And I help her all the time. You’ll be safe there. Does that sound okay?”
While Mama crunched, Constance reached for the two pups closest to her and, keeping an eye on Mom the whole time, she lifted them and settled them in the crate. Mom’s chewing quickened, so Constance acted fast, lifting the last two pups swiftly but carefully. She rose to her feet, crate in her arms. The mother dog was on her feet almost ahead of her, pointing her muzzle at the crate and whining.
Constance knew the mom would follow her anywhere she took those pups, but she also lacked any signs of aggression, almost as though she knew that this was their only chance. Or as Pete, owner of Canine Warriors and Constance’s longtime childhood friend, would put it, “You just got something about you, Cici. Everybody trusts you. People. Dogs. The damn Devil himself.”
Constance headed back to her van, chasing the sunset. As expected, the mother followed. Once to the vehicle, Constance opened the van and set the crate full of pups next to the blanket she’d spread out earlier. The mama dog leaped in after them.
Constance slid the door closed, settled behind the steering wheel and let out a great sigh. Mission accomplished. She edged down the long, lonely road. The rain pattered on the windshield and the scent of dirty puppies hit her nose. She’d take them home tonight and get them settled in, see how they reacted to a new environment, then text Sunny in the morning. Constance had worked with enough dogs, and people, to know that introducing another new person this evening was bad news. Let Mama get used to Constance first, and get some good food and rest, before she was moved to Pittie Place.
Tonight, at least, this girl and her babies belonged with Constance.
Elysia Whisler was raised in Texas, Italy, Alaska, Mississippi, Nebraska, Hawai’i and Virginia, in true military fashion. Her nomadic life has made storytelling a compulsion from a young age.
She doubles as a mother, a massage therapist and a CrossFit trainer and is dedicated to portraying strong women, both in life and in her works. She lives in Virginia with her family, including her large brood of cat and dog rescues, who vastly outnumber the humans.
THE FUHRER’S ORPHANS: A Moving and Powerful Novel Based on True Events by David Laws is set around the year 1940 at the beginning of WWII and is the type of historical fiction I love to read.
The two main characters had been on opposite ends of the Kindertransport which transported refugee children from Prague to England before the Nazis shut down all escape of refugees from the Third Reich. Unknown to each other, they are about to come together in a critically important secret mission in Munich.
Claudia Kellner is an elementary teach in Munich who is living with several secrets. She is approached by Erika Schmidt, a mother of a student in her class, to see if she would be willing to help with children who are hiding in “The Maze”, a deserted and overgrown portion of the railroad yard in Munich. Erika does not know of Claudia’s past and that Claudia will do anything to save children.
Lieutenant Peter Chesham comes from a well-to-do family and has lived a flamboyant and adventurous life. Having been trained as a railroad engineer and having family in Switzerland, he is picked to covertly enter the Third Reich to destroy a new railroad engine designed by an American defector that could change the balance of the war in Hitler’s favor.
Peter and Claudia cross paths when Peter is told by his underground connections that the destruction of the engine could also destroy the abandoned railyard and kill the children in hiding. A plan is devised to get the children out of Munich while also still accomplishing the destruction of the new engine.
Will Peter, Claudia and their underground connections be able to pull off the ultimate escape to save the children, while still accomplishing their mission to destroy the engine that could change history?
I really enjoyed this story and the growing suspense surrounding the ultimate fate of the children juxtaposed against the intrigue surrounding the destruction of the engine all while Peter and Claudia grew to trust each other and reveal their personal secrets. For me, there was a slight lag in the beginning of the story as all of the information about the Breitspurbahn rail was explained, but it quickly took off after all the characters where put into place.
An entertaining and compelling read for all of us who crave stories set in this time-period with a different twist than what we have read before. I am looking forward to checking out other books by this author, also.
Thanks very much to Bloodhound Books for allowing me to read this ebook prepublication.
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Author Bio
I’ve been a national newspaper journalist for many years but have always nursed the ambition to write novels about my favourite historical period – before, during and after the two world wars. And now with Exit Day I’m right up to date.
Everyone has to start somewhere – and my first “journalistic” job was operating an old-fashioned plug-in telephone switchboard for a City of London financial weekly. When I’d cut off too many calls and they’d sent me on my way, I managed to secure reporting stints around the London suburbs of Wembley, Southall, Hayes and Harrow. I followed this by switching to sub-editing at an evening paper in Shropshire and then joining the Daily Express in Manchester and London.
I guess it really all began as a young teenager when I published my own magazine called Opinion, printed illicitly by a cousin on her firm’s Gestetner duplicator. It sold to school chums and I remember getting told off for writing critical pieces on the Korean War, not quite the done thing at the time.
I’ve also written for and edited magazines dealing with film, medicine, travel and finance. Highlights were interviews with Jack Higgins, Marti Caine and Robert Ludlum.
To help put my children through fee-paying schools I did a part-time bulk trucking job for a local bakery, much to the amusement of my colleagues. The bumps and mishaps along the way were many. Like the 8,000 apple tarts which hit the road – literally.
All worth the effort! I’m now the proud father of a judge and a headmaster.
My leisure pursuits have included driving for a village bus group in Suffolk, crewing and driving a steam locomotive hauling The Blues Express in Poland, rambling in Canada, the UK and Majorca (don’t try the last one, far too hot!), some gliding and a scary lesson at the controls of a helicopter – a birthday present from my son.
Plus a life-long interest in modern history, the Second World War in particular, and why we had to fight it. Hence the novel MUNICH, a key step on the run-up to that catastrophic conflict.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour for EMERGENCY POWERS (Imogen Trager Book #3) by James McCrone. While this is the third book in the series, it can be read as a standalone.
Below you will find a post from the author, a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
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Post from the Author
Becoming a Writer – James McCrone
I’m often asked how old I was when I first realized I wanted to be a writer?
Like many writers, I had English/Language Arts teachers who were inspirational, as well as great librarians who opened up the world of books (and writing) to me. But ‘when did you realize it?’ is a difficult question for me because I honestly can’t think of a time when I wasn’t writing stories. But I think it was an assignment in 4th grade that made me see myself as a writer.
Stories are the way I make sense of the world. When I want to explain something I often end up telling a story to illustrate the point, or I relate an analogy, usually in story form. I was 9 or 10 years old before I found out that not everyone wrote stories. That not everyone kept a little journal in their bedrooms. I had thought it was normal to do so. (Of course, I thought I was normal!)
I wasn’t writing in a diary—sometimes days or a week would go by without me putting anything down. But then something would happen that impressed or confused me—someone on the bus, or an argument on the playground, or something I overheard my parents talking about—and I’d write it down.
Then I’d look at what I wrote, and I’d wonder whether it was the beginning of the story, the middle, or the end—what part was I seeing? What had led up to the argument I’d seen? Was it the beginning of something, or was it the end? Or: why was the woman on the bus muttering to herself? Did no one talk with her because she muttered to herself, or did she mutter to herself because she had no one to talk with? What else had happened? What else would happen? And I’d try to fill it in.
That day in fourth grade we were given an assignment to write a story. One of my classmates groaned about it, despairing of having to write a WHOLE story (It only had to be 4-5 pages, if I remember correctly.) I said something like “it doesn’t have to be anything new. You can just flesh out something you already have.” He looked at me like I was nuts.
Of course for me, the problem wasn’t what to write, but which story to use.
So I think it was that assignment which made me think about what I was doing as “being a writer.” All I remember now about the story I wrote then is that it was about a boy who gets lost. But the teacher liked it and praised it, and when she had me read it to the class, they liked it—even some of the kids I thought would make fun of me.
Prior to that moment, I’d looked at writing as something only for me. Now, I saw it as something to share. And I’ve been hooked on it ever since.
I’m still doing much the same thing I did when I was a boy. I write about things that interest me, that draw me in. And I wonder where else it will go… Fortunately, there are many who come along for the ride.
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Book Synopsis
The accidental president is no accident. The investigation that was FBI Agent Imogen Trager’s undoing may be the key to stopping a brutal, false flag terrorist attack meant to tighten a puppet president’s grip on power.
As the story begins, Imogen is haunted—and sidelined—by a case she couldn’t solve. When the president dies in office, she knows that the conspiracy she chased down a blind alley still has life in it—and she needs to get back in the hunt.
As bodies pile up and leads go cold, the main target from that old case reaches out to her. He’s still at large, and now he needs protection. Imogen doesn’t trust him, and it’s not only because he’s offering intel that sounds too good to be true. He’s already tried to kill her once.
Set in D.C., Seattle and small town America, Emergency Powers is a story of corruption and redemption, achieved at enormous personal cost.
Genre: Suspense-Thriller Published by: James McCrone Publication Date: October 1, 2020 Number of Pages: 300 ISBN: 9780999137727 (9780999137734) Series: An Imogen Trager Thriller
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
EMERGENCY POWERS (Imogen Trager Book #3) by James McCrone is the third intrigue filled, twisted political thriller featuring FBI agent Imogen Trager. Imogen is a brilliant analyst of political statistics who believes statistics can always be used to find hidden clues or patterns that otherwise cannot be found through straight forward investigative procedures. While this is a continuation from books one and two, the author brings you up to date quickly so this book can be read as a standalone.
After working to stop a secret group’s attempt to derail and steal the Presidential election, Imogen has been sidelined and considers resigning from the FBI and returning to academia.
And then the news…The President is dead!
FBI agent Imogen Trager, her fellow agent, Amanda Vega and her former boss, Don Weir are all immediately aware that there is more to uncover. With Bob Moore moving from VP to President, Imogen now has a new focal point for her statistical analysis and investigation to begin once again connecting the dots to uncover the remainder of the conspiracy.
While bodies pile up, a connection from the previous investigation reaches out to Imogen. While he tried to kill her previously, he now wants protection for information and Imogen does not know if she can trust him.
The powerful elite behind this plot will do anything to maintain their power now that they have everyone and everything in their control, except Imogen.
This is such an edge-of-your-seat plot which seems like it could easily happen in real world politics today. The twists and turns in the plot surprised me and were perfectly written to keep me turning the pages. Imogen is a heroine that I always love to find in fiction because she uses her intelligence above all else to uncover the plot against our democracy. All the secondary characters are fully drawn and add to the overall story without being just placeholders. This book is a full length thriller that does standalone, but I am glad that I also read the first two books which are both approximately 200 pages and give the lead-up to this plot and more background on the main characters.
I highly recommend this thought-provoking political thriller with a what-if scenario that is eerily believable!
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Excerpt
Friday, March 10
Seattle, Washington
1
Just before 5am, FBI Agent Imogen Trager gave a low growl and reached for the phone, buzzing officiously on the nightstand. She sat on the edge of the bed she shared with Duncan Calder, glowering at it as her eyes focused in the dark. Fixing a strand of red hair behind her ear, she scrolled through texts and posts from colleagues and friends. Her anger turned from dismay to sickening fear.
“Duncan!” She shook him awake and handed him the phone. He sat up and took it, scanning the news, instantly awake.
Imogen rose and picked her way to the living room in the dark where she turned on the television. The piercing glare of the screen stung the murky Northwest morning. Some 3,700 miles away, Vice President Robert Moore approached a phalanx of microphones, manfully fighting back tears:
“My fellow Americans,” he said, “it is my sad duty to confirm that Diane Redmond, the President of the United States, is dead.”
Bob Moore, a towering figure in person, looked small on screen, standing in the rain under a canopy of black umbrellas at the entrance to Walter Reed Medical Center. Duncan joined Imogen in the darkness, and she reached for his hand.
They stared, dumbfounded, as Moore continued: “Her doctors have informed me”—here he paused to clear his throat—“that the cause of death is believed to be a heart attack; that it was sudden and fatal. A full autopsy is underway, and it will give us a clearer picture. Our prayers go out to her family and loved ones.
“The Chief Justice has administered the Oath of Office to me here in the presence of cabinet members and hospital staff. The preservation of our great nation’s interests, its security and the continuity of government are assured.”
Duncan turned to Imogen: “Is it starting again?”
“I don’t think it ever stopped,” she brooded, her green eyes smoldering. “We failed. We didn’t cut the head off the snake.” Fury rose within her, sharp and raw like nausea.
Duncan handed her back the phone. It continued buzzing as reporters swarmed, asking for a quote from her as the public and photogenic face of the Faithless Elector investigation. She’d learned her lesson there and declined each call.
Their texted questions—the ones she bothered to read—were, as usual, off the mark: Would the Faithless Elector task force be revived to look into the President’s death? Would unanswered questions from the investigation strengthen or weaken support for the new President? Regarding the first: the task force was alive, if not well, she thought, and at any rate, she’d be one of the last to know about any official changes or developments. As to the second: Take a fucking a poll.
None of them asked the real questions—the ones she needed answered: Was this the final move of the conspiracy she had chased madly into a blind alley? If so, how had the dark network assassinated a President inside the White House? Who was moving the pieces, and what were the next moves? Most pressing: How would she get herself back in the hunt? From her phone, she deleted the draft email bearing the resignation she had planned to send on Monday morning.
Dawn was still some two hours away as Calder sat down on the couch next to her. “So you won’t be resigning, I take it,” he observed.
“No,” she said, not looking up from her notebook.
“How will you begin?”
She looked up. “We were digging in the wrong place. I’m going to go back over the associates and links we’ve established, see where or how any of them point at Bob Moore.”
“So Moore digging, eh?” he quipped.
Imogen sighed. She loved him, but how was he able to have distance at a moment like this? she wondered. She eyed him wearily. “Duncan, I’m going to get stonewalling from Nettie at the office about this new direction. I’m—”
He held up a hand. “What will you do?” He looked at her notebook. “And who’s Carla?”
“I’m going back to the data.”
“You’ve gotten nowhere with that,” said Calder acidly.
“Because we were looking at it in relation to other actors. Not Moore. And Carla’s not a who, but a what—short for ‘CARLA F BAD’: Character, Associates, Reputation, Loyalty, Ability, Finances, Bias, Alcohol, Drugs. It’s what you look at in a security clearance, among other things. It helps define spheres of influence and interaction. The disclosure dossiers on the men who’ve been working directly under Moore will have looked precisely at these CARLA factors. And I want to look at them, too. And his associates. So I’ll go backward, this time with Moore in mind. I want to look at his campaign finances. Who funded him early on in the race? Who else was involved or associated? Maybe something jumps out at me. Maybe that’ll point me in a direction.”
“It’s a lot of maybes, ’Gen.” He scratched at his iron gray hair.
“It’s where I’ll start. There’s always a gap in the armor somewhere. The really hard part is that I can’t just request materials the regular way through regular channels without telegraphing what I’m trying to do.”
“Or looking like you’re still part of the Faithless Elector case.”
She nodded and looked at him uncertainly. “And…I think I should cut this weekend short, if I can get a flight back to D.C.”
“I’m wondering what you’re still doing here,” he said.
Imogen leaned in and kissed him.
On the East Coast it was early morning, but across much of the country the sun was still not up. In the darkness, the announcement of Redmond’s death in office set off a series of moves seemingly unconnected and largely unremarked, as pawns were sacrificed and battle pieces were moved into place for the final gambit.
Rocky Mountains
Snow lit by headlights split the darkness, blinding the Highway patrolman who waited for the tow truck to pull out a car buried in the snow. Working in the dark about 14 miles west-by-southwest of Aspen, Colorado, the tow truck was having a difficult time dragging the car out. In what must have been whiteout conditions, the car had plunged through a guardrail and into the ravine.
As the patrolman stood at the side of the road waiting for the winch operator to do his work, he took off his right glove to read an alert on his phone. Speechless, he watched the news clip of now-President Moore at the hospital. Bewildered, numb—and not just from the cold—he stared over the still-dark, bleak expanse of mountains.
“Damn,” said the winch operator, breaking the patrolman’s reverie. The contorted steel shell of a car came into view and slowly ascended backwards up the steep hill. “You guys close Route 82 for more than half the year. Maybe you should think about closing this one, too.”
“We serve and protect,” the patrolman countered. “We can’t protect them from their own stupidity.”
Maricopa, California
Ninety-five miles northwest of Los Angeles, near Bakersfield, west of where the lush groves of San Emidio return to desert, police had responded to a call reporting shots fired.
The bodies of four men lay strewn around the living room and kitchen of a battered, double-wide trailer home, victims of an apparent drug deal gone bad. Even before forensics got to work, it was obvious the house had been used as a meth lab. An acrid stench burned the eyes and throats of the responding officers, who quickly backed out and awaited the Kern County forensics team.
As two officers sat in a squad car in the dark guarding the site, news reached them of the death of the president. They watched Moore at Walter Reed on the lieutenant’s phone. The death of these four drug dealers now seemed even less important. Desultorily, they searched the onboard police computer for information about the four corpses. Two of them had arrest records, known agitators and members of a border vigilante group.
“Right,” the lieutenant said to the patrolman. “Illegally funded law and order.”
“For some,” the officer added.
In Seattle, Imogen packed her bags, while fewer than six miles away but as blind to one another as opposite sides of the same coin, a sleek Eclipse 500 jet touched down at Boeing Field. The light jet taxied rapidly in the damp winter darkness, coming to an abrupt stop on a dimly lit portion of the tarmac at the north end of the field.
The hiss of its engines became a plaintive whistle as the doors popped open and two young men, Dan Cardoso and Eric Janssen, ran down the steps. They immediately turned round and helped close the stairs. But for this gesture of help, anyone witnessing their arrival—and no one did—might have mistaken them for two young executives returning from a casual outing.
Its doors sealed once more, the small jet in the tan-on-beige livery of Flintlock Industries, pushed on, the whistle of its engines discordantly climbing the scale as it taxied away. Cardoso and Janssen walked toward their cars parked just outside a chain link fence, fist-bumping as they separated at the gate.
“See you April 20,” Janssen said.
Cardoso gave a thumbs-up as he turned away. Though the tarmac was deserted, the bravado exchange was a crucial performance. They had each been schooled in the need for watchfulness—especially of one another. Any sign of dissent, hint of doubt or fading spirit should be reported.
Alone for the first time in more than 24 hours, each man allowed himself to think about what had just happened. On orders, they’d dispatched the members of a cell near Bakersfield, California, much like their own, though a failing one according to their handler. Although they had kept their misgivings to themselves, each had arrived at the same conclusion: when given a list of people marked for death, the quickest way to get your name added to the list was to refuse or even question the job. Each ruminated on the final step to come, and whether they would receive their just, or their eternal, reward.
Before their cars were started, and as Imogen zipped her suitcase closed, the light jet was in the air, headed east to another rendezvous.
2
Reactions to the death of the President were swift across the nation and the political spectrum. Imogen, now waiting at the airport gate, had inadvertently seated herself between two television monitors, each tuned to a different 24-hour news channel. They faced each other, across her and the political divide. At times, they seemed to be arguing with each other, and she found herself glancing back and forth like someone watching a tennis match. Travelers congregated silently at screens large and small throughout the terminal.
The remarkable unanimity of official emotion on television and across social media made it seem that everyone in Washington had been issued the same talking points memo: Redmond was praised for her “integrity,” her “dignity” and “strength,” each promising to uphold the unity she had embodied and to deliver on her legacy while offering support to Moore. There were, Imogen noted, still a few unfilled cabinet positions left. Snapchat, she mused tartly, seemed like a better venue for all the disposable preening and jockeying.
The news was rife with speculation about what had befallen President Redmond, and what a new Moore administration might look like. Between the two televisions and along the political spectrum, while politicians hewed to their “unity in adversity” tropes, the talking heads seemed to be going through their own peculiar stages of grief: conservative hosts, when not in denial about the larger implications, presented with over-modulated anger; whereas mainstream pundits registered shock and dismay, their interviews with Democratic leaders manifesting pain, and above all bargaining. Only religious leaders seemed to have progressed to acceptance and hope, anointing Moore as one demonstrably chosen by Providence. In all cases, speculation was rampant, and there were no facts in evidence, save the obvious—Redmond was dead and Moore was president.
Bob Moore was taciturn by nature, the pundits opined. He had a reputation for bloodless pronouncements, heavy on procedure and mindful of every political angle, earning him the ironic nickname “ad lib Bob.” But on the campaign trail, and during the contested fight for the Presidency, they noted, he had been a different man. All dispassion spent, he became a man of conviction. It remained to be seen, the pundits agreed, as to which version of Moore would prevail now that he was President.
***
Author Bio
James McCrone has a Master of Fine Arts degree from the University of Washington, in Seattle. He’s a member of Crime Writers of America (NY Chapter), Sisters in Crime (DE-Valley Chapter), Int’l Assoc. of Crime Writers, Philadelphia Dramatists Center and Int’l Thriller Writers.
He’s the author of Faithless Elector and Dark Network, the first two Imogen Trager “Noirpolitik” suspense-thrillers about a stolen presidency. The third Imogen Trager thriller, EMERGENCY POWERS, is due out in late September, 2020. His short story, “Numbers Don’t Lie” will appear in the anthology Low Down Dirty Vote, Vol.2 (M. Berry, ed.), out on July 4, 2020.
A Pacific Northwest native, he now lives in Philadelphia with his wife and three adult children.
James’s work explores characters pitted against forces larger than themselves. Both on an off the page, he’s fascinated with politics and issues of social responsibility and justice.
THE BOOKWORM’S GUIDE TO DATING (The Bookworm’s Guide Book #1) by Emma Hart is the first book in a new contemporary rom/com series. The main heroines are three friends who own a bookstore in a small town in Montana and their long-time friends. The secondary humor comes from the retirement home where all their grandparents live.
Kinsley Lane is a bookworm and proud of it. She loves analyzing relationships in romance novels and is afraid she will never find a real-life man who will understand and love her for her awkward introverted self. For her birthday, she decides to start dating. She lets her friends convince her to sign up for dating apps on-line and has her brother’s best-friend volunteer to play matchmaker. She is not sure why he is helping, but if he can find one who meets her very specific guidelines and helps her with her awkwardness, she is in.
Josh Carter offers to help Kinsley find a boyfriend. He helps set Kinsley up and even takes her on a practice date, but there is something important he is not telling her. He is hoping by finding Kinsley a boyfriend, he will quit obsessing over her. He made a pact with her brother years ago that neither of them would date the other’s sisters, but Josh finds the bookish Kinsley is the one he wants.
This is a quick read full of laughter, love and quirky realistic characters. Kinsley and Josh’s banter and texting felt pitch perfect and their relationship developed at a realistic pace. The sex scenes were explicit, but not gratuitous. I loved the scenes in the bookshop between the three friends and all the bookish references. The secondary characters are all part of the three girls lives and add to the small town feel of everyone knowing everyone else. The secondary comedy plotline of the retirement home where all the grandparents live and have their own dramas had me laughing out loud.
I can highly recommend this first in the series rom/com and I am looking forward to the next!
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Author Bio and Social Media
Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels and has been translated into several different languages. She first put fingers to keys at the age of eighteen after her husband told her she read too much and should write her own. Four years later, she’s still figuring out what he meant when he said she ‘read too much.’
She prides herself on writing smart smut that’s filled with dry wit, snappy, sarcastic comebacks, but lots of heart… And sex. Sometimes, she kills people. (Disclaimer: In books. But if you bug her, she’ll use your name for the victims.)
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour for Colleen Coble’s TWO REASONS TO RUN (Pelican Harbor Book #2). This is the second book in the Pelican Harbor trilogy. The mystery/suspense in each book is unique to that book, but the characters’ personal lives progress and carry over from each previous book. I feel these books are best read in order.
Below you will find a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Synopsis
A lie changed her world.
Police Chief Jane Hardy is still reeling from the scandal that rocked her small-town department just as she took over for her retired father—the man who wrecked her life with one little lie. Now she’s finally been reunited with her presumed-dead fifteen-year-old son, Will, and his father, documentarian Reid Bechtol.
A crisis looms.
When a murder aboard the oil platform Zeus exposes an environmental terrorist’s plot to flood Mobile Bay with crude oil, Jane and Reid must put their feelings for each other behind them and work together to prevent the rig from being sabotaged.
A killer targets her son.
Then the terrorist puts her son Will’s life on the line. Protecting him could be the common ground they need . . . but then ghosts from the past threaten to ruin Jane and Reid for good. She’s got plenty of reasons to run. But what if she stays?
Genre: Christian Romantic Suspense Published by: Thomas Nelson Publication Date: September 8, 2020 Number of Pages: 352 ISBN: 0785228489 (ISBN13: 9780785228486) Series: Pelican Harbor #2 Purchase Links:Amazon | Barnes & Noble | ChristianBook.com | Goodreads
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
TWO REASONS TO RUN (Pelican Harbor Book #2) by Colleen Coble is the second action packed Christian romantic suspense/mystery in this trilogy series. The small coastal town of Pelican Bay’s Chief of Police Jane Hardy is a 5’2” strong, determined and justice driven spitfire who also happens to be a survivor of a cult. While the suspense/mystery is unique and solved in each book, Jane and all the main characters’ personal stories carry over and are a large part of the story. I feel the books in this trilogy should be read in order.
Chief of Police Jane Hardy is now firmly in control of her small-town police department after taking over from her retired father and surviving the scandal from “One Little Lie”. While she has been happily reunited with her fifteen-year-old son Will, who she believed dead, she is still coming to terms with the betrayal she feels from his father, Reid.
A local mother has reported her son missing when he does not return from the giant oil rig in the bay. She gives Jane an email from her son that suggests there is a terrorist plot against the oil rig and he believes he is in danger. But with no other leads and no body, Homeland Security drops the case.
Reid uses his job as a journalist/documentarian to gain access to the rig. He and Jane find the missing man dead and tied under the oil rig. As Jane and Will move forward in the investigation, they receive threats that if they continue, their son Will’s life in on the line.
I loved this book as much as the first which of course makes me anxious for the third. I believe this author does a great job of balancing an intriguing investigation, building suspense and dealing with all the characters’ personal lives in this small town which comes to life in her worldbuilding. Jane is a complex character dealing with her past in the cult, her development of her current spiritual beliefs and her relationship with Reid. All the secondary characters are fully fleshed and realistic. Though there is faith-based dialogue, it never felt out of character or like you are being preached at.
I highly recommend this Christian romantic suspense/mystery and author.
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Excerpt
Was anyone watching?
Keith McDonald sat at the computer and glanced around the oil platform’s rec room, but the dozen or so workers were engrossed in watching the final game of a Ping-Pong match. He hesitated,
then hovered his cursor over the Send button. Clenching his teeth, he sent the emails. Maybe it was nothing, but if anyone could decipher the recording, it was Reid Dixon.
The back of his neck prickled, and Keith looked around again. The room felt stifling even with the AC cooling it from the May heat. He jumped up and headed for the door. He exited and darted into the shadows as two men strolled past. One was his suspect.
Keith stood on a grating suspended three thousand feet over the water and strained to hear past the noise of machinery. The scent of the sea enveloped him, and the stars glimmered on the water surrounding the oil platform that had been his home for two years now.
“Scheduled for late May—”
A clanging bell drowned out the rest of the man’s words.
“Devastation—”
The other fragment of conversation pumped up Keith’s heart rate. Were they talking about the sabotage he feared, or was he reading more into the words than were there? He couldn’t believe someone could be callous enough to sabotage the oil platform and destroy the coast on purpose. He’d seen firsthand the devastating effects from the Deepwater Horizon catastrophe. And what about the people living on the platform? Deepwater Horizon had killed eleven people and injured another seventeen.
He had to sound a warning and stop this, but he had no real evidence. If Reid Dixon blew him off, who would even listen? Maybe Homeland Security would pay attention, but who did he even call there? He could tell them about the pictures threatening Bonnie, but what did that prove? They might just say she had a stalker and he was chasing shadows.
He couldn’t say they were wrong.
He sidled along the railing, and the breeze lifted his hair. A boat bobbed in the waves far below, and in the moonlight, he spotted a diver aboard. Must be night diving the artificial reef created by the concrete supports below the platform. He’d done a bit of it himself over the years.
For an instant he wished he were gliding carefree through the waves without this crushing weight of conscience on his shoulders. When he was sixteen, life was so simple. School, girls, football, and good times. He’d gone to work at the platform when he was nineteen, after he’d decided college wasn’t for him.
It had been a safe place, a good place to work with fun companions and interesting work.
Until a few weeks ago when everything turned sinister and strange. He’d wanted to uncover more before he reported it, but every second he delayed could mean a stronger chance of an attack.
If an attack was coming. He still wasn’t sure, and he wanted a name or to identify the organization behind the threat. If there was a threat. Waffling back and forth had held him in place. Was this real, or was he reading something dangerous into something innocent?
Though he didn’t think he was overreacting.
He turned to head to his quarters. A bulky figure rushed him from the shadows and plowed into his chest, driving him back against the railing. The man grabbed Keith’s legs and tried to tip him over the edge.
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Author Bio
Colleen Coble is a USA TODAY bestselling author and RITA finalist best known for her coastal romantic suspense novels, including The Inn at Ocean’s Edge, Twilight at Blueberry Barrens, and the Lavender Tides, Sunset Cove, Hope Beach, and Rock Harbor series.
