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Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: First Daughter by Marlie Parker Wasserman

FIRST DAUGHTER

by Marlie Parker Wasserman

May 4-29, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for FIRST DAUGHTER by Marlie Parker Wasserman on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, and excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a PICT giveaway! Enjoy!

***

Book Description

In the summer of 1895, President Grover Cleveland and his pregnant wife, Frances, retreat to their secluded Cape Cod home, eager to avoid Washington’s heat and hassles. The very day that Frances gives birth, their three-year-old daughter vanishes. A ransom note surfaces, demanding a mysterious and peculiar sum.

Is the kidnapper a political enemy or someone closer to home? Secret service agents chase multiple leads but reach dead ends. Desperate, Frances Cleveland searches for answers on her own. As the hunt continues, the kidnapper carefully plots each move and determines to settle a score.

The historical record documents threats against the Clevelands, but no actual kidnapping. Yet, what if the president and his wife, known for keeping secrets, concealed a terrifying chapter of their lives? In this gripping blend of fact and fiction, the line between public duty and private anguish blurs in a mother’s fight to save her child.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/250900764-first-daughter?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=58HpjRuJ3B&rank=1

First Daughter

Genre: Historical Crime Fiction
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: April 14, 2026
Number of Pages: 324

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

FIRST DAUGHTER by Marlie Parker Wasserman is a well-researched historical fiction novel with a fictional crime mystery interwoven throughout around the eldest daughter of President Grover Cleveland and First Lady Frances Cleveland set in their secluded summer home on Cape Cope.

It is 1895 and Frances Cleveland is about to give birth to the couple’s third child in Grey Cables, the summer home of the President and his family during the summer months. When Frances sends for her two daughters to meet their sibling, the eldest, three-year-old Ruth, is discovered missing.

With no clues until a ransom note is found, the First Lady and their lead Secret Service agent follow multiple leads, which is difficult as the President wants this crime to remain secret with minimal people knowing the truth. It is a different time, with minimal security around the President and his family and secrets to be kept. Can the case be solved and Ruth returned safely?

This is a historical fiction that demonstrates the author’s in-depth research, comprehension of the period and the Cleveland family. The author makes you feel as if you are right there on Cape Cod in 1895. Frances Cleveland is a complicated character, but also a woman of her time. While the kidnapping mystery is purely fictional, it allows the author to bring in many additional historical facts, as well as a suspenseful tension to the story. The story does start out a bit slowly, but it does pick up as the characters become more developed and the mystery plot intensifies.

This is an engaging historical fiction look into President Cleveland’s family with a crime mystery twist.

***

Excerpt

At the western edge of Cape Cod, in the grandest bedroom in the sprawling residence known as Gray Gables, Frances Cleveland couldn’t stifle the rising sound of her own screams. Between pains, she rested. The late morning breeze drifted across the lawn from Buzzards Bay, fluttering the lace curtain and cooling the sweat on her forehead.

Even at this moment, Frances felt grateful that Grover chose to spend summers away from Washington’s heat, away from the prying public. Here, in this secluded haven, she needn’t fear strangers hovering near the windows of the Executive Mansion for a glimpse of their president—or, more likely, of his wife and daughters. She could concentrate her fears on her pains and pray for the safe birth of her third child, in the same way she had for her first and again for her second. Frances expected from experience that her suffering would soon recede, replaced by the joy of motherhood. She did not know that before the day was over, her bodily misery would end, yielding not to joy but to overwhelming terror.

The previous February, after sensing a flutter beneath her gown while greeting a crowd of visitors at a reception, Frances guessed the baby would be her third girl. Practiced at keeping confidences, she never mentioned her prediction to her preoccupied husband. When she gave birth to another girl, the blathering journalists would have their say. They would try out their jokes about the president’s little harem. Most days, Frances ignored the journalists. Most days, she trusted Grover to love each of his babies.

The image of a trio of girls was far from Frances’s mind now, as she suffered in bed. She cried out, too loudly. Dr. Bryant reminded her that she’d survived labor pains before. “Don’t you dare say that again,” she said, in a shrill tone that surprised her.

At last, Frances heard the newborn’s cry, faint but lovely. Dr. Bryant chuckled while he clamped and cut the cord. “Mrs. Cleveland, should I bring the president upstairs to see his new daughter? He’s pacing on the front porch. Once he sees this one—she’s beautiful—he won’t regret it’s not a son.”

“Yes,” Frances said, with the strongest voice she could muster. A girl, as she’d guessed. For an instant, with the last of her contractions, she’d ignored her prediction and hoped for a boy. Now, she didn’t linger on that momentary weakness of character. She let a surge of pride swell over her, above the exhaustion. She’d done it. Again.

Frances turned to the local midwife hired to assist. “Tell the steward, his name is Sinclair, to get Ruth and Esther. I want my daughters to see their new sister.”

Frances raised herself a few inches, enough to see the midwife slip into the hall. The woman returned and gave Frances a nod. The girls would come shortly. Frances sank back and watched the midwife wipe down the infant and swaddle her. She did look beautiful. “Here,” Frances said, crooking her arm to make room for Marion, the name Grover chose that would serve for a girl or a boy. The same name as a town across Buzzards Bay, where many of their friends lived. Frances appreciated Grover’s decision to buy an estate on the outskirts of a different but nearby town, Bourne. The family could escape Washington’s heat and busybodies.

And escape the threats.

Hours earlier, Frances gave thanks for the breeze blowing through the open window, reminding her that Gray Gables was perfectly located on a point overlooking the Bay’s east side. But now she blocked the sound of wind and waves. straining to make sense of other sounds, to hear what Grover would say about a third daughter. The doctor scurried downstairs. The midwife remained stationed over the bed, tending to Frances and crooning softly to the baby. Frances ignored the woman, mindful only of the voices wafting in through the window. First, low tones as the doctor talked to Grover. They were friends. Dr. Bryant saved Grover’s life two summers ago, removing the cancer eating away at his palate. Now, Frances imagined the doctor patting her thickset husband on his shoulder and shaking his hand. She hoped Grover would offer the doctor a contented smile. Seconds later, Grover clomped upstairs. The doctor followed behind, with lighter steps.

“So happy, Frankie.” Her husband used one of her nicknames. After their wedding, she asked Grover to call her by her more dignified name, Frances. He still used Frankie or Frank in private moments. She let him—the nicknames added tenderness to his gruff voice. “The doctor tells me you’re fine. You managed without chloroform this time, too. And the baby’s healthy. Marion, right? Three girls. They will enjoy each other’s company.”

He said the right thing. She didn’t need to feel anxious about another girl. He was a good man, kind to her, whatever others thought. He wouldn’t hold the baby, rarely did. But he wiped his chubby hand on a cloth, then touched Marion’s forehead. He stood there for a few minutes, cherishing their third child. For him, it was a fourth, but no matter. His eyes shifted to gaze at her. He wouldn’t see the tall, slender belle he married nine years ago, the one the reporters called lovely. He’d see a tired, sweat-drenched woman who looked every day of her thirty years.

“Ruth and Esther?” Frances asked again, eyeing the midwife. “Did you send Sinclair for them?”

“Yes, ma’am. The steward went a minute ago.” The midwife spoke quietly, carefully. She’d feel nervous in the presence of the president.

Still almost flat in bed, Frances clutched Marion, admiring the infant. Perfect features. Ten fingers and ten toes. Another blessing from God.

A familiar sound at the door. Sinclair knocked softly. His usual pattern—soft, loud, soft—keeping to the household code. Another sound, when the midwife opened the door. Next, Frances would hear four little feet rushing toward the newest baby.

No feet. Only hushed words.

“Sinclair found Annie,” the midwife said. “She’s your older daughter’s nursemaid, right? He tells me she needs another minute to bring Ruth and to tell your younger daughter’s nursemaid to bring Esther.” The midwife stood far from Frances’s bed, speaking almost in a whisper.

Grover didn’t look concerned. His rough mustache skimmed Frances’s cheek as he kissed her lightly on her damp forehead. She was too tired to return the kiss. She heard him drop into the nearby rocking chair.

“Joseph,” he said, addressing the doctor, “you’re certain Frankie is fine? No complications?”

“Just fine, Grover. Ready for the next one before long.”

Four years earlier, when Ruth was born, Dr. Joseph Bryant told Frances how to manage her family. “Breastfeed for six months.” He looked straight at her, with no awkwardness. “You’ll not get in the family way, and the baby will stay healthy. After six months, well, you and Grover can proceed to another.” And so they had. Esther after Ruth. Marion after Esther. A daughter every two years.

Frances closed her eyes, relying on her ears. Dr. Bryant thanked the midwife for her assistance. The woman tidied up, gathering soiled sheets and opening a chest, hunting for fresh linens. The room went silent, except for the soft, repetitious squeak of the rocking chair. Grover leaned up, then back, up then back. Frances sensed herself drifting off.

Another soft knock, barely a sound, followed by a pause, and two more soft knocks. Not Sinclair. One of the nursemaids. Annie? The midwife opened the door. “Ma’am.” Annie’s voice came out as a croak. “I can’t find Ruth.”

***

Author Bio

Marlie Parker Wasserman loves writing historical crime fiction. She has published three novels–First Daughter will be her fourth. After a career in publishing in New Jersey, she moved to Chapel Hill, NC with her husband. When she is not writing, she travels, reads, and sketches. One of her goals is to visit every national park in the U.S., and she is close to her goal.

Social Media Links

www.marliewasserman.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub – @marliewasserman
Instagram – @marliepwasserman
Bluesky – @marliewasserman.bsky.social
Facebook

Purchase Links

Amazon – https://pictbooks.tours/T9V2E7ea

Kindle – https://pictbooks.tours/QU2N8pzi

BN – https://pictbooks.tours/Zg47J5P9

BookShop.org – https://pictbooks.tours/8ejtYGal

BookBub – https://pictbooks.tours/vrHjPbBG

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PICT GIVEAWAY

https://pictbooks.tours/BjlQbs2q

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Relentless by Michael Maloof

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for RELENTLESS (Kate Preacher Thriller Series Book #1) by Michael Maloof on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, and excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a PICT giveaway. Enjoy!

***

Book Description

On the eve of her five-year wedding anniversary, a devastating terrorist attack in Paris thrusts former CIA analyst Kate Preacher into a lethal cat-and-mouse game of kill or be killed…

Kate’s husband, retired Navy SEAL Jake Church, is the right man in the wrong place. Caught in the middle of the Paris attack, Jake’s actions spark an international media storm, drawing unwanted attention and awakening old enemies.

Refusing to let the suspicious attack go unquestioned…or the perpetrators go unpunished, Kate’s lured back into a world of deception and betrayal—a world she thought she had escaped. And as the pieces in a twisted puzzle reveal a shocking global conspiracy, the investigation paints a target on her back.

Is Kate just a pawn in a deadly international plot, or can she outplay a ruthless killer?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/199581912-relentless?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=dwqoXt9hBL&rank=1

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

RELENTLESS (Kate Preacher Thriller Series Book #1) by Michael Maloof is an explosive international crime thriller and first book in a series featuring a female former CIA agent that had me hooked immediately. I am so glad this is a series because I did not want this story to end.

Former CIA agent Kate Preacher is on the eve of her five-year wedding anniversary with her husband. Jake is a retired SEAL and now heads up a private security firm and is on assignment in Paris, France. Jake is on a Facetime call with Kate when he is suddenly in the middle of a terrorist attack. Jake’s actions cause unwanted media attention and questions of his real purpose at being in that place at that time.

Kate’s suspicion of the attack will not let her sit back and wait for answers. She wants all the perpetrators to pay. What she does not realize is her questions and actions are being followed by friends and foes alike and what she does not know is which is which.

This book pulled me in from page one and at every chapter end, I would say, “just one more”, until it was well into the night and I had finished the book. Kate Preacher is a brilliant, bad ass, and relentless protagonist that I was emotionally attached to the entire book, from her happiness to her depths of despair. (The funeral chapter had me in tears with tissues in full use.) The action is fast paced, realistic, and had me on the edge of my seat throughout. The secondary characters are as fully developed and fleshed out as Kate herself and kept me continually surprised by their actions and motives. The crime plot is intricately intertwined with action, misdirection, and believable situations.

This is an amazing female protagonist forward thriller that I highly recommend!

***

Excerpt

FRIDAY, APRIL 17, THE PRESENT

6:15 AM EDT

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

Nomad flexed his right wrist, and with the palm of his hand, eased the joystick forward. The motor on his wheelchair hummed, and he maneuvered toward the center of the workstation. This environment was his creation. The height set to accommodate his chair with room beneath to manipulate the joystick. With subtle right or left pressure on the stick, he could navigate the full semicircle desk and jump between clients and projects.

There were traditional keyboards and mice, but the layer of fine dust revealed little use. Nomad’s world was one of proprietary speech recognition technology and the pressure-sensitive controls he designed and added to his chair. His forearms, wrists, fingers, head and voice all served as system navigation and command-and-control interfaces.

A matrix of monitors, stacked three high and eight across, spanned the arc of the desk and formed his window on the outside world. As a C6 quadriplegic, what he lost in physical mobility he regained in the virtual world. He chose the name Nomad for the irony, and believed his world offered freedom, control, and safety.

Nomad scanned the monitors. His building’s security cameras, global news feeds, random engineering musings of a few MIT grads on Slack. Another monitor was hammering away on a client’s file with one of his decryption algorithms. No challengers yet on any of his virtual chess boards, and that brought him to the Frenchman, his favorite opponent.

The central monitor was a live, split-screen camera feed from the Frenchman’s Paris apartment. One feed came from the Frenchman’s laptop, and the other from the camera embedded in the smart TV. It was Nomad’s practice to plant malware on the systems of anyone in his inner circle. What began as a safety protocol became something more, and he watched and lived vicariously through his contact’s living rooms and their digital and social media lives.

Nomad glanced at the camera feed’s system clock. Twelve-fifteen. It was almost time. He hoped the apartment would be empty, but saw Francois scurrying about, preparing for the meeting. Nomad knew it was pointless, but he had to try one more time.

Francois’s laptop rang with Nomad’s encrypted call request. He watched the Frenchman approach the laptop and press cancel. Nomad tried again, and this time he watched Francois accept the call.

“I admire your determination,” Francois began, “but there’s nothing left to discuss.”

“Look, I know how it sounds, but I’m begging you to trust me,” Nomad said. “You need to leave.”

“You ask for trust, but hide in the shadows.”

“Who I am is not important. All you need to know is that your life is in danger.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “For one thing, I know who you are, but rest assured, your secret is safe with me. Why you’ve chosen this life, I will never understand, but that is your business and now you must leave me to mine.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, no, my friend. You misunderstand,” Francois said. “This is just a promise that I will keep you out of the discussion, but Moore Industries needs to know what you found. They believe the device is impenetrable, exceeding even the capabilities of quantum computing, and with millions relying on this technology, I have no choice. There is no room for debate.”

“You’re missing the point,” Nomad said. “Tens of millions of customers is exactly why Moore will do anything to protect the NanoVault’s reputation.”

“Again with the conspiracy theories,” Francois said. “You watch too much American TV. I am a respected academic meeting with a representative of a major corporation, not the KGB.”

“I pray I’m wrong,” Nomad said.

“Au revoir, my friend.”

“Wait,” Nomad said. “Before you hang up, what makes you think you know who I am?”

“I understand some hackers have a signature, patterns of behavior, code or techniques they use, that help identify the author.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“So do chess players.”

Nomad heard the knock at the Frenchman’s door. Francois called out to his visitor, and the call ended.

* * *

FRIDAY, APRIL 17

12:17 PM CEST (Central European Summer Time)

PARIS, FRANCE

Francois LeGrande imagined his meeting with the Moore Industries representative. They’ll want to see my research and review my findings. A lucrative offer for my work would be nice, but it would be an honor to receive one of Moore’s Distinguished Fellowships.

Francois rushed to answer the door. He never saw what the masked man pressed into his side, but the effect was immediate. His body convulsed, knees buckled, and his head struck the floor. Next came the duct tape over his mouth and around his wrists and ankles. He lay on the floor of his apartment, dazed and in pain, only half-aware of the large black boot that passed over his face.

Adrenaline surged. His heart raced. He fought to focus his thoughts. Blinked and squinted to clear his vision. He squirmed and wrestled against the restraints. Tried to call out, to scream. Nothing worked. In the futile struggle to free himself, his breathing was rapid and shallow. His vision blurred, and the room spun. Don’t pass out, he thought. Just breathe. Slow down. Listen.

From the hallway, it was difficult to know what the stranger was doing. Was Nomad right? No. Can’t be. If he was here to kill me, I’d be dead already. Then what? What does he want? His head throbbed as he thought back to the fleeting image of opening the door and looking up at the face. There was no face. Just a blur of gray and white rectangles. The man’s ball cap and hoodie obscured any chance of street cameras catching his approach to the building, and the camouflage mask stretched tight from his forehead to his neck prevented facial recognition.

Francois tried to follow the sound of the stranger’s steps. The attic apartment, converted from an 18th-century mansion, was elegant but small. While it suited the Frenchman, it took only moments to explore. He heard the wheels of the office chair as they rolled across the hardwood floor.

He’s in the bedroom.

The bedroom served as his home office. Stacks of books and papers shared his bed, and most of the floor. He pictured the stranger seated at his laptop and cursed his decision to close the connection with Nomad. If he knew, if he saw, he would call the police.

There was an odd sound. An electronic chirp beeping slowly at first, then faster and louder, then slow again. Finally, a solid tone for a moment, then silence.

Francois heard the tones of a cell phone. Too many digits, he thought. Not a local number.

“I have it,” the man said. “No, it has to be tonight. And count yourself lucky I could make this work on short notice.” There was another brief pause and then the call wrapped up. “Yes. Yes. I’ll keep it safe. Now, send me the drop site.”

American, Francois thought, and at that moment, all hope vanished. The businessman he thought might still arrive, might somehow intervene. The man he was expecting was already here. Despair wrapped him in an ice-cold blanket and he trembled. He stopped fighting back the tears and sobbed.

The American dragged Francois down the hallway and into the living room, and the tears gave way to terror when he surveyed the room. A chair from the small kitchen table was in the center. A rope stretched over the ancient oak beam that framed the ridge-line of the apartment’s ceiling, and a noose hung above the chair.

The duct tape muffled his attempts to cry out, and the masked man had little trouble setting the slight Frenchman on the chair. He slipped the noose over Francois’s head and pulled on the rope. Francois stiffened his back, lifted his chin, and gasped for air. The man kept one hand on the rope and the other drew a knife. With a flick and click, the blade locked into place, and in one sudden move he cut the tape binding Francois’s feet. He pulled the slack from the rope and Francois’s only escape from suffocation was to climb up on the chair.

The American tied the rope to the radiator, then stood directly in front of Francois and stared. The mask was disorienting, and Francois found it difficult to focus. He saw a black leather jacket and a gray hoodie. He saw dark blue jeans, and the boots. Large black boots. He could be anyone on the streets of Paris, even one of my students. What is he waiting for? What does he want?

“Let’s talk.”

The words startled him and Francois wobbled atop the wooden kitchen chair. The noose made it difficult to breathe, much less answer questions. When he raised up on the balls of his feet, he could almost take a full breath, but the old chair flexed and creaked when he moved. He knew at any moment it might collapse and he would hang.

“I’m going to remove the duct tape,” the masked man said. “I suggest you remain still. And quiet,” and he gave the rope a slight tug. “Understand?”

Francois nodded, and the stranger ripped the duct tape off the old man’s face. The Frenchman scrunched his eyes, gritted his teeth, and wrinkled his nose. Tears and snot seeped into his mustache. The American balled up the tape and noticed the collection of gray hair.

“Trust me,” he said. “Faster is better.” And then he reached into his jacket, fished out the shiny black device, and held it out for the Frenchman to see.

“Did you crack it?”

Laying in the palm of his glove was a Moore Industries NanoVault. The polished black onyx device, about the size of a woman’s lipstick, was ringed with seven combination dials that controlled access to the device’s unique properties. For the first time since the masked man crashed through his door, Francois thought he understood what was happening. He thinks I’m after the bounty. He thinks I’ve cracked the encryption.

The offer of a bounty, paid in anonymous, untraceable, and tax-free Bitcoins, intrigued cryptographic researchers and enticed the hacker denizens in every corner of the Darknet. Crack the encryption on a Quantum NanoVault, known affectionately as a portable Swiss Bank account, and you’d learn the location of 1,000 Bitcoins. What started as a clever promotional stunt became a worldwide phenomenon when Bitcoin values rose exponentially, and the bounty, still unclaimed, grew to tens of millions of dollars.

“No. No, Monsieur. I assure you, this device is worthless.”

“My client insisted I retrieve this specific device,” he said. “And paid handsomely to recover it immediately. I’d like to know why. What makes this device so valuable?”

“Please. Just take it and go.”

Francois imagined his ordeal might soon be over. He has what he came for. He can just leave.

The American slipped the device back into his pocket and glanced at his watch.

“What’s the combination?”

“It’s not locked.”

“What’s on it?”

“Nothing. I assure you, it’s completely blank,” and Francois nodded toward the laptop. “Go. See for yourself. You will see. It’s empty.”

The American took the device back to the desk, and the NanoVault connected automatically. He returned moments later.

“You’re right, it’s blank,” he said. “But if you’re not using it, why have one?”

“Research,” and Francois nodded toward the back wall. The American turned to see a lifetime of achievement and accolades. Among the faded degrees hanging on the wall were journal clippings, edges curled and fraying, a small shelf of dusty mathematics awards, and a handful of student group photos. Missing was any semblance of a life outside of academia. No wife. No family.

“Then, tell me Professeur,” he said, exaggerating the Frenchman’s academic position. “What makes this device so special?”

“Oh, but it’s not. It’s like any other. Available at any—”

The slap caught him before he could finish.

***

Author Bio

Michael Maloof is the author of the Kate Preacher Thriller Series—Relentless, Unstoppable, and Defiant—known for its global scope, emotional intensity, and hard-won authenticity. His novels draw readers into high-stakes worlds where intelligence, courage, and consequence collide. A lifelong adventurer, Michael has traveled to more than forty countries across six continents, experiences that deeply inform his writing. His real-world pursuits have ranged from gold dredging in Honduras and artifact hunting in Guatemala to acquiring uncut diamonds in Liberia and surviving an elephant charge in Kenya. He has also trained alongside Navy SEALs, Marine Raiders, Army Rangers, Green Berets, and the CIA—firsthand insights that lend his fiction uncommon realism and respect for the craft of service.

Social Media Links

www.MichaelMaloof.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads – @MichaelGoWrite
BookBub – @MichaelMaloof
Instagram – @MichaelGoWrite
Facebook – @MichaelGoWrite
YouTube – @MichaelGoWrite

Purchase Links

Amazon – https://pictbooks.tours/JI3IyN17

Kindle Unlimited – https://pictbooks.tours/ahc4xhit

BN – https://pictbooks.tours/2VukQFqg

BookShop.org – https://pictbooks.tours/DSBQBKeO

Goodreads – https://pictbooks.tours/h9Ohl17R

BookBub – https://pictbooks.tours/r1uwUga4

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PICT GIVEAWAY

https://pictbooks.tours/8u06eSFI

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Last Fatal Hour by Jan Matthews

THE LAST FATAL HOUR

by Jan Matthews

May 4 – 29, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE LAST FATAL HOUR by Jan Matthews on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a PICT giveaway. Enjoy!

***

Book Description

For Leona Gladney, former woman soldier of the Union Army, life goes on despite the echoes of the battlefield in her heart. Now a suffragist and budding socialite in Brooklyn Heights, she yearns for a literary life and family. But her husband’s business partner embezzles their money and disappears.

The society matrons of Brooklyn Heights turn a gimlet eye on Leona after the suspicious death of a wealthy friend. Leona will do anything to find justice for her friend and clear her own name, but she finds only secrets, seances and murder.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/246335662-the-last-fatal-hour?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=qBbDWbM73z&rank=1

The Last Fatal Hour

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Coffee&ink Press
Publication Date: April 7, 2026
Number of Pages: 320
ISBN: 9798232470982

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

THE LAST FATAL HOUR by Jan Matthews is an intriguing historical murder mystery and domestic suspense mash-up set post-Civil War in Brooklyn Heights, New York. This book features a female main character attempting to be an amateur sleuth to clear her name and due to blackmail. She was previously a fighting female soldier in disguise during the Civil War who is now struggling with severe PTSD. This is a standalone fictional historical story that is authentic to the era and society it portrays.

Socialite Leona Gladney has attempted to put her past as a soldier in the Union Army and death of her first husband behind her. Remarried and working on personal literary pursuits, she still has dreams and moments of anxiety over her time in the service. Her anxiety is exacerbated by her husband’s business partner disappearing with their company’s funds.

When the robbery and suspicious death of a wealthy friend and matriarch leaves Leona a suspect, she is determined to uncover the real culprit. What she is not prepared for is a tangled web of seances, lies, deception, and murder.

This is an enlightening as well as maddening story of the legal and political struggles women faced in the 19^th century intertwined with the intricately plotted chase of a killer. Leona is a strong character that is more than just her heritage and social status, but even as she tries to fulfill her feminine societal duties, she has an entire previous life she has kept from everyone but her grandfather. While her time as a soldier makes her an unusual protagonist, her life is historically possible. The many uses of laudanum especially involving females throughout this story is not only historically accurate, but also sad. While I suspected the outcome, it is still satisfying and once again brings society’s treatment of women to the forefront.

I highly recommend this intriguing historical mystery and domestic suspense mash-up.

***

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

The blot of ink stuck to her finger, tacky like drying blood. Leona scrubbed at it with her handkerchief as the clock chimed two hours after midnight. She capped the inkwell, and while the ink dried on her most recent entry, she organized the copies with ribbons. Blue for Daphne and red for Ruth. With shaking hands, she slipped the copies into stiff cardboard folios and tied them closed. Sighing, she set them on the desk in front of her.

The flames in the hearth beckoned. This wasn’t the first night she’d yearned for obliteration. It wouldn’t come if she gave in to the urge to throw her labor into the fire. Only paper and ink would vanish, leaving the memories behind.

Pen and ink or back to the laudanum.

A grim thought, the grimmest of all.

The words had clawed their way out tonight. She’d begun the memoir of her time as a Union soldier months ago with the hope her drowning spirits would revive once the words dropped to the page. Yet the foreboding crept through her and tightened around her throat as the little study filled with familiar shadows. This old terror had become a second skin, like the tattered and dirty uniform she’d once worn.

Over the monotonous chatter of the rain, the clock ticked away the seconds until her husband came home. Leona moved to the window, pushed aside the heavy velvet curtains, and looked out at night-shrouded Cranberry Street. A lamp glowed in a window across the street. Homesickness for Boston, for life before the war, for herself before the war, settled on her. The wind threw a heavy splash of rain against the window, and she jumped back, letting go of the curtain.

Pacing the study, her restless thoughts rushed on without fatigue. To keep the memories inside only fed the persistent mental return to the battlefield, and the outpouring of words somewhat tamed her tormented soul. She stopped and touched the folio. Work would save her: work, family, friendship, and love. Maybe she’d write a story about two clocks. A natural clock which kept good time and a mad clock that twisted time out of true.

The street door below opened and closed. At last Gil, home safe. She couldn’t even bring herself to scold him for being so late. Leona listened for his footsteps as she crossed the room to tuck the folios into her desk drawer and locked it. She closed the gaslight apertures in the study and turned up the flame on the wall sconces in the drafty hallway so he could find his way. In the bedroom, she shed her dressing gown, stepped out of her slippers, and kicked them under the bed. Gil made his clumsy climb up the stairs. When he stumbled into the room, she pulled the covers back. He fell into bed fully clothed beside her, mumbling and fretful, the sharp ripe scent of whiskey lacing his breath.

She laid her hand on his shoulder. Beneath the cloth of his shirt, his skin was cold and damp. “Rest now, go to sleep,” she whispered.

***

At first light, Leona had dressed in a blue and cream day gown and made her way downstairs for breakfast. The creeping dread of the night before had waned. She rubbed her gritty eyes and yawned again. Mrs. McCarthy poured coffee from the silver pot, the familiar, civilized table a welcome sight. The scent of bacon made her stomach growl.

“Are you well, m’um?”

Leona glanced into the broad face of their cook and housekeeper, a sturdy and mature woman with a comforting Irish burr. She wore her fading blonde hair in a crown around her head.

“I didn’t sleep much.” Leona yawned again behind her fingers.

Gil’s heavy tread on the stairs made them both jump, and Mrs. McCarthy squeaked.

“I’ll bring more breakfast in a jiffy.” She fled through the side door to the kitchen just as Gil ducked through the hall entrance.

Leona rose and smiled at her husband. He’d made a great effort to come down early after returning so late. She accepted his peck on the cheek, poured him coffee and set it between them, wifely mask in place. He glared with bloodshot eyes at the letter in his hand, and her stomach clenched.

“It’s not all bad news, Gil.” She’d read the contents of the letter before leaving it on his desk in his study, as Grandfather had addressed it to both.

He raised his hazel eyes to her. “You recall Henry has absconded with all our funds?” he asked in a sarcastic tone, squinting at the letter, then back at her.

She no longer knew what to say about Gil’s former business partner, Henry Caldwell-Jones. The police were still looking for him. It put the devil in Gil’s eyes to speak of it, so she tried to let it be, not wanting to distress him even more.

“Of course, I remember, Gil. I—”

“And now your grandfather won’t give me a second loan. I’ll have to go back to the bank and ask them again.”

“He only wants to speak with you face to face about our situation,” she said, in her grandfather’s defense. “He’ll help us, Gil. He did offer to speak at the lyceum on his return from Ohio, to help raise funds. It isn’t as if—” Or was it? “We won’t lose the house, will we?”

The muscles in his lean face twitched as Gil fought to hide his disappointment, and her heart broke a little more to witness it. “Your grandfather does not bring in the interest he once did.”

It was true Leona’s grandfather, poet, abolitionist, and Transcendentalist, didn’t bring in the money he used to at readings in New York and Brooklyn, but he didn’t suffer for it.

Gil raked his fingers through his thick, brown hair and opened his mouth. Mrs. McCarthy entered with his breakfast, apparently stopping what he meant to say next. He reached inside the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small notebook and pencil. Laying them on the table, his frown deepened.

Once Mrs. McCarthy had bustled out again, Leona said, “I could write to Aunt Louisa.” Who was not truly an aunt, but a friend of her mother’s.

He opened the notebook and touched the tip of his tongue to the pencil. “We cannot afford to feed and house a man of Bronson Alcott’s caliber,” he replied with heaviness. He bent his head to the columns of numbers on the pages.

His confidence and spirits were usually high, and it hurt to see him laid so low. She did mean Louisa Alcott herself, not her father Bronson Alcott, as the speaker for the lyceum to draw a crowd. Her novel, Little Women, published two years before, had become hugely popular.

“I’ll sell the lyceum, that should help,” Gil murmured, eyes downcast.

Leona winced. It was where they’d met nearly a year before. At a loss again, she glanced down at her lapel watch—9 o’clock already. She stood and set cups and plates on the tray.

“Let Mrs. McCarthy do that.” His pencil went on calculating their precarious position.

“I don’t mind. I’m off to see Daphne this morning. I won’t be home until the late afternoon.” Taking a deep breath, she dared to ask, not expecting an answer. “How much do we owe?” She blew out her held breath, apprehension biting at her. “Why won’t you tell me how much Henry has stolen?”

“He’s made me a laughingstock.” His handsome lips formed a tight smile, but he didn’t look at her. “Don’t you worry, Leona, leave it to me. This will all be over by Christmas.”

***

On the street, she began to walk, then turned to observe the window where Gil labored, smoke curling from the chimney. The image stayed with her as she made her way to the newsstand around the corner and waited patiently for her turn to buy a paper. The sunny day, though cold, had driven people outdoors, well wrapped in fur-collared coats and wool scarves. Woodsmoke and the sharp tang of the river mingling with the scent of baking bread drifted on the breeze. She chewed on the frustration that he wouldn’t share their financial details with her. It made her more fearful not to know. Though she kept the memoir and chapter stories a secret from him, this was hardly the same.

Passing the newsstand, an article about the new bridge caught her eye so she bought the latest Brooklyn Eagle. The previous summer, the four of them, Henry, his wife Helen, herself, and Gil, had stood at the end of Noble Street to watch the construction of the giant caissons in the naval yard. Though approval of the bridge was a long-foregone conclusion, the article was typical of the Eagle’s awful anti-consolidation fear mongering. The article repeated the claim linking the boroughs would only bring the dregs of Manhattan’s Lower East Side into Brooklyn’s pure white Heights. The wrongness of such an attitude churned her stomach.

Leona folded the paper and tucked it under her arm with the folio, sighing. Who would save the poor of this world from the hatred of the rich? Her spirits drooped lower.

She breathed deep the November air on familiar, tree-lined Remsen Street, where she’d lived for two years before marrying Gil in August. The red door of the brownstone opened, welcoming her in. Timothy, the butler, took her hat and coat. Before he disappeared with them, his eyes met hers with a familiar blue twinkle.

“I’ll tell her you’re here,” he said.

“Thank you.” She inhaled the sweet smell of hothouse roses set in vases along the long hallway and waited for word of her arrival to reach Daphne and her nurse Audrey.

Audrey approached from the depths of the house. Her eyes, though hooded, were a pure delphinium blue, blonde hair pinned tight to her head. She wore a plain uniform of dark gray with long cuffed sleeves and a white apron.

“Mrs. Van Wyn is in the Lavender Room.” With a curt nod, she turned away.

When they first met, Leona and Audrey had often shared tea and conversation, but of late Leona felt nothing but a wall of smothered animosity between them. They hadn’t argued, as such, though she had an idea where the strained relations came from.

“Is she well?” Leona asked.

For a moment, she didn’t think Audrey would answer, but the woman turned toward her again. “She passed a quiet night. The laudanum helps.”

Leona frowned. Audrey flicked a dismissive hand and went on her way.

The introduction of laudanum in Daphne’s life began not long after Leona moved to Cranberry Street with Gil that summer. The spas and cures Daphne’s grandson Benedict and his wife arranged didn’t seem to help anymore. The family hired Audrey, who administered the laudanum, a common enough panacea. Laudanum’s presence always disturbed Leona, and she had protested to the family, but no one listened. Audrey had become cold after this discussion. Leona believed some of Daphne’s pain came from her daily battle with grief. Leona often feared her own grief and the overuse of laudanum, prescribed by a respected doctor in Boston, had killed the child from her previous marriage to Jack Davenport. Poor dead Jack.

***

Author Bio

Jan Matthews is an American expat living in the sunshine in Portugal.

She is (finally) retired from HIM and writes historical mysteries from the Middle Ages to World War I. When not writing or drinking coffee and wine in nearby cafes, she knits and crochets for charity and reviews books on her blog.

Social Media Links

coffeeandinkbooks.wordpress.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads – @coffeeink
BookBub – @coffeeandink1
Instagram – @coffeeandink197
BlueSky – @coffeeandink2.bsky.social

Purchase Links

Amazon – https://pictbooks.tours/54WPvubH

BN – https://pictbooks.tours/3AOgpGPn

BookShop.org – https://pictbooks.tours/34sUBx6S

Goodreads – https://pictbooks.tours/pFVXjbRQ

###

PICT GIVEAWAY

https://pictbooks.tours/NAUIwZ7q

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Cat & Mouse: A Parker City Mystery by Justin M. Kiska

CAT & MOUSE

by Justin M. Kiska

March 30 – May 1, 2026

Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for CAT & MOUSE: A Parker City Mystery by Justin M. Kiska 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 PICT giveaway. Enjoy!

***

Book Description

Twenty years ago, Elizabeth Blakely was the target of a relentless stalker—someone who sent threatening letters, invaded her life, and left her living in fear. The case made headlines. The threats were chilling. And then… it all stopped.

Now, in the summer of 1985, Elizabeth’s past has come roaring back. A new letter appears—eerily familiar and signed just like the ones before. Then her husband is stabbed in their home.

Parker City Police Detectives Ben Winters and Tommy Mason are handed the case and quickly find themselves trapped in a decades-old maze of obsession, secrets, and psychological scars. As they peel back the layers of the original investigation, they begin to suspect the truth was never what it seemed—and the stalker may have never left.

With pressure mounting, the detectives must solve a mystery rooted in the past to prevent another tragedy in the present. But what they uncover will challenge everything they thought they knew about guilt, innocence, and what it means to be a victim.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/249061798-cat-mouse?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=cLAC9MOban&rank=1

Cat & Mouse: A Parker City Mystery

Genre: Traditional Police Procedural with a Dual Timeline element
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: March 31, 2026
Number of Pages: 320
ISBN: 979-8898202118
Series: A Parker City Mystery, Book 6

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

CAT & MOUSE: A Parker City Mystery (Book #6) by Justin M. Kiska is another intricately plotted and intriguing dual timeline classic detective mystery. The Parker City Mysteries feature two recurring main detective protagonists in the mid 1980’s and two historic crime fighters in the past, but also always in Parker City. Despite spanning various decades or centuries, these crimes consistently exhibit a common theme, clue, or character. You get two exciting well plotted mysteries in one book which can easily be read as a standalone, but I have enjoyed reading all the books in the series.

Parker City 1965. Elizabeth Blakely is one of many women in Parker City receiving menacing letters from an unknown stalker, but her letters are handwritten and very personal. While the women of the town are all terrified only Elizabeth is singled out with escalating crimes. The police in 1965 have little to go on and no clues that help them find Elizabeth’s stalker.

Parker City 1985. After twenty years, Elizabeth and her husband returned to Parker City. She gets another chilling letter which is identical to the threatening letters from before. She and her husband bring the letter to the current police department, and Detectives Ben Winters and Tommy Mason are on the case now. With alternating decade narratives, can Winters and Mason solve this twenty-year mystery?

I always enjoy getting into a new book in the Parker City mystery series. The recurring detective protagonists in 1985, Ben and Tommy, are a smart, memorable, and enjoyable duo that I enjoy returning to in each book. The second past mystery in this book was interesting with the same cast of characters and continuation of the crime in 1965 and 1985. This story pulls you in with the police procedurals in both timelines and the differences in the handling of the case. I was engrossed in both and while not surprised at the conclusion, it was plotted well throughout both timelines. I always find it entertaining that 1985 is classified as historical, but it makes me think about the clues more, which the author is always fair on, because you do not have all the scientific expertise of present-day crime fighting.

I highly recommend this dual timeline historical traditional detective mystery in the Parker City series. I also recommend the entire series which are all worth reading.

***

Excerpt

June 1985 . . .

“All I’m saying,” Detective Tommy Mason said to his partner as they walked down the sidewalk, “is that this was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen crazy. You know I’ve seen crazy. But this…this was crazy.”

“I don’t see why a trip to the vet has gotten you so worked up,” Ben Winters, Tommy’s partner, friend, and commanding officer of the Parker City Police Department’s Detective Squad said, shaking his head.

“I’m getting to it. I’m trying to set the mood. Let me tell it, will you?”

Ben rolled his eyes and chuckled but let him continue. He should have known. This was just how Tommy was. The two men had known each other since they were kids. They’d grown up together, gone to school together, joined the academy together, and put on the uniform together. They weren’t just friends; they were more like brothers. Which is why Ben was well aware of Tommy’s penchant for storytelling. The trick was to only believe about half of what he said. Tommy had a flair for the dramatic.

“Just hear me out,” Tommy pleaded, stopping under an awning to get out of the warm sun for a moment. “So, I’m spending the day with Christine, right? And she tells me her cat has a vet appointment. Okay, I mean, I’m not a fan of her cat. Truth is, I hate the thing. It’s pure evil wrapped in fur. But, as the good boyfriend that I am, I said I’d tag along. You know, trying to be sensitive and show an interest in things she cares about blah, blah, blah.”

“You’re terrible,” Ben interrupted.

“Hey! That cat cornered me one morning and tried to kill me.”

“Is this the time you hid in the bathroom like a five-year-old?”

“Really? You’re going to take the cat’s side when I’ve saved your life how many times now?”

“You’re a trained police officer. You shouldn’t be afraid of a little cat. And don’t even try to say you’ve saved my life more than I’ve saved yours.”

Anyone who spent any amount of time around the two detectives, whether on duty or off, knew this is how they talked to one another. They were like an old married couple. Constantly taking shots at each other and making wisecracks. It was their friendly jibes that helped to keep them grounded. Especially when they were working a particularly difficult case. And after only four years as detectives, they’d already seen more than their fair share of tough cases.

“Anyway,” Tommy said. “We take Satan’s pussy cat to this little townhouse out there on 9^th. I swear, the sign in the window was written on cardboard, which made me start to question this vet’s credentials. Turns out, she’s some sort of all natural astrological pet healer. I didn’t even know that was a thing. But this vet—and I use that term loosely because she looked more like a gypsy fortune teller—comes out and takes the demon cat—”

“Satan’s pussy cat,” Ben reminded with a smirk.

“Satan’s pussy cat—and puts it on this card table to examine it.”

“Is the cat male or female?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s its name?”

“Hellraiser…it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m just trying to get all the facts,” Ben said, knowing he was getting under Tommy’s skin. “It’s kind of what we do.”

Ignoring him, Tommy continued. “So, Lucifur is on the table, doing everything possible to get away and this voodoo priestess pulls out a tuning fork. She puts her hand on the cat’s back, then she whacks the back of her own hand with the tuning fork and listens. She does it a second time and turns to Christine and says the cat hasn’t been eating because it’s unhappy with where she moved the food bowl.”

Ben stared at him. “You’re kidding me.”

“I shit-you-not. And the worst part is, Christine then paid this hippie. Paid her!”

“I’m really not sure what to say. But I do have a question. Did Christine move the bowl back to wherever it was before?”

“Yes.”

“And?” Ben found himself surprisingly eager to hear the answer.

Tommy looked away, clearly annoyed. “Damn cat ate the whole bowl of food.”

Ben burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. The whole story was so ridiculous. Absolutely absurd yet fitting somehow. Leave it to Tommy to find himself in a situation like that. But he was happy to see his friend getting so serious with someone. He and Christine weren’t just going out on wild dates anymore. They were doing the more mundane things couples did together. This was the longest relationship Ben could remember Tommy ever being in. Long enough that Christine was going to be Tommy’s date at his and Natalie’s wedding. Nat was thrilled. Not just because she liked Chistine, but she didn’t have to worry about Tommy sleeping with one of the bridesmaids now. And with the wedding only a matter of weeks away, it was nice to have one less thing to fret about.

Taking a final sip of the soda he was carrying, Ben tossed the empty cup in the trashcan next to the curb as the two continued walking down Commerce Street.

Today was a special day in Parker City. Six blocks of downtown had been shut down for the Summer in the Streets festival. Shops and restaurants had set up booths, offering local goods, special menus, and giveaways. The sidewalks were packed with residents and visitors. As music from local bands and church choirs echoed through the air.

An event like this would have been unthinkable just a few years ago. In 1978, Parker was devastated by a terrible flood that destroyed the city’s business district, leaving the once thriving commercial corridor in ruins. The damage had been so extensive, most business owners simply boarded up the windows and walked away, leaving empty, derelict buildings sitting for years. Right in the heart of the city.

The economics of the ‘70s had already taken its toll on Parker City to begin with, so the flood was the final nail in the coffin. A once bustling city practically turned into a ghost town in the span of three days as the rain fell and the murky waters surged through the streets. Once it was all over, the destruction was so severe, no one could see a clear path to restore the area. No one except the city’s young, energetic mayor. He made it his mission to return the downtown to its former glory. And though it had been slow going, the fruits of his labor were beginning to show. The abandoned buildings were being cleaned up, renovated, and leased, welcoming new shops and restaurants, and even a small art gallery. There was still a long way to go, but this outdoor market was a chance to show that the city was coming back to life.

As Ben looked around at the crowded festival, he figured at least half the city had shown up, not to mention the out-of-town visitors. Ben wasn’t sure who’d be happier with the turnout, the president of the Chamber of Commerce or the mayor. Regardless, it looked like the first Summer in the Streets was a huge success.

As members of the Parker City Police Department’s Detective Squad—albeit the only members of the Parker City Police Department’s Detective Squad—Ben and Tommy would not usually be on the street like this. But with an event of this nature, they’d been asked to lend a helping hand. Both were happy to do so, though Tommy made it very clear he would not be putting on his old uniform. Not on a hot June day in Maryland. Instead, the detectives were comfortably patrolling while wearing simple white polo shirts with the word POLICE emblazoned on the back and their badges hanging around their necks on silver chains.

If it were up to Tommy, that’s how they’d dress every day. But Ben insisted that they wear full suits and that only the police detectives on television and in the movies wore T-shirts, leather jackets, and jeans. Though he grumbled about it every chance he got, Tommy begrudgingly listened to his supervisor, Detective Sergeant Winters, and put on a suit in the mornings.

As they reached the corner of Commerce and 1^st, Tommy glanced up the block. With wooden barricades set up at every intersection, there was no vehicular traffic, leaving cross streets virtually empty. Halfway up that particular block, next to a sandwich shop Tommy frequented, was a Maryland United Bank branch. Looking at his watch, seeing that it was one o’clock, he was just about to suggest they grab a bite to eat when something caught his eye.

A flash of red.

Doing a double take to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, he turned to Ben and asked, “It’s still June, right?”

Ben gave him a puzzled look. “Yeah. Still June. Why?”

“And it’s pretty warm out here today? About eighty-five degrees or so?”

“Right…” Ben nodded.

“Then seeing a guy dressed as Santa Claus would be considered suspicious,” Tommy said pointing up the street toward the bank.

Following his finger, sure enough, Ben saw a man in full Santa gear pacing around outside the bank, shifting his weight nervously, swinging a sack from shoulder to shoulder.

Unhooking the walkie-talkie from his belt, Ben keyed the button on the side and said, “Dispatch, this is PC-12. Come in.”

“Hey, Ben. How’s it goin’ out there, sugar,” the voice crackled over the radio.

“It’s a beautiful day and there’s a big crowd,” Ben answered. “So, Shirley, Tommy and I are looking at a suspicious person outside the Maryland United Bank on 1^st. We’re going to check him out.”

There was a momentary pause before she came back with, “I show Spurrier on patrol in that area. I’ll send him your way. Do you have a description for me?”

Ben hesitated. “Um…yeah. It’s Santa Claus.”

“Come again?” she asked, her surprise coming over the radio loud and clear. “I don’t think I heard you right, puddin.’”

“No. You heard me. The guy’s dressed as Santa Claus. Full suit. Sack and all.”

“Well, ho, ho, ho,” Shirley said before sighing off.

Tommy looked at Ben. “So…think we’re looking at a robbery, or just a nutjob?”

Ben shrugged. “Either way, it’s going to be interesting.”

***

Author Bio

Justin is a theatre producer, director, and mystery writer who can usually be found sitting in his library devising new and clever ways to kill people (for his mysteries). In addition to writing the Parker City Mysteries Series, which includes Now & Then, Vice & Virtue, Fact & Fiction, Black & White, and Cops & Robbers, he is also the mastermind behind Marquee Mysteries, a series of interactive mystery events he has been writing and producing for nearly twenty years. Justin and his wife, Jessica, live along Lake Linganore outside of Frederick, Maryland with their pups Brownie and Cocoa.

Social Media Links

JustinKiska.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads – @JustinKiska
BookBub – @JMKiska
Instagram – @JMKiska
Facebook – @JMKiska

Purchase Links

Amazon – https://pictbooks.tours/0TX1Laq3

Kindle – https://pictbooks.tours/RX5nvBBy

Goodreads – https://pictbooks.tours/uZXhOaoO

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PICT GIVEAWAY

https://pictbooks.tours/fDCUcN8A

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Body Man by Al Pessin

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for BODY MAN: A THRILLER by Al Pessin on this Book Amplifier Tour.

Below you will find a book introduction, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section, and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!

Book Introduction

Loyalty can be a steady force—or a dangerous one—depending on where it’s placed and how far it’s pushed. When circumstances begin to shift, that loyalty is tested in ways that challenge both identity and purpose. In Body Man by Al Pessin, those tests unfold under mounting pressure.

A presidency marked by bold policy changes becomes the center of escalating national tension. When an assassination attempt fails, it triggers a chain reaction that spreads across the country.

Spencer, the president’s closest aide, steps into a position of influence that few others hold. As leadership becomes increasingly unstable, he must make decisions that carry significant consequences.

Carl, a disgraced Marine sniper, is recruited into a militant movement that believes decisive action is necessary. His mission begins with clarity but becomes increasingly uncertain as events spiral.

As unrest intensifies and institutions begin to fracture, both men are drawn deeper into conflict. Each believes he is acting to protect the country, even as the outcome remains uncertain.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/235788913-body-man

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

BODY MAN: A Thriller by Al Pessin is a thought-provoking political thriller that could have come right from the present-day headlines. This story is told in dual POV alternating chapters by the two main protagonists who both believe they are saving the country.

Spencer is idealistic and fresh out of college when he lands a job writing speeches and press releases for the new freshman Senator Wade Brick from Michigan. As the Senator’s star rises and he runs for President, he focuses on gun control as his main issue. Spencer becomes Brick’s body man when the campaign goes national. The body man is the invisible person behind the President that makes his life as easy as possible. When tragedy strikes, Spencer believes in helping the President in any way he can, but will he feelings for and belief in the President have him crossing a line?

Carl is a high school graduate with no ambitions who goes into the Marines just to get away from his life in Michigan and for the pay. He takes to the discipline and discovers he is an exceptional shooter. He is drawn into a group that believes black people and immigrants are destroying the country and the libs are going to take away all guns. He is skeptical at first but slowly gets indoctrinated by the group. Carl gets accepted to Sniper School, but just as he graduates, he gets into a fight with a fellow sniper who is black and drinking and being friendly with a white girl and he is dishonorably discharged. At home, he finds himself pulled into local militia groups and they have a job for him that could change the terrible course he believes the country is on.

This thriller is so terrifying because it is so believable. Not taking political sides, you can watch the train wreck in real time that both young men are leading up to and understand that they truly believe that their views are the right ones. Even when I felt I knew where the story was going, the author would throw in a slight twist that would change the direction of both main characters’ lives right up to the end. With crisp intense writing and compelling realistic characters, I could not stop reading this story from start to finish.

I highly recommend this compelling political thriller.

***

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Spencer

I’m the best person to tell you this story.

I was there. Saw the whole thing. I was the fly on the wall, the shadow, the potted plant. It was my job. I was the closest aide to the most powerful man in the world…

What I did, I did for the good of the country. There was no one else to do it. I stepped up and

did what needed to be done.

And that’s the reason you’re all living your lives like nothing happened.

Chapter 2

Carl

I woke up to what was really happening in America, and I did something. I defended it. I gave

everything.

Because that’s what American patriots do.

And that’s what I continued to do, no matter what you think, even when the Corps fucked me, even when the world turned upside down and inside out, even when “defend the Constitution

of the United States against all enemies foreign and domestic” became more of a curse than an oath.

I’m Carl Reddy and this is my story.

I know you’ll remember my name. Everybody will.

But also remember that I’m an American patriot. Always was. Always will be.

***

About the Author

Al Pessin is an award-winning author and veteran foreign correspondent whose decades of frontline reporting fuel his high-tension political thrillers. He’s covered war zones from Iraq to Afghanistan, interviewed militants in Gaza, and was once expelled from China for “fomenting counter-revolutionary rebellion.”

Before turning to fiction, Pessin spent nearly four decades with Voice of America, serving as a White House and Pentagon correspondent and reporting from global hotspots across Asia, the Middle East, and Eastern Europe. His debut thriller Sandblast launched the Task Force Epsilon series and was followed by Blowback and Shock Wave.

He lives in Florida with his wife and their Labrador, Rory.

Social Media Links

Website: https://alpessin.com/

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

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alpessinauthor/

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Last to Fall by Lynn H. Blackburn

LAST TO FALL

by Lynn H. Blackburn

March 2 – 13, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE LAST TO FALL (Gossamer Falls Book #3) by Lynn H. Blackburn on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find the book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Promoamp giveaway. Enjoy!

***

Book Description

She’s caught in a deadly game. He’s the only one who can help her win.

Bronwyn Pierce has poured everything into The Haven, her family’s exclusive mountain resort in Gossamer Falls. But when financial discrepancies surface and the numbers suggest something far darker than simple mismanagement, she’s forced to call on the one person with the skills to help her: Mo Quinn, a former Army intelligence officer, her first love, and the last person she ever wanted to trust again.

Mo has spent years avoiding the woman he once loved and the secrets that tore them apart. But when Bronwyn calls, he can’t walk away–especially when it’s clear someone wants her gone for good. As they dig deeper into the treacherous motives behind a blackmail scheme, their proximity reignites long-buried feelings neither of them are ready to face. And when the evidence points to an unexpected culprit, Mo faces an impossible choice: trust the proof in front of him or trust his heart.

With danger closing in and no one else to turn to, Bronwyn must break years of silence with Mo to uncover who’s trying to destroy The Haven. They’ll have to risk everything–including their hearts–to expose the truth before it’s too late.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/236304619-last-to-fall?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=P9RNiFVYk9&rank=2

Last to Fall

Genre: Christian Fiction, Romantic Suspense, Romance
Published by: Revell
Publication Date: March 3, 2026
Number of Pages: 368
ISBN: 9780800745387 (ISBN10: 0800745388)
Series: Gossamer Falls, Book #3

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My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

LAST TO FALL (Gossamer Falls Book #3) by Lynn H. Blackburn is the exciting third book in the Gossamer Falls Christian romantic suspense series. This series enters around a multi-generational family in Gossamer Falls, North Carolina. Each story features a new complete couple’s romance, but the suspense and crimes in the town continue over all the books as well as many of the characters, so I feel it is best to read them in the order published.

Bronwyn Pierce successfully runs the Haven, an exclusive mountain resort for her extended family. Recently though she has felt unsettled and felt watched as well as feeling there is a problem with some of the resorts accounts. She feels she has no choice but to ask for help from the one man she felt she could never trust again.

Montgomery “Mo” Quinn is a former Army Intelligence officer and now works personally with computers in criminal investigations. Even with all the mistrust, hurt, and noncommunication between them, Mo can do nothing but help the one woman he has always loved. As they investigate, their feelings reignite. But as Mo delves into the Haven’s files, he discovers blackmail payments and money laundering and is put in an untenable situation of trusting his heart or trusting the files. They are in the crosshairs and must risk everything before a killer succeeds.

This is my favorite of the three and they all have been very good. I have been waiting to discover Bronwyn and Mo’s backstories, and I really enjoyed the alternating chapters that revealed everything. Besides being an overall lovely book about forgiveness, family, and love, the author intricately ties the H/h romance story with all the innocence of their childhood infatuation, the perceived betrayals, and then adult forgiveness and understanding into the full family history seamlessly. This is a Christian romantic suspense so there are no sex scenes and just kissing between the H/h. The suspense is well paced with plenty of action and ties together all the missing pieces from all criminal activities from the previous books as well.

I highly recommend this captivating and heartfelt addition to the Gossamer Falls Christian romantic suspense series.

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Excerpt

ONE

Present Day

Whoever said blood was thicker than water hadn’t known about the Pierce family.

Bronwyn Pierce could think of several people she could trust more than her own family, and one of them despised her.

But he was the one she needed now.

He would come. She knew it in a place deep in her core. Despite the pain they’d inflicted on each other for the past seventeen years, he would come.

“This is so messed up.” She muttered the words into the silence of her office, then clamped her mouth shut.

For all she knew, someone was listening.

She propped up her elbows on her desk and rested her face in her hands. Her head ached. Her heart was . . . numb. It had been bruised and beaten so often in her almost thirty- four years that even the magnitude of this current betrayal barely registered.

The light tap on her office door jolted her from her musing, and she barely stopped the scream that threatened to erupt from her throat. Who was wandering around The Haven at three in the morning?

She slid open the middle drawer of her desk and rested her left hand on the small gun she kept there. And wasn’t that just a kick in the pants? She was the CEO of an exclusive resort. She prided herself on how the staff protected the celebrities, politicians, and uber- wealthy visitors who rested in blissful slumber in the elegant cabins that dotted the property. They knew no paparazzi would approach them and no one would harm them while they were here.

But she couldn’t expect the same level of security for herself.

She gripped the gun.

“Ms. Pierce? Are you in there?” The deep voice of Randall, one of the night watchmen, filtered through the thick door.

“Yes. Come in.”

He eased the door open and took one step inside. “Ms. Pierce, are you okay?”

She understood the confusion on his face. She put in well over sixty hours a week, sometimes closer to eighty, but even she didn’t make a habit of being in her office in the middle of the night.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” She didn’t owe him an explanation, but she gave one anyway. Or part of it. “I thought of something that needed to be done on this computer.”

It was no secret that The Haven computer network carried some of the most advanced security available and that some information couldn’t be accessed from remote locations. Not even by her.

“Gotcha.” Randall’s tense smile sent a chill skittering across her skin. “I guess it’s in the air tonight. Mr. Pierce is in his office as well.”

The chill turned into an arctic blast.

“Which Mr. Pierce?”

“Nathan.”

“I see.”

Randall regarded her with an expression she couldn’t decipher. Was it concern? Distrust?

“If it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I’m going to stay in this area for a bit. I’d appreciate it if you’d allow me to escort you back to your home when you’re done here.”

And that didn’t sound ominous. Not at all.

Did he want to see her safely back to her home? Or did he want to take the opportunity to . . . what? What would he do? Surely the situation hadn’t devolved to the point where physical violence was on the table.

Her home was tucked away in an unobtrusive corner of The Haven property. Out of sight of the guests and staff, and off limits to all, but close enough for her to be available in case of emergencies. She’d always appreciated her own private haven at The Haven. But if Randall meant her harm, how long would it be before anyone found her?

She gave herself a mental shake. Randall was good people. He was looking out for her. Nothing more. She hoped.

“Sure. I’ll probably be another ten minutes. I need to send a few emails.”

Randall lowered his head. “In that case, I’ll wait outside.”

With that, he stepped back and closed the door.

Now what?

Her cousin Nathan was in his office on the other side of the property doing who knew what at 3:00 a.m. Probably plotting world domination. Or her painful death. Or both.

After she’d run away at sixteen, Nathan became the heir apparent to their family’s business. He was the golden child. The future of the family. And then he managed to get himself sideways with a guest and had to hide out in Europe for a while.

While his life was spiraling out of control, Bronwyn’s had come together. She finished her degree, worked in the industry in several resorts around the world, and returned to Gossamer Falls, determined to atone for her sins.

Neither she nor Nathan had expected the CEO position to ever be hers, but it was now, and she had no plans to let it go.

Her extended family had never been tight- knit. She’d grown up with competition as the name of the game. She didn’t know exactly when it started, but over the past few years, the Pierces had somehow fractured into separate, warring factions. There was no trust. No love. No sense of togetherness.

Lord, how did we get here? And how do I get out of this mess?

She didn’t know the answer to the first question, but she knew the answer to the second. Or, at least, she knew the first step on the path.

She twisted back to her computer and typed out an email.

With shaking fingers, she hit send, gathered her things, including her weapon, and walked out to meet Randall.

Even after close to two decades of hostility, she knew that while the one person she needed right now wouldn’t speak to her, he would keep her secrets and do everything he could to keep her safe.

And there was no turning back now. She’d placed the charges and lit the fuse. Her walls were coming down. She had to trust that he’d stand with her when the last one fell.

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Author Bio

Lynn H. Blackburn is the award-winning author of Never Fall Again, as well as the Dive Team Investigations and Defend and Protect series. She loves writing swoon-worthy Southern suspense because her childhood fantasy was to become a spy, but her grown-up reality is that she’s a huge chicken and would have been caught on her first mission. She prefers to live vicariously through her characters by putting them into terrifying situations while she sits at home in her pajamas. She lives in Simpsonville, South Carolina, with her true love, Brian, and their three children.

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