Inheritanceis the first in The Lost Bride Trilogy – a tale of tragedies, loves found and lost, and a family haunted for generations.
1806: Astrid Poole sits in her bridal clothes, overwhelmed with happiness. But before her marriage can be consummated, she is murdered, and the circle of gold torn from her finger. Her last words are a promise to Collin never to leave him…
Graphic designer Sonya MacTavish is stunned to learn that her late father had a twin he never knew about—and that her newly discovered uncle, Collin Poole, has left her almost everything he owned, including a majestic Victorian house on the Maine coast, which the will stipulates she must live in it for at least three years. Her engagement recently broken, she sets off to find out why the boys were separated at birth—and why it was all kept secret until a genealogy website brought it to light.
Trey, the young lawyer who greets her at the sprawling clifftop manor, notes Sonya’s unease—and acknowledges that yes, the place is haunted…but just a little. Sure enough, Sonya finds objects moved and music playing out of nowhere. She sees a painting by her father inexplicably hanging in her deceased uncle’s office, and a portrait of a woman named Astrid, whom the lawyer refers to as “the first lost bride.” It’s becoming clear that Sonya has inherited far more than a house. She has inherited a centuries-old curse, and a puzzle to be solved if there is any hope of breaking it…
INHERITANCE (The Lost Bride Trilogy Book #1) by Nora Roberts is a wonderful ghost story that pulls you in immediately. The problem for my review is defining it. It is not a straight romance because you do not get the HEA in this book, but you do get a contemporary romance subplot and there are plenty of love stories told throughout the discovery of the family’s history. It is a historical suspense/thriller as well as a contemporary suspense/thriller. It also can be considered women’s fiction with the strong friendship between the main female characters and prominent secondary female characters. This story is all of the above.
Like every one of Nora Roberts books I have read, the characters all come to life and are memorable. Her storytelling and pacing are always engaging, and I find I always finish her books in only one or two sittings which is what happened with this book. This book has a lot of character development necessary to bring the lost brides to life and set up the background for the mystery/suspense plot. The only reason I did not give it a full 5-star rating (4.5 gets rounded up on the review sites anyway) is because it ends on a giant cliffhanger…and I do mean giant. This is a personal pet peeve for me and yes, I do realize it is a trilogy, but there is not even a partial wrap-up. And then, the next book in the trilogy does not come out for ten more months. Not one, but ten! AAGH!
The setting is a gothic historical Victorian mansion called Lost Brides Manor in small town Maine which has a ghost maid who cleans everything and one of the brides communicates with a wonderful playlist of songs for every occasion that always left me laughing. The witch ghost is menacing, and I am looking forward to her being banished. Since Sonya is a graphic designer and Cleo is an illustrator, both can work from the mansion, and it is through their jobs that they meet and interact with the town’s business owners and occupants. The dog that Sonya rescues, and the dogs of the male main characters, Trey and Owen are a great addition for a dog lover like me.
I do highly recommend this multi-generational family mystery/suspense/thriller with paranormal/supernatural ghosts, strong female characters, and developing romances even though it is killing me to wait for the next two books in the trilogy.
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About the Author
Nora Roberts is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than 200 novels, including Shelter in Place, Year One, Come Sundown, and many more. She is also the author of the bestselling In Death series written under the pen name J.D. Robb. There are more than five hundred million copies of her books in print.
Private Investigator Sarah Booth Delaney and her partner Tinkie are in Sheriff Coleman Peters’s office, consulting Coleman about cold cases, when Elisa Redd storms in with a case of her own. She wants Coleman to reopen the investigation of her missing daughter, Lydia Redd Maxell, the heiress to a large fortune who disappeared along with her friend Bethany nearly seven years ago. Lydia and Bethany were rumored to be working as human rights organizers abroad, but Elisa suspects Lydia’s problems might have stemmed closer to home. Now Lydia’s husband, Tope, is set to inherit the fortune, and Elisa believes he’s behind the disappearance.
Sarah Booth and Tinkie soon connect the case to a series of mysterious disappearances over the years, as well as to a perplexing recurring dream. With another woman’s life at stake, the friends follow an increasingly twisty trail all over Sunflower County, leading them to a tree and an empty grave in the county cemetery. A grave that’s said to be haunted…
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Elise’s Thoughts
Tell-Tale Bones by Carolyn Haines is a borderline novel between a Cozy Mystery and a regular mystery. It has suspense, intrigue, and very determined women heroines who seek answers and justice.
Seven years ago, a wealthy heiress has disappeared. Her mother wants to hire Sarah Booth’s private investigative firm to find out if she is dead or alive. Sarah enlists the help of her partner, Tinkie, her soulmate, Sheriff Coleman, some eccentric friends, and a ghost, Jitty, who is the connection between Sarah and her late family. They consider Tope Maxwell a prime suspect in his wife, Lydia’s disappearance. Using the atmosphere of abuse the author was able to reference Edgar Allen Poe and even brought him in as a book character.
There is plenty of action and the clues allow readers to try to solve the crime with the characters.
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Author Interview
Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for the series?
Carolyn Haines: It is a series with the characters growing and changing throughout. There are twenty-six books in all. I had just completed a two-book series on southern historical fiction and was searching for another storyline. I heard two funny women bickering with each other in my head. I wrote down their conversations and had one of them dead, Jitty. This is how the series began.
EC: Can you describe Jitty?
CH: She is the ghost of the main character, Sarah Booth’s great, great grandmother’s nanny. Jitty and the grandmother had a very close friendship and depended on each other. Jitty also functions as Sarah Booth’s subconscious. She keeps Sarah on the straight and narrow with her annoying tactics. Jitty impersonates everything. She never helps solve the mystery but clarifies the ethics for Sarah.
EC: How would you describe Sarah?
CH: Smart, tenacious, very direct, a Tomboy, and not a Southern Belle. She was raised to take action to defend the helpless.
EC: How about Sarah’s friend and PI partner, Tinkie?
CH: She is a Southern Belle. She was raised in privilege. She manipulates men and wraps them around her finger. She is the old-fashioned debutante girl: very smart and pretty. In the first book, Sarah Booth was wary of her. After Tinkie hires Sarah to solve a mystery, she allows Sarah to pursue her PI instincts. By the third book, they are PI partners. Tinkie is excellent with money and can get information and facts from others.
EC: What about the women who have gone missing, Lydia and Bethany?
CH: Both women had formed a friendship. Lydia’s husband is abusive, and people suspect he may have killed her. He now wants her declared officially dead to inherit her wealth. Lydia is more passive and tender while Bethany is bold, stands up for herself, and independent.
EC: Why Edgar Allan Poe?
CH: I loved him. A psychic had a dream about Poe and tells Sarah. The story looks a lot like an Edgar Allen Poe one with super scary scenes.
EC: Why the quote about social media?
CH: You must mean this one, “Hiding behind the social media anonymity of an email address, they allowed their meanness free rein.” There is so much meanness and cruelty on social media. People can jump on others where they cannot defend themselves. They do and say things they would never do in person, face to face. I was a former journalist. My father told me, ‘If you are ashamed to sign your name to something don’t print it.’ For me, if someone is ashamed to say something directly to someone’s face, don’t say it.
EC: How would you describe the bad husband, Tope?
CH: He can be charming, but is cruel, creepy, abusive, evil, and is someone who enjoys breaking women’s spirits.
EC: Why talk about Afghan women?
CH: I was writing this book when the Biden administration was pulling out of Afghanistan. It just got in my brain and heart. I was really upset on what happened to them. The situation is so painful to me.
EC: What about Coleman and Sarah’s relationship?
CH: The books are written over a time period of two years in Sarah’s life. Coleman is the County Sheriff who is the man of her heart. They were best of friends in high school but not romantically involved. She now realizes what is important to her is integrity, a good heart, and a good value system. She realizes Coleman has these qualities and that they share a value system. They are a team from now on. Eventually, they will get married and have a child, but not while I am writing the series.
EC: Next books?
CH: It will be out in May 2024 and is titled Light, Camera, Bones. The plot has a movie being filmed in Greenville Mississippi on the river. One of those making it disappears and the investigation shows there is a Bull shark in the river. The book after this comes out in October 2024 titled Tender Bones about Elvis impersonators in his hometown of Tupelo Mississippi.
I am also writing a book with a partner that does not have a contract yet. It is like The Bad Seed meets To Kill a Mockingbird. It will be about a child serial killer. My co-writer is a friend of mine named Mandy Haynes. She lives on the property. I tell people she is my illiterate illegitimate daughter since she cannot spell “Haines” correctly. LOL.
THANK YOU!!
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BIO: Elise Cooper has written book reviews and interviewed best-selling authors since 2009. Her reviews have covered several different genres, including thrillers, mysteries, women’s fiction, romance and cozy mysteries. An avid reader, she engages authors to discuss their works, and to focus on the descriptions of their characters and the plot. While not writing reviews, Elise loves to watch baseball and visit the ocean in Southern California, with her dog and husband.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for WHISPERS AT DUSK (The Blackbird Trilogy Book #1) by Heather Graham on this HTP Books Spring 2023 Romance Blog Tour.
Below you will find a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Summary
Don’t miss the first book in the brand-new, suspense-filled trilogy spinning out of Heather Graham’s popular Krewe of Hunters series!
The Krewe of Hunters goes international with the introduction of Blackbird, a brand new team of operatives bringing justice, and their unique talent of speaking to the dead, to Europe!
They’ve barely finished stopping one serial killer on American soil before FBI agents Della Hamilton and Mason Carter are brought into the fold and sitting in a jet bound for Norway. A disturbed individual has been killing their way across the continent, starting in the United Kingdom and eventually making their way to the sleepy town of Lillehammer. The victims have been left completely drained of blood, with two telltale pinpricks in their necks! As the body count rises the couple must bring all of their abilities to bear as they work to uncover the identity of this vampire killer and put a stop to the terror they’ve begun to inspire.
WHISPERS AT DARK (The Blackbird Trilogy Book #1) by Heather Graham is an intriguing first book in a trilogy spinoff of the Krewe of Hunters series featuring a group of international law enforcement agents being led by two FBI agents who are able to see and interact with ghosts. This book is a mash-up of paranormal mystery/international crime suspense and a romance between the two FBI agents, but the emphasis is on the crimes and chase with not a lot of depth to the romance. You can pick this book up and easily read it without having read any of the Krewe of Hunters books.
Dead bodies are turning up of young American tourists and students laid out peacefully besides bodies of water drained of blood with two puncture wounds in their necks in England, France, and Norway. A member of the Krewe of Hunters, FBI Agent Della Hamilton is paired with FBI Agent Mason Carter who both have the ability to communicate with ghosts.
Della and Mason discover there is a “Master” training others to kill with the promise of immortality. Working with an international group of law enforcement personnel, some of the Krewe of Hunters back in the States, and a few friendly ghosts, they follow the Master back to New Orleans. As the investigation heats up so does the relationship between Della and Mason. Della needs to put herself out as bait since the Master wants her as a mate, but Mason has already lost one partner and is not willing to lose Della, too.
I enjoyed this new international spin-off from the Krewe of Hunters series. The crime mystery and suspense are paced well and kept me following along with the muti-country chase and there are a few surprising twists. The historical facts scattered throughout are interesting and the ghosts were benevolent. The romance between Della and Mason felt just a little thin to me. When they came together and interacted as a couple, it was believable, but I just wish there had been more emotion and not just trust between partners although that was important, too.
Overall, a good beginning for this new paranormal mystery/international crime suspense spin-off. I am looking forward to reading the next book in the trilogy.
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Excerpt
Chapter 1
Mason Carter knew he had backup. The man now holding seventeen-year-old Melissa Wells hostage had been busy for months, and law enforcement across the country had been on his tail. Spread about in various positions outside, an FBI SWAT crew was situated along with local police who knew the area well.
Still, they were in bayou country surrounded by snake-and alligator-infested waters and a range of high grasses, trees, and brush that might hinder any assistance.
Though he’d left a trail of carnage across the country by taking nine victims along the way, the killer’s identity was unknown. He’d left behind fingerprints, but they couldn’t be found in any database, and nothing else discovered by any agency across the country had given them a single clue toward discovering his identity. The truth existed somewhere; it just hadn’t been found as yet.
He’d been labeled the Midnight Slasher since most of his abductions and kills had been after midnight. His note—handwritten and mailed from Las Vegas to the NYC FBI offices—had assured them he was fond of his moniker, and he’d try to make sure his murders did, indeed, occur after midnight in the future. He’d really have preferred being the Vampire, but that name had already gone to a coworker who was busy in Europe.
Coworker?
Mason knew about murders that were being called “the vampire killings” in Europe. He doubted this man and the European madman knew each other, though it appeared they were trying to outdo one another.
But then again, he didn’t really know.
Maybe this killer needed the moniker because he was such an ordinary-looking man. Not exactly handsome—cute might be a term applied to him. He didn’t appear at all insane or creepy as some seemed to think he must appear, not at all as people might think a maniacal killer should look.
He was about twenty-seven—the profilers had been right on his age—six feet even, perhaps a hundred and seventy pounds, with shaggy dirty blond hair, a clean-shaven face and friendly brown eyes. He smiled a lot. Mason could see how he’d managed easily enough to charm or coerce his victims out with him to a place where they might be alone.
And here they were. Mason had trailed the killer from Virginia and had suspected from the few clues he’d been told by the locals that the man would steal a boat and bring his victim far into the bayou. He’d been at the forefront of the investigation, and he called in as he made his way, seeking help from any and all law enforcement agency so they might really end the reign of the Midnight Slasher with a true force against him.
But Mason was the one who now stood alone, facing the man who held the teenaged girl, his blood-stained knife held so tightly to her throat that a trickle of blood ran down to her collarbone. Her terror-filled eyes were on Mason. She didn’t want to die.
Mason didn’t want her to die, either.
He was a good shot—but he’d still have to be at his fastest to hit the man before the knife could slide into the soft flesh of her throat and on to arteries and veins and…
“Okay, Midnight Slasher,” he said, his Glock trained hard on the man, “do you really want to die today?”
“I’ve been here before, and I’m still alive!” the killer said. The girl let out a terrified whimper; the killer had jerked with his words. Another trail of blood slid down to her collarbone.
“I don’t know. You’re in bayou country now. With people who know it well,” Mason said, shrugging.
It was truly doubtful the man would survive the day if he didn’t surrender, but Mason was telling the truth. And it was true, too, that before Mason had been called in on the case, the killer had escaped a similar situation in the Shenandoah mountains.
He had killed his hostage and tossed her to his would-be captors before escaping.
Backup wasn’t going to help.
Not here. Not now. While agents and officers might be all around, Mason was alone in the cabin with the man. His backup crew was holding. They all knew if the killer heard anyone trying to enter from the rear or break down any of the old wooden walls, the girl would die.
“You can do it, and there is no choice,” a voice whispered to Mason.
He was alone in the cabin with the killer—and with the ghost of one Gideon Grimsby, an Englishman who had come to the new world to meet, befriend, and then serve under the legendary Jean Laffite. He had fought at the Battle of New Orleans. Gideon had survived the battle, fallen in love and changed his ways—only to be shot down in the street by a vengeful man who had once coveted the beauty who had become Gideon’s wife.
Now, Gideon enjoyed the music of New Orleans, watched over his descendants and tended to haunt Frenchman Street. But having realized Mason was aware of him at a lounge one night, he’d discovered his afterlife of being a ghostly—and very helpful—investigator as well.
“Do it. Do it, Mason lad, you must!” Gideon said. “He’s going to kill her. The officers and agents outside will lose patience. They’ll seek entry as you know they must. And this rotten beast will die, but so will she. Dammit, man, take your shot!”
“I have to be sure!” Mason said the words aloud and cursed himself. He was accustomed to seeing the dead. And he’d learned before he was ten not to be seen talking to them.
But maybe this time it was good.
“Who the hell are you talking to?” the killer demanded.
Mason made a split-second decision and shrugged, saying, “I guess you can’t see him. Gideon is here. You’d have liked him. He was a pirate. Well, he was, but then cleaned up his act. And sadly wound up being murdered, but he’s enjoying his afterlife.”
“Man, they think I’m crazy. You’re crazy!” the killer said.
There was suddenly a gentle tap at the door to the cabin, surprising both Mason and the killer. Mason knew he frowned as the killer frowned. No one was bursting in; it was a gentle and polite tap.
The killer’s young hostage let out a terrified squeak as the knife drew closer against her flesh.
“What the hell?” the killer murmured. “You—you go and see what those idiots outside want. Because I’m telling you, you can kill me today, but she will die with me.” He laughed. “Maybe the two of us can haunt you, too.”
“God help me,” Mason murmured. “Fine. You want me to check the door?”
“Yeah. I want to see who is trying what.”
His gun still trained on the killer, Mason backed to the door.
“We don’t need any disruptions here,” he said loudly.
“I’m not a disruption,” a female voice said. “I’m unarmed. I just wanted to offer to trade myself for Melissa Wells.”
“What?” Mason demanded.
“Open the door, check her out. See if she’s really unarmed,” the killer said. “And don’t forget—if I’m going, she’s going with me!”
Mason cracked the door open. There was a woman standing there, mid-to late-twenties, about five foot eight with long light brown hair and a striking thin face. She was wearing black knit leggings and a tunic and lifted her arms to show that she carried nothing.
“I’m really a better choice,” she said, looking around Mason to see and talk to the killer. “Think of it! If you don’t manage to escape and get out of this or if you do, you’ll have killed a special agent or used her for your escape. I’m Della Hamilton, FBI. And I know you like your victims to have long hair. My hair is long and I’m the right age… Come on. This kid is a teenager. So far, you’ve at least chosen victims who were out of high school!” She paused, shaking her head. “You have a reputation. You’re a famous killer—don’t sully all that by having people think you were a pedophile.”
Apparently, she’d said just the right thing.
“I am not a pedophile!” the Midnight Slasher protested. “That’s disgusting. I haven’t gotten it down right yet, but I’m working on it, and I will be a master! I will learn to… Well, never mind! I will achieve what is necessary!”
“Whatever,” Mason said dryly. “And she has one hell of a point, I mean, you want to be a master killer, get it all right…perfect it all. But you don’t want to be remembered as a pedophile. That would…well, ruin your whole legacy.”
“Yeah, yeah… I never touched any of them. Except to kill them. And I was going to get it all right this time, but you found a stupid boat and followed me and… Ah, screw it! But you’re right. The pretty girl at the door can get me out of here, or… Well, I will be known for having killed a special agent! Yeah! Get in here, Special Agent Whoever. You come straight to me. When I can switch the knife over, this kid can go. But you need to know—if I die today, you die, too.”
“I’m willing to accept that,” Special Agent Della Hamilton said.
The killer laughed. “Suicidal, eh?”
“No, I just think I can talk you down,” she said. “And frankly, you fascinate me! Your mind is so amazing! And I’m older, okay, and maybe this is only in my own mind, but I think I’m…well, sexier, grown-up, and just a better choice for a victim all the way around. If you want to be famous—kill an agent!”
“Talk me down? I don’t think so. But I fascinate you? And you really are pretty damned gorgeous, so…hmm. Okay, lady, come on.”
“I am coming—when this guy lets me!” she said, smiling and shrugging to Mason.
“Let her by!”
“She wants you to take the shot during the exchange!” the ghost of Gideon Grimsby said. The ghost’s presence was near him. He all but whispered in Mason’s ear, almost startling him.
But Mason was staring at Della Hamilton, and she nodded at the words. As if she had heard them.
Had she?
He’d heard there were others like him. He’d even heard there was a special “ghostbusters” unit in the Bureau with some nothing title like Special Circumstances Unit.
He inclined his head; she blinked, letting him know she had the message.
“I’m coming over…slowly, slowly, and I’ll back up so you can free Melissa and get the knife right on me…”
She walked to him just as she had said she would do.
The killer moved the knife to push Melissa forward and reach out for Della Hamilton. And as he did, Della Hamilton dropped down, shouting, “Now!”
And Mason fired.
Melissa leaned to the side; Della was hunkered close to the floor.
The bullet hit the killer dead center in the forehead. While Melissa shrieked and cried with relief, the Midnight Slasher fell without a whimper.
The killer was dead. The reign of the Midnight Slasher had come to an end.
The wrap-up and the paperwork had just begun.
Naturally, there was chaos at first as other agents and police rushed in. The medical examiner and forensics arrived, and officers held the press at bay. Melissa’s parents were called, but before she raced down to meet them, she fell hysterically into the arms of Della Hamilton and then Mason, telling them, “Oh, my God, thank you, thank you! Thank you, both. You saved my life!”
Mason assured her he was grateful she was alive, as did Della Hamilton.
Gideon Grimsby stood by the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, a proud look on his face. Well, the ghost did like helping.
Mason saw Della Hamilton manage a wave and a nod and mouthed the words, “Thank you,” to Gideon at one point. Gideon smiled and nodded in return.
Mason turned in his firearm as necessary and was surprised to hear that a counselor was waiting to see him in the city. His Glock would be returned in the morning.
Things never happened that fast. He knew something was going on.
Mason was hailed by the waiting officers and agents, and he knew everyone was relieved a serial killer’s spree had come to an end. He wished he could feel celebratory, and he knew he had carried out the only feasible action. But he didn’t feel celebratory, just weary.
Of course, it had been just minutes before midnight when they’d taken down the slasher. With all the aftermath, it was the next day before anyone left the bayou country. And because of where they were, the press had finally arrived, but thankfully, by then the action was over and officers arranged to maintain the crime scene. People had a right to know what was going on but keeping details of such an event within ranks might prove to be extremely important.
He was ordered back to the city and the office before Della Hamilton finished a discussion with a member of the forensic team.
He didn’t see her again until they were finishing the last of the paperwork on the case and by then everyone involved was about to keel over.
Sleep was in order. When he was finally able to return to his hotel, he had no trouble crashing down into a sound sleep—despite the fact that dawn had arrived long ago and the sun was shining brightly beyond the heavy drapes that covered his windows.
He woke in the middle of the afternoon. An evening left in NOLA, time to finish up any necessary business, and then a flight back to the DC area in the morning.
Luckily, they’d been so far back in the bayou country the media hadn’t seen any of the takedown. And when asked, he assured the local powers that be he didn’t want his name seen anywhere, which was the right policy as known field agents could be at risk.
A press release saying the Bureau had rescued the Slasher’s latest victim and the man had been killed in the operation was just fine with Mason. He wondered if Della Hamilton was going to want more recognition.
She didn’t.
Mason was out on Royal Street, trying to decide on a restaurant for dinner, when he looked into a shop front and saw a TV screen showing the news.
The takedown had been perceived just as he’d hoped—a joint effort by the FBI and local authorities.
A lot of his friends at the local FBI offices and police precincts he’d come to know in NOLA had wanted to get together that night. And while he truly enjoyed a lot of the camaraderie and understood the feelings of many that a celebration was in order, he just wanted to be on his own that night.
He felt as if he needed to shake something off.
He decided then to go over to Magazine Street for dinner and hopefully some soothing music at one of its many restaurants. He was surprised when Gideon slid into a seat beside him there; he’d been nursing a scotch and listening to some great jazz, something that helped still his mind.
“You are a strange bird,” Gideon told him.
“Why?”
“That fellow stole the greatest gift from so many—the gift of life. Mason, you stopped him.”
“With your help, for which I’m grateful—”
“And the help of Della Hamilton. I hung around her awhile earlier. She’s something, huh? As they say in your time, that girl has balls! Wait, she can’t, can she. Guts? Would that be right? She has guts!”
“She saw you in a flash,” Mason said. “And by the way, I am glad I brought a killer down. I’m just tired of… I took his life. I guess I hate killing.”
“But you love saving.”
Mason shrugged. “I will always act in the best interests of the victim. Let’s listen to the music, huh?”
“Sure. There’s a meeting tomorrow morning. Some bigwig with the Bureau is coming down tonight. He’s coming specifically to see you—”
“Why? Wait a minute. Last I heard, I run by the NOLA office, pick up another agent to drop me and bring the car back for the next guy who needs it. How did you hear that? I’ll be heading back to DC tomorrow.”
“Maybe not,” Gideon told him. “I heard Della talking to someone on the phone when she left the offices. She was going out, but that call changed things and she didn’t. She decided she’d better get some sleep. You were busy tonight,” Gideon told him, grinning. “You don’t interrupt a counseling session, and then it was a long day! You were supposed to have some dinner, some downtime… You’ll be informed. Apparently, this is…big. A couple of people are heading down from Washington just to discuss this with you.”
“And they informed another agent before me—about my assignment?” Mason asked.
“I’m guessing it involves her,” Gideon said with a shrug.
“And that would be a darned good thing. You couldn’t do better, from what I saw.”
“She was good, yes. But—”
Mason groaned. Strange. He’d wanted this job; he’d worked hard for this job. But after his years in the military, now he was wondering why. He was good at what he did. He was a good investigator—largely because of a lot of help from the dead. But he was also good at killing.
And it just seemed to be weighing down on him lately.
“Damn you, man!” Gideon said. His accent—which he had largely lost during the many years since his death—came back strong when he was angry. “There is a seventeen-year-old girl alive and in the arms of her family because of you.”
“And Special Agent Hamilton, of course—or mainly,” Mason said dryly.
Gideon nodded. “I was glad to see her. I hadn’t met her, but friends saw her when she worked a case here not too long ago. The bank robbery out of Baton Rouge. They say she tricked the three—it was a woman and two men. That she got them into position by pretending to be a lost tourist, crying and desperate to find her way back to the airboat they’d been on. Anyway, she has a way that makes her excellent in this kind of case. But you! Stop it. When there is no choice, there is no choice. That teenager from today is going to need therapy for the rest of her life most probably, but she’ll have a life. Do you know what that man—so called Midnight Slasher—did to some of his victims?”
“Yes, yes, I do.”
“No, he wasn’t a pedophile. He sliced them, Mason. Slashed and sliced them! Cut off their fingers and ears while they were still alive.”
“I do know,” he said calmly.
Mason was glad he’d paid his tab. He stood. As he’d learned to do, he pretended he was on a phone call as he told Gideon, “I am so grateful she is alive—and our local intelligence knew where to find him before he could hurt her. Truly, I am. I just… I guess I wish I’d been a negotiator. I’d like to talk someone down for a change.”
“You talk them down when you can—you save the victim when you can’t,” Gideon said.
Mason nodded. “Yes, I know. Guess I’m tired.”
“You should be. Get some sleep.”
“I’m going to.”
“Finish listening to the jazz. See you in the morning,” Gideon said, and then he was gone.
That was the problem sometimes befriending ghosts. Since they were excellent at slipping away through crowds and even walls, it was extremely difficult to have the last word with them.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Heather Graham has written more than a hundred novels. She’s a winner of the RWA’s Lifetime Achievement Award, and the Thriller Writers’ Silver Bullet. She is an active member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America. For more information, check out her websites: TheOriginalHeatherGraham.com, eHeatherGraham.com, and HeatherGraham.tv. You can also find Heather on Facebook.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for HARMONY OF LIES (Alice & Owen Book #2) by Brian Feehan on this Berkley Mass Market blog tour.
Below you will find an about the book section, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!
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About the Book
After being forced away for seventeen years, Alice is finally home. But home isn’t what she thought it would be, and every day the secrets she holds from her parents grow with weight. But how do you tell your mother and father that you’re not normal? That the world is a far more dangerous place than they have ever known and you are anything but the small, innocent child who was torn from their arms all those years ago?
Owen can’t say goodbye, and Alice can’t hold on to him tightly enough as the pressures of danger and obligation grow stronger and stronger. With a broken heart, Owen is headed to San Francisco with his crew of musicians. But the Golden City is filled with history and secrets, and brutal deaths are just lying in wait for Owen and his people. To survive these trials and this city, Owen will need everything he has—even the broken parts he gave to Alice—to have any hope of doing the impossible one more time.
HARMONY OF LIES (Alice & Owen Book #2) by Brian Feehan is the second book in the paranormal/urban fantasy world centered around new types of characters; the We, the etherealists, and regular human beings. Starting right where Harmony of Fire Book #1 left off, Alice, Owen and the band have returned to Alice’s family home, but Owen and the band need to leave for San Francisco. I feel to understand this author’s world and the capabilities of the We and etherealists, you need to read this series in order.
After seventeen years of being forced to be away from her family, Alice is now a powerful etherealist hunter and she wants nothing more than to be reunited. She is afraid to reveal to her parents that she is no longer normal, but they have been keeping a secret from her, too. With family secrets revealed, Alice learns to navigate even more of her powers.
When Owen, the etherealist gatekeeper and his band get to San Francisco, they face a powerful dark magic tied to a possessed red piano and a ghost. To save his friends and beat the dark magic, Owen knows he needs Alice, the woman he loves, for everyone to survive.
This book is another powerful and intriguing trip into the musical and magical world of the We and Alice and Owen. I love all the unique characters, not only Alice and Owen, but the entire band. Their courage and love for each other makes them powerful enough to face all the trials thrown at them. My only disappointment is that Alice and Owen are separated from each other, just like in book #1, in my opinion through too much of the book. The music, the magic, the lethal danger, the intricate world-building, and the lyrical prose all pulled me in and make this a powerful paranormal series.
This is another captivating paranormal/urban fantasy book in this series.
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Excerpt
An old wooden ladder led up toward the space Owen had claimed for himself. More importantly, it was private.
“We aren’t going up there tonight.” Owen smiled, and in that smile it was easy to see he had been looking forward to this moment.
“We aren’t going up to your bed? That’s a first. Where are you taking me?”
“This way,” he said, leading beneath the loft and deeper within. They moved past a trove of shovels and tools until she spotted a door she hadn’t used before. Owen pressed hard, and hay and dust fell off the frame as another wave of the night air broke over them both.
“So what’s out here?”
“It’s a surprise. It took a little work, but Max and I finished it this morning.”
Alice’s eyesight adjusted to the low light as Owen shut the barn door behind them. She took a glance around. She had thought this side of the barn was just where the farmer parked his rusted tractor and broken-down truck. Toss in a couple of old oil barrels and some leftover parts, and there wasn’t much to look at, particularly at night. She couldn’t fathom why Owen had brought her out here.
“You know I’m not really a tractor kind of girl. If you’re thinking we are getting kinky on that old thing, you’re far better off taking me back up to the loft.”
Owen laughed, and she felt it down deep.
It was nice spending time with the others, but every time they found a chance to be alone she saw it was easier for Owen to be himself.
“Back here. I set this up for us,” Owen said.
They weaved around an old rusted oil barrel and some empty propane canisters until she spotted a large something covered up by a sheet of old gray plywood and blue tarp.
“It’s not jewelry or a gun. For the record, I like both those things. What is it?” she asked.
“Patience,” he said, letting go of her hand and moving around the side. With practiced ease, Owen spread his long arms and grabbed both the old plywood and tarp beneath. A gentle pull and lift and a large, curved wooden hot tub was uncovered.
“How in the world did you find this? We are in the middle of nowhere.”
“We found it right off. It took some heavy lifting and more than one hour of cleaning. But the real problem was the pump and heater. You like it?” he asked.
“It’s clean?” she asked.
“Of course.” Owen used his foot to flip the metal switch that started the pump. Already there was steam rising into the air.
“And bubbles. Owen, I feel you’re giving me the full treatment.”
Owen didn’t answer.
There was something about the night sky mixed with the back-glow of the barn that framed Owen. He stood there watching her but was lost under the weight of leaving, leaving her. She could see it as clearly as his deep green eyes and strong face.
Owen reached over toward an instant propane heater and clicked it on. She heard the whoosh as gas met spark.
“Owen?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I have never met someone like you.”
And I don’t want to say goodbye.
It was his thoughts that drifted in the air between them, but she thought she could hear him and understood his view. For the last couple of weeks, he had made a point of talking about the chaos of his life. How every road traveled twisted and turned, and those devoted to living as a musician changed with every trip. In short, he was saying that now that it was time to leave, this could be the end of their relationship. That he didn’t know where he going, but he was sure he couldn’t come back.
Brian Feehan lives in his mind, creating vibrant characters who talk very loud and far too often. When real life comes knocking, it is likely to be the love of his life, Michelle, or their son, Dylan. The three of them live on the northern coast of California, which is far different from any other part of California.
