Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Driven: A Rita Mars Thriller by Valerie Webster

Driven: A Rita Mars Thriller

by Valerie Webster

January 17 – February 11, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today is my turn on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour and I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for DRIVEN: A Rita Mars Thriller by Valerie Webster.

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 giveaway. Enjoy!

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Book Description

Ex-investigative journalist, Rita Mars loses an old friend to what looks like suicide. She’s convinced he was murdered to cover unethical maneuvers and save reputations in the abyss that is Congress. Back stabbings inside the beltway sometimes extend beyond metaphorical. She’s going to butt heads with the local good ole boy authorities and navigate the deliberately stoked smoke screens of the duly elected, but she is never going to give up.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58186872-driven?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=534omagbxX&rank=1

Driven: A Rita Mars Thriller

Genre: Thriller
Published by: Ignited Ink Writing
Publication Date: May 25th 2021
Number of Pages: 396
ISBN: 1952347033 (ISBN13: 978-1952347030)

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My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

DRIVEN: A Rita Mars Thriller by Valerie Webster is a debut P.I. thriller/crime mystery with an interesting new protagonist and cast of characters that I am looking forward to following in hopefully many more books to come.

Ex-investigative journalist, now private investigator Rita Mars shows up for a meeting with an old journalist colleague, only to find he has committed suicide. Something is not right with the scene, and Rita will not stop asking questions. Her friend was working an investigation in the beltway where dark money and unethical maneuvers seem to be behind a big pharma legislative bill.

At the same time, she is hired by a woman to document proof of a picture-perfect high-profile ex-husband stalking and terrorizing her. As Rita is investigating this case, he focuses his deadly obsession not only on his ex but also on Rita.

Two cases overlap and Rita is in the crosshairs.

Rita is an interesting protagonist. She is 45, a lesbian, has switched professions, has a lesbian police Captain best friend and a trans ex-Navy SEAL secretary/assistant. She also has past trauma in her life from an abusive alcoholic policeman father who committed suicide. I felt an instant connection to these characters, but there were a few times they felt more like caricatures, especially Bev, Rita’s assistant. The flow of the intertwining crime plots is realistic with believable investigations and build up at an ever-increasing pace to satisfying conclusions.

Overall, I enjoyed this debut P.I. thriller and will be looking for more in this series.

***

Excerpt

Chapter 1

“Rita Mars, this is a voice from your past.”

“Who the hell is this?” Rita demanded.

It was eleven o’clock, and the dreary end of a long day. A miserable October rain tapped on the office windows. Through the water slashed glass, Baltimore’s Mitchell Court House next door was a smear of grey and black.

“I first met you devouring Hershey bars in the newsroom at midnight.” The man was gleeful.

“That narrows it down.”

Great clue. Hell, she’d been a reporter for seventeen years before she started the agency. Rita cradled her chin. The police department snitch who gave up the narcs ripping off drug dealers? The accountant with the guilty conscience who squealed on the HUD housing contracts?

“We were a pair and then again we were not.”

“Look, pal, I don’t know –”

“I was the snow king and you were the fire breather.”

Rita started to hang up, but there was something eerily familiar about that line.

“You never know when you’ve had your last chance,” the man said.

“Bobby Ellis.” Instinctively, Rita touched the worn chrome Zippo in her pocket that bore those very words. Chills ran along her arms and the hair bristled at her neck.

“Bingo,” Ellis said.

“God, I’m so glad to hear from you. Where are you? When can I see you?

“Sunday.”

“Halloween?”

“The Overlook Inn in Harper’s Ferry. Breakfast at ten. I’ll have a lot to tell you. A story for above the fold.”

Rita scribbled his instructions on a blank notepad. “Tell me now.” Above the fold on a newspaper’s front page was reserved for big time news.

“Just be there.”

Rita thought he was hanging up.

“By the way—ever think you’d see me alive again?” Ellis asked softly.

“No,” Rita said. “I never thought I would.”

Chapter 2

Rita Mars sang along with the Shirelles. She glanced at the Jeep’s speedometer and then at the rearview mirror to check for approaching troopers.

The West Virginia countryside blazed with yellow and scarlet. Sunlight sprinkled the rock-strewn pastures with brilliance and made the car’s white hood shimmer like a snowfield. Even the black and white Holsteins seemed brighter than usual as they ripped up the last shreds of yellowed pasture grass.

Though it was late October, Rita had the top down on the Jeep. It was good to ride on this open road alone with the sun and wind. She couldn’t really be forty-five this year. She ran thirty miles a week and could still get into jeans the size she’d worn in college. Rita peered over the top of her Raybans and took another look in the mirror. Ok, so her dark hair was shot through with silver.

She smiled. It made her look more interesting. After all, how many older women had she fallen madly in love with in her younger years?

Rita flipped the radio off and concentrated on her meeting with Bobby Ellis. She hadn’t seen him in forever. Yes, she had thought he might be dead. A superior journalist, he’d thrown it all away with a coke habit that he paid for with a career and a marriage. No one had seen or heard of him now for more than two years.

After he disappeared, a malaise had set. Rita abandoned investigative reporting and spend her time working on a detective’s license. She was going to right wrongs instead of writing about wrongs as she described her abrupt life change.

She sighed. She wanted to return to the happier thoughts that had so recently danced in her head.

A red truck with a rainbow sticker on the front bumper appeared the in oncoming lane. Rita’s smile came back and she waved as they raced each other.

“We’re everywhere. We’re everywhere,” she hummed to herself.

She returned to her former mood of excited anticipation. She was seeing Bobby again.

They had been reporters together on the Washington Star. More like brother and sister than co-workers, they had fought over editorial recognition, wept on each other’s shoulders, and held each other’s hand during their respective long, dark nights of the soul.

Rita tried sweet talk at first when his habit began to devour him. Then she got tough. They fought bitterly. In the end, he surrendered everything to the white powder.

She’d been as angry with herself as with him. She couldn’t make him stop. Like a flashback, the feelings were the same when she thought about her childhood. She hadn’t been able to stop the runaway train her father rode either. Alcohol carried him far and fast. In the end, he stuck his police revolver into his mouth and killed his pain.

Bad memories again. Rita shook her head and switched the radio back on.

“There she was, just a walkin’ down the street . . . “ Rita sang along at the top of her lungs and pushed the accelerator just a little farther with her docksider.

Five miles and three oldies but goodies later, she slowed as the road narrowed to the twisting mountainside lanes that led to Harper’s Ferry. Down the sheer embankment on the passenger’s side, she could see canoes below on this rocky segment of the Potomac. She took a deep breath. The cobwebs of leftover memory cleared. It was a gorgeous day. At the top of a steep winding hill, Rita spied the flagpole that stood in the center of the Overlook Inn’s circular drive. Old Glory ruffled its red stripes in a soft October breeze that seemed more spring than autumn.

The parking areas along the drive were jammed with American made pickups and SUVs. Lots of military bumper stickers and window decals. Families just out of church hopped out of cars and headed for the Inn’s dining room and Sunday brunch buffet.

As she reached the crest, she had to slam on the brakes. The drive was blocked by two Harper’s Ferry sheriffs’ cars, a West Virginia trooper vehicle—blue gumball lights twirling—an ambulance from nearby Ransom, a fire truck and a dented beige Crown Vic with county plates.

Guests and townies milled around the west annex. A tall, grim-faced sheriff’s deputy held them at bay.

“What the heck is this?” Rita jumped out of the Jeep.

Inside, the interior of the Overlook lobby was cool and dark. The desk clerk was a woman with long red nails and a plunging neckline to her sundress. Her blue eye shadow made her look like an alien. Oblivious to Rita, she leaned across the far end of the registration counter to stare out the front door toward the commotion outside. Rita pulled off her Raybans.

“What happened?” Rita asked.

“Man killed hisself.” The woman continued to lean and stare over the counter.

The taste of metal rose in Rita’s throat. “Killed himself?”

“Room 107. Maid found him.” The clerk’s sense of duty returned and she walked toward the center of the counter where Rita stood. “Can I help you with something?”

Rita felt icy from the inside out. She dug her hand into her pocket to touch that Zippo talisman she always carried.

“I came here to meet someone.” The words jumbled in her mouth.

“Name?” The clerk absently flipped the registration book behind the counter.

Rita said nothing.

The clerk looked up then and said once more. “Name?”

“Bobby Ellis,” Rita whispered.

The two women stared at one another.

***

Author Bio

Valerie Webster spent a career developing law enforcement applications for surveillance, security and forensics. She has also been a triathlete and a crime reporter. She honed her writing skills through “Sisters in Crime” and “Mystery Writers of America’s” mentoring program. In DRIVEN: A RITA MARS THRILLER, she weaves professional experiences into a high tension plot that sweeps the reader into the action from Page 1 to the breath-taking conclusion.

Valerie makes her home near Boulder, CO.

Social Media Links

ValerieWebster.com
Goodreads
BookBub
Instagram – @rmarsauthor
Twitter – @RMars4Hire
Facebook – @RMars4Hire

Purchase Links

Amazon

Goodreads

***

KINGSUMO GIVEAWAY

https://kingsumo.com/g/t9euhg/driven-a-rita-mars-thriller-by-valerie-webster-us-only

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Burden of Innocence by John Nardizzi

The Burden of Innocence

by John Nardizzi

December 6, 2021 – January 31, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour for THE BURDEN OF INNOCENCE (The Infantino Files Book #2) by John Nardizzi.

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

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Book Description

Private investigators Ray Infantino and Tania Kong take on the case of Sam Langford, framed for a murder committed by a crime boss at the height of his powers.

But a decade later, Boston has changed. The old ethnic tribes have weakened. As the PIs range across the city, witnesses remember the past in dangerous ways. The gangsters know that, in the new Boston, vulnerable witnesses they manipulated years ago are shaky. Old bones will not stay buried forever.

As the gang sabotages the investigation, will Ray and Tania solve the case in time to save an innocent man?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59521779-the-burden-of-innocence?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=aBHCAtzQz4&rank=1

The Burden Of Innocence

Genre: Mystery, Crime Noir
Published by: Weathertop Media Co.
Publication Date: December 5, 2021
Number of Pages: 290
ISBN: 978-1-7376876-0-3
Series: PI Ray Infantino Series, #2

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5out of 5 Stars

THE BURDEN OF INNOCENCE (The Infantino Files Book #2) by John Nardizzi is a P.I. crime mystery/thriller set in South Boston with a hard-boiled, truth and justice seeking P.I. named Ray Infantino. While this is the second book in the series, it is very easily read as a standalone.

P.I. Ray Infantino is hired by the attorney of Sam Langford, who has declared his innocence from the day he was sentenced for murder fifteen years previously.

The gritty South Boston of fifteen years ago has changed as well as alliances. As Ray investigates Sam’s case, he is finding a vicious Southie gangster and a corrupt police officer are still working to manipulate the witnesses’ whose false testimonies sent an innocent man to prison.

Can Ray discover the truth from the past and help free an innocent man?

I love an old case investigation with a white knight trying to prove a miscarriage of justice. Ray is no innocent, but he cannot tolerate injustice in the law and corrupt officials who are supposed to uphold that law. This story has chapters that flashback to the original crime and witnesses interspersed as the present-day case unfolds and even with the timeline jumps, I was never confused or lost. The characters are fully fleshed and believable. The investigation is character driven rather than technology being the focus which was a joy to read for a change in pace. This is a realistic investigative page turner.

I can highly recommend this P.I. crime mystery/thriller!

***

Excerpt

A SYSTEM OF JUSTICE

Boston Massachusetts

Chapter 1

Two burly guards from the sheriff’s department walked Sam Langford to the van. He noticed a newspaper wedged in a railing—his name jumped off the page in bold print: Jury to Decide Langford’s Fate In Waterfront Slaying. The presumption of innocence was a joke. You took the guilt shower no matter what the jury decided. He thought of his mother then, and the old ladies like her, reading the headline as they sipped their morning coffee across the city. He was innocent. But they would hate him forever.

A guard shoved Langford’s head below the roofline. He sat down in the cargo section, the only prisoner today. The guard secured him to a bar that ran the length of the floor, the chain rattling an icy tune. The van squealed off.

Langford’s head felt so light it could drift right off his shoulders. The van lurched, and he slid on the cold metal bench. The driver bumped the van into some potholes. Langford dug his heels into the floor. This was a guard-approved amusement ride, bouncing felon maggots off good ‘ol American steel. Sam had observed this man that morning. Something about his face was troubling. Sheriffs, guards, cops—most of them were okay. They didn’t bother him because he didn’t bother them. But cop work attracted certain men who hid their true selves. Men with a vicious streak that could turn an average day into a private torture chamber. These men were cancers to be avoided. Average days were what he wanted in jail. No violent breaks in the tedium.

The van careened on and stopped at a loading dock of the hulking courthouse, which jutted in the sky like a pale granite finger accusing the heavens. The last day of trial. Outside, Langford saw TV news vans and raised satellite dishes, the reporters being primped and padded for the live shot. The rear doors opened and the guard’s shaved skull appeared in silhouette. He tensed as the guard grabbed his arm and pulled him out. The guard wore a thin smile. “We’ll take the smooth road back. Just for you,” he muttered.

A clutch of photographers hovered behind a wall above the dock. Langford looked up at the blue sky, as he always did, focusing on breathing deeply. He would never assist, not for a minute, in his own degradation. He was innocent. He would not cooperate. Let them run their little circus, the cameras, the shouted questions, boom microphones drooped over his head to pick up a stray utterance. He leveled his jaw and looked past them. He knew he had no chance with them.

The guards walked him inside the courthouse and to an elevator. The chains clanked as they swung with his movement. They took the elevator to the eight floor where a court officer escorted the group into a hallway. Langford pulled his body erect toward the ceiling, as high as he could get. He intended to walk in the courtroom like some ancient Indian chieftain, unbowed. He was innocent and that sheer fact gave him some steel, yes it did.

The door opened and he stepped inside the courtroom. The gallery looked packed full, as usual. Cameras clicked. Low voices in the crowd hissed venom. “Death sentence is too good for you, asshole,” whispered one. He whispered a bit too loudly. A court officer wasted no time, hustling over and guiding the man to the exit.

Langford walked ahead, keeping his dark eyes focused. His family might watch this someday. Some ragged old news clip showing their son’s dark history. He struggled to keep the light burning behind his eyes. Something true, something eternal might show through. At least he hoped so. He had told his lawyer there would be no last-minute plea deal; he was innocent, and that was it.

As he walked, he felt the eyes of the crowd pick over him, watching for some involuntary tic that would betray his thoughts. But fear roiled his belly. He was afraid, no doubt. He knew the old saying that convicted murderers sat at the head table in the twisted hierarchy of a prison. But the fact remained—every prisoner walked next to a specter of sudden violence. He desperately wanted to avoid prison.

Keys rattled in the high-ceilinged courtroom as the officers unchained him. He rubbed his wrists and then sat down at the defense table. His defense lawyer, George Sterling, took the seat next to him. He was dressed in a dark blue suit with a bright orange-yellow tie. The color seemed garish for the occasion.

“How you doing, Sam?”

“Hopeful. But ready for the worst.”

Sterling grabbed his hand and shook it firmly. But his eyes betrayed him. Langford got a sense even his lawyer felt a catastrophe was coming.

The mother of the dead woman sat one row away from his own mother. Even here, mothers bore the greatest pain. Both women stared at him. Langford nodded to his mother as she mouthed the words, “I love you”. He smiled briefly. He glanced at the mother of the dead girl but looked away. Her eyes blazed with hatred and pain. He wanted to say something. But the odds were impossible. The reporters would misconstrue any gesture; the court officers might claim he threatened her. He saw no way out. Even a basic act of human kindness became muddled in a courtroom.

A court officer yelled, “All rise.” The whispers died down, and the gallery rose. The judge came in from chambers in a black-robed flurry. The lawyers went to sidebar, that curious phenomenon where they gather and whisper at the judge’s bench like kids in detention. Then the judge signaled the sidebar was over and told the court officer to bring in the jury. The jurors walked to the jury box, every one of them fixed with a blank look on their faces. None of them met his eyes. One juror eventually looked over at him. He tried to gauge his fate in her flat eyes, the set of her face. But there was nothing to see.

As the judge and lawyers spoke, the lightheadedness left him. Everything came into focus. Langford watched the foreperson hand a slip of paper to a court officer. She took a few steps and handed the paper to the judge. The judge pushed gray hairs off her forehead, examined the paper and placed it on her desk. A silence descended. Shuffles of feet, small muted coughs. People waited for a meteor to hit the earth. The clerk read the docket number into the record and the judge looked over to the foreperson, a woman with long dark hair and glasses. “On indictment 2001183 charging the defendant Samuel Langford with murder, what say you madame foreperson, is the defendant not guilty or guilty of murder in the first degree?”

“We find the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree.”

To Langford, the words seemed unreal, from a world away. A mist slid over his eyes. Gasps of joy, cries of surprise. A few spectators began clapping. The judge banged the gavel. Someone sobbed behind him, and this sound he knew; his mother was crying now openly. His body petrified. He couldn’t turn around.

Sterling put one hand on his shoulder, which snapped him back. The gesture irritated him. He didn’t want to be touched. Sterling’s junior assistant cupped his hand over his mouth. Sterling said something about the evidence, they would file an appeal. Langford stared at him. The reality of his new life began to emerge.

***

Author Bio

John Nardizzi is writer and investigator. His work on innocence cases led to the exoneration Gary Cifizzari and James Watson, as well as million dollar settlements for clients Dennis Maher and the estate of Kenneth Waters, whose story was featured in the film Conviction.
His crime novels won praise for crackling dialogue and pithy observations of detective work. He speaks and writes about investigations in numerous settings, including World Association of Detectives, Lawyers Weekly, Pursuit Magazine and PI Magazine. Prior to his PI career, he failed to hold any restaurant job for longer than a week. He lives near Boston, Massachusetts.

Social Media Links

JohnNardizzi.com
Goodreads
BookBub — @johnf4
Twitter — @AuthorPI
Facebook — @rayinfantino1

Want to start an InstaParty? Join us at #JohnNardizzi!

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: An Operative’s Last Stand by Juno Rushdan

Hi, everyone!

Today I am Sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Harlequin Winter 2022 Investigator Blog Tour for AN OPERATIVE’S LAST STAND (Fugitive Heroes: Topaz Unit Book #4) by Juno Rushdan.

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

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Book Description

A kill squad is closing in…
Now this team leader must risk everything for answers

Barely escaping CIA mercenaries, ex-agent Hunter Wright is after the person he thinks targeted his ops team, Topaz, for treason. Deputy director Kelly Russell is still the one woman he can’t resist, but she believes Hunter went rogue. Now she’s his only shot at getting the answers they need. Can they trust each other enough to save Topaz—and each other?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58608517-an-operative-s-last-stand?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=sZ0S9kIqZz&rank=1

Fugitive Heroes: Topaz Unit Series

Rogue Christmas Operation – Fugitive Heroes Topaz Unit #1

Alaskan Christmas Escape – Fugitive Heroes Topaz Unit #2

Disavowed in Wyoming – Fugitive Heroes Topaz Unit #3

An Operative’s Last Stand – Fugitive Heroes: Topaz Unit #4

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My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

AN OPERATIVE’S LAST STAND (Fugitive Heroes: Topaz Unit Book #4) by Juno Rushdan is the brilliant final book and ending to the Fugitive Heroes series! These books should be read in order as each member of the Topaz team gets their own romantic suspense story which will bring them all back together to prove the team’s innocence.

Topaz team leader Hunter Wright has been able to keep his team safe up to now, but he knows they must return to Virginia to get to the person he believes betrayed his ops team. Hunter knows the CIA Deputy Director is the only person who can get the answers regarding their failed op and prove their innocence.

CIA Deputy Director Kelly Russell believes Hunter and his team went rogue and has sent CIA mercenaries to eliminate the treasonous team. Not only does she believe they betrayed their country, but that Hunter personally betrayed her.

Can they trust each other enough to save Topaz and each other?

I loved this conclusion to the Topaz series! It has everything. There is an enemies-to-lovers trope, emotional discoveries and consequences, fast-paced action and thrills, believable suspense and a climax and conclusion that was both surprising and smart. Ms. Rushdan’s characters realistically come to life on each page. This book, while wrapping up the overall series arc, also gives the reader a romance between Hunter and Kelly which is both emotionally devastating with many of the revelations and smokin’ hot with explicit sex scenes. For me, this final book was perfect!

I highly recommend this series and cannot wait for more from this author!

***

Excerpt

She looked up at him and smiled, her eyes a deep cobalt blue, dark fire-red hair, her skin pale and creamy, those angular features, her full pink mouth, the effortless sensuality. It all hit him like a gut punch. God, she was breathtaking.

“A drink? No.” Amusement rang in her voice, and something inside him sank.

“All right,” he said nonchalantly. He forced a smile, swallowing his disappointment, and stepped across the hall. Of course. Some things weren’t meant to be. This was for the best anyway. Everything came at a price. To be with Kelly Russell might cost him his soul. “I’ll let you get some sleep. It’s been a long week, and we’ve got an early flight.”

“Hunter,” she said, and he glanced back at her. “Who said anything about sleeping? I am interested in the euphemism behind your offer of a nightcap.” Another smile, this time flirty, sexy. Full of promise. “And to answer the second part to your question, my room.”

Every muscle in his body tightened with need, making it difficult for him to think of anything else, least of all playing it cool.

“We need to establish the rules of engagement first,” she said.

All business. Always in control. Even now. For some inexplicable reason, it only added to her allure.

He strolled back across the hall. “I’m listening.”

“This has to be a one-night-only situation. It can never happen again.”

He reached out and tucked a fiery strand that had escaped her twist behind her ear. Her skin was warm and soft, with a perfect porcelain texture. “My mother always told me, never say never.”

“I’m serious, Hunter.” She slipped her key card in the slot, unlocked the door and opened it. “One night to assuage our mutual curiosity.”

Curiosity. Chemistry. Semantics. “If we enjoy ourselves, why only one night?”

***

About the Author

Juno Rushdan draws from real-life inspiration as a former U.S. Air Force Intelligence Officer to craft sizzling romantic thrillers. However, you won’t find any classified leaks here. Her stories are pure fiction about kick-ass heroes and strong heroines fighting for their lives as well as their happily-ever-after.

Although Juno is a native New Yorker, wanderlust has taken her across the globe. Fortunately, she is blessed with a husband who shares her passion for travel, movies, and fantastic food. She’s visited more than twenty different countries and has lived in England and Germany. Her favorite destination for relaxation is the Amalfi Coast, Italy for its stunning seascape, cliffside lemon groves, terraced vineyards, amazing pasta, and to-die-for vino.

When she’s not writing, Juno loves spending time with her family. Exercise is not her favorite thing to do, but she squeezes some in since chocolate and red wine aren’t calorie-free.

She currently resides in Virginia with her supportive hubby, two dynamic children, and spoiled rescue dogs. Check her out on Instagram, Facebook or follow her on Twitter or BookBub. She loves to connect with readers!

Social Media Links

Website: https://junorushdan.com/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JunoRushdan Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/junorushdan/

Purchase Links

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335489401

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Operatives-Last-Stand-Fugitive-Heroes-ebook/dp/B09B2GS9TK/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=AN+OPERATIVE%27S+LAST+STAND+by+Juno+Rushdan&qid=1637001865&qsid=133-7575147-1798556&sr=8-1&sres=B09B2GS9TK&srpt=ABIS_EBOOKS

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/an-operatives-last-stand-juno-rushdan/1139891345?ean=9781335489401

Harlequin.com: https://www.harlequin.com/search.html?w=AN+OPERATIVE%27S+LAST+STAND+by+Juno+Rushdan

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Secret of Snow by Viola Shipman

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the HTP Holiday Romance Blog Tour for THE SECRET OF SNOW by Viola Shipman.

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

***

Book Summary

When Sonny Dunes, a So-Cal meteorologist who knows only sunshine and 72-degree days, has an on-air meltdown after she learns she’s being replaced by an AI meteorologist (which the youthful station manager reasons “will never age, gain weight or renegotiate its contract.”), the only station willing to give a 50-year-old another shot is one in a famously non-tropical place–her northern Michigan hometown.

Unearthing her carefully laid California roots, Sonny returns home and reaclimates to the painfully long, dark winters dominated by a Michigan phenomenon known as lake-effect snow. But beyond the complete physical shock to her system, she’s also forced to confront her past: her new boss is a former journalism classmate and mortal frenemy and, more keenly, the death of a younger sister who loved the snow, and the mother who caused Sonny to leave.

To distract herself from the unwelcome memories, Sonny decides to throw herself headfirst (and often disastrously) into all things winter to woo viewers and reclaim her success: sledding, ice-fishing, skiing, and winter festivals, culminating with the town’s famed Winter Ice Sculpture Contest, all run by a widowed father and Chamber director whose honesty and genuine love of Michigan, winter and Sonny just might thaw her heart and restart her life in a way she never could have predicted.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58503739-the-secret-of-snow?from_search=true&from_srp=true&qid=uuVJrxc6FB&rank=1

THE SECRET OF SNOW

Author: Viola Shipman

ISBN: 9781525806445

Publication Date: October 26, 2021

Publisher: Graydon House Books

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

THE SECRET OF SNOW by Viola Shipman is a holiday Women’s fiction story with romantic elements that is an emotional rollercoaster ride of heartbreak, love, friendship, forgiveness, and redemption. As I have found when reading other Viola Shipman stories…you will laugh out loud and you will need the tissue box handy.

Amberrose Murphy lived in a happy and loving home in upper Michigan until tragedy struck. Her main goal after that was to escape Michigan winters and she reinvents herself after college as Sonny Dunes in California where no one would know of her painful past or remind her of her loss.

Sonny is blindsided at the age of fifty when she is replaced with an AI meteorologist. After a public meltdown, the only station that will take a chance on her is in her hometown of Traverse City, Michigan. She moves back to memories she has tried to forget and is forced to confront her past while also trying to revive her career, reconnect with her mother and deal with a widowed Chamber of Commerce Director who loves all things about winter in Michigan.

Even though this story covers almost a year in time, the holiday season plays an important role in this wonderfully emotional story. Sonny is an empathetic and believable character. The pain in her past makes her relationship phobic and many women have been affected by ageism in careers. The mother/daughter relationship is so well written with support, caring, and love. She is a very smart mother. The new friends Sonny makes at the station all grow and change right along with her. The romance is sweet, and Mason is a survivor of grief who is very open about his feelings and love of Michigan winters, but their romance does not overpower Sonny’s own personal growth.

I absolutely love Viola Shipman stories and this holiday book is no exception!

***

Excerpt

I end the newscast with the same forecast—a row of smiling sunshine emojis that look just like my face—and then banter with the anchors about the perfect pool temperature before another graphic—THE DESERT’S #1 NIGHTLY NEWS TEAM!—pops onto the screen, and we fade to commercial.

“Anyone want to go get a drink?” Cliff asks within seconds of the end of the newscast. “It’s Friday night.”

“It’s always Friday night to you, Cliff,” Eva says.

She stands and pulls off her mic. The top half of Eva Fernandez is J.Lo perfection: luminescent locks, long lashes, glam gloss, a skintight top in emerald that matches her eyes, gold jewelry that sets off her glowing skin. But Eva’s bottom half is draped in sweats, her feet in house slippers. It’s the secret viewers never see.

“I’m half dressed for bed already anyway,” she says with a dramatic sigh. Eva is very dramatic. “And I’m hosting the Girls Clubs Christmas breakfast tomorrow and then Eisenhower Hospital’s Hope for the Holidays fundraiser tomorrow night. And Sonny and I are doing every local Christmas parade the next few weekends. You should think about giving back to the community, Cliff.”

“Oh, I do,” he says. “I keep small business alive in Palm Springs. Wouldn’t be a bar afloat without my support.”

Cliff roars, setting off his chattering teeth.

I call Cliff “The Unicorn” because he was actually born and raised in Palm Springs. He didn’t migrate here like the older snowbirds to escape the cold, he didn’t snap up midcentury houses with cash like the Silicon Valley techies who realized this was a real estate gold mine, and he didn’t suddenly “discover” how hip Palm Springs was like the millennials who flocked here for the Coachella Music Festival and to catch a glimpse of Drake, Beyoncé or the Kardashians.

No, Cliff is old school. He was Palm Springs when tumbleweed still blew right through downtown, when Bob Hope pumped gas next to you and when Frank Sinatra might take a seat beside you at the bar, order a martini and nobody acted like it was a big deal.

I admire Cliff because—

The set suddenly spins, and I have to grab the arm of a passing sound guy to steady myself. He looks at me, and I let go.

—he didn’t run away from where he grew up.

“How about you, sunshine?” Cliff asks me. “Wanna grab a drink?”

“I’m gonna pass tonight, Cliff. I’m wiped from this week. Rain check?”

“Never rains in the desert, sunshine,” Cliff jokes. “You oughta know that.”

He stops and looks at me. “What would Frank Sinatra do?”

I laugh. I adore Cliff’s corniness.

“You’re not Frank Sinatra,” Eva calls.

“My martini awaits with or without you.” Cliff salutes, as if he’s Bob Hope on a USO tour, and begins to walk out of the studio.

“Ratings come in this weekend!” a voice yells. “That’s when we party.”

We all turn. Our producer, Ronan, is standing in the middle of the studio. Ronan is all of thirty. He’s dressed in flip-flops, board shorts and a T-shirt that says, SUNS OUT, GUNS OUT! like he just returned from Coachella. Oh, and he’s wearing sunglasses. At night. In a studio that’s gone dim. Ronan is the grandson of the man who owns our network, DSRT. Jack Clark of ClarkStar pretty much owns every network across the US these days. He put his grandson in charge because Ro-Ro’s father bought an NFL franchise, and he’s too obsessed with his new fancy toy to pay attention to his old fancy toy. Before DSRT, Ronan was a surfer living in Hawaii who found it hard to believe there wasn’t an ocean in the middle of the California desert.

He showed up to our very first official news meeting wearing a tank top with an arrow pointing straight up that read, This Dude’s the CEO!

“You can call me Ro-Ro,” he’d announced upon introduction.

“No,” Cliff said. “I can’t.”

Ronan had turned his bleary gaze upon me and said, “Yo. Weather’s, like, not really my thing. You can just, like, look outside and see what’s going on. And it’s, like, on my phone. Just so we’re clear…get it? Like the weather.”

My heart nearly stopped. “People need to know how to plan their days, sir,” I protested. “Weather is a vital part of all our lives. It’s daily news. And, what I study and disseminate can save lives.”

“Ratings party if we’re still number one!” Ronan yells, knocking me from my thoughts.

I look at Eva, and she rolls her eyes. She sidles up next to me and whispers, “You know all the jokes about millennials? He’s the punchline for all of them.”

I stifle a laugh.

We walk each other to the parking lot.

“See you Monday,” I say.

“Are we still wearing our matching Santa hats for the parade next Saturday?”

I laugh and nod. “We’re his best elves,” I say.

“You mean his sexiest news elves,” she says. She winks and waves, and I watch her shiny SUV pull away. I look at my car and get inside with a smile. Palm Springs locals are fixated on their cars. Not the make or the color, but the cleanliness. Since there is so little rain in Palm Springs, locals keep their cars washed and polished constantly. It’s like a competition.

I pull onto Dinah Shore Drive and head toward home.

Palm Springs is dark. There is a light ordinance in the city that limits the number of streetlights. In a city this beautiful, it would be a crime to have tall posts obstructing the view of the mountains or bright light overpowering the brightness of the stars.

I decide to cut through downtown Palm Springs to check out the Friday night action. I drive along Palm Canyon Drive, the main strip in town. The restaurants are packed. People sit outside in shorts—in December!—enjoying a glass of wine. Music blasts from bars. Palm Springs is alive, the town teeming with life even near midnight.

I stop at a red light, and a bachelorette party in sashes and tiaras pulls up next to me peddling a party bike. It’s like a self-propelled trolley with seats and pedals, but you can drink—a lot—on it. I call these party trolleys “Woo-Hoo Bikes” because…

I honk and wave.

The bachelorette party shrieks, holds up their glasses and yells, “WOO-HOO!”

The light changes, and I take off, knowing these ladies will likely find themselves in a load of trouble in about an hour, probably at a tiki bar where the drinks are as deadly as the skulls on the glasses.

I continue north on Palm Canyon—heading past Copley’s Restaurant, which once was Cary Grant’s guesthouse in the 1940s, and a plethora of design and vintage home furnishings stores. I stop at another light and glance over as an absolutely filthy SUV, which looks like it just ended a mud run, pulls up next to me. The front window is caked in gray-white sludge and the doors are encrusted in crud. An older man is hunched over the steering wheel, wearing a winter coat, and I can see the woman seated next to him pointing at the navigation on the dashboard. I know immediately they are not only trying to find their Airbnb on one of the impossible-to-locate side streets in Palm Springs, but also that they are from somewhere wintry, somewhere cold, somewhere the sun doesn’t shine again until May.

Which state? I wonder, as the light changes, and the car pulls ahead of me.

“Bingo!” I yell in my car. “Michigan license plates!”

We all run from Michigan in the winter.

I look back at the road in front of me, and it’s suddenly blurry. A car honks, scaring the wits out of me, and I shake my head clear, wave an apology and head home.

***

Author Bio

Viola Shipman is the pen name for Wade Rouse, a popular, award-winning memoirist. Rouse chose his grandmother’s name, Viola Shipman, to honor the woman whose heirlooms and family stories inspire his writing. Rouse is the author of The Summer Cottage, as well as The Charm Bracelet and The Hope Chest which have been translated into more than a dozen languages and become international bestsellers. He lives in Saugatuck, Michigan and Palm Springs, California, and has written for People, Coastal Living, Good Housekeeping, and Taste of Home, along with other publications, and is a contributor to All Things Considered.

Social Links

Author Website

Facebook: @authorviolashipman

Instagram: @viola_shipman

Twitter: @viola_shipman

Buy Links

Books-A-Million Powell’s

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch by Maisey Yates

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the HTP Holiday Romance Blog Tour for RODEO CHRISTMAS AT EVERGREEN RANCH (Gold Valley Book #13) by Maisey Yates.

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

***

Book Summary

Gold Valley’s rodeo champion is facing the toughest challenge of his life – a Christmas wedding!

Legendary bull-rider Jake Daniels has only one plan this holiday season – to ignore the pain it always brings. Until his best friend Callie Carson shows up on his ranch with a marriage proposal! Jake has lived so close to the edge it’s a miracle he’s still alive – he knows all about risk. But marrying the woman he craves more than anything feels like the biggest risk of all.

Callie Carson might be rodeo royalty, but to fulfil her dreams of riding saddle bronc, she needs her inheritance. And to access that, she needs a husband. But Jake the husband is deliciously different from Jake the friend, especially after the wild heat of their wedding night! He was only supposed to be her cowboy for Christmas, but Jake’s every heart-stopping touch has Callie questioning how she’ll ever be able to walk away.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56602626-rodeo-christmas-at-evergreen-ranch?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=8glGSZ1PLe&rank=1

RODEO CHRISTMAS AT EVERGREEN RANCH

Author: Maisey Yates

ISBN: 9781335959171

Publication Date: October 26, 2021

Publisher: HQN Books

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

RODEO CHRISTMAS AT EVERGREEN RANCH (Gold Valley Book #13) by Maisey Yates is another holiday contemporary western romance addition to the Gold Valley series. I always look forward to the Gold Valley books, but especially the ones set during the holidays.

Champion bull rider, Jake Daniels has returned to his ranch for the holidays leaving the rodeo circuit behind. He risked his life for years to obtain his dream of his own horse ranch and now he just has to make it through the holidays and the painful memories they bring.

Callie Carson is from a rodeo royalty family and has dreamed of riding saddle broncs instead of barrel racing. To fulfill her dream, she needs her inheritance and to get her inheritance before she turns thirty, she needs to be married.

Callie follows her long-time friend, Jake to his home in Gold Valley and proposes. Things begin to change and heat up as Callie’s friend becomes her husband and Jake may be taking the biggest chance of his life.

I always look forward to returning to this series or any romance by Maisey Yates. Jake and Callie are both dealing with difficult emotional baggage. While these two characters eventually come together for their HEA, there is a lot of grief and pain to get through first. Christmas has always played an emotional part in these stories and this one is no exception. I loved Jake and really felt for his painful past and the present feelings he had for Callie, but Callie was a little more difficult to care about because at times I felt she was too centered on herself and her own feelings. The sex scenes are explicit and smokin’ hot, but not gratuitous. While I enjoyed the romance when the H/h were finally emotionally together and I enjoyed the snippets of previous characters in the series, this was not my favorite of the Gold Valley series.

This is a good friends-to-lovers romance set during the holidays and I recommend the entire Gold Valley series.

***

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

JAKE DANIELS HAD grown up knowing that life was short. When he was in high school, he’d lost his parents, and along with them, the sense that anything in this world was guaranteed.

That kind of thing changed a man.

It could make him afraid of his own shadow, worried about taking risks and filled with a sense of self-preservation.

It was either that, or he realized since there were no guarantees, he might as well go all in. Push those chips out to the center of the table and see if the gamble paid off.

He’d done some admittedly dumb stuff as a kid. Not gambling so much as acting out. But the rodeo had changed him. It had saved him.

He’d spent the last eighteen years gambling and doing pretty damn well for himself, it had to be said. Years spent in the rodeo, flinging himself around on the back of enraged bulls, had netted him a decent amount of money, and now that he was more or less ready to get out of the game, those winnings, and the amount of money his parents’ life insurance had left behind, had gotten him a big spread in Gold Valley.

He was going to be a rancher.

Not cattle, like his cousin Ryder. No. He was getting into horses. High-value breeds. Another gamble. It would either pay off, or ruin him.

That was the kind of life he liked. That was the kind of thing that made him feel alive.

And if this was retirement, hell, he was pretty damn into it. Thirty-two years old, and wealthy enough to figure out a way to live his dream. Not bad at all.

Of course, there were things he would miss about the rodeo. The people on the circuit were practically family now. So many years traveling around the same venues, getting busted up together, competing fiercely and going out for a beer after.

But it had been time to leave, and all it had taken was one fierce accident to teach him that.

And Gold Valley was his home, so this had been the place to go to when his time in the rodeo was done.

The day his parents had died, his aunt and uncle had also died, along with the mother of one of his closest friends. That had left a passel of orphaned children, a big old ranch that had once been run by their parents and a whole lot of chaos.

But it had been a good life. Other than all the crushingly sad parts.

His cousin Ryder had taken care of all of them, since he was the only one who’d been eighteen when the tragedy had happened.

He often wondered how they’d made it through without Ryder punching them all in the damn face.

He was sure that Ryder had wanted to from time to time.

Hell. Jake and Colt had been absolute assholes. Neither of them had handled losing their parents well. Well, was there a good way to handle that? He didn’t know. But at seventeen and fifteen, he and his brother had been mad at the world, and kicking against the one person who had been doing his best to help them.

They’d both left home and joined the rodeo, the Western take on running away and joining the circus.

It had taken some years and some maturity for him to fully appreciate what he’d had.

Because what Ryder had given to them had been bound up in his loss, and until he’d been in his midtwenties probably, he hadn’t fully been able to separate those two things and think of home, and his cousin, without a measure of pain and anger.

Even now, when he pulled into Hope Springs Ranch, a strange sensation took hold of him.

Nostalgia, grief and home, all rolled into one.

He’d been contending with it a lot lately, because his—for lack of a better word—retirement was still fairly new, and being in one place and not on the road was unusual for him.

But that was a choice he’d made, and one that was taking a bit of time for him to settle into. It had been just over three months, and it still felt…wrong in some ways.

It was easier to pretend that all your demons were dealt with when you just spent a good portion of the time running from them. Made things simple. At least as simple as they could be.

The problem was his demons had done a decent job of catching up to him on the circuit, and that was when he’d decided it was time to move on.

When Cal had fallen…

How could he live with something happening to his mentee? Cal was his best friend and with his guidance had gotten hurt.

No, that had brought him back to a dark, raw place. One he didn’t want to visit again.

That calm before the storm. That bright ray of sunshine revealed to be the headlights of a Mack truck bearing down on him.

He’d read that poem that said nothing gold could stay.

In his experience, it turned out gold was fleeting. And revealed to be fool’s gold on top of it.

Good never lasted.

And it was rarely real, anyway.

He’d been… Well, he hadn’t been thrilled about Cal wanting to come for Thanksgiving, but he felt responsible for the accident so in the end he hadn’t been able to say no.

He pulled his truck up to the front of the farmhouse, and the door opened, three dogs spilling out the front and down the front steps.

“Back, mutts,” he muttered when he got out of the truck, smiling affectionately at the creatures as he bent down and scratched them behind the ears.

He looked up and saw Sammy standing on the top step of the porch, her baby on her hip. Sammy was married to his cousin Ryder now, but she was another member of their ragtag family. She hadn’t lost her parents, but her situation at home, as he understood it, had been unacceptable, and when she was sixteen she’d come to live with them. She’d never left, and she and Ryder had gotten married a year earlier.

Finally, in his opinion.

The two of them had spent way too long dancing around the truth. Not that he could blame them. Nothing in his life had ever made marriage look particularly appealing. His parents…

His parents had been unhappy, slaves to a ranch and their children, to marriage vows they’d said to each other and had always seemed like they might regret.

For just a moment it had seemed like it might all be fixed. For just a moment it had seemed like they’d be okay.

Then it had all been destroyed.

That bright spot of hope swallowed by reality.

After years of unhappiness, his parents had just died.

Jake couldn’t imagine that kind of life.

“How you doing?” he asked.

Sammy shifted the baby from one hip to the other, the little girl reaching out and grabbing her mom’s blond hair. Sammy laughed and unwrapped the chubby fist from her curls. She looked happier than he’d ever seen her before.

He supposed for some people there was something to be said for this life.

God knew Ryder seemed happier.

But then, it was impossible for Ryder to seem more grim. Jake felt pretty guilty about that with the benefit of age and wisdom.

“Great,” Sammy said. “We’ve been seeing so much of you lately. I feel spoiled.”

“Well, that’s good, because it won’t take long for you to just feel sick of me.”

“Never,” Sammy said, coming down the steps and offering him a hug.

Sammy was like that. Effortless, easy affection with people around her.

He admired it, but he’d never much understood it. There was only one kind of touch he was free with. Sex was simple. And being a champion in the world of rodeo meant there was no shortage of buckle bunnies lining up to see if the rumors were true. His bull rides lasted eight seconds, and a ride in his bed lasted the whole night.

He took a lot of pride in the fact that he had staying power. That he gave a damn for the pleasure of the women who passed through his hotel rooms.

But that was as deep as he got.

“Come on in,” Sammy said. “Logan and Rose are already here. Iris and Griffin are on their way.”

It was strange to him that everybody had paired off now. Everybody except for himself, and his brother, Colt, who would rather take a stick between the eyes than settle down.

Jake was confident that would be his brother’s stance.

His brother was still going out hard in the rodeo. As far as Jake knew he wasn’t even interested in coming back to town and settling down the way Jake was, let alone getting married.

He walked into the living room, and noticed all the little changes.

Since Ryder and Sammy had gotten married, the place, which had actually been basically the same in all the years since their parents had died, had gotten a bit of a facelift.

Sammy had added a whole lot of real grown-up touches to it. Pretty things.

It was weird. Weirder that he cared.

Ryder came through from the kitchen and offered a greeting. “Good to see you.”

“You, too. Hey, Sammy,” Jake said. “Would it be all right if my buddy Cal came for Thanksgiving?”

“Sure,” Sammy said. “The more, the merrier.”

He was glad Sammy was thrilled. He was less thrilled. But there were a spare few things on God’s earth he saw as sacred. His friendship with Cal was one of them.

The accident might have been a catalyst for Jake deciding to leave the rodeo, but it was just damned cowardly to then deny his friend’s request to come visit. Why? Because he felt guilty about the fall?

Hell, yeah, he did.

But that didn’t mean he had to be happy about the visit. Though even just being away and out of the game, knowing he was just out of it now for good… There were things he missed. He was looking forward to having a few beers and talking about old times.

“Good,” Jake said.

Eventually, Iris and her new husband arrived, followed by Pansy and her husband, West, and West’s teenage brother, Emmett. West and Pansy had taken over the raising of the kid, since West’s mother wasn’t hugely into the maternal thing. Putting it mildly.

And while everything with his family was good—it always was—there was an indefinable feeling of…change.

Right. Well, you haven’t been here very much, so you don’t have the right to have an opinion about how things have changed.

That thought galled him a little bit.

And it was true enough. He’d been gone, seen to his own affairs all this time, and something that had given him a small measure of comfort was the fact that he could come home at any time and things would be roughly the way that he left them. But not so much anymore.

There were new people. New plates. The house was fuller than it had ever been, but that made it a little bit unrecognizable, too.

It was a whole damn thing.

He finished eating, and hung out for a while.

Then he bid everybody farewell, got in his truck and started on the road back to his ranch.

Settling in Gold Valley.

There was a time when he’d been sure he’d never do that. And as he drove down the familiar highway he had a strange sense of…dread.

He hated that.

He chased dread. The kind of fear that held other people down, he pursued it. He’d spent years riding bulls because he’d figured why not give fate the biggest middle finger of all.

It was the quiet moments that seemed to bring the fear. The still moments. The golden hour, when the sun lit up the world around him and everything looked new. And there would be a moment. A breath. Where peace rested in his soul.

And right on its heels came the hounds of hell.

The arena had stopped it. The pounding of hooves, the danger.

It was just that it had followed him to the arena now so he’d figured he’d take his chances here.

Maybe that had been a mistake.

Too late now.

He drove through town, trying to get a look at how it might seem if he were an outsider. If he was someone who hadn’t grown up here. The brick facades were the kind of thing tourists lost their shit over. But he lost the ability to see them a long time ago.

For him… For him, Gold Valley had just represented everything he lost.

He’d been running when he’d left.

He’d run for a long time. And he’d achieved a hell of a lot.

But whatever he thought he’d feel when he got here… He didn’t.

And so he was trying to see everything with new eyes, like he was a new man, because he felt just so damned much like the old one. And he wasn’t the biggest fan.

Hope Springs always put him in this kind of mood.

So he shrugged it off and started mentally going over the timeline that he had in place for getting his ranch going. His first five horses were coming at the new year.

It was a new challenge. And it reinvigorated him. That was the problem. The rodeo had gotten stale. He’d won everything twice. You didn’t get better than that. He’d done it twice in a row, and he didn’t want to get to the point where he wasn’t winning anymore.

He’d peaked. Basically.

So now he had to go find somewhere else to do that.

That was something, anyway.

It was one reason he’d backed his cousin Iris when she had decided to open her bakery.

He knew all about needing a change.

Maybe that meant he actually was still running.

None of it mattered now, though.

He hadn’t had enough to drink tonight because he’d needed to get his ass home, but he was going to open some whiskey the minute he got in the door.

The place was out about ten miles from town, a nice flat parcel of property with the mountains behind it. The house itself was a big, white farmhouse with a green metal roof. Different to the rustic place at Hope Springs, but he liked it. The driveway was gravel, long and winding, with tall, dense trees on either side of the road.

But when he came through the trees into the clearing where the house was, there was a surprise waiting for him in front of the house.

An old, beat-up pickup was parked there, and he could see a lone figure leaning up against the hood. He parked the truck and got out, making his way over to the figure.

In the darkness, he couldn’t quite make it out, but he had a feeling he knew who it was. Early and unannounced.

Entirely in keeping with what he knew of his friend.

“Cal?”

And two wide, brown eyes looked up at him from beneath the brim of a white cowboy hat, long, glossy brown hair shifting with the motion. “Jake. I’m really glad to see you. Because… I don’t just need a job. I need a husband.”

***

Author Bio

Maisey Yates is a New York Times bestselling author of over one hundred romance novels. Whether she’s writing strong, hard working cowboys, dissolute princes or multigenerational family stories, she loves getting lost in fictional worlds. An avid knitter with a dangerous yarn addiction and an aversion to housework, Maisey lives with her husband and three kids in rural Oregon.

Social Media Links

Author Website

Facebook: @MaiseyYates.Author

Instagram: @maiseyyates

Twitter: @maiseyyates

Purchase Links

Books-A-Million Powell’s

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Freeze Before Burning by Nikki Stern

Freeze Before Burning

by Nikki Stern

December 13-31, 2021 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for FREEZE BEFORE BURNING (Sam Tate Mystery Book #3) by Nikki Stern 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 Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!

***

Book Description

True Crime Fans Iced by Cold-blooded Killer

What do a bartender, a priest, and a librarian have in common? They all work in New York City. They’re all true crime fans. And they’re all dead, courtesy of a predator with a chilling approach to murder.

Talbot County, Maryland Lieutenant Sam Tate is in the Big Apple to find answers about her own tragic past when she is pulled onto the case of the Dry Ice Killer by an old friend with the NYPD. Drawn to a new colleague, she questions her long-time relationship with her FBI boyfriend. Meanwhile, she’s caught between the demands of an impatient bureaucracy and an especially sadistic sociopath. This may be Sam’s most dangerous case yet—if she survives.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59479772-freeze-before-burning?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=hdiaaGOFKF&rank=1

Freeze Before Burning

Genre: Mystery/Suspense
Published by: Ruthenia Press
Publication Date: December 8, 2021
Number of Pages: 295
ISBN: 978-9995487-7-6
Series: The Sam Tate Mystery Series, Book 3

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

FREEZE BEFORE BURNING (Sam Tate Mystery Book #3) by Nikki Stern is an exciting, fast-paced police procedural/crime mystery featuring Lieutenant Sam Tate who manages even on vacation to become involved in the chase for a serial killer. This book can be read as a standalone with a new location and fully solved crime, but there are a backstories from the previous books regarding Sam’s personal life and previous cases that you miss out on. This series should be read in order.

Lieutenant Sam Tate is in NYC to reconnect with family and investigate lingering questions from her own tragic past. When she runs into the brother of a former partner, she is pulled into an investigation as a consultant which quickly turns into the search for a serial killer who seems to be targeting members of a true crime podcast.

As the body count increases, so does the threat to Sam’s own life.

This is a page turner with a great balance between the protagonist’s past story investigation intertwined with the present-day police procedural chasing The Dry Ice Killer. Sam is a strong, intelligent investigator who you can empathize with. The author does a good job of portraying how her past has influenced her current life and relationships. The ending leaves Sam moving to a new position again and a new type of personal intrigue surrounding her extended family. The crime mystery plot in this book in the series was well paced and continued to ratchet up the tension right up to the climax.

I can recommend this edge-of-your-seat police procedural crime mystery and I am looking forward to following Sam on more adventures in the future.

***

Excerpt

Ed Rizzo slid his ample body into the ornate confessional, crossed himself, and pushed a strand of thinning hair off his forehead. “Forgive me, Father,” he intoned, “for I have sinned, although I’m pretty sure God will cut me some slack even if my wife won’t, if you take my meaning.”

At ten in the morning, the sanctuary was deserted. Good. He didn’t need anyone listening to his confession, which he unloaded to the figure who sat beside him in the confessional over the next ten minutes.

Even as he talked, he considered who might be on the other side of the grate. Rizzo couldn’t make out the features of the man. He wondered if he’d landed the new priest. Maybe a younger person would make light of his transgressions, which mostly related to his perfectly legitimate reaction to his obnoxious neighbor, Frank Pagonis.

Rizzo had his justifications lined up. He hadn’t survived more than a year of enforced quarantine with three kids and a demanding wife, never mind the missing paycheck for a while, only to put up with the stolen newspapers, a lawn mower returned with a bent blade, and a television loud enough to wake the dead.

“But when his dog, which, by the way, he refuses to leash and that’s against the law, went and dug up my tomato plants, yeah, I sprayed some stuff on whatever the mutt left. Not enough to kill the animal, you understand. He can’t help it if he has a jerk for an owner. I would have sprayed his owner’s food if I could have. The point I’m making is, the dog got sick, but it didn’t die, okay?”

Rizzo cocked his head, thinking he might have heard a faint sigh.

“Now he’s coming around with a pile of vet bills and talking about suing me. I told him to take his threats and shove them. I tell you, Padre, I am this close to beating that smug face or maybe twisting that scrawny neck of his. My wife claims that kind of thinking is sinful. I don’t think it’s as bad as doing the deed. I haven’t told her about poisoning the dog, but sparing her the details isn’t the same as lying, is it?”

Nothing. The guy had probably fallen asleep. The confessional was stuffy, and Rizzo experienced a touch of claustrophobia. Time to move things along.

“If you can just suggest a penance to perform, I’ll get it covered. Then I can be on my way.”

He stopped talking, suddenly aware of the silence, how absolute and enveloping it was. The noises of the city street outside had receded. He could hear himself breathing.

“Hey, Father? You all right in there?” Rizzo scratched the grill dividing the two sides of the confessional. His head was pounding now, and he felt vaguely dizzy.

“I know I’ve been yakking a lot. How about we wrap this up, okay?” Again, no response. It occurred to Rizzo that the other man hadn’t said a word the entire time. What if the good father had suffered a heart attack?

He hoisted his bulk off the narrow bench and pushed himself out of the tiny space. The other side of the confessional had its own entrance. He rapped on the door, then tried the handle, more out of instinct than anything else. It turned in his hand, and he pulled.

The black-garbed figure sat with head bowed, hands folded in his lap as if in prayer or contemplation. Or asleep. Rizzo put a tentative hand on the man’s shoulder. With a sigh like a punctured balloon, the black-robed figure tipped sideways off the bench, fell to the floor, and rolled like a blow-up toy.

Startled, Rizzo jumped back. Stay cool, he told himself.

He bent over with an umph and put two fingers to the priest’s throat to search for a pulse. He expected to feel cold, not the scalding heat that burned his skin.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, forgetting for a moment where he was. He waved his blistered hand in the air and hopped around until a wave of nausea stopped.

With his foot, he nudged the body so that it rolled onto its back. He stared, speechless for once, at the face of the priest. Then he stepped farther back, pulled out his cell phone, punched in 9-1-1, and gave his report to the dispatcher in a calm, measured tone.

He agreed to wait for the police and medical authorities just outside the church. He even accepted the suggestion that he might dissuade others from entering until help arrived.

Without looking again at the body of the priest, Ed Rizzo crossed himself. He walked slowly to the front door, stepped into the fresh air, and threw up.

***

Author Bio

Nikki Stern is the author of six books, two non-fiction and four fiction. The Wedding Crasher, a 2019 Kindle Book Award Winner, and Bird in Hand, a 2020 Shelf Unbound Notable Indie, are the first two books in the Sam Tate Mystery Series. Freeze Before Burning is the latest. Nikki shares author credit on a series of interactive murder mysteries published by Samuel French. She’s a member of Sisters in Crime and the Independent Book Publishers Association.

Social Media Links

NikkiStern.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @NikkiStern
Instagram – @realnikkistern
Twitter – @realnikkistern
Facebook – @NikkiSternAuthor

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