Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for COLD LIGHT OF DAY (Missing in Alaska Book #1) by Elizabeth Goddard on this Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book synopsis, 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 Synopsis
Police Chief Autumn Long is fighting to keep her job in the quiet Alaska town of Shadow Gap when an unexpected string of criminal activity leaves her with a wounded officer, unexplained murders, and even an attack on her own father. Despite her mistrust of outsiders, she turns to Grier Brenner, a newcomer who seems to have the skills and training Autumn needs to face this threat to her community.
Grier is in Alaska for the same reason so many others are–to disappear–when Chief Long enlists his help. He emerges from the shadows and proves his mettle, but his presence in her life could be a deadly trap for them both. If his secret is exposed, all will be lost. And he’s not sure even Autumn could save him.
As the stakes rise and the dangers increase, Autumn and Grier must rely on each other to extinguish the deadly threats.
Genre: Romantic Suspense Published by: Revell Publication Date: February 2023 Number of Pages: 336 ISBN: 9780800742041 (ISBN10: 0800742044) Series: Missing in Alaska, 1
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
COLD LIGHT OF DAY (Missing in Alaska Book #1) by Elizabeth Goddard is a fast-paced Christian romantic suspense and the first in a new series set in small town Alaska. Shadow Gap’s police chief and a mysterious newcomer are enveloped in a crime spree that could cost them everything.
Police Chief Autumn Long is trying to prove herself and keep her job after taking over after her father’s disability retirement, but a crime wave is enveloping their small town. When she witnesses a newcomer to town rescuing a woman from drowning, she wonders why he rejects the attention gained by his rescue.
Grier Brennan is trying to stay under the radar and to himself, but his background will not allow him to let a person drown and he gets tangled up in all the activity happening around the attractive police chief. As bullets fly and the body count grows, Grier reluctantly joins forces with Autumn to find the killer.
Autumn and Grier investigate the murders and discover their pasts have entangled them with the same enemies in this crime wave and could be the death of them both.
The action and investigation plot lines that tie Autumn and Grier together were exciting and fast paced throughout. The stakes continue to rise and kept me turning the pages. The Alaskan wilderness itself is integral to the intensity of the story and provides both beauty and danger. Autumn and Grier are strong characters and believable in their situations, but I had a harder time connecting them as a romantic couple, especially since Grier does not reveal his secret until much to late in the plot for me to believe Autumn could trust him romantically. It is a Christian romantic suspense, but I really did not feel romantic elements pulling these two together. The balance of this story is much more slanted to the suspense and police investigation than a romance. There are mentions of faith and prayer which I did not feel interfered with the flow of the story. I enjoyed this start to the Missing in Alaska series and would be interested in reading more.
Overall, a good start to the series with an exciting suspense plot.
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Excerpt
ONE
Southeast Alaska
August
Autumn Long had no plans to give up without a fight,
even though it might be killing her a little every day. As the bush plane sank lower, her view of the gla cier spilling into the valley behind a forest exploding with reds, oranges, and browns fell away. Lofty mountains on each side of the fjord filled her vision.
“Hold on, Chief. We’re almost there.” Pilot Carrie James flew her bush plane straight up the Lynn Canal—one of the longest, deepest fjords in the world. The snowcapped Kaku han Mountains rose lofty on the right, the Chilkat Range near Haines to the left. And across from Haines to the west—Glacier Bay National Park.
Autumn ignored the mounting dread she felt and focused her thoughts. She had better get her act together and earn back the trust of the city council and the people she swore to protect in the small town of Shadow Gap, one of many communities dotting the Inside Passage of the Alaska Panhandle.
She’d stayed overnight in Anchorage for a meeting that left her drained to her bones. She’d taken an Alaska Airlines flight to and from Juneau, and now Carrie was delivering her up to the northernmost part of the Panhandle. Wearing her brown bomber jacket and a headset, sitting in the cockpit of her Helio Courier—the ultimate bush plane—Carrie was a bush pilot poster child.
The plane flew lower, following the Chilkoot Inlet until Carrie banked east, flying over the Lewis Inlet that branched off. “That’s why I’d better say this before I lose the chance.” Autumn wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.
Carrie angled her head toward Autumn and arched a brow. “I know you didn’t ask for my opinion.” Carrie looked forward again. “But you didn’t do anything wrong. Out here we take care of our own. The land is harsh. Brutal in ways the lower forty-eight can’t imagine. We have to watch out for each other, and that’s all you’ve ever done for the people of Shadow Gap.”
“Yeah, well . . . thanks, Carrie.” Tell that to Wally. He’d had it out for her from the first day she took her position as police chief.
Carrie waved a hand in mock incredulity. “Shadow Gap isn’t even classified as a town, much less an organized borough, so who needs a city council anyway?”
Or a police department, some might say.
Autumn cracked a smile. “Glad to know at least some people still want me around.”
Despite the many limitations of a small-town budget, they’d at least equipped their chief and three officers with loaded Ford Police Interceptor SUVs. After all, her officers were trained to carefully collect and preserve evidence as well as to tend a wounded moose in the road. They had to know how to do it all in small-town Alaska. Because, yeah, she thought of Shadow Gap’s community of 1,252 people as a town. Shadow Gap was just outside of the Haines and Skagway Boroughs. Alaska didn’t have counties, so there were no sheriffs.
Best of all—or worst of all, depending on which side of the law you were on—Shadow Gap had lost their Alaska State Trooper. Not enough crime to support one or budget to afford one if there was enough crime.
Autumn had nothing to complain about, except the results of her trip to Anchorage left a—
“What’s that?” Carrie drew Autumn’s attention to the water. “Someone’s out there, floating in Lewis Inlet. I saw hands wav ing, signaling.”
“Have you got—”
“Here.” Carrie handed off binoculars.
“Fly in close, Carrie. I want to get a better look. We have to help if we can.” Autumn peered through the binoculars and struggled to find what she was looking for, instead only captur ing the deep, dark waters. Then . . . “I see the hands. But, oh no, whoever is out there is going under.”
“But look! Someone’s swimming out to them. So maybe there’s a chance.”
“They won’t last long. Those waters are cold.” Autumn adjusted the binoculars, searching, searching . . . there. “I see what looks like the rescue swimmer.” Was that . . . Grier? “How close can you land?”
“Close enough. Once on the water, I can angle in closer.” “If he can get to the woman, we’ll take them both the rest of the way to get help.”
Because there was no way the woman wasn’t going to suffer from hypothermia in these temps, unless she had on the ap propriate attire. Same for Grier.
Come on, Grier . . . save the girl.
Shadow Gap needed a hero. A ray of hope shot through her, and though maybe she shouldn’t have the thought, it popped into her head all the same. She didn’t mind that a town hero would take the attention away from the police chief’s long list of transgressions.
Though, if she were choosing heroes, she would have chosen a longtime resident over an outsider—or as the locals liked to call them, cheechakos, and meant in a negative way. She wouldn’t go so far as to use that term for this particular man. Grier had shown up in Shadow Gap a few months ago to fish in the Shadow Gap Salmon Derby. A tourist who decided to stay. Wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last.
Autumn dropped the binoculars as Carrie skillfully landed the plane on the water. The pontoons smoothly connected, and Carrie guided the plane, heading toward where they’d last seen the woman in need of a rescue.
Her struggle could well be over.
Please don’t drown . . . don’t die. But Autumn didn’t see her anywhere. A fist squeezed her heart.
***
Author Bio
Elizabeth Goddard is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of more than 50 novels, including Cold Light of Day and the Rocky Mountain Courage and Uncommon Justice series. Her books have sold nearly 1.5 million copies. She is a Carol Award and Reader’s Choice Award winner and a Daphne du Maurier Award finalist. When she’s not writing, she loves spending time with her family, traveling to find inspiration for her next book, and serving with her husband in ministry. For more information about her books, visit her website at www.ElizabethGoddard.com.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for COWBOYS AND CHAOS (Magical Mystery Book Club Book #3) by Elizabeth Pantley on this Partners In Crime Book Blast.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt form the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
This is no ordinary book club! When the group chooses a book, they are whisked away from reality to find themselves totally immersed in the story. The characters, the setting, and the murder all come to life. In order to exit the book, they’ll need to solve the mystery and reach The End.
This time, the club chooses a mystery that takes place in a quaint western town – in the old Wild West. That sounds like great fun, until they arrive in the dusty old town in the Arizona desert, among cowboys and saloons. They discover that the outhouse isn’t the worse thing about this trip.
The good news is that Paige, Glo, Zell, Frank, and the other members of the club discover plenty of surprises here, and they have a great time visiting a piece of history. They’ll get to live through many exciting moments as they unravel this cozy mystery story.
Genre: Paranormal Cozy Mystery Published by: Better Beginnings, Inc. Publication Date: November 2022 Number of Pages: 250 ASIN: B0BB1HS7XL Series: Magical Mystery Book Club #3
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
COWBOYS AND CHAOS (Magical Mystery Book Club Book #3) by Elizabeth Pantley is another entertaining adventure in this cozy paranormal mystery book club series. Each book can easily be read as a standalone because every mystery book the club is pulled into is unique, but I enjoy reading them in order to follow all the book club members’ evolving interactions.
The book club has a new member, Dr. Atticus Papadopoulos to bring their total number of members to eight once again and they are ready to have a book club meeting to decide on their next adventure. Zelda’s choice is picked this time around and it is the second book in a cozy mystery series set in the Old West. What the others don’t know is that Zelda has picked this second book for a specific reason.
There are many surprises awaiting the book club in Bandana, AZ and not just the murder mystery to solve.
I just love this series and all the book club members. It is a fast, fun read with a mystery setting that always changes. I solved this Wild West mystery before the resolution, but it still has many red herrings and plot twists that could easily have taken me in the wrong direction. Each book club member is unique in what they bring to the group, including Frank, the talking cat which leads to lively discussions while trying to solve the mystery and humorous dialogue. Ms. Pantley does a wonderful job of pulling the reader into each setting and making them feel immersed and yet also always reminds the reader they are in a fictional setting. The surprise character the group discovers in this book is wonderful.
I highly recommend this cozy mystery book and encourage you to try the entire series. They are charming and just so much fun!
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Excerpt
Excerpt – Chapter 2
“Hey,” said Forrest. “Who’s that guy in the backyard?”
Everyone shuffled over to the window. A man was roaming around the property with what appeared to be a metal detector in his hands.
He removed his brown fedora, and his wild brown hair joined his golden scarf to blow wildly in the wind. He methodically ran the device back and forth over the lawn. Every few minutes he would stop and kneel on the grass, leaving wet spots on the knees of his khaki cargo pants. He’d put his ear to the ground, then pop up with a gleeful look on his face and continue scanning the lawn. He reached into one of the pockets of his brown safari jacket and pulled out a pair of binoculars. He aimed them around the yard and then up into the sky.
I opened the back door and stepped outside.
“Hello? Excuse me?” I called. “Can I help you?”
The man walked briskly over to us. He thrust out his hand toward me. “Dr. Atticus Papadopoulos. A pleasure.”
“Paige Erickson. Nice to meet you.” Even in shock, my manners prevailed.
The group had followed me outside and were standing in a circle gawking at him. The man put down his device and efficiently went from person to person. He reached out and shook each person’s hand. He looked each one in the eye and listened intently to their name as if he were memorizing it. He even reached down and shook Frank’s paw.
Frank looked him up and down and examined his archaeological professor-like outfit. “Hello Dr. Jones. Welcome to the Snapdragon Inn.”
“Ah! Wonderful, wonderful. The cat speaks! Marvelous!” He clapped his hands. “Actually, it’s Dr. Papadopoulos, but you can call me Atticus,” he said, totally missing Frank’s reference to Dr. Indiana Jones from Raiders of the Lost Ark. “Your ability to communicate is one more sign that the crossover exists at this point! Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!”
When he completed the circle, he verified my suspicion that he’d been memorizing our names by pointing at each person in turn. “Paige. Glo. Zell, Sebastian, Vee, Moonbeam, Forrest. And of course, the fascinating, remarkable Frank.”
The cat stood taller, and I could just about see his head growing in size. Exactly what we needed, a person to boost Frank’s already bursting ego.
“Sooo, Atticus. What are you doing here?” Glo asked as she came to stand beside me, hands on her hips, looking the stranger in the eye.
“Yeah,” said Zell, charging to the front of the group and standing nearly toe to toe with him. She looked up into his face, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. With her diminutive size and cotton ball-like hair she looked anything but intimidating. “And what’s with the metal detector? Looking for buried treasure?”
“Ah, good question, Zell. This is not a meager metal detector. It alerts me to points of extraterrestrial energy.”
“Are you a kook, then?”
Atticus threw back his head and laughed, his wild hair flopping back and forth with the movement. “No, madam, not a kook. I am a doctor of astrobiology; my major area of interest is extraterrestrial technology and travel.”
“What the heck is astrobiology?” Zell squinted her eyes at him.
“A woman with a curious mind. I like it.” He nodded in approval.
I glanced at Glo and rolled my eyes. Great. Now another ego being stroked. Zell and Frank were already impossible to live with, this would boost their annoy-ability level.
“Astrobiology is the academic field that studies the origins of life on our Earth and the existence of life elsewhere in our universe. The study of extraterrestrial visits is my main area of interest. Your inn happens to be at a key crossover point for a confluence of energy.” He put his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels looking pleased with his discovery.
Zell had an abnormally studious look on her face. “What do you mean by a confluence of energy, Doctor?”
Glo and I chuckled, since Zell’s normal response to him would have been, “Huh? Whatcha talking about?”
“Excellent question, again.” He pointed at Zell with a snappy movement. “Energy encircles our planet both horizontally and vertically.” His arms flailed about as he demonstrated the circles, then he crossed his arms, one atop the other. “At certain points the lines join and there is a high level of intra-space energy. These locations are an ideal landing spot for extraterrestrials, or for the creation of a time/space portal. This inn sits directly atop a high energy confluence crossover point.”
“Well, that’s not a surprise,” said Zell. “We do have an enchanted library with magical books that take us inside them for adventures.”
“Zell!” We all yelled as one.
“Yes! I knew it!” Atticus pumped his arm. “I want in. Can you take me on one of your adventures?”
***
Author Bio
Elizabeth Pantley says that writing her Mystery and Magic book series is the most fun she’s ever had at work. Fans of the series say her joy is evident through the engaging stories she tells. Elizabeth is also the international bestselling author of The No-Cry Sleep Solution and twelve other books for parents. Her books have been published in over twenty languages. She lives in the Pacific Northwest, a beautiful inspiration for her enchanted worlds.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE BONE RECORDS by Rich Zahradnik 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
NY Police Academy washout Grigg Orlov discovers an eerie piece of evidence at the scene of his father’s brutal murder: a disc-shaped X-ray of a skull. It’s a bone record–what Soviet citizens called banned American songs recorded on used X-rays. But the black-market singles haven’t been produced since the sixties. What’s one doing in Coney Island in 2016?
Grigg uncovers a connection between his father and three others who collected bone records when they were teenage friends growing up in Leningrad. Are past and present linked? Or is the murder tied to the local mob? Grigg’s got too many suspects and too little time. He must get to the truth before a remorseless killer takes everything he has.
Genre: Mystery Published by: 1000 Words A Day Press Publication Date: November 2022 Number of Pages: 338 ISBN: 9798985905649
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
THE BONE RECORDS by Rich Zahradnik is a non-stop fast paced thriller filled with Russian mobsters and government agents, corrupt NYPD police, and FBI agents, good and bad, all after a young protagonist caught up for unknown reasons in international intrigue.
Grigg Orlov has never felt he belonged in his neighborhood of Little Odessa. Born of a Russian immigrant father and a Jamaican mother, he is plagued with prejudice his entire life. His father reappears after a six-month absence only to have both chased and his father killed. Grigg finds a disc shaped x-ray of a skull on his father’s body. It has an individual old song recording on the opposite side. He learns the discs were called bone records which in the old Soviet Union were sold on the black market with banned American music, but what does this have to do with his father?
Grigg and his ex-girlfriend, Katia, discover an old connection his father had to a group of friends in Russia and bone records, but what does that have to do with the present day run for his life from Russian mobsters and government spies? With no help from law enforcement, Grigg must find the truth before he and Katia end up dead.
This is a thriller with a stubborn and flawed young protagonist that the author is able to make me still care about and follow on this harrowing investigation and run for his life. The history of the bone records was interesting and new to me. The vivid descriptions of the neighborhood of Little Odessa and Coney Island made both feel real and integral to the story. I felt at times the number of mobsters, spies and corrupt law enforcement officials was over the top, but it certainly kept the action and Grigg moving. Every plot thread is tied up at the climatic ending, I just wish a few were answered sooner in the story because for me, all the solutions were rushed into the last chapters with much of the story being threat and chase.
I recommend this entertaining thriller with its unique protagonist and plenty of action and suspects.
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Excerpt
Chapter 1
Friday, August 19, 2016
Grigg’s reunion with his father was brief—eight minutes to be exact—and ended when a man with a nickel-plated revolver shot Dad twice.
Three hours before the violence began, Grigg struggled through the crowd on the Coney Island subway platform. He was the last to reach the stairway to the station’s exit. Again. Even the old folks were gone. His wrecked knee held him back.
Outside the station, Deno’s Wonder Wheel turned slowly, towering over the amusement park that took its name from the ancient fifteen-story ride. The wheel’s spokes glowed a hot neon white. Hazy coronas surrounded all the lights.
Tick-tick-tick-tick.
Grigg had started wearing his father’s Timex soon after he had gone missing. He put the watch up to his ear, as he’d done too many times before. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard. The clockwork noise was in his head. Maybe a reminder to keep looking. Maybe a reminder that six months was already too long in missing persons cases.
His father’s watch read 8:18 p.m.
He limped away from Coney Island’s amusement parks toward his house on West 28th off Mermaid Avenue. As he did, the street darkened. He checked behind him more than once. The neighborhood became far less amusing as night came on—and the farther you went from the fun parks. Mugging wasn’t the thrill ride Grigg needed. He didn’t want any more trouble. He had a lifetime’s supply. His long days pinballed him between two jobs and the search for his father.
But despite Grigg’s best efforts, the minutes and hours and days kept spinning off the Timex, found by the police in a Howard Beach motel room, the last place his father was seen before he vanished into the thin March air. Their empty house waited to reflect Grigg’s loneliness back at him. His mother had died when he was eighteen months old. His boss at the city’s claims adjustment office rarely talked to him outside of giving orders. All of his connections—he couldn’t really call them friends—in the neighborhood he owed to his father. Dad, like the rest of them, had immigrated from Russia. Unlike the rest of them, he’d married a woman from Jamaica, a union that guaranteed Grigg would always be on the outside in Little Odessa.
The rubber soles of his cheap dress shoes slapped the wet pavement. A thunderstorm had blown through while he was on the subway, leaving behind the sticky-thick humidity. His messenger bag tugged on his shoulder.
He went over the lead he’d uncovered tonight. Going door-to-door in a Midwood apartment building full of Russians, he’d talked briefly to a tenant named Freddy Popov, who recognized Grigg’s father when shown a photo. Popov said a man—maybe a cop—had been canvassing the building with a picture of Grigg’s dad four weeks earlier. Inside the man’s apartment and shielded by Popov, someone said something in Russian. Popov got hinky, then said he didn’t know anything more and slammed the door. Grigg banged on it until a woman across the hall threatened to call the cops. He left with only the knowledge that someone else—maybe a cop?—was also searching for Dad. Still, that bit of info was his biggest lead to date.
Grigg limped up to the small, two-story brick house—kitchen, living room, two bedrooms over a garage—a duplicate of the other attached homes on the street. He unlocked the steel gate, then the front door, and stepped inside.
The thunk of the door closing echoed through the house. Two days ago, Grigg had moved everything out except for the sleeping bag in his bedroom of twenty-seven years and a blue duffel, readying the old house for its new owners. He turned the deadbolt.
He shouldn’t be staying here tonight. He’d spent all his free time on the search for Dad, right up until the closing on the sale of the house. Even at the end, he’d hoped for a breakthrough that would save him from selling. He’d signed the papers yesterday, writing a check for $1,650—most of his savings—because the house was underwater on a second mortgage his father had taken out. Grigg knew the out-of-state buyers wouldn’t be moving in for three weeks, so he’d kept a copy of the key.
Trespassing in my own house. Inviting trouble when I already have too much.
The plan was to use the next three weeks to find an apartment share, but the lead from Popov tugged at his thoughts. Would it pull so hard that he’d spend his free time searching for Dad and end up homeless? He ducked his own question and instead pictured going back to demand Popov tell him more. He shook his head. He could barely keep his mind on his housing problem for the space of a single thought. He took a beer out of the refrigerator, went up to his room, and rolled his sleeping bag into a fat pillow to lean against.
Grigg popped open the 90 Years Young Double IPA. Nine percent alcohol. The strong stuff he’d dubbed “floor softener.” He downed two sixteen-ounce cans, and the ache faded from the muscles in his damaged leg.
He took out his phone. He’d run through his data allowance last week. Three days until the new billing cycle. At least he had his music. He played the Decembrists, their songs about revenge and ships at sea set to jangly indie rock. He followed with the Killers, then Vampire Weekend.
Tick-tick-tick-tick.
His father’s watch read 11:20 p.m.
He opened his notebook and wrote down “Day 191” along with what he’d learned. It was longer than any previous entry—yet not long at all. So many days. The silence in the house chilled him, sending goosebumps in waves over his arms and thighs. He got up and turned down the air conditioner. It wouldn’t help. He missed his father’s voice, the way it had warmed their home. They could talk about everything and anything, a lot of anything, but such interesting anything. Dad was always there with his questions, his curiosity, and his deep interest in whatever Grigg was up to. There were days his father was more intrigued by Grigg’s job than Grigg was. Even that helped.
A fourth beer. He floated on the wood floor of his empty bedroom. Slept.
A thump. The floor hardened underneath him. Another thump. Half buzzed, halfway to a headache, Grigg opened his eyes. He heard it again. Not a dream. On the roof. He followed the steps above him to his father’s empty bedroom. He was about to switch on his phone’s flashlight when legs—silhouetted by the glow from the street across the way—dangled over the room’s tiny balcony. They descended slowly, inching, hesitating, as if the intruder were no expert at this sort of move. The toes stretched to touch, and finally, the person dropped, stumbled, and landed on their knees.
Grigg didn’t know whether to laugh or arm himself. If this was a robbery, then the joke was going to be on a thief who’d picked a house with nothing in it. Grigg decided discretion was the better part of whatever, returned to his bedroom, and pulled the stun gun from his messenger bag. Ever since he’d been attacked when he was in the police academy—suffering the knee injury that forced him to drop out—he hadn’t felt safe unless he carried the weapon.
He placed the messenger bag next to his duffel in the hallway in case he needed to get out fast. In the kitchen, he grabbed his second six pack as a backup weapon.
Of course, he could escape by the front and leave the intruder for the police to deal with. But if he did, then the buyers would be notified, and he’d lose the three weeks of temporary housing he’d been counting on.
He crept through the doorway into the main bedroom.
The figure, whose face remained in deep shadow because of the streetlight glow from behind, rattled the handle to the single balcony door, used his elbow to smash in the square pane nearest the knob, reached in, and turned the simple metal lock. As he pushed the door open, Grigg stepped forward, hit his phone’s light, and thrust forward the stun gun.
“Get the fuck out of my house!”
The figure froze. “I’m not going to hurt you, Grigg.”
Grigg moved closer.
“Dad? Dad!”
Full beard and longer hair, but it was him.
Grigg didn’t know whether to hug his father or scream at him.
“I came to say goodbye,” Dad said.
“Goodbye?”
“I’m leaving. For Russia. I don’t know when I’ll be able to return. It’s the only way.”
“I don’t understand.” Any of it. “You said you’d never go back.”
“It’s the only way to fix things.”
***
Mystery writer Rich Zahradnik
Author Bio
Rich Zahradnik is the author of the thriller The Bone Records and four critically acclaimed mysteries, including Lights Out Summer, winner of the Shamus Award. He was a journalist for twenty-seven years and now lives in Pelham, New York, where he is the mentor to the staff of the Pelham Examiner, an award-winning community newspaper run, edited, reported, and written by people under the age of eighteen.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE ACCIDENTALSPY by David Gardner on this Partners In Crime Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Description
Harvey Hudson is an emotionally scarred, fifty-six-year-old history professor who has lost his job, his wife and his self-respect. In desperation, Harvey takes a high-tech job for which he is totally unqualified.
So he outsources it to India.
Then Harvey discovers that a Russian intelligence agency owns the outsourcing company and are using him to launch a cyberattack on the U.S. petroleum industry.
Harvey now finds himself in a world of trouble with the Russians and the FBI, and he has fallen in love with the woman from New Delhi who’s doing the job he’s outsourced—who might be a Russian agent.
Genre: Humorous Thriller with Literary Pretensions Published by: Encircle Publications, LLC Publication Date: November 2, 2022 Number of Pages: 274 ISBN: 9781645994206
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
THE ACCIDENTAL SPY by David Gardner is a satire of a spy thriller novel with a bumbling college professor who loses his job, marriage and life savings and yet manages to outwit Russian spies, foil their plot and win the girl. This standalone is a humorous story with moments of suspense, moments of heroism and moments of “Really?”.
Harvey Hudson is a fifty-six-year-old man who begins this story down and out with little self-esteem left after the college he taught at closes and his wife divorces him after running through his life savings. He is left with a pity job from an old high school flame as a technical writer by day and a pizza delivery man by night. When he “outsources” his day job on the sly to India, he meets Amaya. But there is more to this chance pairing then meets the eye and Harvey is about to learn more than he ever wanted to about Russian spies, FBI handlers and international espionage.
Harvey is an anti-hero you come to care for over the course of this life-changing adventure. The plot is unique and while it only occasionally feels fast paced with action and suspense, this is more Harvey’s story of transition and triumph over his past even with all the crazy espionage antics. I was sucked into Harvey’s story and pleasantly surprised at the unique twists, his wry wit and my hope for his ultimate triumph all along the way.
***
Excerpt
Accidental Spy: “Some poor jerk dragged into a world of trouble.”
Harvey Hudson
Chapter 1: Bunny Ears
Summer, 2019
Harvey Hudson released the steering wheel and swatted at the blue balloon (“Congrats! You Did It!”) that was banging against the back of his head.
What was the ‘It’ for? Someone earned a law degree? Pulled off a bank heist? Successfully underwent potty training? All three?
One day before turning fifty-six, and here he was, delivering balloons. How had he let this happen to him?
He chewed on the last of the Skittles he’d swiped from a bulky candy basket attached to a red balloon shaped like a birthday cake. Too many sweets for some spoiled kid. He was doing the pudgy brat a favor. The Snickers bar was tempting. Maybe later.
Harvey reached across the front seat, grabbed a handful of candy bars from the Skittle-less basket ($149), and dropped them into its modest neighbor ($39). He often shifted candy from larger baskets to lesser ones. He thought of himself as the Robin Hood of balloon-delivery individuals.
He’d had just $87 in the bank a few weeks ago when he’d shambled past a help-wanted sign in the front window of the Rapid Rabbit Balloon Service. He paused and reread the sign. “Part-time Delivery Person Needed. Become a Rapid Rabbit!” Yeah, what the hell. He hurried inside before he came to his senses. He would have taken any gig—balloon-delivery specialist, male stripper, or get-away driver for a grizzled bank robber.
With his part-time job delivering balloons and his full-time work as a beginning technical writer, Harvey could just stay afloat. His ex-wife had cleaned him out.
He double-parked on a smart street of brick-front homes on Boston’s Beacon Hill. Hesitating, he clamped the hated bunny ears over his head and attached the spongy red nose. Sighing, he grabbed the $149 basket and, head down, ambled up the walkway and rang the bell. The balloon bobbed overhead, taunting him.
The woman who opened the door was a slim and pretty brunette in her fifties. She had a narrow face and large, dark eyes.
She was his boss at his day job.
Also his high school sweetheart.
Harvey wanted to disappear into the ground.
Margo took a step back. “Oh.”
Harvey pulled off the bulbous red nose and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. “Uh…this is where you live?”
Margo shook her head. “I’m here with my daughter for a birthday party.”
Harvey shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m…um…delivering balloons just for tonight to help out a buddy who had two wisdom teeth pulled this morning, a professor who lost his job the same time I did.”
Margo blinked twice.
“A sociologist,” Harvey added.
Margo gripped the edge of the door.
“Named Fred,” Harvey said.
Margo nodded.
“The guy took the job in desperation because he’s broke, recently divorced, and down on his luck,” Harvey said and realized he was describing himself.
He handed the basket to Margo.
Did she believe him? Probably not. Did the company have a rule against moonlighting? He’d soon find out.
Margo poked around inside the basket. “There’s too much candy in here.”
“At least there aren’t any Skittles.”
Margo selected a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. “I’ve moved tomorrow’s team meeting up to 10:00 A.M. Did you get my email?”
Harvey nodded.
Was that her way of telling him that moonlighters don’t get fired? He hoped so. He was pathetically unqualified as a technical writer, and his job was in jeopardy.
Harvey hated meetings. Sometimes he thought the software engineers asked him questions he couldn’t answer just to see him squirm. Many were kids in their twenties, making double his salary.
And he hated lying to Margo. At least he could be honest about one small thing. “Actually, this is my night gig. I’ve had it for a few weeks.”
Margo unwrapped the Reese’s, nipped off a corner, chewed and said, “Is that why I caught you asleep at your desk yesterday?”
No, it’s because the job is so goddamn boring. He shook his head. “I wasn’t sleeping. I have the habit of relaxing and closing my eyes whenever I’m searching for the perfect way to convey a particularly difficult concept to our worthy customers.”
“And snoring?”
Margo was smiling now. That same cute smile from high school. He remembered it from the time they’d sneaked a first kiss in the back row of calculus class. The girl he’d loved and lost.
She set the basket down and pulled a twenty from the side pocket of her slacks. “Um…would you…uh…accept a tip?”
“No.”
She shoved the bill into his shirt pocket. “Yes, you will.”
Harvey shifted his weight to his left foot. A liar doesn’t deserve a $20 tip. At most, a few dimes and nickels, couch-cushion change.
Margo finished the peanut butter cup in silence.
He didn’t quite know what to say now.
Yes, he did know. He should tell her the truth.
He’d outsourced his job to India.
Was that illegal? Probably not. But highly unethical. Would she protect him after he’d confessed? Unlikely, which meant he would lose his job. But living a lie was exhausting and just plain wrong. She’d hired him and trusted him. She deserved better. He cleared his throat, once, twice, a third time. “Margo, there’s something I have to tell you. It seems I—“
“Is that the balloon guy?” a young woman called from inside the house.
“That’s my daughter,” Margo said and picked up the basket. A blue balloon bobbed on a string attached to the handle. “I’ll be right back.”
Harvey stood at the open door, trying to think of some way to soften his upcoming confession. Or maybe just blurt it out and get it over with?
“Happy birthday, Dad!”
The daughter’s voice again from inside.
“Candy and a kid’s balloon again this year! Are you trying to tell me something?”
The daughter laughed.
Harvey recognized the man’s voice.
Tucker Aldrich was the CEO of the company where Harvey worked. He was also Margo’s ex-husband and a first-class dickhead.
So, it meant the balloon and candy basket were for Tucker and not some child. Harvey was sorry he’d passed on the Snickers bar.
The hell with telling the truth.
***
Author Bio
David Gardner grew up on a Wisconsin dairy farm, served in Army Special Forces and earned a Ph.D. in French from the University of Wisconsin. He has taught college and worked as a reporter and in the computer industry.
He lives in Massachusetts with his wife, Nancy, also a writer. He hikes, bikes, messes with astrophotography and plays the keyboard with no discernible talent whatsoever.
Today I mad sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for LANDSLIDE (A Mason Hackett Espionage Thriller Book #1) by Adam Sikes for this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book synopsis, my book review, the author’s bio and social media links and a Kingsumo giveaway. This is an exciting debut. Good luck on the giveaway and enjoy!
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Book Synopsis
International Arms—Private Military Companies—Corruption at Every Turn
U.S. Marine veteran Mason Hackett moved to London to start his life over, and he’s done his best to convince himself that what happened fifteen years ago doesn’t matter—the people he killed, the men he lost, the lives he ruined. But when Mason sees the face of a dead friend flash on a television screen and then receives a mysterious email referencing a CIA operation gone bad, he can no longer ignore his inner demons.
Driven by loyalty and a need to uncover the truth, Mason launches on a perilous journey from the Czech Republic to Romania toward the war-torn separatist region in eastern Ukraine to honor a fifteen-year-old promise. The answers he seeks—the fate of a friend and his connection to the underworld of international arms dealers and defense corporations—throw Mason into the cauldron of a covert war where no one can be trusted.
Genre: Spy Thriller Published by: Oceanview Publishing Publication Date: September 2022 Number of Pages: 368 ISBN: 9781608095049 (ISBN10: 1608095045) Series: A Mason Hackett Espionage Thriller, #1
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
LANDSLIDE (A Mason Hackett Espionage Thriller Book #1) by Adam Sikes is the first book in an exciting new espionage thriller series featuring a US Marine veteran living in London. This is the author’s debut novel, and I am looking forward to many more stories featuring this protagonist.
Mason Hackett is a US Marine veteran who left the states fifteen years ago to get his master’s degree in England and is working as an international banker in London. Mason sees the face of his dead best friend from his unit in Iraq on the television. He believes it just may be a doppelganger because this kidnapped man is a reporter, but then Mason gets a cryptic email that can only be from his friend asking for his help.
Mason discovers his friend has been involved in a CIA operation and has been captures by separatist in Ukraine. Mason is thrown into a morass of covert operations, arms dealers, international corporations, and war with no back-up, and no one can be trusted.
I really enjoyed this fast-paced espionage thriller. I liked the main character, Mason Hackett and his sense of loyalty and determination. The plot of this thriller kept me turning the pages, but as in most thrillers of this type some suspension of belief must be applied and this story had almost everyone being killed along the journey except for our hero. The characters are believable, but hopefully as the series continues, they will become more fully fleshed.
Overall, this is a new thriller and author worth taking the time to read.
***
Author Bio:
Adam Sikes is a novelist and freelance writer. He is a graduate of Georgetown University with a degree in International Politics and a Masters in History. Prior to taking up the pen, he served in the US Marine Corps with combat tours in the Balkans, Iraq, and elsewhere in the Middle East. Following the Marines, Adam joined the CIA and conducted operations in Central Asia, East Africa, and Europe. He is the author of the international thriller Landslide and is the co-author of Open Skies: My Life as Afghanistan’s First Female Pilot. He lives in Southern California.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for HERO HATERS by Ken MacQueen on this Partners In Crime 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
He seeks redemption, others want revenge
Jake Ockham had a dream job, vetting nominees for the Sedgewick Medallion-the nation’s highest civilian award for heroism. His own scarred hands are an indelible reminder of the single mother he failed to pull from a raging house fire; her face haunts him still. Obligations drag him back to his hometown to edit the family newspaper but attempts to embrace small-town life, and the hot new doctor, are thwarted by unknown forces. The heroes Jake vetted go missing and he becomes the prime suspect in the disappearances. Aided by resourceful friends, Jake follows a twisted trail to the Dark Web, where a shadowy group is forcing the kidnapped medalists to perform deadly acts of valor to amuse twisted subscribers to its website. To save his heroes, Jake must swallow his fears and become one himself…or die in the attempt.
Genre: Adult Thriller Published by: The Wild Rose Press, Inc Publication Date: October 2022 Number of Pages: 366 ISBN: 9781509243853 (ISBN10: 1509243852)
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
HERO HATERS by Ken MacQueen is an exciting thriller that was impossible to put down! The Dark Web has a new pay per view site where a man who hates “heroes” makes kidnapped proclaimed heroes perform heroic acts for their lives. Make time for this one because it will keep you turning the pages. I believe this is the author’s first thriller and I hope it is not his last.
Jake Ockham works as a journalist on his family’s small-town paper and on the side investigates people nominated for the Sedgewick Medallion which is the nation’s highest civilian award for acts of heroism. Jake, himself was nominated many years previously, but never felt himself a hero because while he saved the son from a raging house fire, the mother perished right before his and the surviving daughter’s eyes.
As Jake tries to impress the new and beautiful doctor in his small town, he finds himself becoming not the hero, but the villain in the eyes of law enforcement as Medallion winners go missing. With the help of his college roommate, Erik who is a brilliant cyber investigator, the friends follow a twisted path on the Dark Web and Jake must face a shadow man while also facing his own fears in an attempt to become a hero once again or die trying.
Twisted, scary and dark and yet also completely believable. The back and forth between the different characters about what makes a hero and who should be considered one is very thought provoking. Jake is a flawed and yet likable main character, and the antagonists are truly evil. I loved this fast-paced plot, and it just became more and more intense as it reached the climax. Absolutely riveting thriller with great characters.
I highly recommend this thriller and cannot wait to see what Mr. MacQueen writes next!
***
Excerpt
Prologue
Spokane, Washington, August 2019
Local hero Anderson Wise can’t remember the last time he paid for a drink at Sharkey’s.
Nor can he remember an embarrassing assortment of the women who selflessly shared their affection, post-Sharkey’s.
As for that last blurry night at the gin mill, he wished to hell he’d stayed home.
The bar’s owner, Sharon Key, hence Sharkey’s, took joy in chumming the waters on Wise’s behalf for a regular catch of what she called “Hero Worshippers.”
She saw getting him laid as partial repayment for saving her eleven-year-old grandson Toby’s life some eighteen months back.
A disaffected dad, high on crystal meth, stormed into Toby’s classroom to take issue with his kid’s latest report card. He showed his displeasure by shot-gunning the teacher, then reloaded and asked all A-students to identify themselves. Being A-students, they dutifully raised their hands, Toby among them.
As the high-as-a-kite shooter herded the high achievers to the front of the class, Wise, the school custodian, charged into the room armed with a multipurpose dry-chemical fire extinguisher. He blasted the shooter with a white cloud of monoammonium phosphate, to minimal effect, then slammed the gun out of his hands. It discharged into the floor sending several pellets into Wise’s left foot. Thoroughly pissed, Wise ended the drama by pile-driving the extinguisher into the shooter’s face.
Sharon Key, a widow in her early sixties, subsequently replaced the beer signs and dart board with blow-ups of the laudatory press Wise earned during the tragic aftermath. The front of the next day’s local paper held pride of place. It carried a photo of Wise, extinguisher in hand, under the headline: Greater Tragedy Averted as Hero Janitor Extinguishes Threat. The story contained a pull quote in large font which Wise came to regret: “ ‘It’s a versatile extinguisher,’ the modest 30-year-old explained, ‘good for class A, B and C fires—and meth-heads’.”
Said famous extinguisher now guards the top-shelf booze behind Sharkey’s oak-and-brass bar.
New stories were added to Sharkey’s wall five months back after Wise was awarded, with much publicity, the Sedgewick Trust Sacrifice Medallion— one of the most prestigious recognitions of heroism that American civilians can receive.
Wise’s liver and a lower part of his anatomy took a renewed pounding in the weeks thereafter. So much so he declared a moratorium on visits to Sharkey’s for reasons of self-preservation.
He was back in the saddle a month now, but his attendance was spotty. “This hero stuff,” he confided to Key one night, while slumped in his chair. “Maybe it’s too much of a good thing?”
“Ya think?” Key muttered as she took inventory of that night’s limited offerings.
It wasn’t just the women. Men often bought him drinks too, happy to bask in the reflected glory of a proven manly man.
Two weeks ago, some weedy academic from back east interviewed him at Sharkey’s and staked him to an alcohol-fueled dinner at the city’s best chop house. The brainy one expected Wise to opine on such things as “neo-Darwinian rules for altruism.”
Asked him if he’d been motivated by “a kinship bond” with anyone in the room?
Er, no.
Wondered if Wise knew that a disproportionate number of risk takers are working-class males?
Nope, sorry.
And had he calculated in the moment that a heroic display of “good genes” would make him a desirable mating partner?
Cripes. Really?
“Don’t know what I was thinking,” Wise said, swirling a glass of something called Amarone, a wine so amazing angels must have crushed the grapes with their tiny, perfect feet. “Heard a gun blast, grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall. Saw the dead teacher, all those kids, and a nut with a shotgun. Did what anybody would do. I spent three years in the army after high school, mostly in the motor pool. Much as I hated basic training, maybe some of it stuck. Who knows?”
The academic gave a condescending smile and called for the bill, his hypothesis apparently confirmed.
Wise fled to the restaurant toilet and took notes on the back of his pay slip. Back home, he Googled the hell out of studies on “extreme altruist stimuli,” on “empirical perspectives on the duty to rescue,” and after many false starts, on theories of “Byronic and Lilithian Heroes.”
He kinda got the concept of “desirable mating partner”, but he was pretty sure his dick didn’t lead him into that classroom. Did it?
While not a reflective guy, Wise had to admit it was creepy to reap the fleshy benefits of his few seconds of glory while his dreams were haunted by visions of teacher Adah Summerhill slumped over her desk, blood pooled beneath her. So much blood. With the shooter sprawled unconscious, Wise gently lifted Adah’s head.
She had no pulse and her eyes, once so vibrant and expressive, were as empty as an open grave. She’d always been nice, and totally out of his league.
So, here he was, back at Sharkey’s, mind made up.
Key arrived at his “courting table” and set down his Jack and ginger ale.
“Gave my notice at the school,” he told her. “Getting outta here for a while. Got that Sedgewick money to spend. Someplace they don’t know me. Mexico, maybe.
Or Costa Rica.”
Key patted his hand. “Knew this was coming, Andy.
You banged every eligible female in town, pretty much.
And some who shoulda been out of bounds. I’m amazed the Tourist Bureau doesn’t list you as a top-ten attraction, up there with the botanical gardens.”
“All I want, Shar, is to be liked for me, not for something I did because I happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. Or is that the other way ’round?”
“Hey, you’re a good-looking guy. Still got that shaggy blond baseball player thing going for ya.
Might’ve taken a run at you myself if my hips weren’t shot.” She patted his cheek. “Made you blush. Now don’t turn into a beach bum down there. Always thought you aimed too low, mopping floors and washing windows for the school board. Time to stretch—”
She craned her neck toward the door after it opened with a bang. “My, my, here’s one for the road. She was in earlier, asking after you.” Key aimed a nod at the door and whispered, “Don’t strain anything.” And headed to the bar.
Wise looked up and…sweet Jesus.
Early twenties, he guessed. His eyes roamed from strappy sandals, up a long expanse of tanned bare legs to a glittering silver dress that started perilously high-thigh and ended well below exposed shoulders. The ripe promise of youth was on full display, like she’d dipped her bounteous curves in liquid lamé.
She drew every eye in the place as she undulated to his table. Full red lips, high cheekbones, chestnut hair piled high. Up close now, her gimlet eyes were at once innocent and knowing, like a debauched choirgirl.
“Hi, hero.” Her voice was low and sultry, as he knew it would be. She remained on her feet, hands on the table, leaning low to full effect. “When you finish that drink, I really want to see your medal.”
**** He remembered her mixing drinks back at his apartment while he retrieved his medallion from the sock drawer in his bedroom. He remembered her running a sensuous thumb over the bas-relief portrait of Philip Sedgewick as she read aloud the inscription: “The most sublime act is to set another before you.”
That wondrous voice lingering over “sublime act,”
like it was lifted from the Kama Sutra.
And like too many times, post-Sharkey’s, damned if he could remember her name—that evil bitch. He awoke, bouncing in the back of a van, hands and legs cuffed to rings set in the floor. A broken-glass headache served notice of every bump in the road.
Another lost night at Sharkey’s.
Wise had a dreadful feeling he’d never be back.
Chapter One Aberdeen, Washington, July, one month earlier Jake Ockham was one kilometer in, one kilometer to go and already in a world of pain. Lungs, legs and palms, always the damned palms, screaming enough already.
He’d whaled away on his Concept II rowing machine for thirty minutes, building up to this. Stripped off the sweatshirt after ten minutes, the t-shirt after twenty-five. Down now to running shoes and gym shorts, his torso gleaming with sweat despite the morning chill.
He’d rested after a thirty-minute warm-up to gulp water and to consider the need to reinforce the pilings under the creaky wooden deck before it dumped him and the ergometer into the Wishkah River below. Might leave it in the river mud if it came to that.
Full race mode now, one kilometer in, another to go.
The erg’s computer showed the need to pick up the pace to break the six-minute barrier, something he’d regularly shattered a decade ago during his university rowing days.
Thrust with the legs, throw back the shoulders, arms ripping back the handle. Return to the catch and repeat.
Five hundred meters to go. Eyes fixed on a duck touching down on the river, looking anywhere but the screen.
Two hundred and fifty meters. Faster. Harder. Don’t lose the technique.
Fifty meters. You can do this.
A final piston thrust of legs, shoulders, arms and…six minutes, thirteen seconds.
“Fuck!” His roar startled the duck into flight.
He slumped over the machine, gasping for air, ripping at the Velcro tabs of his gloves, throwing them on the deck in disgust. Hated those damned gloves, so essential these days.
Head bowed, he heard the cabin’s door rasp open.
“Such language.” Clara Nufeld, his aunt, and technically his boss as publisher of the Grays Harbor Independent, leaned against the doorframe.
He didn’t look up. “Don’t bother knocking. Make yourself at home.”
“I did, and I am. Got a couple of things to show you.
Right up your alley. Might be pieces for next week’s issue.”
She was lean and tall, in tight jeans and a faded Nirvana sweatshirt, her spiked white hair cut short. At sixty-four, she still turned heads. Jake knew her age to the day, Clara being his mother’s identical twin. Connie, his late mother, fell to breast cancer at age forty-five.
So much of his mother in Clara. So much that when Jake finished high school and rode his rowing scholarship east to Pittsburgh’s Carnegie Mellon University, his father, Roger Ockham, moved his accounting business to Bend, Oregon. Said it was for the golfing, but Jake suspected the sight of his late wife’s twin was a constant reminder of his loss.
Connie and Clara, fresh out of university, worked for their father at the Independent, Clara on the advertising side, Connie as a reporter.
They took the helm of the paper after Derwin Nufeld—their dad, Jake’s grandfather—collapsed and died mid-way through crafting a fiery editorial on a mule-headed decision to pull The Catcher in the Rye from the high school library.
After Connie’s death, Clara did double duty as editor and publisher until she succeeded six months ago in luring Jake home to Washington State from Pittsburgh to take over as editor-in-chief.
This five-room stilt home, Clara’s former cottage on the tidal Wishkah, was his signing bonus.
One of the dwindling numbers of real estate ads in the Independent would describe the cabin something like: “A cozy oasis on the Wishkah, surrounded by nature and just minutes from the city. Fish from your deck while contemplating the possibilities for this prime riverfront property. A bit of TLC gets you a rustic getaway while you make plans for your dream home.”
After years in urban Pittsburgh, he awoke now to bird chatter and the sights and scents of the moody, muddy Wishkah—its current pulled, as he was pulled, to the infinite Pacific.
Jake gathered his shirts and gloves and cringed at a sniff-test of his underarms. “I’ll keep my distance.” He waved Clara inside. “What’s up my alley?”
She waved two dummy pages, the ads already laid out, plenty of blank space for him and his skeleton staff to fill with stories and photos.
Jake was still adjusting to small-town journalism, covering at least one earnest service club luncheon every week, puffy profiles of local businesses, check presentations, city council and school board meetings.
And jamming in as many names as possible. He’d done some summer reporting for the weekly during his high school years, but rowing had occupied most of his time.
Clara handed off a page proof with a boxed advert already laid out. “A new doctor is taking over old Doc Wilson’s practice, thank God. I swear the last medical journal that old man read was on the efficacy of leeches and bloodletting.”
Jake nodded. Worth a story for sure. A few words from Wilson about passing the scalpel to a new generation, then focus on Dr. Christina Doctorow. No hardship there.
The ad for her family practice included her photo.
Rather than the cliché white coat and stethoscope she wore hiking shorts and a flannel shirt with rolled sleeves, thick dark hair in a ponytail, a daypack hanging off a shoulder. A husky at her side gazed up adoringly.
Smart dog.
Jake put her at early thirties, his age more or less. He nodded approval. “Sporty. A fine addition to the Grays Harbor gene pool.”
“The woman’s a firecracker. Spent ten minutes haggling down the price. I finally caved. Said I’ll bump this up to a half-page, but you owe me a free checkup.”
“Seriously?”
“What she said, too. Also asked ‘Is that ethical?’ I said, ‘darling, I’m in advertising. You want ethics, deal with my nephew on the editorial side.’ “
Jake laughed. “Pretty good at bloodletting herself.
What else you got?”
“This is so up your alley.” She handed him a classified ad page-proof. “You being an expert.”
Jake slumped onto a kitchen chair. “On what?”
She tapped a one-column boxed ad in the lower left, “Heroes.”
“Not hardly.”
He looked closer and reared back. The heading read: “For Sale. Rare Sedgewick Sacrifice Medallion. $100 OBO.”
There was a thumbnail photo of the medal’s obverse, showing the craggy face of Philip Sedgewick, a leading member of the long-dead school of industrialist robber barons. He’d amassed a fortune in textile mills, newspapers, and exploitive labor practices. Awash in cash he came to philanthropy late in life. Like others in this elite group—Carnegie, Mellon, Rockefeller, Vanderbilt, et al—their names and reputation-burnishing generosity live beyond the grave.
Sedgewick, at his wife’s urging, chose to celebrate extraordinary acts of heroism. He used eight of his many millions—an enormous sum in 1901—to endow a family trust to award exceptional heroism with the Sacrifice Medallion and needs-based financial assistance. Over the past one hundred twenty years, the trust awarded some eleven thousand medallions, an inspiring legacy of courage, and yes, sacrifice.
The grainy photo in the classified ad was too small to read the inscription under Sedgewick’s stern visage, but Jake knew it well. It was a quotation by the English poet William Blake: “The most sublime act is to set another before you.”
Below the photo was a post office box address, and “mail inquiries only.”
Jake shook his head. “This is nuts. The price is insanely low, insulting really. The medallions are kinda priceless.”
“I wondered about that,” Clara said. “The ad cost fifty dollars so not much of a profit.”
“The rare few that get to auction can fetch in the thousands. We try to buy them back, prefer that to having them land up in the hands of the undeserving.”
Clara cocked an eyebrow. “We?”
Jake shrugged. “I still do the occasional freelance investigations for Sedgewick. The thing is, there’s never a good reason to sell these. Either the recipient is dead broke, or dead without relatives to inherit it. Or it’s stolen.”
“Or,” Clara said, resting a hand on Jake’s shoulder, “the hero feels undeserving.”
He flinched. “Was there a photo of the medal’s back? It’d have the recipient’s name and the reason it was awarded.”
“Don’t even know who placed the ad. Arrived in the mail: a photo, the ad copy, and a fifty-dollar bill. No return address but the post office box.”
“Pull the ad, Clara. I’ll buy it and return the money.
There’s a story here, something’s not right.”
Clara toyed with her car keys. “I feel bad sometimes, guilting you back. Do you miss it, your old life back in Pittsburgh?”
His pause was barely discernable. “Great to be back in the old hometown.”
“Great to earn half the salary you did in the big city?
Great to prop up the family business? Great to be stuck with your old aunt?”
“Aunt doesn’t cover it. I was twelve when Mom passed. You stepped up for Dad and me.”
She looked like she was about to say something, then shook her head and flashed an enigmatic smile. “A topic for another day. Gotta run.”
She leaned across the table, took his hands in hers, running her thumbs lightly over his scarred palms. She raised his hands to her lips for a kiss, then turned for the door.
Excerpt from Hero Haters by Ken MacQueen. Copyright 2022 by Ken MacQueen. Reproduced with permission from Ken MacQueen. All rights reserved.
***
Author Bio
Before turning to fiction, Ken MacQueen spent 15 years as Vancouver bureau chief for Maclean’s, Canada’s newsmagazine, winning multiple National Magazine Awards and nominations. He traveled the world writing features and breaking news for the magazine, and previously for two national news agencies. Naturally, he had to make Jake Ockham, his hero, a reporter, albeit a reluctant one. MacQueen also covered nine Olympic Games and drew Jake’s athletic prowess from tracking elite rowers in training and on podiums in Athens, Beijing and London. He and his wife divide their time between Vancouver, and British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast.
