Tag: #excerpt

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: A Scandal in Mayfair by Katharine Schellman

A Scandal in Mayfair

by Katharine Schellman

August 19 – September 13, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Hi everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for A SCANDAL IN MAYFAIR (A Lily Adler Mystery Book #5) by Katharine Schellman on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

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

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Book Description

Sometimes danger lurks in plain sight, and in the cutthroat London Season socialite Lily Adler must race against time to catch a killer.

London, 1817. The London Season is beginning once more, and Lily Adler’s return to her home on Half Moon Street feels different this year. No longer a recent widow, she has a life and friends waiting for her. Lily also has new responsibilities in the form of her protégée Amelia, the sister of her longtime friend Jack Hartley, who is escaping her own brush with scandal and murder.

It doesn’t take long for Lily’s growing reputation as a lady of quality who can discreetly find what is missing or solve what is puzzling to bring a desperate young woman to her doorstep. But helping her means unraveling a tangled web of family secrets. Soon, a missing will, a dead body and the threat of blackmail leave Lily facing danger every way she turns.

The glittering society of Mayfair conceals many secrets, and the back alleys of London hide even more. Lily Adler will need to find the connection between them quickly if she wants to stop a killer before it’s too late.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/201750554-a-scandal-in-mayfair?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=n229ViCRGi&rank=1

A Scandal In Mayfair

Genre: Historical Cozy Mystery
Published by: Crooked Lane Books
Publication Date: August 20, 2024
Number of Pages: 320
ISBN: 9781639108411 (ISBN10: 1639108416)
Series: A Lily Adler Mystery, Book #5 | Each is a Stand Alone

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

A SCANDAL IN MAYFAIR (A Lily Adler Mystery Book #3) by Katharine Schellman is another intricately plotted and engaging amateur sleuth historical mystery featuring Lily Adler, a lady of quality who discretely solves mysteries with the help of a few friends among polite society. These books can be read as mystery standalones, but Lily and her friend’s personal and social lives continually evolve in each story.

The 1817 London Season is about to begin, and Lily Adler has returned to her home on Half Moon Street. This year Lily is returning to London with an established life and friends waiting besides the added responsibilities of mentoring Amelia, the sister of her longtime friend, Jack Hartley.

Lily receives a letter asking for her services from a young lady seeking help discovering the truth of her deceased father’s will. When Lily meets with the lady, she is shocked when the lady and her fiancé wish her to steal the will from her uncle. With the threat of blackmail, Lily, with the help of her friends, seeks out the will, only to discover a dead body. With a tangled web of lies and dead bodies, Lily faces danger once again as she seeks the truth.

I love Lily and this entire series! She is an intelligent, strong and independent protagonist. She is a widow conforming to society’s norms while also carrying on in her pursuit of delicate inquiries. Her personal life is certainly more exciting now with the return of Jack and the clearing of misunderstandings and emotional fears. All the secondary characters are as entertaining, intriguing, and fully developed as Lily. The mystery plot in this book starts out a little slow, but there is a lot to set up for all the different threads to be able to come together in the end. I always enjoy these Lily Adler books and look forward to the next.

I highly recommend this amateur sleuth historical mystery as well as the entire series!

***

Excerpt

“You are Mrs. Adler? You do not look anything like I expected,” the young woman said bluntly. “I thought that someone who offers such investigations would be . . . more dramatic, I suppose. But you are very nearly plain. Well, not plain,” she added apologetically, looking Lily over once more. “Your gown is beautifully made, I must say, and you are very elegant—a tall figure helps with that, I suppose.” She sighed, glancing down at her own figure, which was of average height and rather waiflike. “But I thought you

would be more glamorous. Is it not a glamorous occupation that you have?”

“Hardly an occupation,” Lily said firmly. Miss Forrest was not wrong; with unremarkable coloring and looks only just on the pretty side of average, elegant was the best descriptor Lily could hope for from an impartial observer. But it still rankled to be sized up so bluntly. “And not a genteel one, if it were. Besides, I think what you have heard of are discreet inquiries for those who need them. A dramatic or imposing appearance would hardly serve that purpose.”

“Oh, indeed. That does make sense.” The girl’s eyes were wide as she nodded along. “That is what Mrs. Mannering said—that you were the soul of discretion. I am so hoping it is true, believe me. My predicament is dreadful, and it would become even worse were it to be

widely known and discussed.”

“That is often the case, especially in town,” Lily said, but her eyes narrowed as she spoke. The Mannerings’ daughter had disappeared one night, leaving no trace of where she might have gone, and they had been beside themselves when Lily arrived for tea with a mutual

friend. She knew Mrs. Mannering to be a loose-tongued woman, so rather than offering to help directly, she had presented them with one of her cards and suggested that her “acquaintance” might track down their daughter.

The daughter had been located—she had become so fed up with her parents’ matrimonial ambitions that she had run away to the home of her aunt—and the Mannerings had never known that it was Lily herself who had found her.

“So it was Mrs. Mannering who suggested you contact the lady of quality?” On the one hand, Mrs. Mannering loved to gossip. On the other hand, sharing such a story about her own daughter would hardly reflect well on her, even if that daughter was now well married. And Lily had no interest in assisting someone who began with lying to her.

“Yes,” the young woman said, nodding.

Lily waited silently, her brows rising just a hair.

“No . . .” Miss Forrest stretched the word out hesitantly, biting her lip as she looked away. “That is to say, not exactly. Mrs. Mannering mentioned that someone had assisted them with a sort of inquiry—she made it sound dreadfully dramatic, which is why I thought—well, and she showed my cousin, who is my companion, and me the lady of quality’s card over tea. And I was already so worried, and in need of help, that I—I took it.” The final words came out in a rush, and the girl looked suddenly both deflated and relieved. “I stole it, I suppose. And then I wrote because I so desperately needed someone to help me. Can you?” She raised her eyes hopefully to Lily’s.

“Perhaps,” Lily said. “Though beginning with a falsehood does not bode well.” Miss Forrest’s face fell, and she looked like nothing so much as a scolded puppy. Lily sighed. “Tell me what it is you need assistance with.” She glanced at Clive and added coldly, “And how you come into it, sir. Then I shall make up my mind.”

Miss Sarah Forrest sat up very straight. “I need your assistance to escape my uncle. I fear he has stolen all the money my father intended for me to inherit.” Her mouth and hands both trembled, and she clasped her fingers together tightly to keep them still. “He says it is for my own good that he controls my inheritance. But I do not believe my father would do such a thing. And now, because he has kept my independence from me, my uncle is preventing me from marrying in order to keep me dependent on him, perhaps forever.”

Lily sat back against the bench. She glanced at Clive. “And that is where you come into it, I suppose?”

He, still standing, bowed. “I have asked Miss Forrest to marry me, yes. We met during the winter and were instantly in sympathy with each other.”

“Mr. Clive’s family is from Suffolk, and his property is there too, of course.” Miss Forrest said, holding out her hand to her suitor. “But he felt so dreadfully isolated that he came to London last winter.” 

“I had not recalled that your family was from Suffolk,” Lily said, her eyes fixed on Clive. Her hands were clenched into fists by her sides; she took a deep breath, trying to relax them. “How forgetful of me.”

“No matter,” Miss Forrest went on, not noticing Lily’s tone. Clive’s sideways glance, however, said he had not missed it. “Such a handsome, charming young man is much better suited to life in town, do you not think?”

“My dear Sarah is too kind to me,” Clive said gallantly, taking the hand she held out to him, giving her a warm smile as he pressed it between his. “And I am fortunate indeed that she is. She is the love of my life.”

“So Miss Forrest said in her letter,” Lily said a little more cynically than she intended. But it was impossible to keep a completely straight face as she watched their romantic interlude, or as she remembered the melodramatic turns of phrase the young woman had employed.

“Yes.” Miss Forrest smiled at her sweetheart, showing no hesitation or embarrassment over her elevated prose. “He is a most dashing, wonderful young man. Though I hardly need tell you that,” she added earnestly, turning back to Lily, “as you are already acquainted.”

They were acquainted. And when Lily had met him in her aunt’s small Hampshire village, he was a cardsharp and a bookmaker, accepted into more elevated circles than the ones into which he had been born because nearly every young man with pretensions to dissipation owed him money. No one had trusted him, but no one could risk offending him either. He knew it, and he despised those around him even as he needed them in turn.

Once or twice, Lily had thought she saw a hint of the more admirable man he might have become had he chosen a different path. But if there was, he had not bothered to cultivate it. And he had made no secret of his plan, during that brief week of their acquaintance, to use his ill-gotten income to one day place himself in the role of a gentleman and improve his lot in life.

It seemed he had succeeded. Or would have, if Miss Forrest’s inheritance had not disappeared.

“But it seems this dashing, wonderful young man will not marry you without your inheritance?” Lily asked.

That prompted a scowl from Miss Forrest. “I know what you are thinking, ma’am. But you are wrong. My dear Mr. Clive has some money of his own. The problem we face is that my uncle will not give his consent.”

“How old are you, Miss Forrest?” Lily asked, glancing sideways at Clive.

“I am not yet two-and-twenty,” Miss Forrest said sitting up very straight, as though to look as mature and worldly as possible.

“Then you are legally able to marry, even without your uncle’s consent,” Lily said pragmatically. “If it is not a question of needing your inheritance, why not simply do so?”

Clive sighed. “Because—”

But Miss Forrest broke in. “Just because he is not marrying me for my money does not mean we’ve no need of something to live on,” she said, the irritation plain in her voice. She gave Lily a look up and down. “You will forgive me for saying, ma’am, but you look like you are no stranger to comfort. Is it so wrong that we might wish for the same in our own lives?”

Lily wanted to argue the point, but it was a reasonable one. Or it would have been, were it not for what she knew of the gentleman in question. “Very well,” she said, inclining her head. “I merely wish to know all the facts of the situation.”

“And if I had come to you for marriage advice, your interference might be warranted,” Miss Forrest snapped, her cheeks going splotchy with irritation. “But I did not.”

“Sarah,” Clive said before Lily could reply. When she glanced at him, his smile was firmly in place, but there was a cynical edge to it. “It is a mark of her good character that she asks such questions. Mrs. Adler does not know me as you do.”

Miss Forrest took a deep breath, reining in her emotions once more. “I suppose. But my uncle’s refusing his consent only proves my concern is warranted.” She clasped her book tightly against her midsection, as though it were a shield she could hide behind. “Even if my father did change his will, whatever inheritance my uncle is currently steward of would pass from Uncle Forrest’s control to that of my husband if I marry. What other reason could he have for refusing his consent if not to keep control of those funds?”

“Skepticism of your suitor, perhaps?” Lily murmured.

“But we have never met,” Clive put in. “He has refused to do so.”

“Which is also suspicious!” Miss Forrest declared.

Lily glanced around. Miss Forrest’s emphatic tones had drawn curious stares from the couples strolling nearby. One of the women glanced at them several times, though she had not stopped talking to the man with her. A feeling of unease settled in Lily’s stomach. She

thought she recognized the woman, though she could not put a name to the face.

She needed to leave this conversation as soon as possible.

“Well,” she said, tapping the tips of her fingers together, “you tell an interesting story.”

Miss Forrest met Lily’s eyes; her own, for the first time, were wide and sober. “I know it sounds like something out of a novel. But it is the truth. All I want is to reclaim the independence that should be mine.”

“Then you would be best served by speaking to your father’s solicitor,” Lily said briskly. “He would be able to assist you in understanding how your father left things, I’ve no doubt.”

The young lady scowled, her cheeks flushing red. “I do not know who his solicitor was. And for obvious reasons, I cannot ask my uncle for the name.”

“Then what is it you are hoping I will do?” Lily said. “I am one woman, Miss Forrest. I cannot retrieve your money for you.”

“I know that. But my uncle will have a copy of my father’s will in his house, and I think I know where it would be.” The girl leaned forward, her breath coming quickly and her hands trembling once more. “I want to hire you to steal it for me so I can prove what he has done.”

***

Author Bio

Katharine Schellman is a former actor and one-time political consultant. These days, she writes the Regency-set Lily Adler Mysteries and Jazz Age Nightingale Mysteries. Her books have been praised in outlets from Library Journal to The New York Times, with reviewers calling them “worthy of Agatha Christie or Rex Stout” (Library Journal). Katharine writes in the mountains of Virginia, where she lives with her husband, children, and the many houseplants she keeps accidentally murdering.

Social Media Links

KatharineSchellman.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @KatharineSchellman
Instagram – @katharinewrites
Facebook – @katharineschellman

Purchase Links

 Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Penguin Random House

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KINGSUMO GIVEAWAY

https://kingsumo.com/g/m89qoq1/a-scandal-in-mayfair-by-katharine-schellman-gift-card

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: In the Pale Light by Wesley Smith

IN THE PALE LIGHT

by Westley Smith



August 12 – September 6, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for IN THE PALE LIGHT by Wesley Smith on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

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

***

Book Description

When Clay Graham and his family are found slain in the parking lot of his struggling business, the police suspect Clay’s troublemaker brother, Terry. Terry claims he was drunk the night of the murders and passed out at home. With little evidence against Terry to make an arrest, the case soon goes cold.

Shunned from the community, harassed by the locals who believe he’s a murderer, and suffering from an undiagnosed illness, Terry lives alone on his farm, punishing himself for his past indiscretions.

Then Pennsylvania State Police Trooper Henry Miller, who has ties to the town and the Graham murders, shows up with newly discovered evidence that kick-starts the case all over again.

Now, before his illness kills him, Terry sets out, battling against small-town secrets and old grudges, racing against time to stay one step ahead of both the State Police and his own impending death, to finally find out what really happened to his family and hopefully prove himself and innocent man –if he is one.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/215503080-in-the-pale-light?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=qomXBSvofB&rank=2

In the Pale Light

Genre: Crime Thriller
Published by: Watertower Hill Publishing
Publication Date: August 13, 2024

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

IN THE PALE LIGHT by Westley Smith is an intense vigilante cold case crime thriller with a man accused of killing his brother’s family racing against his terminal illness and law enforcement to discover the truth. Make sure you set aside a block of time to read this race-against-time thriller because if you are like me, you will not be able to put it down until the final revelation.

Terry Graham is known around town as a drunkard and troublemaker with a terrible temper. When his brother, brother’s wife, and daughter are found shot to death outside their business, everyone believes Terry is responsible, but there is no proof. Shunned in his small hometown for nine years, the case has gone cold until a pair of detectives from the State Police Major Crimes Unit take over this investigation and begin asking questions again.

Pennsylvania State Trooper Henry Miller is back in town with newly discovered evidence to investigate the Graham case that he was the first patrol officer on the scene on the day of the murder. Miller has always had questions about this murder case and now he hopes to find the truth, but Terry seems to have discovered something also and is beating him to people he wants to question.

With Terry barely ahead of the detectives, he is racing against time to discover the truth behind the murders and prove himself innocent.

This book has a protagonist that is not lovable, and has a terrible temper, but you end up cheering him on to find the truth before he succumbs to his illness. Every new discovery had me rethinking the crime; not only who but why. The crime thriller plot is fast-paced and full of twists and surprises. The tension builds to a crescendo that had me reading well past my bedtime.

I highly recommend this engrossing vigilante cold case crime thriller!

***

Excerpt

December 25th, 2015

The emergency lights from the Hickory Falls Sheriff’s Department Ford Interceptor flashed across the snow when it pulled into the Graham Video store parking lot. The sheet of white should have been untouched by tires at 6:45 a.m., and the snow-covered green Jetta, sitting in the far left-hand corner of the parking lot should not have been there. Two different sets of tire tracks cut through the pristine snow. One set belonged to the Jetta. The other set made a large circle in the snow before making its way back toward Main Street. 

The officer brought the SUV to a stop about five feet from the Jetta; its headlights bathed the car in the frigid darkness. Unable to see past the Jetta’s frosted snow-covered windows, a building sense of unease began to crawl over him, tightening the flesh to his bones.

The officer’s shift had been easy that night. He had not responded to any emergency calls, nor had he had to pull anyone over. A Christmas miracle itself. But all that had changed fifteen minutes ago while he was patrolling Broke Run Road, when Sheriff Will Daniel’s voice came over the radio.

         “Call just came in. We got a report of shots fired at the Graham Video store. Caller says they saw a man running across the parking lot, carrying what appeared to be a shotgun. The suspect reportedly got into the passenger side of a blue sedan before it took off with two others inside. Need you to check it out,” Daniel had said.

            Why the hell is the sheriff in at this hour? the officer had wondered. Shouldn’t Susan be on the call desk? And what’s going on at the Graham Video store?

Now on scene, with the first cracks of gray sky beginning to materialize through the night horizon, he radioed back into the station.

“I’m at the Graham Video store. I’ve located a V-dub Jetta. It’s an early 2000s model. No sign of anyone else, including the reported blue sedan. Though there are two sets of tire tracks in the snow, indicating another vehicle was present.” He glanced at the video store’s entrance. There were no broken windows and no ajar door to indicate a robbery had occurred. The place appeared buttoned up tight. “No signs of a break-in, Sheriff. Getting out to inspect the vehicle.”

         “Ten-four,” Sheriff Daniel’s voice came back over the line. “Proceed with caution.”

         Again, the officer thought it was strange that the sheriff was in at that hour, and on Christmas morning. Where was Susan Green? She usually worked the overnight shift; she should still have been at the station, working the dispatch desk. Still, the officer knew, she could have gone home for any number of reasons—the holiday, the storm, or maybe a family member had fallen –ill—and the sheriff had filled in for her. Pushing the thought from his mind, the officer returned to the pressing matter at hand.

            Stay focused.  Stay sharp.

Stepping from the SUV, the blowing snow and driving wind bit at the officer’s exposed skin, penetrated his clothes. Zipping his jacket up to his chin, he started toward the car, trudging through the shin-deep snow.

As he neared the Jetta, pelted with snow and ice so hard it stung, he noticed a set of footprints leading away from the passenger-side door toward the second set of tire tracks before vanishing. The tracks were nearly filled in with fresh powder, but it was unmistakable what they were. He assumed this was where the person had gotten into the second car—an old blue sedan. Looking back to the Jetta, he saw something smeared along the top of the passenger-side door. Whatever it was had frozen to a hard, ruby-colored substance.

         He eased in for a closer look.

         Blood! 

Frozen blood. 

A strange tightness gripped the base of the officer’s neck as if Death had wrapped a cold, boney hand around him and begun to squeeze. His heart rate quickened. He placed his right hand on his sidearm and identified himself.

         “This is the Hickory Falls Sheriff’s Department. If there’s anyone inside the vehicle, would you please step out?”

         There was no reply. The car was dead still. The only sound across the parking lot was the howling wind and the ice pebbles hitting the closest metal lamp post.

         Not wanting to disturb what he believed to be blood on the passenger-side door, the officer lumbered through the deepening snow, around the front of the Jetta, to the driver’s side. Reaching down, he took hold of the handle and pulled. 

         The driver’s side door was locked.

         He took a deep breath of cold air, sending what felt like ice daggers into his lungs as he tried to steel himself for what he might find inside. His teeth began to chatter, and an internal shudder tremored in his core and quickly expanded to the rest of his body.

         “I’m asking anyone inside to identify themselves and step out.” He waited, but when no one replied, he said, “If you do not comply, I will be forced to inspect the vehicle. Last warning.”

         Silence.

No movement came from within. The car’s stillness bothered him—like it was dead. But that was impossible. Cars could not be deceased like humans or animals. So why was he getting the dreaded feeling that death emanated from it?

         Placing his gloved hand on the window, he brushed the light dusting of snow away and bent down to look inside.

The officer recoiled at what he saw or who he saw staring back at him. His feet slipped out from under him, and he went down onto his backside, hard. Snow kicked up when he hit the ground, and for a moment he was cocooned in falling white powder, protected from what he had seen. 

But when the snow settled, the officer was again gazing at the driver’s-side door of the Jetta. There, he saw a man’s pale face pressed against the glass, the muscles twisted and tightened in agony. His eyes were open and locked directly on the officer with a vacant, lifeless stare, pleading with him, even in death, to save him.

Too late.  I’m too late to save you.

The officer shot to his feet; snow fell off his uniform in large patchy clumps. And though the temperature was in the teens, he felt sweat break out across his back and forehead.

Moving gingerly toward the Jetta again, the officer realized he knew the dead man looking back at him.

Clay Graham—the owner of the Graham Video store. 

He removed his Maglite from his belt and turned it on. Bending, he shone the beam through the ice-crusted driver’s-side window and began to scan the car’s interior.

That’s when he saw them.

He pressed a gloved hand over his lips, suppressing the scream that wanted to leap from his throat at the horrific sight of carnage and death inside the Jetta.

It wasn’t just Clay Graham dead inside the car but also his wife, Claire, and their teenage daughter, Sidney.

***

Author Bio

Westley Smith had his first short story, Off to War, published when he was just sixteen.

He is, more recently, the author of two horror novels, Along Came the Tricksters and All Hallows Eve, as well as the thriller Some Kind of Truth. His short fiction has been published in various magazines and websites. Wes lives with his wife and two dogs in the beautiful woodlands of southern Pennsylvania–the perfect place to hide a body.

Catch Up With Westley Smith

WestleySmithBooks.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @wssmith100
Instagram – @wsmithbooks
Facebook – @westleysmith100

Purchase Links

 Amazon | Goodreads | Watertower Hill Publishing

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KINGSUMO GIVEAWAY

The giveaway is for:  a print edition of IN THE PALE LIGHT by Westley Smith AND a $20 Amazon.com Gift Card

https://kingsumo.com/g/10pd7q3/in-the-pale-light-by-westley-smith-print-book-gift-card

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: A Cold, Cold World by Elena Taylor

A COLD, COLD WORLD

by Elena Taylor

July 29 – August 23, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for A COLD, COLD WORLD (Sheriff Bet Rivers Book #2) by Elena Taylor on this Partners ‘n’ Crime Virtual Book Tour.

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

***

Book Description

A female sheriff tries to fill her late father’s boots and be the sheriff her small Washington State mountain town needs as a deadly snow storm engulfs the town, in this dark, twisty mystery.

The world felt pure. Nature made the location pristine again, hiding the scene from prying eyes. As if no one had died there at all.

In the months since Bet Rivers solved her first murder investigation and secured the sheriff’s seat in Collier, she’s remained determined to keep her town safe. With a massive snowstorm looming, it’s more important than ever that she stays vigilant.

When Bet gets a call that a family of tourists has stumbled across a teen injured in a snowmobile accident on a mountain ridge, she braves the storm to investigate. However, once she arrives at the scene of the accident it’s clear to Bet that the teen is not injured; he’s dead. And has been for some time . . .

Investigating a possible homicide is hard enough, but with the worst snowstorm the valley has seen in years threatening the safety of her town, not to mention the integrity of her crime scenes – as they seem to be mounting up as well – Bet has to move fast to uncover the complicated truth and prove that she’s worthy of keeping her father’s badge.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/208707891-a-cold-cold-world?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=XW93OEwlHR&rank=1

A Cold, Cold World

Genre: Police Procedural, Mystery
Published by: Severn House
Publication Date: August 6, 2024
Number of Pages: 256
ISBN: 9781448314065 (ISBN10: 1448314062)
Series: A Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery, Book 2 | Each is a Stand-Alone Mystery

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

A COLD, COLD WORLD (Sheriff Bet Rivers Book #2) by Elena Taylor is an intricately plotted small town sheriff procedural crime thriller and the second book in the intriguing Sheriff Bet Rivers series. This book can be read as a standalone, but I felt both books are great reads, and I feel you would enjoy the first in the series, All We Buried, too.

Sheriff Bet Rivers is now the duly elected sheriff in place of her deceased father in her small hometown in Collier, a Cascade Mountain valley in Washington state. With a massive snowstorm looming, Bet receives a call that a family of tourists discovered a snowmobile accident with a teen victim. Bet finds the teen is not only dead but shows signs of having been dead for some time. As she investigates, she is called about a break-in at a summer cabin that appears to be a crime scene. Is it related to her dead teen even though the cabin is in a different area of the valley?

With a major storm over the valley and multiple crime scenes, Bet is stretched thin. She is doubting her ability to fill her father’s shoes as this complicated case has surprises with every piece of evidence uncovered.

Bet is a wonderful protagonist who is dogged in her pursuit of justice, but still worries that she is not up to the responsibility of being the sheriff her father was in her hometown. With this complicated case, she proves that she is. I was happy to reconnect with Alma, who runs the sheriff’s office and Bet’s deputy, Clayton. The team is great together and now with the addition of Deputy Kane, I will be looking forward to reading how they all work together in future stories. The crime plot is intricately twisted and kept me on the edge-of-my-seat. The blizzard adds to the threat level throughout, and Ms. Taylor’s descriptions of the wind and snow had me shivering even though it is the middle of summer as I read this.

I highly recommend this crime thriller and look forward to many more books in this series featuring Bet and her team in the future.

***

Excerpt

ONE

Bet Rivers sat in the sheriff’s station and watched the radar on her computer screen turn a darker and darker blue. Snow headed for the little town of Collier and keeping everyone safe was her responsibility. Bet’s advancement to sheriff had taken place less than a year ago, but the name Rivers had followed ‘Sheriff’ all the way back to the founding of the town. None of the previous Sheriff Rivers, her father included, ever failed the community, and she didn’t plan to be the first. With her father’s death last fall, Collier residents were the closest thing she had to family.

The valley Bet protected sat high in the Cascade Mountain Range of Washington State. Winter storms often dropped a couple inches of snow at once, a situation Collier could handle, and winter had been relatively mild so far. February, however, was shaping up into something else. 

This morning, nearby Lake Collier – a dark and dangerous body of water the locals respected from a safe distance – started freezing completely over for the first time in years.

Bet couldn’t remember such a large storm ever bearing down on the valley. The weather was determined to test her in ways that patrolling the streets of Los Angeles and her short stint as sheriff had not yet done.

Clicking off the weather radar screen and opening another file, Bet read over her severe winter storm checklist. Snowplow – ready to go. Volunteers with tractors and trucks with snowplow attachments – set. The community center would be open twenty-four hours a day in case the town’s power went out and people needed a warm place to go. Donna, the elementary school nurse, was on hand for minor health emergencies. She would be staying at the center twenty-four seven until the storm passed. 

Most residents owned generators and a lot of people used fireplaces for heat, but the community center provided a central location for anyone in trouble. 

Nothing like living in an isolated mountain valley to make folks respect what Mother Nature hurled at them – and rely on each other, rather than the outside world. A lot of people would look to the sheriff as a leader. She couldn’t let them down.

Bet turned her attention to the pile of pink ‘while you were out’ notes that Alma still loved to use rather than sending information to Bet digitally. Alma was much more than an office manager, but she also fought certain modern conveniences. 

Most of the notes were mundane issues that Alma could handle, but the last in the pile was a call from Jamie Garcia, a local reporter trying to get back into Bet’s good graces after an incident a few months ago had cost her Bet’s trust.

Wants to chat about the possibility of an increase in drug use in the area, the note read. Specifically – meth.

That would definitely have to wait. It crossed Bet’s mind that Jamie might exaggerate the situation just to have reason to touch base with her, but Bet taped it to the computer monitor to follow up on after the storm passed. Her valley didn’t have the kind of drug problems as many other communities, and Bet wanted to see it stay that way. If Jamie had any information on a rise in illegal activity, that could be useful.

The rest of the notes she would return to Alma to deal with. Right now, weathering the tempest would take all of Bet’s resources.

Bringing up the radar one more time, Bet’s stomach clenched as she tracked the monster storm. What if she made a decision during this event that hurt her entire community? Confidence didn’t make responsibility lighter to bear, and the hot, sunny streets of Los Angeles hadn’t prepared her for one thousand residents slowly buried under several feet of snow. They were a long way from the plowed highways and larger cities with fully functional hospitals. 

Bet was the first line of defense against disaster.

She was also likely the last line of defense. Once they were snowed in, she couldn’t bring help in from the outside.

A year ago, she had been poised to take the detective’s exam in Los Angeles. Her goal was a long and successful career in the nation’s largest police force. But events outside her control got in the way, and now she was back in Collier, trying to fill her father’s large, all-too-recently vacated shoes. 

She faced a once-in-a-century storm with her lone deputy, a septuagenarian secretary, and one very big dog.

Her first instinct was to talk to her father, but his death prevented her from ever gaining new insight into his expertise. Her second instinct was to contact Sergeant Magdalena Carrera. Maggie had mentored Bet during her time at the LAPD. 

‘We chicas need to stick together,’ she’d said to Bet early on in her career, back when Bet still called her sergeant. 

But as good as Maggie was at her job, Bet doubted she’d have much advice about facing a blizzard.

‘It’s up to us, Schweitzer,’ Bet said to the Anatolian shepherd sitting in her doorway. ‘As long as no one has a heart attack after the storm hits, we’ll be fine.’ Schweitzer had a look on his face like he knew what was coming. He always could read her mood, not to mention the weather, and he’d been edgy all morning. 

She had learned to read his mood too, and right now it wasn’t good.

‘It’s going to be all right, Schweitz.’ It surprised her to realize she believed her own words. She could handle this.

Lakers – residents proudly took the nickname from their mysterious lake – could hunker down in their valley and survive on their own. Everyone in town knew that if snow blocked them in and a helicopter couldn’t fly, they had no access to a hospital. But Donna was good at her job too. Plus, it would only be for a couple of days.

The phone on her desk rang, jarring her from her thoughts.

As long as the ring didn’t herald an emergency, everything would be fine.

Bet rolled out in her black and white on the long teardrop of road that circled the valley. She didn’t turn on her siren; there wasn’t anyone on the loop to warn of her approach and the sound felt too loud, like a scream into the colorless void. The emergency lights on top of her SUV stained the white unmarked fields of snow on either side red, then blue, then red again, like blood streaking the ground. Her studded tires roared on the hard-packed snow, the surface easy to navigate – at least for now. 

The drive to Jeb Pearson’s place took less than twenty minutes, even with the worsening conditions. Pearson’s Ranch sat at the end of the valley farthest from the lake and the town center. The ranch occupied an area the locals called the ‘Train Yard’, though that name didn’t show up on any official maps. 

Long ago, the roundhouse for the Colliers’ private railway perched there at the end of the tracks. The roundhouse was a huge, wedge-shaped brick structure, like one third of a pie with the tips of the slices bitten off. It was built to house the big steam engines owned by the Colliers. The facility could hold five engines, each pulled inside through giant glass and iron doors. Engines could be parked and serviced inside the roundhouse, while an enormous turntable sat out front to spin the engines around, sending them down different tracks in order to pass each other in opposite directions.

It was unlikely the Colliers ever housed five engines up here all at once, but they owned other mines around the state and had used engines in other places. It must have been reassuring to know that if they ever needed to, they could bring their assets up here, protected in their high-elevation fiefdom. 

Jeb used the property as a summer camp for boys who struggled with drug and alcohol addictions and guesthouses for snow adventure enthusiasts during the winter. Jeb lived there year-round, with a giant Newfoundland dog named Grizzly, a half a dozen horses, and one mini donkey named Dolly that helped him rehabilitate the boys. 

Bet pulled up in front of the roundhouse. The cabins and other outbuildings stretched away from where she parked, with the barn the farthest from the road. The pastures were empty with the storm bearing down, the animals all safely tucked away in their stalls. Jeb stood out front with two bundled figures that must have been the father and son who were currently staying at his place. A third member of their party, the mother, was nowhere to be seen. 

Bet got out of her vehicle and walked over to where two of Jeb’s snowmobiles were parked, running and ready to go. Layers of winter clothing padded Jeb’s wiry form, his face ruddy in the arctic wind. 

‘What have we got, Jeb?’

‘Mark and Julia Crews and their son Jeremy came across what looks to be a solo wreck up on Iron Horse Ridge. They didn’t have any details about the driver’s condition, so I’m not sure what we’re looking at. The parents wanted to protect their son and got him out of there before he could see anything gruesome. These two came down to get me while Mrs Crews stayed with the injured rider.’

Bet nodded to the man standing a few feet away. Only part of his face was visible through the balaclava he wore. His eyes looked haunted. 

‘You did the right thing,’ she said to him. ‘If the driver’s got a spinal injury, you could have done more damage than good trying to bring them down.’ She didn’t add that if the driver was dead there was nothing to be done except locate the next of kin.

‘Thanks, Sheriff,’ Mark Crews said, his voice shaky. ‘That was—’

Emotion cut off the man’s words. He reached for his son and pulled him close. The boy didn’t resist, but he also didn’t hug his father back. Bet considered checking the boy for shock, but guessed he was just a teen being a teen.

She gave Mark a nod and hoped the accident victim survived the wait – otherwise Mark Crews would always wonder if he should have made a different choice. 

The father got his emotions under control and turned his attention back to Bet. ‘Please get my wife Julia down safely.’ 

Jeremy might be shocky, but the two people up on the ridge were her priority.

‘Always prioritize,’ Maggie said to Bet on a regular basis. ‘Don’t get caught up trying to fix everything at once. Fix the big things first.’

Her father would have agreed. His voice no longer took precedence in her mind, but his teachings never left her.

Bet promised to take care of Julia Crews and walked over to straddle the closest snowmobile. Pulling on the helmet she’d brought, she tucked her auburn curls out of the way before closing the face shield. Bet admired the Crews family for helping a stranger as the ominous storm bore down on the area. It must be terrifying to know Mrs Crews waited up on the ridge as the weather closed in. Bet was impressed the family put their own safety in jeopardy for someone they didn’t know. Not everyone would do that. It would have been easy enough to pretend they never found the accident, leaving the driver alone in the snow.

Jeb hopped on the other snowmobile, which was already set up to tow the Snowbulance – a small, enclosed trailer with a stretcher mounted inside. Bet made eye contact with Jeb to confirm she was ready, and they took off with him in the lead. Search-and-rescue was Jeb’s specialty, and he knew the terrain better than she did. 

Her father Earle always said a good leader knew when to follow. Like most of her father’s advice, Bet knew it was true even if her instinct was never to admit someone else was the right person for a job she could do. In her defense, her father never faced life in law enforcement as a woman. 

Maggie always said, ‘Never let a man think he’s got control. If you hand control over, he’ll never give it up.’ 

Bet wasn’t her father, but she wasn’t a patrol officer in LA, either. Sometimes neither Maggie’s nor her father’s advice was any help to her at all.

Not far from the ranch, Jeb turned off the main road and started up a forest service road that went west and north into the mountains. The turnoff wasn’t obvious, so it was interesting that the Crews had found that particular trail. 

Snowmobiling was a popular sport in Collier and a lot of people used these forest service roads for trails, even the ones that were officially closed to traffic because there were no funds for maintenance. Without anyone to police the extensive system, the locals used them as their own private playground.

The roads connected in a complex web throughout the area. The injured teen could have arrived at the ridge from any direction. The forest was riddled with paths that the forest service no longer had the money or workforce to keep up, but people and animals kept cleared. In a lot of ways, the community benefited from the interlopers who cleared the roads, because that provided fire access into their local forest, which would otherwise become impassable through neglect.

If the brunt of the storm held off long enough for them to locate the scene of the accident and get the injured teen down the mountain before the conditions worsened, everything should still be all right. 

Bet kept her focus on Jeb’s sled as they rode up the hill. The road turned dark as they got farther into the trees and the cloud cover grew almost black. She was glad for the headlight and someone she trusted to follow. At least in this moment, her father’s advice was right.

If only the injured rider survived the wait.

***

CREDIT MARK PERLSTEIN

Author Bio

Elena Taylor spent several years working in theater as a playwright, director, designer, and educator before turning her storytelling skills to fiction. Her first series, the Eddie Shoes Mysteries, written under the name Elena Hartwell, introduced a quirky mother/daughter crime fighting duo.

With the Bet Rivers Mysteries, Elena returns to her dramatic roots and brings readers much more serious and atmospheric novels. The series introduces Collier, Washington, with its dark and mysterious lake, tough-as-nails residents, and newly appointed sheriff with her sidekick Schweitzer, an Anatolian Shepherd.

Elena is also a senior editor with Allegory Editing, a developmental editing house, where she works one-on-one with writers to shape and polish manuscripts, short stories, and plays. If you’d like to work with Elena, visit www.allegoryediting.com.

Her favorite place to be is at Paradise, the property she and her hubby own south of Spokane, Washington. They live with their horses, dogs, and cats. Elena holds a B.A. from the University of San Diego, a M.Ed. from the University of Washington, Tacoma, and a Ph.D. from the University of Georgia.

Social Media Links

www.ElenaTaylorAuthor.com
Elena’s Blog: The Mystery of Writing
Goodreads
BookBub – @elenataylorauthor
Instagram – @elenataylorauthor
Twitter/X – @Elena_TaylorAut
Facebook – @ElenaTaylorAuthor

Purchase Links

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Severn House

###

KINGSUMO GIVEAWAY

https://kingsumo.com/g/1ggvk61/a-cold-cold-world-by-elena-taylor-book-gift-card

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: To Preserve, Protect and Destroy by Matthew D. Saeman

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for TO PRESERVE, PROTECT AND DESTROY by Matthew D. Saeman on this AME Blog Tour.

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

***

Author Q&A

How did you do research for your book?

The majority of the research I did was from the Geological perspective since I knew very little about that branch of science. That information was readily available online, as was everything I needed regarding NASA, the White House, and the President.

Which was the hardest character to write? The easiest?

The hardest character to write was President Dowd since I’ve never met a U.S. president, especially one of his ilk. The easiest was Terrence Sullivan since I based most of his emotions after my own.

Where do you get inspiration for your stories?

I keep an open mind, and when an idea pops into my head I ask myself two important questions: Has it already been done and would it be fun to write?

What advice would you give budding writers?

Since I still consider myself one, my advice is something I tell myself every day: Trust your gut and write stories YOU think would be fun to read.

Do you have another profession besides writing?

I teach High School Special Education.

How long have you been writing?

As far as novels, only six or seven years. Prior to that I wrote screenplays and short stories.

Do you ever get writer’s block? What helps you overcome it?

I don’t believe in “writer’s block.” The only times I have difficulty progressing with a story are when the story has a fundamental flaw that must be fixed. Once it is, the “block” goes away.

What is your next project?

I have a friend who fell while rock climbing. She’s kind enough to allow me to use her experience in the story I’ll write… though I have no idea what that’ll be yet.

What genre do you write and why?

The majority of the stories I write are Suspense/Thrillers, mostly because there are so many fun ways to tell interesting stories in that genre.

What is the last great book you’ve read?

Legion by William Peter Blatty.

What were the biggest rewards and challenges with writing your book?

The biggest reward was finishing it, the biggest challenge was having the patience not to start writing before the outline was solid.

Which authors inspired you to write?

Gordon McAlpine was a friend who inspired me to do what I love.

Where do you write?

Resting comfortably on my couch.

Do you write every day?

If I’ve got a story that’s flowing well, I write every day. My goal is at least 1000 words a day.

In today’s tech savvy world, most writers use a computer or laptop. Have you ever written parts of your book on paper?

Never. I write on my phone, it feels more personal.

***

Book Synopsis

In To Preserve, Protect and Destroy, we follow the gripping journey of Terrence Sullivan, a dedicated NASA geologist, as he is thrust into an unexpected mission of universal importance. Tasked with the perilous job of collecting volatile stones from the hostile terrain of Mars, Terrence is initially led to believe that his mission is purely for the safety of the universe. These are no ordinary stones, but the very same that caused the catastrophic end to the first terraforming mission on the red planet.

As the narrative unfolds, Terrence uncovers the chilling truth behind his mission’s ultimate goal. The stakes are higher than he could have ever imagined, with the fate of his crew and millions of innocent lives hanging in the balance. The ship is set to return to Earth, but with a deadly cargo that could cause it to crash land in the Middle East, resulting in an unimaginable disaster.

Caught in a web of deceit and danger, Terrence must navigate the treacherous path of duty, morality, and survival. With time running out, he is forced to make decisions that will not only determine his fate but that of humanity itself. Will he be able to thwart the impending catastrophe and reveal the truth to the world, or will he become another casualty in this deadly game of power and control?

To Preserve, Protect and Destroy is a thrilling exploration of space travel, the fragility of life, and the lengths one man will go to protect it. It is a testament to the human spirit’s resilience and the power of truth in the face of overwhelming odds. This gripping tale is sure to captivate fans of space exploration and those who relish in seeing the mighty fall. Prepare for a journey that will take you to the edge of your seat and beyond, as you delve into the heart-stopping world of To Preserve, Protect and Destroy.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/213001356-to-preserve-protect-and-destroy

***

My Book Review

RATING: 3.5 out of 5 Stars

TO PRESERVE, PROTECT AND DESTROY by Matthew D. Saeman is a fast-paced, escapist suspense/thriller. A discovery on Mars becomes the key to a narcissistic US President’s personal revenge on a Middle Eastern terrorist. With space travel to Mars, continual action and intrigue, and an unlikely hero’s journey this is a fast, exciting read.

NASA sends astronauts to Mars to begin a terraforming mission for future colonization and disaster strikes, but what appears as a disaster to the world reveals a key to a President’s personal revenge on a terrorist. As a second mission is sent to Mars, geologist Terrence Sullivan believes he is sent to make Mars safe for future missions, but the SEALs on the spacecraft have a different mission task straight from the President.

This is an action-adventure suspense/thriller that is character driven with a good vs. evil hero’s journey more than a technology driven science fiction story. Terrence is an everyman who must step up during extreme circumstances and make decisions that could change the world. I found Terrence very relatable and believable, but the President and leader of the terrorist regime felt to me like caricatures. While I enjoyed this story and found it an exciting good vs. evil thriller read, there are many times I had to suspend belief while reading. Overall, an entertaining suspense/thriller read with a protagonist to cheer for.

***

Excerpt

“Madame Speaker, the President of the United States.”

Having been formally introduced to this joint session of Congress, President William Dowd III made his way down the center aisle of the House of Representatives chamber. The stark blue carpet matched his eyes perfectly and complimented the expensive, custom tailored suit he wore. As he proceeded, he was inundated with hands to shake, all of which he ignored. The president’s face resembled that of a boxer preparing to defend his belt, focused solely on the fight he’d been training for. He wanted no distractions and his pace was nearly at a slow jog.

Passing the podium from which he’d speak, President Dowd made his way to the back of the ceremonial seating posts where he shook hands with his Vice President and the Speaker of the House. He then headed back to his podium, stood and waited for the applause from half the audience to quiet down.

“Madam Speaker. Mr. Vice President. Members of Congress, Madam Chief Justice, and associate Justices of the Supreme Court. I’m certain you are all well versed in the subject of World History, so I won’t presume to educate you on this particular topic. But please bear with me as I highlight the most important tenet of the Nazi party’s rise to power.”

The president, certain his speech’s opening was a shock to all, allowed the audience to murmur for a few seconds before proceeding. “In 1918, shortly after the end of World War I and the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, a man named Anton Drexler formed the foundation of what would come to be known as the Nazi party. His beliefs and philosophy centered around German nationalism. Nothing wrong with being a patriot, right? Unfortunately, for the nearly 84 million people who would lose their lives as a result of the Second World War, Drexler’s ideology was steeped in the blaming of anyone not belonging to the Aryan master race for every problem the German people encountered. And once Adolph Hitler, a gifted orator, joined forces with Drexler, it was only a matter of time before what started as a fledgling, some would say outlandish, concept began taking root with the German people and eventually garnered full fledged acceptance.

“It’s been many decades since the thankful end of World War II, the Holocaust, and the Nazi party. But has it been too long? Are we, as citizens of this great country, in danger of forgetting the atrocities committed by one man with a silver tongue? ‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’ George Santayana, a Spanish American philosopher spoke these words in 1905, more than a century ago… and they couldn’t be more applicable today. I received the video I am about to show not more than twenty four hours ago. It was captured by an agent who has been working undercover for several years amongst the terrorist organization ISIS in Iraq. I called together this joint session of Congress so that all of you could see first hand the danger posed by Abu al-Hussein, the newly crowned leader of this lawless organization, now that he has convinced Al-Qaeda and the Taliban to join forces with his in an effort to complete their Caliphate dream of uniting all Muslims around the world. The Muslim faith is one of honor and respectability, but al-Hussein and his newly formed regime have bastardized this proud religion, converting it into an organization replete with decadent thugs. Once the leader gets a taste of power, his appetite won’t be satisfied. And as has been too painfully recognized many times over in days gone by, once the mob mentality takes control, there is no way to stop it before the loss of too many lives.”

As President Dowd stepped away from the podium, the Vice President and Speaker of the House took the seats next to his in the front row. The lights slowly dimmed as a large projector screen was lowered. It reached its extent with a metallic thud, causing some in the silenced gallery to jump. And then the video began to play. Shot with a cell phone, the operator was close enough to the speaker for his words to be heard and the thousands upon thousands of mesmerized onlookers to be seen clearly. Though Arabic was the language used by al-Hussein, an English translation of his delivered message was displayed at the bottom of the screen.

It was clear from the way he spoke and the hand gestures used, that he had familiarized himself with Hitler’s greatest hits. Every statement flowed methodically and strong, and the pace with which he spoke was slow enough to ensure all listeners, no matter their learning level, could easily understand the points he was attempting to make. He used strategic pauses in order to keep his audience intrigued, and the expression on his face was one of genuine care for his people.

According to the translation, al-Hussein was bemoaning the loss of so many centuries stolen from them by infidels from foreign lands and the loss of life resulting from infighting amongst their own kind. He touted the new regime as having seen enough of their own blood, and that now was the time to band together in order to rebuff any opposition who tried standing in their way. Upon hearing these words, the crowd drew to a near frenzy of approval, and as al-Hussein saw this, he took a step back from the microphone so he could relish in his success.

The remainder of the footage resembled a political rally comprised of no opposition to the speaker being celebrated. Everything al-Hussein said was gladly accepted and then answered by thunderous waves of applause. He concluded his remarks by indicating this unification was only the beginning. That as one with Allah, they were capable of anything.

It was dead silent as the screen went dark and began rising back toward the ceiling. When the lighting brightened, and as the president walked back to the podium, he could see the challenged faces of all in the auditorium; some uncertain, some frightened, but most categorically mad.

“Though other world leaders have viewed this footage, none seem to have seen it with the concern that I… and you now have. They are considering al-Hussein with a lack of concern as did President Roosevelt, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, and President Lebrun of France with Hitler. The difference, of course, being that the three men I just named had no reason to believe the worst could happen. Now that we have seen the possibilities, it would be irresponsible of us not to act. And since we, the United States of America, remain the greatest country ever created by God, the responsibility falls upon our shoulders.”

The president received a standing ovation, and allowed it to persist a bit longer before furthering his thoughts aloud. “Of course, I’m not asking for a declaration of war. There are those in Iraq as well as other countries in the Middle East who deplore the movement which has begun gaining footage. My recommendation is to send in a single battalion of highly trained soldiers who will train the young men and women of these countries how to fight for what they believe in; a democratic way of life where you’re not told how to dress or whether or not you can hold a job other than raising children and bowing to your spouse’s every whim.”

The round of applause President Dowd earned following that statement was similar to the one al-Hussein received, the only difference being that no one in the House of Representatives chamber fired off their guns in celebration.

“Let me be clear. Our soldiers will be nowhere near the front line. In fact, they will be safely back home long before any aggression takes place. I simply ask you all to consider the potential ramifications of allowing al-Hussein’s movement to swell, and to remember the mistakes made in the past that took so many lives. God bless you, and God bless America.”

On his journey back up the center aisle, President Dowd’s pace was much slower. He shook every hand thrust his way and showed genuine appreciation for the verbal bi-partisan support he received. But in the quiet space of his own mind, he wondered how long it would take these people to realize they’d just been duped, or if they ever would.

***

Author Bio

Matthew D. Saeman, a native of Orange County, CA, is a distinguished graduate of Cal State Fullerton. He has dedicated his life to shaping young minds as a Special Education teacher in San Diego. His personal life is as fulfilling as his professional one, being a loving husband and a doting father to one child. A proud owner of a Great Dane, Matthew’s life is a blend of compassion and commitment.

Social Media Links

Instagram: @matthewsaeman

Purchase Links

Amazon: https://amzn.to/4bdI0cZ

Goodreads: https://tinyurl.com/topreserveprotectdestroy

Author Marketing Experts tags for social media:

Twitter: @Bookgal

Instagram: @therealbookgal

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Never Finished by Ana Rhodes

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for NEVER FINISHED (Pine Crest Mountain Book #1) by Ana Rhodes on this AME Blog Tour.

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

***

Author Q&A

Where do you get inspiration for your stories?

From everywhere! The places I’ve been, the people I’ve met. I’m inspired by everyday things. My mind is always capturing moments that will inspire me down the road.

Your book is set in Colorado. Have you ever been there?

I lived there for four years and it holds a special place in my heart. I still travel there at least once a year to visit friends and get my rocky mountain high. 🙂

What is a favorite compliment you have received on your writing?

I have had several people say they can feel all the emotions between my main characters. A story can feel flat without it, so I’m so happy to hear it comes across in my writing. That is the goal after all!

What are your favorite tropes to read?

I love a good forbidden love story because it creates beautiful tension between the main characters. Add a little brother’s best friend or age gap and I’m all in!

Any hobbies? or Name a quirky thing you like to do.

I make homemade wine. While I love the finished product, there is a lot of cleaning and sanitation involved that makes it less romantic than it sounds.

***

Book Synopsis

She’s an heiress bound by obligation, determined to protect her mother’s legacy. He’s a bartender from the wrong side of the tracks who’s always loved her.

Twelve years ago, I chose my family and the future they laid out for me.
And walked away from Jaime, my best friend and forbidden fantasy.
We said goodbye with a soul searing kiss I can still feel on my lips.

Now I’m back in Silverpine for the first time since my mother died.
I’m brokering a merger for the family business—only I don’t realize my freedom is on the line.
My father wants to expand at any cost, including offering his only daughter as part of the deal.

But Jaime is back too, and his effortless charm and smile disarm my every defense.
He stands for everything my world isn’t—warm, passionate, and unpredictably beautiful.

I’m trapped between the life I’ve always known and the taste of freedom I’ve longed for.
But with my father plotting my future, and my mother’s legacy weighing heavy, can I dare to rewrite my story for love?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/210198540-never-finished?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=thqOj3box4&rank=1

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

NEVER FINISHED (Pine Crest Mountain Book #1) by Ana Rhodes is an enchanting and sexy contemporary second chance romance. This romance genre read pulled me in with relatable characters, introduced me to a small mountain town and resort in Colorado, and hit all the right romantic notes with just a touch of suspense all the way to HEA.

Emma and Jaime were pulled apart twelve years ago by her father’s machinations and family obligations to her dying mother. Both moved on with their lives, but never forgot their special bond.

Emma is back at their family’s resort to broker a deal for her father. What she does not know is that Jaime is working as The Lounge manager and head mixologist. They run into each other after an event and pick up as if no time has passed at all. Their chemistry is intense, and they are determined to not let anything pull them apart again, but once again Emma’s father, who only cares about money, is determined to run Emma’s life and not only make her part of a business deal but steal the virgin mountain land her mother left her.

I enjoyed this first book in the Pine Crest Mountain series and Emma and Jaime’s romance. Emma is a strong, intelligent, sweet and loving heroine who is having a hard time since her mother’s death. The treatment of her by her father was horrible and I was happy with the author’s resolution. Jaime was swoon worthy and protective. The sex scenes are smokin’ hot and explicit, but not gratuitous. All the secondary characters are believable, and I look forward to following them in further romances in the series. The dialogue is realistic, and the touch of suspense was a nice twist.

This is an easy-to-read, heartfelt contemporary romance that you just want to curl up with and let it take you away for a few hours. Gratifying start to this new series.

***

Excerpt

Me: Hey, I need an SOS call to get out of this dinner. Call me in five minutes?

I breathed a sigh of relief when she answered almost immediately.

Caroline: On it. Five minutes starting now.

Thank God for Caroline. I smoothed a hand over my hair and made my way back to the table. Andrew was busy chatting away on his phone, glancing at me as I sat back down and mouthing “Sorry.”

As he wrapped up his conversation, I pushed the food around on my plate with my fork, not bothering to eat any of it.

“I’m sorry about that. Sometimes all this networking can be downright exhausting. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, we were talking about merging,” he said, drawing out the last word, and I smiled tightly, trying to hide my disgust.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get a word out, my phone rang.

Thank you, Caroline.

“Excuse me … You know how it is. I have to take this,” I said, slipping my phone from my clutch and stepping into the lobby. “Hello?”

“Hello, Ms. Carter, an emergency requires your attention. Now before you say anything, I need to know … Are you okay getting rid of this guy on your own, or do I need to come down there with a crowbar? Be honest.”

I bit back a laugh. “That won’t be necessary, but I appreciate the concern.”

“Of course. What are friends for? I expect a full report when you get back, though.”

“You got it,” I promised before I hung up. I glanced up, and my eyes landed on the bar where Jaime was helping a guest. He looked up at that exact moment, and our eyes caught and held. After all this time, he could still make me weak in the knees.

A slow smile stretched across Jaime’s lips, and he winked. I smiled back like a teenager with a crush. He turned his attention back to his customer, and I immediately felt the loss of connection.

I walked back to the table, looking apologetic. “Andrew, I am so sorry, but there’s an emergency and …”

“And you need to go,” he finished.

I nodded, forcing a sheepish expression, and Andrew nodded in understanding. “I get it—I always have a lot of fires to put out. I assume I’ll hear from you tomorrow to set up another time to meet?”

“Of course,” I promised, already dreading it. Andrew opened his arms for a hug, but I stuck out my hand. He laughed awkwardly and shook my hand before telling me goodnight and slinking out of the restaurant.

I hovered near the table until I was sure Andrew was out of sight, then escaped into the bar, relief pouring over me at the idea of being in Jaime’s presence.

I headed straight toward Jaime, who was grinning at me.

“What happened to your fancy business dinner?” he asked as I slipped my butt onto a stool.

I shrugged. “It was a bust, which is why I could use a Gin Fizz right about now.”

“Coming up,” he replied as he grabbed a shaker. “I would feel bad your dinner didn’t go well, but selfishly, I’m glad because you’re here earlier than I expected.”

I felt myself blush. “Well, those dinners are boring, and I’d rather spend my time talking to someone interesting.”

His eyebrows shot up. “And you think I’m interesting?”

I huffed out a laugh. “So modest. You know you’re usually the most interesting man in the room.”

He barked a laugh. “Isn’t that the guy in the Dos Equis commercial?”

“I’m just saying you could give him a run for his money.”

Jaime leaned closer—close enough I could smell his cologne. He smelled like cedar with a hint of bergamot and something uniquely Jaime.

That was when my stomach growled. Loud. I felt my face heat with embarrassment.

“Was that …” he started.

I nodded. “Yes … and that was totally embarrassing,” I lamented.

“Did you not eat at that fancy dinner tonight?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

I shook my head. “Kind of lost my appetite having to deal with that blowhard …” I began before stopping myself as Jaime listened with amusement. “I mean, having to deal with that promising investor,” I amended, slapping an exaggerated smile on my face.

He chuckled. “Well, I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you work on getting a little less gin and a little more water into your system, and I’ll go make you something to eat.”

I shook my head. “Oh no, Jaime, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t, I’m offering,” he said with a grin before something caught his eye over my shoulder. I turned to find Caroline with a feline smile on her lips as she glanced between the two of us.

“Well, hello there,” she practically sang as she slipped onto the stool beside me, reaching her hand out to Jaime. “I’m Caroline, Emma’s best friend. You must be Jaime.”

Jaime shook her hand, his grin widening. “Hello, Caroline, it’s nice to meet you. I was just going to rustle up something to eat for my starving soldier here. You wouldn’t happen to be hungry, would you?”

Caroline’s eyes lit with amusement as she rested her chin on a fist. “Oh Jaime, that’s my eternal state of being.”

Jaime laughed, and the rich sound sent shivers down my spine. “Okay—two Jaime specials coming up,” he said, throwing a towel over his shoulder. “You two sit tight, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

As soon as he was out of sight, Caroline looked at me in wonder. “Oh. My. God,” she marveled. “He’s cooking for you already. I see why you’ve been pining after him for so long.”

“Caroline,” I hissed. “Keep your voice down. You have the subtly of a freight train.”

She made a face. “Uh, I hate to break it to you, Emma, but there’s nothing subtle about this whole situation. I mean, when I walked in here, that man looked like he was two seconds away from devouring you.”

A happy warmth spread through me at her observation, but I didn’t say anything.

“Besides, you had to know I was going to come check on you after that SOS call. I’m assuming your associate had to have been behaving like a total creep to make you call me.”

I sighed. “Well, maybe not a total creep, but he was fast approaching,” I paused, turning to face Caroline. “It’s weird. Before I would have breezed through that dinner no matter how uncomfortable I was in order to get the deal done. But there’s something about being here … I don’t know. I just didn’t have it in me to put up with it tonight.”

Caroline nodded sympathetically. “Maybe Mama Carter’s spirit is reminding you it’s not your job to take everybody’s shit.”

I laughed. “I can’t imagine my mother putting it like that, but maybe you’re right … and based on our recent experiences, it would seem we both need to embrace that sentiment.”

Caroline grimaced. “Amen to that.”

It was then that Jaime returned with a tray in his arms. “Ladies, dinner is served,” he said, presenting us with two plates that each held a burger with all the fixings, a side of fries, and little cups filled with ketchup.

My eyes widened as the smell hit my nostrils and my empty stomach. “Is that …” I started.

“Oh, it is, Mabel’s secret recipe,” Jaime announced with relish. “It’s been a long time, but I know that recipe like the back of my hand. I only wish I could get my hands on a couple of chocolate milkshakes, and then you could have the full experience.”

I couldn’t stop the grin that took over my mouth. “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”

Jaime shook his head. “Anything for you, Bella,” he said in a low voice, and prickles of pleasure raced down my spine at the mention of the nickname he’d given me when we were younger. I still remember the first time he’d called me that, explaining it meant beautiful.

Our eyes held for a long moment before Caroline’s moan interrupted. “Wow, you were not lying about this burger, Emma,” she mumbled around a mouthful of burger.

“Well, tell me if it still holds up,” Jaime said, gesturing toward my plate.

I picked up the hefty burger, my mouth watering from the smell, and when I took that first bite, a flood of memories assaulted my senses from the taste.

My eyes shut in rapture. It tasted heavenly, but knowing Jaime’s hands created it made it all the better.

I opened my eyes and met Jaime’s gaze as he watched me hungrily. I swallowed hard around the bite of food as a different appetite was awakened.

Caroline cleared her throat loudly. “You know, as fun as this has been and as much as I would like to get to know the legendary Jaime, I think it might be better to take this in a doggy bag.”

I looked sharply at Caroline, feeling the need to tell her, “You don’t need to do that.”

She winked at me before saying, “I assure you, no one needs to witness me consuming this burger—it’s about to get wild. So if you’ll excuse me, I think my burger and I need to be alone.”

Jaime had already pulled out a cardboard box and was helping Caroline pack up her food along with a complimentary cocktail for the road.

“Well, Jaime, it was lovely meeting you, and I hope we can talk more later, but right now, I have a date with this burger,” Caroline declared.

“Totally understand. It was nice to meet a friend of Emma’s.”

Caroline beamed at Jaime—my normally suspicious friend had been charmed. She rose from her stool and hugged me. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Enjoy that burger,” Jaime said, his sexy smile further crumbling my resolve. God, that smile used to make me feel all the things, and it had only magnified in power in the years we’d been apart.

It was then Joey rushed to the bar. “Jaime, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have a situation with a guest.”

Jaime shot us both an apologetic look. “I’ll be right back,” he said before stepping around the bar and following Joey.

Caroline looked at me, eyebrows drawn up. “Emma,” she exclaimed, “I thought you were being a little dramatic all these years, but girl, you definitely undersold him. And for the record, that man has plans for you.”

I shook my head. “Would you calm down? We’re old friends catching up on lost time. That’s all,” I said, unsure who I was trying to convince, Caroline or myself.

She huffed out a laugh. “You can tell yourself that all you want, but from my vantage point, you are two seconds away from doing it on this bar.” She stopped cold, and a wicked grin stole over her mouth. “Now wouldn’t that be a picture for old Daddy Moneybags?” she asked, using the nickname she’d given my father, a man she wasn’t particularly fond of given how he’d been acting lately. “And as a token of my love and admiration,” she continued, “I’m delaying the consumption of this burger to stop by the front desk and get my own room.”

I felt a weird combination of panic and excitement threading through me at her suggestion. “Caroline, that’s really not necessary. I seriously doubt …”

She put up a hand to stop me. “Save your breath, Emma. All I’m asking is for you to keep an open mind, and this way, you can’t use me crashing in your suite as an excuse. I refuse to be a cockblock.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Caroline just grinned, snatching up her to-go cocktail and box and giving me a wink before floating out of the bar and into the lobby.

***

Author Bio

Hello! I’m Ana and I love writing swoony, small town romances with sweet, protective heroes who love their strong and sassy leading ladies. When I’m not writing, I’m reading… romances, of course! I’m a sucker for a good love story, and I hope you enjoy mine.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.anarhodes.com/

Facebook: @anarhodeswrites

Instagram: @anarhodesauthor

Purchase Links

Amazon: http://amzn.to/3XFgv9c

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/210198540-never-finished

Author Marketing Experts tags for social media:

Twitter: @Bookgal

Instagram: @therealbookgal

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Garden Girls by Jessica R. Patch

THE GARDEN GIRLS

by Jessica R. Patch


June 24 – July 19, 2024 Virtual Book Tour


FBI: Strange Crimes Unit

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE GARDEN GIRLS (FBI: Strange Crimes Unit Book #3) by Jessica R. Patch on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Good luck on the giveaway and enjoy!

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Book Description

On a remote Outer Banks island, a serial killer collects his prized specimens. And to stop him, an FBI agent must confront his own twisted past.

FBI agent Tiberius Granger has seen his share of darkness. But a new case sets him on edge. It’s not just the macabre way both victims—found posed in front of lighthouses—are tattooed with flowers that match their names. There’s also the unsettling connection to the woman Ty once loved and to the shadowy cult they both risked everything to escape.

Bexley Hemmingway’s sister has gone missing, and she’ll do anything to find her—including teaming up with Ty. That may prove a mistake, and not just because Ty doesn’t know he’s the father of her teenaged son. It seems the killer is taunting Ty, drawing everyone close to him into deeper danger.

As the slashing winds and rain of a deadly hurricane approach the coast of North Carolina, the search leads Ty and Bex to an island that hides a grisly secret. But in his quest for the truth, Ty has ignored the fact that this time, he’s not just the hunter. Every move has been orchestrated by a killer into a perfect storm of terror, and they will need all their skills to survive…

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/197031977-the-garden-girls?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=w8dkIdsyYX&rank=1

THE GARDEN GIRLS

Genre: Christian Psychological Thriller
Published by: Love Inspired Trade
Publication Date: April 23, 2024
Number of Pages: 367
ISBN: 9781335463074 (ISBN10: 1335463070)
Series: FBI: Strange Crimes Unit, Book 3 || Each is a Stand-Alone Novel

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My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

THE GARDEN GIRLS (FBI: Strange Crimes Unit Book #3) by Jessica R. Patch is a chilling and suspenseful romantic suspense/serial killer crime thriller. This is the third book in the FBI: Strange Crimes series, but it can easily be read as a standalone thriller. Each book focuses on a different member of the team, and I have read all of them.

FBI Agent Tiberius “Ty” Granger is the religious studies and cult expert on the southeastern area’s unit of the Strange Crimes. His past, in which he grew up in the darkness of a religious cult, is the reason he chases these monsters. He is a grown man who diverts people from truly understanding him with juvenile humor and song lyrics. The current case has Tiberius being personally lured to the Outer Banks by a serial killer collecting girls for his garden.

Bexley “Bex” Hemmingway’s sister has gone missing. Ty discovers the girl he loved, and her sister are alive, and it is her sister that is missing, but Bexley has an even bigger secret. Before they were separated by the cult, Bexley was pregnant. Now the serial killer is personally taunting Ty and placing everyone he cares about in danger.

With a hurricane on the way, Ty and Bex are about to discover a terrible secret on a private island. This serial killer has been plotting for a long time to get Ty into his world and destroy him.

I find Ms. Patch’s serial killer crime plots to be extremely well written and plotted. In this book, and the two previous ones in this series, I found it difficult to put them down. The killers are truly terrifying. The killers are dark and gritty, but interspersed with their depravity is the friendship, closeness and sometime humor of the Strange Crimes team as they work the clues. This is a Christian romantic suspense series and while I appreciated the author not cheating by solving every problem with just a prayer, I did feel at times the proselytizing was a bit too heavy for my taste, and that is present in all three books. Others who are more into the religious aspects of Christian fiction may not agree with me and that is their right. There is violence in these books, but they are serial killer crime thrillers and that is to be expected.

The characters of the Strange Crime Unit are all fully developed and engaging. With each book you discover more of what makes each individual click and why they do what they do. I enjoyed meeting all the members of the team and I find the crime plots make for a very edge-of-your-seat thrilling read.

***

Excerpt

Prologue The Garden Girls

Sharp claws scrape along my neck.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Buzzing fills the room, and I strain to open my eyes but they’re like molasses, thick and sticky and slow-moving. My stomach jumps and the room shifts as my blurred vision registers red walls and coffee-colored concrete. I inhale a hint of bleach and incense with a spicy note as I shift to survey the rest of the room, but my muscles ripple like languid water.

The air-conditioner kicks on, and the cold air raises chills across my naked body.

I’m…naked. A fist squeezes my lungs as panic rips through my system. My memories are disjointed.

Where am I? How did I arrive here?

What is happening to me? What has already happened? Shoe soles click on the floor and silence my questions.

I am not alone. Or…I wasn’t. The door closes with a quiet click.

Get up. Move. Run!

Gripping the sides of a massage table, I roll off, and my bare feet hit cool flooring. The walls close in and shift, and my stomach roils. Something is wrong. Off.

Floor-to-ceiling mirrors cover an entire wall, and my breath catches as reality comes into view.

Pink flower buds wend through a vine of black along my neck and upper back.

Confusion clouds my senses, and I stand cemented in place gawking at the angry red skin, sore and tender and smeared with glossy petroleum jelly.

A tight knot grows in my throat, and tears stab with heated force against the backs of my eyes.

I have to get out of here.

Behind me, I spot a twin bed with luxurious sheets and a thick white comforter as well as tattooing equipment. My hands tremble. Am I in a tattoo parlor? Why is a bed in here?

Lying on the floor next to the bed is an old iron cuff attached to a thick, heavy chain that is anchored to the wall.

Why is that in here and where are my clothes?

I snatch the downy comforter and drape it over my exposed body.

Run. Run. Run!

I open the door but have no clue which way to go or where he is or how long until he finds and cuffs me to that bed.

I’ve been trapped before at the hands of a vicious predator. Old memories surface and spur me across the carpeted flooring. The hall veers left. My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness as I flee to safety—no.

To a dead end.

Defeat leaches like muddy water into my soul, and my chest aches. The only choice is to turn around.

But he’s in that direction.

Sweat slicks down my temples and spine, springing up through my pores like an underground fountain as I return the way I came.

I see what might be a crack in the wall. Light seeps in from the other side. As I  approach, I discover it’s a door made to look like part of the wall. I swallow hard and guide my fingers along the smooth wood until I feel a lever. I push it and the door releases, but it takes some grit to open it enough for me to slide through.

I expect some kind of lair or dungeon or God knows what—a wall with torture devices and cages—but it’s not.

It’s a living room with wall-to-wall windows overlooking dark water.

Where is he?

I suck in a breath as creaking registers on the stairs. There’s nowhere to hide, and the comforter is bulky and will easily give me away. I have no option but to ditch it in the corner. I can’t dwell on modesty.

Outside.

I dart toward the sliding glass door, silently slide it open and slip out into the warm night air before scrambling to the edge of the balcony. I crouch to make myself small, like when I was a child and needed to obscure myself.

Maybe he doesn’t realize I’m gone, but then it hits me.

I didn’t shut the secret door concealing the other rooms.

A sob bubbles to the surface as I shake uncontrollably like I’ve woken from anesthesia. The ground is far below me. I’d die or break my legs, maybe my spine. But I’d rather die than go back to that room.

To that chain.

To more tattoo needles.

To him.

I draw up my knees and wait, pray. Hope.

When the door doesn’t open, I scoot across the deck, the raw wood digging into tender flesh, but I need to see if the coast is clear.

What if he’s standing at the door, waiting? Watching?

I hear something and freeze.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi…I count silently until I reach Twenty Mississippi and scoot again.

I can’t be sure if he’s nearby. If he is, deep in the marrow of my bones, I know the kinds of things that await me. I know what evil men can do. I’ve seen it. Experienced it.

Finally, I muster the courage to peep through the door. The room is empty and dimly lit from the one glowing lamp. I creep inside; my brain is fuzzy and spins.

No footsteps. Only bulging shadows in the corners.

I slither across the Berber carpet and inhale the newness. A set of stairs is on the other side of the open living concept. About ten feet of space isn’t occupied with furniture which means when I make a run for it, and he enters the room, I’ll have no cover.

If he doesn’t and I make it downstairs, he could still be waiting for me.

I try to form a defense plan, but my brain might as well be sludge. Making my move, more out of my flight response than logic, I army-crawl across the open space to the stairs.

Two sets of six. I practically roll down the first set and pause.

He’s not there at the small landing.

Six more to go.

This time I move slower, ignoring the adrenaline shouting sprint. I can’t. He could be waiting and I need to listen.

One…two…three…four…five…six. I pause again at the bottom of the stairs.

No light befriends me on the ground floor. Only darkness—and darkness is never a friend. Darkness is deceptive, offering false security. Nothing good transpires in darkness. It’s not a refuge to hide. But a place to be found. In the dark, I can’t see my predator, but I know he’s lurking.

The door is five feet away to freedom, and I sprint for it.

Hope blooms in my chest.

I mutter a prayer as I run. Three feet left.

Two.

Thank God, I’m here. I twist the knob.

It’s locked.

A cry cracks loose inside me, but I hold it down and fumble with the dead bolt.

Shuffling sounds across tile.

Closer. Closer.

I manage to turn the dead bolt and pull on the door, but it sticks.

He’s coming. The clicks are methodic, slow and measured as if he’s in no hurry. Like he knows I can’t escape. It’s a game.

Please. Please. Come on!

The door opens and I slip out, forcing myself to stay calm in case my mind is playing tricks on me and it’s not him. This time, I make sure to close the door behind me. The air is balmy and the wind rustles through the grass.

The briny sea air washes over my tongue and the marsh grass swishes as I dart down a private boardwalk that leads…I don’t know where. I only know to run and eat up the ground and create distance between me and the house of horror. Between me and him.

Thick walls of clouds block the moonlight.

A door slams. Then I hear something.

Thwupt. Thwupt. Thwupt.

He’s dragging something across the boardwalk. I dare not turn to look.

He’s coming.

Slow and methodical. Silent. Only the awful dragging noise.

Nothing comes into view but marshland and water surrounded by clusters of trees. Alligators lie in wait. I can’t remember how I know this. There are snakes and snapping turtles too.

But he’s behind me.

Plopping noises in the water draw my attention, and I freeze. What is it? Will it approach me or prey on me if I enter too?

I can’t risk staying on the boardwalk. I ease myself into the icy depths and it steals my breath. Slime oozes over my feet, and I sink into mire. Murky water reaches my waist, sending a shock along my abdomen, but I can’t gasp. Instead, I push through the grass and hope the stirring due to my movement won’t alert him of my location.

Sharp twigs and rocks gouge into the bottom of my feet, and I crunch my bottom lip to keep from crying. Marsh grass appears soft at a glance, but it’s strong and sharp like knitting needles and stabs into my flesh and tender places where I’ve been tattooed in flowers.

Ahead is a patch of dense trees that would conceal me even in daylight. A huge splash sends ripples only a few feet away, startling resting birds to flight. Now I know what’s been causing the dragging noise.

A canoe.

He’s cutting through the narrow channels and at an advantage.

I can’t stop now. I push through the mud, which tries to hold me captive, and toward the dense thicket of trees. I finagle my way inside, but it’s like camping in a thorn bush, and nettles rip my flesh. A quiet cry escapes my throat, and I cover my mouth.

Did he hear me? Does he know I’m here?

I shiver in the water, my teeth chattering as something lightweight drops onto the crown of my head and skitters into the thick layers before I can catch it.

I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my jaw to muffle a scream. What hideous legged creature is creeping through my hair?

What swims unseen below my waist?

Plop. Plop. Plop.

Fish, alligators, snakes…him?

“Daaaah, daaaah, dah daaaah,” his rich buttery tone sings. It echoes through the wetland and sweeps over my skin like icy talons. “I’ve got all night,” he continues singing. “I’ll take my time.” I cup my hands over my mouth to silence my chattering teeth. He’s close. So close. “I’ll find you. There’s nowhere to hide,” he belts out as if we’re in a Broadway show. His voice is magical and terrifying. “You belong to meeeee…You want only meee…”

I can’t stay here. He’ll find me. I work as silently as possible out of the thicket and away from the concentration of his voice. I hoist myself onto the wooden boardwalk because he believes I’m in the water. Rushing is out of the question. He’ll hear my footfalls. Slow and steady is about all I can muster anyway. My legs might as well be licorice sticks.

He’s still singing and slicing an oar through the water as I forge ahead, quickening my steps by a small measure until I finally reach the end of the boardwalk and am on dry ground. In the woods.

The woods mean I’ll find a road at the clearing. Help will drive by, and I’ll flag it down to freedom.

I wait a beat while my eyes adjust to greater darkness. The trees loom overhead, and the ground is mushy and mixed with sand. I stub my toe, tripping over roots jutting out, but press on. There’s a path and I follow it. Bike path maybe?

My feet are cut and bleeding and my head pounds. The path curves, then straightens out, and I halt.

Not a road.

Not freedom.

Before me is a long stretch of beach littered with driftwood and shells that cut into my feet. Beyond the beach is the endless sea. No homes. Only wetland to my back and the sea everywhere else.

I have no boat. No canoe. Nothing to propel me to freedom.

I’m on a private island, and I finally remember how I arrived.

***

Author Bio

Publishers Weekly Bestselling Author, Jessica R. Patch is known for her dry wit and signature twists whether she’s penned a romantic suspense, a cold case thriller, or a small-town romance. When she’s not getting into fictional mischief with her characters, you can find her cozy on the couch in her mid-south home reading books by some of her favorite authors, watching movies with her family, and collecting recipes to amazing dishes she’ll probably never cook. Sign up for her newsletter “Patched In” at www.jessicarpatch.com and receive a FREE short thriller exclusive to subscribers. Jessica is represented by Rachel Kent of Books & Such Literary Management.

Social Media Links

www.jessicarpatch.com
Goodreads – @JessicaRPatch
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Instagram – @JessicaRPatch
Threads – @JessicaRPatch
Twitter/X – @JessicaRPatch
Facebook – @JessicaRPatch
TikTok – @readjessicarpatch

Purchase Links

 Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Harlequin | JessicaRPatch.com

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KINGSUMO GIVEAWAY

https://kingsumo.com/g/t6xpye/the-garden-girls-by-jessica-r-patch